Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zoey – 25 

I’m just here to meet some cool new people and have fun of all kinds! Honestly, I applied on a whim, I was bored and a bit lonely. Never thought I’d get in! I’m so excited, gosh. I really hope I can make some friends! *giggles*

Rumi – 26

Oh I’m just— I don’t know. I guess I wanted to try something new. I’ve been stuck in a rut lately, not feeling it— myself— And I figured, hey! One full month on a gorgeous island with gorgeous boys, getting to know them, playing some fun dating games… That might be exactly what I need!

Mira – 25

Why am I here? To piss off my parents. Fuck you mom. Fuck you dad.

***

They drive her to the island on a small boat. Her bags have already been brought in, her phone locked away in the production office, her pre-interview recorded. Now, the fun begins. 

Zoey is so excited she’s vibrating in her seat. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sensations: the salty spray whipping her face, the wind ruffling her already messy buns, the sound of the waves parting under the speedy hull. She wishes she had one of her notebooks with her to write down the few lyrics coming to mind, but the only one she brought is lying somewhere in one of her bags and it’s probably for the best. The cameraman hasn’t let off her trail ever since they left the production office and she knows every single one of her moves and words could end up on TV for the whole world to see. 

They told her she’s the second to last girl to be brought on the island. The boys will come a bit after, make their Big Entrance once all the girls have had the chance to get acquainted. And gosh, she’s so damn ready for this! Fully paid vacation! Beautiful boys! Beautiful girls! No other distraction than super hot bodies lying by the beach! And the perfect set up to meet a few guys and get flirty (frisky, probably, because let’s be real that’s what the producers are after).

Zoey doesn’t really care about finding The One. She just got out of a nasty breakup and all she wants is to forget about her ex-girlfriend and have a good time. She doesn’t even care if she doesn’t end up having a thing with someone. She’s here to chill. 

The assistant accompanying her almost has to intervene when she leans dangerously far over the railing to look down at the sea. It’s so limpid and blue and oh my god she can see some coral! She turns around and locks eyes with the first person she sees—the cameraman, half hidden behind his massive device—. 

“This is so cool!” she grins.

He remains completely impassive. Oh well. She’ll have plenty more opportunities to make friends out there.

***

Mira is sitting on one of the many, many couches occupying the main terrace, already bored out of her mind. Nayeon and Tzuyu are chatting on the deck by the pool and all Mira hears are a bunch of excited squeals and “oh my god” and “boys” and she didn’t even try to join the conversation when she arrived, because frankly she’s above it all. She said her hellos, stiff and cold, and went straight to the couch, unbothered by the semi-confused semi-offended look on Nayeon and Tzuyu’s faces. She knows she won’t be the public’s favorite, and that’s more than okay. She’s not like them. Like those girls. They’re excited about the boys, that’s fine, it’s a fucking dating show. But Mira isn’t here for boys. She’s here to throw a giant middle finger at her parents’ faces, maybe even spit on them as a treat, and if for that she has to suffer through one month of giggles and dramas and a literal fuck fest, so be it. She’ll get hot and bothered with some guy under the sheets, make sure to make eye contact with one of the cameras as she does it, already feels the thrill buzzing through her veins as she imagines her parents’ reaction. She’s dressed for the sole purpose of giving them a heart attack—she went out of her way to buy the swimsuit she’s wearing now, knowing there’s not one universe in which they’d approve.

Some movement catches her eye. A girl appears from the stone path leading to the little pontoon where Mira has disembarked. She’s short, very cute, with dark hair, a messy fringe and messy buns, and she’s wearing a two-piece swimsuit, ruffled and green and not too revealing. She has the biggest smile on her small face.

“Oh my gosh hi!” she all but squeaks as she strides towards Nayeon and Tzuyu, who meet her with equally high-pitched yelps. Mira knows the producers will definitely add her massive eyeroll to the final montage. She tunes out the sounds, gazes at the sea. At least the place is decent and the view breathtaking, and the couch is comfortable as fuck. She’ll probably do her morning yoga on the beach down there, behind those big rocks and thick bushes, where nobody but cameras will be able to see her. 

Production did a good job hiding their cams, but not good enough. Mira has already spotted seven of them, hidden in ceiling corners, plant pots and even built straight into the wall. She knows there’s not one blind spot on this island. Which is fine. She signed up for this. She doesn’t care if the whole world sees her—it’s kind of the point actually—, all she wants is for the other contestants to leave her the fuck alon—

“Hi there!” 

Great. The new girl plops down on the couch right next to her, almost touching her, and Mira hasn’t even said one word to her but she already knows this girl has zero sense of personal space. 

“Hello.”

“I’m Zoey!”

Zoey leans towards her, arms slightly lifted in the air, and oh my god are you kidding me she wants a fucking hug? But then she laughs, backs away and just extends a hand towards Mira.

“Not a hugger, uh? That’s fine!”

Mira looks down at the hand, sighs and reluctantly shakes it.

“Mira,” she simply says, and Zoey beams as if hearing the name itself has just brought her immeasurable joy.

“Mira! Such a cute name! God I’m so happy to be here already. The others are so nice! I can’t wait to meet the last girl!”

Despite her best efforts to be completely aloof, Mira can’t help feeling somewhat curious. It seems like a miracle that Zoey hasn’t pronounced the word “boy” in the thirty seconds they’ve interacted.  

“And the boys, of course.”

Ah. 

“Although really I’m just as excited to have some girl time as I am to hang out with cute guys!”

Zoey’s genuine, full of joy and really pretty. Mira decides she gets a pass.

“I’m just looking forward to chilling,” she says, knowing it’ll open the door to more conversation but Zoey makes it feel unavoidable anyway and Mira doesn’t want to be a complete jackass to someone she’s just met.

“Man, me too! This couch is so comfy by the way. I kind of want to never get up again ever.”

Mira can’t help but chuckle a little bit at that. 

“That’s exactly how I feel.”

Zoey perks up, her grin wider, as if she’s just won the lottery even though all she did was get Mira to laugh a little. But, hey, at least she seems to understand how rare it is for Mira to relax with someone else, even if ever so slightly.

“We should totally make it our spot,” Zoey adds as she leans back against the couch and hangs her head backward with a contented sigh. 

“And how should we do that?”

“I’ll bark at anyone who comes close.”

Mira laughs again. Before she can reply, the last girl shows up. She’s tall—not as tall as Mira, but still—, her long purple hair styled in an elaborated French braid, all legs in her high-cut dark blue swimsuit. But the most noticeable thing about her is her tattoos, asymmetric white lines covering her arms and legs and neck. 

“Holy fuck, she’s hot!” Zoey gasps.

Mira glances at her only to find her gaping at the new girl, her eyes about to pop out of her head. Mira lifts one eyebrow, amused, before turning back to the newcomer. She sinks a bit more into the couch, crosses her arms over her chest, stares. She has to disagree with Zoey. “Hot” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

***

Rumi is nervous. Really nervous. She’s completely out of her depth here, and if it weren’t for the fifty-page contract she signed with the producers of the show, she’d have already turned around. What the fuck was she thinking. A dating show? Really? And one that seems to be all about body proximity at that. It had felt like a good idea, back then, when she was scrolling on one of her dating apps and had found the advertisement. Want to find the love or lay of your life? Join us on Love Paradise! She’d been alone for half a year, not that that’s a long time, but her singleness had been the consequence of her previous eight disastrous past relationships and she was starting to feel like something was deeply wrong with her. So, yes, she wanted to find the love or lay of her life, because frankly she’s been pretty out of luck in both those departments. But now that she’s there…

“Hi! Come here!”

Two girls standing by the pool are waving at her, and Rumi composes herself with a cool smile before moving towards them.

“Hi guys!” 

“Look at her Nayeon, she’s going to outshine all of us!”

“She is! Girl, the boys will eat. you. up.”

Rumi laughs, a bit awkward, feeling deep inside like it’s more of a threat than a compliment, but she decides to play it off. 

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. I’m Rumi, by the way.”

“Nayeon,” the first girl says. She’s quite pretty, that kind of blend, generic beauty the boys do appreciate.

“Tzuyu,” the second girl says, and she’s also pretty, but Rumi can’t help but wonder what her true face looks like under the layers and layers of make-up she has on. “The boys will be here any minute now. I’m so excited! What if there’s like, my future husband amongst them!”

Nayeon and Tzuyu both giggle at that, and Rumi gives them a little smile, her eyes wandering until they land on two other girls making a beeline towards them. The first one, short, dark hair in two cute little buns, eyes literally sparkling with excitement, is dragging along the other one, tall, all red hair and pointy face and glares that switch from her wrist, held tightly by the first girl, to Rumi, who feels herself shrinking under the intensity of her hazel eyes. 

“Hi! I’m Zoey! And this is Mira! She’s a sweetheart.”

Mira scoffs but nods at Rumi, who nods back.

“Rumi. Nice to meet you.”

“So nice to meet you too!” Zoey’s almost dancing on her feet now. It’s quite endearing. “I hope it’s okay for me to say but, girl, you’re hot as fuck!” 

Behind her, Mira nods, quite vigorously even, and this time Rumi feels herself blushing from head to toe. Unlike with Nayeon and Tzuyu, it feels… real. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles. She almost says it back. Because, objectively speaking, they’re both stunning. But the words catch in the back of her throat and she asks instead, “You two know each other?”

They answer at the same time.

“No.”

“Yes! We met five minutes ago, she’s my bestie now.” Then, Zoey turns towards Mira, tall, cold, steel-gaze Mira, vivid embodiment of Lilith with her red hair and her red high-cut swimsuit with a plunging neckline, and throws her a playful smile. “Sorry, I’ve decided.”

Mira cocks an eyebrow and mutters, “Bold of you,” the corner of her lips curling a little. The interaction comforts Rumi, somehow. It’s good to see that the girls are already connecting, that there’s room for other stuff than just dating and hooking up. Nayeon and Tzuyu start chatting about boys again and Mira immediately turns around and walks towards one of the couches. Before Rumi has time to process anything, a small hand slips into hers and gently tugs her along. 

“Come,” Zoey says, her voice oddly soft, and Rumi follows.

As soon as they reach the couch where Mira’s now sat, Zoey leans towards the taller girl and smirks. 

“What do you think? Should we let her in? Or do you want me to bark?” 

What? Mira snorts and pats the couch next to her. 

“Yay!” 

Zoey drags Rumi with her on the sofa, and suddenly Rumi is seated on the comfiest couch ever, a girl at each side.

“God,” she whispers before slumping a little. “It’s so comfy.” 

“Right?” Zoey grins at her. “That’s now officially our spot. Anyone tries to sit here, we bark at them!” 

“Sure,” Mira says with a wry smile. 

“Okay,” Rumi chuckles, and she’s relaxing a little for the first time since she stepped onto the boat that drove her here.

But then Mira grazes at her arm with an extremely light finger, barely perceptible, and she murmurs with a full, deep voice, “Sick tattoos.” Rumi tenses up all over again, except she doesn’t know why, exactly. She’s always been somewhat touchy with her friends. And Mira seems cool. And she’s complimenting her. Again. And—

“They really are,” Zoey chips in with wonder in her voice. “It’s the first time I’ve seen white tattoos.”

Rumi clears her throat. “White ink is quite rare. There aren’t that many tattoo artists who can use it, let alone do a good job with it.”

“Well, yours did a fantastic job.” As she says it, Mira keeps tracing a pattern on Rumi’s arm, almost absentmindedly, before suddenly catching herself, jerking her hand back and darting her eyes towards her. “Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to touch you.”

“No, you’re fine. It’s fine.” It’s not, not really, but at the same time it is, it really is, and Rumi doesn’t have time to wonder about her complete lack of logic because chaos suddenly erupts; the boys have walked in.

***

There are excited shouts from Nayeon, Tzuyu and the newcomers, and Zoey has already bolted on her feet to join the messy group of people buzzing by the pool. From the very first glance, she can tell: the boys are fine. Hella fine. All shiny colorful hair, porcelain skin, white teeth and ripped abs. Oh, she’s going to have fun here. She glances back at the couch, in front of which Rumi is now standing, Mira grudgingly following suit. Zoey smiles. She’s… charmed? Which is quite weird considering she met them only a few minutes ago. She watches the two girls walk towards the group and has to do a conscious effort to drag her attention back to the boys. They’re introducing themselves with the smirks and grins of guys knowing exactly how good they look, and Nayeon and Tzuyu are already all over them. 

“I’m Abby.” He’s wearing a shirt with flowery patterns, opened and revealing his extremely well-defined abs, and Zoey can’t help but check them out for a second (or two, or three).

“I’m Rom.” Long pink hair, small face, heart-shaped sunglasses and an easy smile that screams trouble.

“Myst.” This one Zoey stares at longer than the others. He has lavender hair with bangs so long they’re almost covering his eyes, and his face gives away nothing. He’s the only one not smiling, staying a bit behind the others while they each greet all the girls.

“And I’m Baby!”

“Ew, no,” Mira immediately groans and scrunches her nose. “I’m not calling you Baby.”

“Well too bad, because that’s my name,” he cheekily replies. 

He looks younger than the others, a pout on his rounder face, and Zoey decides she doesn’t trust him one bit.

“No way,” Mira grunts. 

“It’s on my ID and everything.”

“I do not believe you for one second.”

While Mira and Baby argue—great start for those two—Zoey looks at the last of the boys. He introduces himself as Jinu and looks… Well, he looks the most reasonable in a way. Which means he’s probably the most dangerous. Rumi already seems hypnotized by his shiny black hair and perfect features, and Zoey feels an unexpected spark of protectiveness igniting in her chest. She shakes her head, pushes it down and focuses her attention on Myst. This is a dating show. It's a good thing that a guy has already caught Rumi's interest, right? Right. 

After a few more minutes of chaotic discussions and of Abby flexing his biceps for Tzuyu to touch all over, a robotic female voice echoes suddenly over their head. 

“Hello.” 

“Good god that almost gave me a heart attack,” Zoey mutters. Rumi gently pats her on the shoulder, her smile not remotely mocking, and Zoey feels a sort of warmth wash all over her, one she hasn't felt in a long time. 

“Please proceed inside, to the room at the end of the main corridor.”

“Ouuuuh, robot girl sounds hot!” Abby grins and that earns him a few laughs from everyone but Mira and Rumi. Zoey's chuckling just to go along. 

They all move inside and Zoey takes in the house for the first time. It's spacious, all wooden beams and travertine tiles and long white curtains floating under a gentle breeze. Sunshine is pouring through open large windows and glass doors. Plants are everywhere, adorning corners or hanging from top shelves. It's a really nice place, and Zoey's so damn excited to discover her bedroom and how comfy her bed is—the bed she hopes she'll share with someone for a few nights. The first to reach the indicated room is Rom.

“No way!” he shouts with excitement as he walks inside, and Zoey has to suppress the urge to run past all of them to see it for herself. Instead, she follows the group, Rumi in front of her, Mira behind and closing the line, and grows more and more impatient as more people get inside the room and start squealing. Then, Rumi gets in, and she freezes. Like, hard. To the point Zoey walks straight into her back with a loud “Oomf!”

“Oh, sorry,” Rumi murmurs, stepping aside, giving Zoey a glance, smile stiffened with… nervousness? Zoey walks past her and enters the room, or rather, the bedroom. Singular. Just one gigantic room with five gigantic beds, a nightstand on each side of the mattresses. At the far end of the bedroom stands a lamp. It’s white, shaped like a cone, and Zoey wouldn’t think twice about it if it wasn’t oddly placed on a single wooden stand, as if to highlight it.

“What the fuck is this,” Mira groans as she steps next to her and Rumi and takes in the room. “Are they serious?”

“SLUMBER PARTY!” Abby shouts as he immediately jumps on one of the beds and throws a pillow at Tzuyu, who screams and bursts out laughing. And, hell, this looks fun and Zoey hasn’t had a slumber party in ages and she’s never been much for privacy so really she’s pumped up for this, but she also can’t ignore how tense Rumi is and how annoyed Mira looks. And she gets it. She really does. One full month sleeping in the same room as strangers, in the same bed even, is a lot. And just because they signed up for a dating show doesn’t mean they have to be that comfortable with physical proximity. So, Zoey takes the matter into her own hands. She grabs them both by the wrist and drags them to the bed the closest to the door. With a big grin, she sits them down and proclaims, “That’s officially your bed now!” Then she bounces to the neighboring bed and flops on it with an even brighter smile. “And this one is mine!”

Baby is immediately by her side, a confident smirk on his lips. “Want a bunkmate?”

“Sure!” She was sort of hoping for Myst to join her, but it doesn’t really matter to her. What matters is that Rumi and Mira feel safe, and Zoey has a feeling the best way to achieve that is for them to share a bed. Or maybe not? Maybe she overstepped? Maybe Rumi was looking forward to sleeping next to Jinu? Shit. Did Zoey fuck up? Already?

She’s spiraling when Mira nudges her foot with her own. Zoey looks up at her; Mira’s eyes are soft, the corners of her mouth slightly lifted. Behind her, Rumi has lain down on the mattress, looking less tense, and relief washes all over Zoey. She hasn’t fucked up. Not yet, anyway.

“Welcome.”

Everybody starts as the lamp in the back suddenly lights up and… talks.

“Holy hell!” Abby exclaims. “Robot girl!”

“I am not a robot girl,” the lamp says, its light blinking pink at every word, and people whistle and scream and laugh because, really, there’s a talking lamp in their sole bedroom and this day couldn’t get any weirder. “My name is Lana. I am your host for the duration of the show.”

“Oh my god, hi Lana!” Zoey can’t help but squeak, and Rom, Abby, Tzuyu and Nayeon all join her in greeting their weird robot host.

“Hello. And as I said, welcome.” Her tone is robotic but somewhat smooth. “It is an absolute honor to have you all here for the upcoming month. In order to fittingly celebrate the beginning of this new adventure, I’d like to invite you all to a party tonight.”

Everybody cheers, except for Mira. Even Rumi seems to be looking forward to it, a genuine smile on her—fuck, perfect—face. Zoey has to once again do a conscious effort in order to focus her attention elsewhere. She’s quickly becoming aware that Mira and Rumi make it quite difficult to concentrate on anything else. And, thanks to her brilliant mind, they’ll share a bed together. Right next to Zoey. Okay, no. Focus. This is a straight show. Everyone but you is straight. You’re here for the boys. Yeah. The boys. Zoey stares at Myst, seated on the bed in front of hers, and it doesn’t take three seconds before her eyes drift back to Mira and Rumi.

***

The day goes by in a blur. Lana leaves them alone—production mentioned that the first dating game wouldn’t start until the next day—and the group gets better acquainted. Despite her initial resolve to just stay the fuck away from everyone else, Mira finds herself hanging out with them for the most part of the day. It’s partially because of Zoey, who drags her along and makes it quite hard for Mira to refuse, with the big puppy eyes she throws at her whenever Mira tries to get away from it. And it’s partially because of Rumi, who Mira can’t help but stare at while the boys circle around her like eagles around a field mouse. She’s ready to punch the first guy who does anything inappropriate to her. She doesn’t quite know why she feels that way towards Rumi in particular. Maybe because Nayeon and Tzuyu seem down to do just about anything with anyone, and Zoey looks like she can handle herself and tell them all to fuck off if she ever needs to. But Rumi? She seems too well composed, her shoulders too stiff whenever Abby throws his arm around them, her laugh a bit tight, nervous, quite unlike how she had laughed with them on the couch in the morning. She doesn’t belong there, surrounded by those boys who have one purpose and one purpose only in mind. So, Mira hangs out nearby and watches her, talks with Zoey, briefly entertains one of the guys when they try to strike a conversation with her, and the sun is setting before she knows it.

“I’m going to fuck him up,” Mira murmurs as she glares at Baby, who’s sucking on a lollipop—a fucking lollipop, where the fuck did he even get one—and casually playing with Nayeon’s hair. The girl is one air kiss away from drooling all over him.

“What? Who?” Zoey asks.

“This guy.” Mira jerks her chin towards Baby. She refuses to call him by his name, will only do so when she has proof that it’s truly his given name, but sadly production kept all of their sensitive belongings and she won’t have a way of knowing until the show is over. 

“Why?” 

This time it comes from Rumi, who’s sitting on her other side on the couch—their couch. They’re sipping at their non-alcoholic cocktails while the sun slowly sets over the sea, draping everything in gold and orange and red. The party will start after dinner, and Mira is not looking forward to it.

“He’s annoying. Look at his stupid face!”

“You sure you don’t have a thing for him?”

Mira slaps Zoey’s arm, gently. “You take that back. Right the fuck now.”

“Okay, okay,” Zoey giggles. “Sorry. So, if not him, then who’s your first interest?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. I guess Abby? He has nice abs.”

“Really nice abs,” Zoey nods.

“I’ll just fuck him tonight, get it over with.”

Rumi chokes on her cocktail so hard it spills down from her chin and drips dangerously close to the mike tied around her neck. 

“That’s uh… That’s one way to approach it,” she says while wiping her jaw with the back of her hand.

“Here.” 

Before Mira—or Rumi, it seems—has any time to process it, Zoey’s leaning over Mira’s lap and carefully cleaning Rumi’s chin with a napkin. For the very first time since she’s met her, Mira smells her scent. Zoey’s so close, so fucking close, her profile right there in front of Mira’s face, and she smells flowery, a bit sweet, something light and intoxicating.

“Thank you,” Rumi croaks when Zoey pulls back.

Rumi seems just as flustered as Mira, her cheeks red, her body rigid, while Zoey grabs her glass and starts enjoying her cocktail again, completely oblivious to the turmoil she’s just caused. Rumi clears her throat. From the corner of her eyes, Mira can see her furrowed eyebrows and pinched lips. She wonders if Zoey has crossed a line.

“I—” Rumi starts, shakes her head, sets her elbows on her lap and leans on them. “I’m glad you guys are here.” Mira cocks an eyebrow while a smile spreads on Zoey’s lips. “I was quite nervous, you know? This isn’t really my field.” She chuckles, continues, “And I thought all the girls here would be, well, a bit more like Nayeon and Tzuyu—Which is fine! They’re really nice! But… You guys are…”

“Weird?” Mira supplies just as Zoey says, “Fun?” and all three of them laugh.

“This is what I mean,” Rumi breathes out, and Mira gets it. “We’ve just met, but it’s so easy.”

“Besties!” Zoey chirps as she launches herself against Mira and brings her into a tight hug. “Fuck I’m too short, I can’t reach you Rumi.” 

They all laugh again and Rumi slightly leans against Mira and Mira can feel Zoey’s arm behind her, imagines the hand she’s put on the small of Rumi’s back, and her lungs squeeze a little inside her chest. Suddenly, a party with everyone doesn’t sound as dreadful as it did before.

***

If Rumi had to pick, the obvious choice would be Jinu. He’s handsome, well behaved, a bit mysterious but not completely closed off either. He makes her nervous, which she guesses is a good sign, although Zoey and Mira also make her nervous, somehow, in a completely unsettling and irrational way. She likes them, she truly does. It’s just… She can’t help but overheat whenever one of them touches her. Maybe she’s just not as comfortable with physical contact as she thought she was. Yeah. That's probably it. She's quite touchy with people she knows, but she's met those two this very day. So, that might be why her veins catch on fire when Mira leans closer to her, not quite touching, not quite lingering, but there. That might be why her stomach tightens whenever Zoey hooks an arm around hers, grabs her hand, casually bumps her shoulder against hers. Yeah, that's definitely why. She just needs to get to know them a bit better, that's all. 

She snaps her attention back to Jinu, who's talking about… crocheting hats? Wow she really zoned out for a second there. Now, this guy, he makes her nervous for the right reasons. He makes her feel on edge, keeping her on her toes at all times, when he leans to smile at her, when he asks something personal, when he casually flips his hair and winks at her. Isn't it what every girl wants? A little bit of danger? Not knowing what comes next? Giving up control to someone a bit mysterious and unpredictable? Rumi feels like she's bricked herself behind so many walls over the years, only someone with an edge, someone who'd come in strong and sharp and unrelenting would be able to break them. 

So, yeah. If she had to choose, she'd choose Jinu. He's hot, he's interesting, he's interested. Plus, they'll have plenty of opportunities to get to know each other better, intellectually, emotionally, with all the dating games planned throughout the show. Maybe, just maybe, she'll find the rare pearl she’s been looking for this whole time. That being said, she’s relieved Zoey unilaterally decided on their bed arrangement. She’s not ready to get this close to Jinu—to any boy, for that matter.

The party is in full swing. There’s loud music coming from the speakers, laughter, yelps, splash sounds as people jump in the pool—or push others in it. It’s lively and loud and carefree. Rumi’s sipping at her second beer. She politely declined when Jinu offered to get her a cocktail. She wants to be in control, especially tonight. Because it’s the first night. The air is shimmering with possibilities and people are overly excited to get to know each other, to start this whole month with a bang. Which means Rumi feels extra cautious. She doesn’t want to rush anything, to regret anything. Thankfully, Jinu doesn’t pressure her to drink more, unlike Abby, who’s just walking around with a bottle full of a suspiciously bright pink liquid and shoving it at everyone’s face with more or less success.

“Want to go somewhere a bit quieter?” Jinu asks over his drink—whisky, neat.

God. Does she? But just as she’s about to give in and say yes, Mira materializes next to them.

“Rumi, there you are. We have an emergency. Come.”

And without waiting for an answer, she grabs Rumi by the wrist and gently tugs her along.

“What’s the emergency?” Rumi asks, a bit relieved, a bit restless. Mira’s fingers are cool on her skin, a stark contrast with the warm evening air.

“This.”

Mira halts on the veranda. A massive bowl filled with an ungodly amount of popcorn sits on the coffee table next to Lana’s cone. Zoey’s crouched on the couch, head turned towards the ceiling, cheeks full with popcorn like a hamster, while Rom, Nayeon and Abby are cheering her up.

“Come on! You can do it!”

“Just a few more!”

“You’re almost at thirty!”

“Ih wonh fih!” Zoey tries to speak, but only weird muffled sounds and a few popcorn manage to get out of her mouth.

“Fuck, you lost two! Put them back, put them back!”

Rumi laughs, positively delighted by the sight in front of her. Zoey’s so… unapologetically herself.

“An emergency indeed,” she breathes out to Mira, who just smiles.

Rumi wonders for a second if she came to her rescue, back there. If she could feel Rumi’s hesitation over Jinu’s offer and just decided to give her an easy way out. She doesn’t know her very well, but it feels like something Mira would do. Zoey reaches out to the bowl and starts awkwardly piling a few more popcorn over the mountain bursting from her mouth.

“Yes!” Abby screams. “Twenty-six!”

Nayeon and Rom join him. “Twenty-seven!” they shout together.

Rumi laughs, and she shouts with them.

“Twenty-eight!”

“Twenty-nine!”

“THIRTY!”

They all erupt into cheers. Abby wraps his muscular arms around Zoey and lifts her off the couch. Popcorn spills everywhere as she starts laughing, and the whole thing is so weird and funny and Rumi’s laughing too, clapping her hands while Nayeon and Rom are dancing around the duo. Mira’s smiling, slowly shaking her head but visibly impressed.

“She’s such a dork,” Mira whispers. There’s fondness in her voice, and it warms Rumi’s blood in an unexpected way. Mira’s objectively a gorgeous girl, but she looks even more beautiful when she softens like this. Rumi stares back at Zoey, now pumping her fists in the air, and suddenly she realizes. She’s going to share a bed with Mira tonight.

***

“You good?” Mira asks.

“Never been better!” Zoey’s splashing water over her face in the girls’ bathroom, while Mira’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. “That was so fun! One of my favorite personal records!”

Mira snorts. “What other records do you have?”

“Most marshmallows in a closed mouth, most eggs carried without breaking any, most colors used to write a single notebook page, most movies binged in one weekend—”

Mira laughs as she unglues herself from the doorframe. “Alright, alright.” She walks towards Zoey, who’s still leaning over the sink, her face dripping with water. “What about the most boys you’ve dated? What’s your record?”

She feels a bit stupid asking that, as if she was a teenage girl, as if Zoey’s dating life was the most important thing. But Zoey’s adorable, and funny, and interesting, and so, so fucking pretty, and Mira can’t help but wonder. Did she only have long-term relationships? No relationship at all? Or only casual flings?

Zoey wipes her face with a towel and turns towards Mira. “Just two, actually.” Then, she adds. “And three girls.” Her last word falters as Mira gently reaches to her hair to untangle a popcorn that got caught there. For a fraction of a second while the words register, Mira freezes. Then she picks the popcorn and throws it in her mouth. Zoey’s eyes drop to her lips before shooting back up. She laughs, a bit awkward, rubbing the back of her head while a light blush spreads across her cheeks. “So, five people in total?” she says a bit quickly, as if to mask her sudden nervousness. “But like, only two of them were actually serious. It’s not an impressive record. I’m sure yours is better.”

The popcorn leaves a salty tang on Mira’s tongue. She watches as Zoey ducks her head and walks past her to get out of the bathroom, her ears now bright pink, and she catches her hand without thinking. Zoey stops in her tracks and turns around, eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

“It’s not,” Mira says softly, letting go of Zoey’s hand. “Better. Because there’s nothing wrong with not dating or dating fewer people. I—I wish I’ve had at least one long-term relationship. Or even short-term. I only have one-night stands to show for.”

“Oh.” Zoey smiles. It’s gentle and genuine. “There’s nothing wrong with that either.” Then her smile turns teasing and she pumps an eyebrow. “So, how many?”

“Are you asking for my body count? In the year 2025?”

“I sure am! And you just asked mine!”

Mira sighs. She wishes she was above it all enough to not have kept count. Alas, she’s not, and she won’t lie to Zoey. “Six guys.”

“Nice,” Zoey giggles, turning around again to leave the bathroom.

“And thirteen girls.”

***

Zoey sits down on the massive couch in the veranda, eyes lost. She tries not to think too much about Mira’s thigh brushing her own when she settles next to her, smiles at Rumi instead when she finds her spot on her other side. Everybody is taking their places on the different couches and sofas surrounding the coffee table where Lana stands. Their “host” had called them a few moments earlier and the music had slowly dimmed to silence. Tzuyu is all over Rom, giggling at him, her hand dangerously up on his thigh, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining. He’s beaming, even, eyes hazy with alcohol, grin a bit sloppy. Zoey saw him not even two minutes ago making out with Nayeon behind the bushes, and she wonders if the whole thing will become the first major drama in the group. Probably. And if it’s not, she knows production will make it so. Mira shifts next to her and Zoey stops breathing.

“Thank you for gathering here,” Lana says with her smooth robotic voice as her cone lights up.

Zoey forces herself to focus on Lana. Thirteen girls. La-na.

“I am pleased to see you’ve all gotten more acquainted with each other.”

Thirteen. Girls. She tries to remember if there’s a clause in the contract stipulating that she can only date a guy. She highly doubts it.

“However.”

She decides she’ll find out. Mira is incredibly hot, so very unique and kind-hearted. If Zoey had to choose between her and all the guys here, she’d choose Mira in a heartbeat.

“You are not here for the reasons you may think.”

She ignores the part of her that whispers that she could even have a shot with Rumi and—wait. What is Lana saying?

“All of you have been selected because of your incapacity to form meaningful romantic bonds with others.”

“Wow,” Abby says.

“Fucking rude,” Nayeon mutters.

Zoey’s now staring at Lana with a frown. She vaguely recalls filling a psychological evaluation when she applied. She had found it silly, a random and useless form to make sure none of them were serial killers, but maybe they got way more out of it than she thought. Still, Lana’s talking shit. She’s just gotten out of a two-year-long relationship. You can’t get more meaningful than that!

“The purpose of this retreat is to help you open up and form deeper romantic connections.”

“Well, that’s some new level of bullshit,” Mira mutters.

Lana continues, unfazed. “In order to motivate you, I have allocated a prize of 150,000,000 won.” Everybody gasps and Zoey quickly does the math. 110,000 dollars. Holy mackerel that’s. A lot. “The prize will be shared with everyone at the end of the retreat.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Abby shouts.

Rom and Baby high-five each other, Nayeon and Tzuyu cheer loudly, Jinu grins and winks at Rumi—yes, he winked, Zoey saw it—. Rumi seems cautious. Mira looks like a statue in a museum. And Zoey, well, she doesn’t quite know how to feel. It sounds too good to be true.

“However,” Lana says, her cone lighting up in a gentle purple, “there are conditions to your stay here.”

Here we go.

“You will have to refrain from any kind of sexual practices for the entirety of your stay.”

“Wait, what?” Shockingly—and thrillingly—, it comes from Mira.

“That includes kissing—”

“No way,” Tzuyu whines.

“Heavy petting—”

“No, no, no.” Abby looks distraught.

“—and sex of any kind.”

“Are they fucking serious?” Mira whispers.

“This will also apply to self-gratification.”

Zoey closes her eyes and lets herself fall back on the couch with the loudest groan, hands over her face.

“Wait, what does she mean?” Abby asks, panic in his voice.

“It means no masturbating,” Jinu calmly answers, and Abby blanches.

“For any transgression, money will be deducted from the prize.”

“Fuck,” Zoey mutters.

No kissing. No sex. No jacking off. As if she’s not sitting there between the two sexiest women she’s ever seen in her life. God. She’s fucked.

Lana chimes one last time.

“Welcome to Too Hot to Handle.”

Chapter Text

The party quickly dies after Lana’s announcement. Everybody looks like they’ve just seen a ghost. They’ve tried to comfort themselves with the consolation prize—so much money—but their hearts aren’t fully in it. Rumi suspects she’s the only one actually happy about this turn of events. Now, she won’t be pressured into throwing herself into a guy’s arms. She won’t have to pretend to be asleep when an orgy unfolds in the bedroom—because with ten, well, nine horny people sharing one bedroom, she had a feeling it could very much have ended this way—, and if everyone keeps it in their pants she gets to come home with 15,000,000 won. Overall, this is a major win.

When she walks into the bathroom, pajamas in hand, she almost bumps into Zoey stepping out of one of the shower stalls. She’s wearing a towel around her chest and waist, but it does very little to cover her legs still dripping with water.

“Oh, hi!”

Zoey greets her with a smile. She starts rubbing the back of her neck with the corner of her towel and her whole right side comes in full display, from armpit to sideboob to thigh. Rumi finds herself suddenly enraptured by the fake plant sitting on the shelf in the corner of the room.

“Quite the bomb they dropped back there,” she tells Zoey, voice casual.

“Quite, yeah.”

Rumi glances at her and relaxes. Zoey’s now rummaging through her products, towel secured around her body.

“How are you taking it?” Rumi asks.

“Ugh.” Zoey opens a face cream tube and squeezes some onto her fingertip. “Honestly? I was fine until the no self-gratification part.”

“I guess one month is a long time, huh,” Rumi chuckles as she tries really, really hard not to picture Zoey self-gratifying.

“It’s like, fine, you know? One month isn’t the end of the world, and the prize is worth it. But god they made sure it’d be quite the challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—”

Zoey sets the cream back down on the counter and turns to Rumi. Her eyes are slightly hooded, her cleavage still pink from the shower. She’s wrapped her raven hair in a messy bun atop her head to keep it dry, revealing her smooth neck. Rumi makes sure to maintain eye contact at all times. Chooses not to wonder why it’s such a hard feat to accomplish.

“People here are hot,” Zoey says. “And we’re all sharing a room. And we’re on a paradisiac island with beaches and a pool and a lot of incentives to walk around in our swimsuits and nothing else. And I have eyes, Rumi. I have eyes.”

She says it so dramatically Rumi starts laughing.

“Just don’t stare at the boys too long and you’ll be fine.”

“If only it was just the boys,” Zoey mutters as she turns around to grab the pajamas she’s set on the counter.

Rumi’s breath hitches. Oh. Zoey is… Oh. She blinks, internally shakes herself out of it.

“Well then I guess you’ll just have to not stare at anyone for the next month!”

Zoey laughs. “Bulletproof!”

She walks into a stall, pajamas in hand, and leaves the door ajar behind her while she changes. Rumi focuses on bringing her products into the neighboring stall.

“What about you?” Zoey asks, voice slightly muffled.

Rumi freezes. What does she mean what about you. Is she asking if she likes g—

“How do you feel about this whole no sex thing?”

Oh. Rumi quietly lets out the breath she’s been holding. “Honestly, I’m fine. Quite eager to get some money out of it.”

“Yeah? No regrets? You were hitting it off with Jinu earlier!”

“I’ll survive.”

She hears Zoey’s snort from the other stall and she smiles. She closes her door, starts to undress.

“Friendzoned the very first day,” Zoey laughs from the other side of the panel. “Alright, I’m going to the bedroom. Enjoy your shower!”

“Thanks.”

Just like that, she leaves, and Rumi does her absolute best not to think about the fact that Zoey likes girls.

***

When Mira walks into the bedroom, most people are already there. Only Abby and Myst are missing, still getting ready for the night, and the room is filled with quiet conversations and laughter. Tzuyu is in bed with Rom, Nayeon and Jinu are alone. Zoey’s splayed out on her mattress in her black and red polka dot sleeping shorts and white tank top, taking most of the space while Baby lies next to her on his side, propped up on an elbow. Ugh. Mira absolutely abhors him. She doesn’t need a good reason other than her guts screaming he’s an asshole and the way he’s looking at Zoey right now, so obviously faking interest while she’s telling him about her favorite species of frog. Fuck, Mira’s this close to kicking him out of bed and taking his place. She wouldn’t have to fake anything with Zoey. But then, there’s Rumi.

She’s already tucked in, wearing a tee-shirt three times too big for her, the sheets pulled all the way up to her waist despite the heat. She took the right side of the bed, close to Zoey, and she’s facing her, a little smile on her lips, as if she’s secretly enjoying her babbles. She looks particularly pretty right now, in her oversized shirt, face bare of any makeup—the difference is subtle, but it’s there.

When Mira slips into bed, propping her pillow against the bedframe and sitting against it, Rumi visibly tenses. She turns her head, politely smiles at Mira, faces away again. Her shoulders have stiffened, her legs curled up a bit more. Normally, Mira wouldn’t care. She’s used to sharing a bed with strangers, used to people’s different boundaries. She herself hates cuddles and morning-afters. She’ll stay in bed for an hour or two to make sure her hook-up has fallen asleep before quietly getting up, gathering her stuff and leaving in the middle of the night like a thief. But here, she can’t help the feeling gnawing at her, a mix of worry and fear she can’t quite explain. She just wants Rumi to be at ease, and she loathes the idea that she could potentially be the source of Rumi’s discomfort.

“Hey,” she whispers, gently grazing at Rumi’s elbow.

Rumi turns around and stays on her back, face turned up towards Mira.

“You sure you’re okay with this sleeping arrangement? I can switch with someone else if you’d rather.”

“What? No!” It tumbles out of Rumi’s mouth so fast Mira has to hold back a smile. “No, really,” she adds, more composed. “Unless you want to?”

“I don’t. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for now.”

Rumi smiles. It’s still a bit stiff.

“I don’t move,” Mira murmurs.

“What?”

“At night. I don’t move. I’ve been told I look dead, actually.”

Rumi laughs, then sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just not good at sharing a bed. Even with my ex-boyfriends, it’s always been complicated.”

“What’s complicated?” Zoey suddenly appears, a big smile on her face. She kneels by the bed and rests her chin on her crossed arms while Rumi pushes herself up to sit against the bedframe next to Mira. “Sorry, I was feeling left out.”

Mira feels herself mellow. Zoey’s too genuine for her own good. Rumi seems to think the same way because she smiles, softly, hands crossed on her covered lap.

“I was just saying that I have troubles sleeping in the same bed as others. Even with my exes.”

“Oooooh.” Zoey takes a wide look at the bedroom they’re all sharing. “Well, this is definitely the worst setup for you then.”

“I’ll be fine. Really. It’s not a bad thing for me to get out of my comfort zone.”

“And the beds are super large,” Zoey adds. “The three of us could all sleep in here without touching once! I mean, not that I’m going to jump into bed with you guys. I mean, not like that, I know you’re not—I just meant—”

Rumi and Mira both laugh while Zoey reddens a bit more at each word.

“I was just trying to say that the beds are so big that you probably won’t notice Mira’s here,” she finally mumbles.

“Yeah, especially because apparently she sleeps like the dead,” Rumi teases.

Mira cocks an eyebrow, but there’s no threat to it. She’s amused and relieved. Rumi seems to finally be relaxing a little, and Zoey has stopped talking to that doucheface.

“What about you?” she counters. “Any dangers I should be warned about? Do you kick in your sleep? Yell? Unconsciously spoon people?”

Rumi blushes faintly, nothing like Zoey had a few seconds earlier but still noticeable.

“No. I can sometimes toss and turn quite a bit though.”

“Ugh, you’re lucky,” Zoey sighs, cheek now resting on her crossed arms.

“Why?”

“I wish all I did was toss and turn.”

Mira squints and leans a bit towards her, brushing into Rumi’s personal space. “What else do you do?”

“I talk, sometimes. Like, not always! But sometimes.”

Mira lifts her eyebrows. “Scared you’re going to spill all of your secrets to us?”

“I don’t have any secrets,” Zoey mutters, but she’s avoiding eye contact and Mira finds her so damn cute and she feels herself turning into one of those nine-year-old boys pestering the girls they like during school recess. Rumi pokes at her thigh with a crooked smile and Mira’s heart dips into her stomach.

“Stop picking at Zoey,” she says playfully before turning to the other girl. “Your secrets, if you share any, are safe with us.”

“Thank you, Rumi.”

Zoey sticks her tongue out towards Mira, who laughs. Her heart is still beating a bit too hard, her blood a bit too warm. This, all of this, feels dangerously easy. Like they’ve been friends for years, like they don’t have to find their footing. Maybe that’s what blooming friendships always feel like, but Mira wouldn’t know. Not really.

She always was the scary kid. The girl who acted out to get at her parents. The one who skipped class, drew on walls and got expelled from school. She never did anything crazy, but it was enough to cast her out in her private school for rich kids. Her reputation stuck to her skin like glue all through middle school and high school, despite getting her shit together the last two years, and by the time she got admitted to Seoul National University she had completely closed off. She went through college with a heart of steel, took her notes and bolted as soon as classes ended. She had a few friends—acquaintances, really—, a couple of people she’d sometimes hangout with during lunch, but never anyone she could truly open up to. Now she’s graduated with honors, and the only interactions she has are with her coworkers. Sometimes, when she gets too lonely, she goes to a bar and waits for someone to come at her. It means nothing, a one-night stand with no strings attached, but it helps her feel a bit more human. Mira’s musings are interrupted by a loud shout by the door.

“Yooo Nayeon, were you waiting for me?”

Abby immediately walks towards Nayeon while she greets him with a bite of her lower lip—wow, they’re going to lose money real fast, aren’t they? Myst takes his place at Jinu’s side, quiet, but he still smiles when Jinu gently throws a pillow at him.

“Oh shit, the light!” Abby groans.

“I got it,” Mira says.

“Thanks, boo!”

She rolls her eyes, pushes the sheets down, gets up. Only now does she notice Rumi’s wearing pajama pants. Maybe she’s extra sensitive to the cold. Even though it’s quite hot in here. Even though all the boys are shirtless and all the girls are pantless. It’s not a big deal, really. But, for some reason, Mira files it in her head before turning the light off.

***

The first night and morning go by without any incident. There’s no transgression, no drama, not a splash to tarnish their time in paradise. It doesn’t last.

“A dance class?” Zoey repeats, bewildered.

“Dancing is an excellent mean to connect physically and emotionally with someone else,” Lana provides. “It allows for the expression of one’s feelings through movements. It calls for trust between the two partners and incites them to read each other through their gestures and pacing, rather than their words.”

“Sick,” Abby says.

“If you would please proceed to the garden.”

They all leave the patio where they had sat down for Lana’s announcement and walk around the side of the house. The garden, as Zoey had found out the day before, is absolutely gorgeous. A pond with red fishes and koi carps on one side, a gigantic mango tree overshadowing it, red and purple bougainvillea bushes along a beautiful white stone path. Everything is colorful, bathing in rays of sunshine slowly turning gold as the afternoon wears away. There’s a big empty space on one side of the mango tree, the grass soft and peppered with white and yellow little flowers. A man is standing there, in a blue Hawaiian shirt and white Bermuda shorts. He’s short—shorter than Zoey—, has a gentle round face with the smallest mustache, and he greets them with an excited smile. Zoey decides here and there that she likes him.

“Hi, hello! I’m Bobby! Your life coach for the retreat.”

“Of course we get a life coach,” Mira groans while everyone greets him back.

“Welcome to the improv’ dance workshop! For the next three hours, you’ll learn to let go, to follow the music as much as your heart, and to communicate and build something with your partner without using any word. Amazing, uh?”

“So amazing!” Zoey claps her hands, delighted, while Mira let’s out a very long Uuuuuugh. Rumi chuckles and nudges her elbow, as if asking her to play nice. Mira groans, but there’s the shadow of a smile on her lips. Bobby beams at Zoey, who beams back, before looking at the rest of the group.

“I’ve read your files and it is clear that there is a lot of work to be done in order for you to be able to truly, deeply connect with someone else. But fear not! Today will all be about having fun!”

“Love that,” Abby nods.

“I have personally selected everyone’s partner, based on your interactions since your arrival on the island.” He takes a dramatic pose and finger guns in the air as he shouts, “Are. You. Ready?”

Most of the group cheers.

“Alright! Nayeon and Myst! Tzuyu and Rom! Mira and Abby! Rumi and Jinu! Zoey and Baby! Please pair up with your partner!”

Zoey’s not surprised by this arrangement. She shares a bed with Baby, Rumi and Jinu have been talking quite a bit since yesterday, Tzuyu and Rom are one tipsy night away from costing the group a lot of money, and the producers are clearly trying to pair Mira with someone else. Abby’s the most obvious choice, as he seems to go along with anyone. Still, she can’t help but feel slightly on edge. She doesn’t particularly like Baby. Or rather, no. It’s not that she dislikes him. She just doesn’t trust him.

“Alright, let’s dance!”

The first half an hour flies by, and it is fun. Bobby’s making them feel the music, sometimes closing their eyes and dancing to the sounds of drums. All kinds of music styles blast out of the speakers, from traditional Korean folk songs to K-pop, and people are laughing, twirling, jumping, shaking shoulders and hips like nothing matters.

“Now, keep feeling the music, and get closer to your partner. Watch them. Understand them and the way they feel the music. Try to anticipate their next move, complement it, maybe mirror it, whatever feels right to you!”

That’s when things go downhill. Baby smirks, immediately walking into Zoey’s personal space. He’s been fine, last night. Keeping to his side of the bed, not trying anything, engaging in meaningless conversations with Zoey with an admittedly unenthusiastic look on his face. Zoey had thought she had bored him out completely this morning when she brought up the subject of frogs again, yet here he is, quite eager to jump on the opportunity to get physically close to her. She should be flattered, except she’s not.

But then, he moves with her, tries to match her messy gestures, sometimes taking her hand to make her twirl, and it’s honestly kind of… pleasant? Maybe she was too harsh on him. Just because Mira hates him doesn’t mean he’s a d— His hand slips down. It’s light, barely a brush, and it’s over as soon as it starts, but Zoey feels the imprint of his fingers like a burn. And it’s not her first rodeo. Not at all. She’s been with people before, flirted with plenty, and the whole purpose of this retreat is to get closer to others, so, really, she shouldn’t be so guarded. But it's just the way he did it. And does it again, and again, over the next ten minutes. A very light touch. As if it was accidental, when it’s so obvious he’s trying to cop a feel under the disguise of dancing. And he always has his stupid smirk on his face, knowing, on the edge of condescending. But Zoey can’t say anything. Everyone’s having fun and she can’t ruin it. And she doesn’t want to be rude to Baby either. He’s harmless. Just being a boy. And she’s probably overreacting too. Hell, she came to this show to get laid! Touching like this was what she had wanted! So, she sucks it in, toughs it up, keeps a smile on her face and tries to do the assignment, until—

“Fuck off!” Mira pushes Abby away, fury all over her face. “Touch me again and I’ll kill you!”

“Wow wow,” Bobby walks to them with a nervous chuckle and turns the music off with his remote. “What’s going on, guys?”

“He just shoved his face in my boobs.”

“It was just for fun! I barely touched them! I thought we’d get a good laugh!”

“Does it look like I’m laughing right now? Do you really think that any of this was an invitation for you to fucking motorboat me?”

Zoey would be on the verge of hysterics at the way Mira’s just said motorboat me if she wasn’t also completely offended Abby had done something like that to her friend.

“I’m sorry Bobby, but I’d like to change partners. There’s no way I’m doing this with him.”

“Oh, uh…”

Bobby looks at a complete loss and Mira doubles down before he has time to think of a solution.

“How about Abby and this guy pair up?” She walks towards Baby, a terrifying scowl on her face. “You think I haven’t noticed how you keep trying to touch her where she so clearly doesn’t want you to touch her?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he mutters, but Mira ignores him completely and turns to Bobby.

“What do you think, coach? All they do is make us feel uncomfortable. So how about they learn with each other how to respect other people’s fucking boundaries? Unless they can’t communicate without words because they’re two boys?”

Damn. Zoey almost feels bad for Bobby. Mira has him in a corner, and he has no choice but to go along, even though it’s probably the opposite of what production would want. She hopes he won’t get in trouble for this. But at the same time… Yeah, fuck those guys.

“Uh, no, no, of course they can still learn a lot even though they’re two boys.” Bobby finally shakes out of it and turns towards Abby and Baby, who are now both pouting. “You two will complete the workshop together.” His tone is way less friendly when he adds, “And I’ll have a word with you afterward.”

Hell yes Bobby! Put them boys in their place! Bobby claps his hands, turns the music back on and, with his kind smile back on his face, he exclaims, “Alright people, back to it! As I said, it’s all about feeling your partner!”

It's only when Mira steps towards Zoey that Zoey understands the full consequences of what has just happened. She’s free from Baby, which means…

“Hi.”

Mira’s voice is soft. Zoey suddenly wishes they didn’t have a mike around their necks. That that softness was for her and her only to hear.

“I’m sorry about all of that. Are you okay?”

Zoey nods, captivated by the gentle expression on Mira’s face when she looked so close to committing a first-degree murder not even one minute ago.

“I didn’t actually interrupt anything, did I?”

“Oh, god no,” Zoey reassures her. “He was being handsy and I wasn’t particularly enjoying it.”

“He’s the worst,” Mira mutters, shooting one stony glare at Baby before focusing entirely on Zoey. “Alright, Zo. Let’s do this?”

She called her Zo. And she’s looking at her with something Zoey could only describe as fondness. And she’s taking Zoey’s hands in hers and starting to move slowly to the rhythm. And Zoey’s fucked. Absolutely, utterly, irrevocably fucked. She lifts her head to look Mira in the eye, only finds patience and openness in there, and good god Zoey hates Lana and her stupid rules so much right now.

She tries to deflect with humor. “Now is the time I tell you I’m a terrible dancer,” she laughs, hoping it’d somehow ease the titanic tension coiling in her whole body.

“It’s okay,” Mira instantly replies, stepping closer and sliding a hand on Zoey’s lower back. “I’ve got you.”

Critical failure. Tension has not been eased. Tension has been drastically increased. Zoey almost trips on her feet, forces herself to focus on the music. Mira watches her intently, as if she’s really trying to understand her through her movements, and Zoey feels like she matters. Like what’s inside matters. Not just her big smiles and supportive cheers. Not just her joyfulness. So, she lets go. Moves more freely, dances as her body wants to, not influenced by her mind and eagerness to please. And Mira sees it. She studies her, follows along, guides her, even, sometimes, fully taking the lead to twirl her in her arms or circle around her like they’ve spent months rehearsing that choreography together. Except it’s not choreography. It’s just them and whatever they feel through the music. Whatever Zoey feels through the music. For the first time in her adolescent and adult life, she comes first. And all of this, this sense of safety and ease and significance, she owes it to Mira.

“You’re not a terrible dancer,” Mira murmurs as she slides against Zoey. “You’re really good, actually.”

“I have zero sense of rhythm.” Zoey’s voice is hoarse.

“That’s not true. You’d be great at this if you had some training.”

Mira glides a hand down Zoey’s wrist, wraps her fingers around it, spins her around, catches her in her arms, and Zoey giggles until she feels Mira’s chest brushing against her back and her laugh immediately gets stuck in her throat.

“Maybe you can teach me,” she says, low enough no one but Mira and their mikes can hear it.

Mira hums against her ear. She presses herself a bit closer to Zoey. Her hands smoothly fall on Zoey’s hips. She applies pressure, slows Zoey’s movements down, makes her hips roll almost leisurely, following one beat out of two instead of every beat.

“There,” she says, voice low, low, low. “Just like that.”

Zoey moans. She can’t help it. It’s small, barely audible, a faint whine caught in her throat, but it’s definitely there. She’s quick to cover it by clearing her throat but the damage is done. She knows, oh, she knows they’ll add it to the final montage of the show. She just hopes Mira didn’t he—

“Hot,” Mira whispers.

Zoey bites her lower lip so hard it hurts. Thinks about slamming Mira against the first wall she finds once the workshop is over, barely recalls the prize and the rules. Fuck you Lana fuck you Lana fuck you Lan—

“Alright people, time to switch it up!” Zoey suddenly remembers Bobby and eight other people are standing right there next to them. She detaches herself from Mira, turns around, glances at her and immediately back at her feet when she catches the fire in Mira’s eyes. Keep it together Zoey. “Each partner will take turns closing their eyes for one minute and let the other guide them.”

Oh, god.

“Trust me,” Mira whispers.

“Ready?” Bobby says. “Aaand, go!”

Zoey knows her underwear won’t recover from this.

***

When the workshop ends, they’re all sweaty and out of breath. Bobby discreetly gestures at Abby and Baby and the three of them stay behind while the rest of the group walks back to the patio. Rumi feels… fine. She had fun, honestly. Jinu is a good dancer, quick to match her pace without invading her space, and she had a pleasant time with him. Still, she couldn’t help but stare at Mira and Zoey from time to time. They seemed so in sync, as if they had danced together their whole life, and Rumi had had to smother an unexpected pang of jealousy. Her new friends work well together, and that’s a good thing. She just wishes things were as easy with Jinu as it seemed between them.

“Man, I’m pooped!” Zoey all but crashes on their couch. She reaches up to redo her buns one by one. Her fringe gleams a little with sweat. Her big brown eyes take an almost green color under the sunset glow. Rumi notices for the first time the freckles dusting her cheekbones and nose. She’s pretty. Really pretty. Rumi catches herself staring and hastily sits down next to her. Mira joins them a few moments later, a bottle of water in hand. She takes her place next to Rumi, drinks some water and hands her the bottle.

“Here.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Rumi doesn’t miss a beat before drinking. Indirect kisses are not a thing. And it doesn’t matter anyway. Mira’s a girl. A girl who was dancing really closely with Zoey not even ten minutes ago. Zoey, who likes girls.

“Did you take dance lessons?” Rumi asks, anything to distract her from her previous thoughts.

Mira lifts one eyebrow—Rumi’s quickly learning that it’s one of her signature moves—before smirking.

“Have you been watching us?”

“No, um, maybe, just, you were right in front of me—”

Mira laughs. It’s deep and breathy, and Rumi turns to Zoey to give her the bottle and to stop staring at Mira’s mouth. What the fuck is wrong with her. Get a grip.

“I did, actually. From eight to eighteen.”

“No wonder you’re such a good dancer,” Zoey sighs, awe in her voice.

“I only had classical training. I stopped as soon as I moved out of my parents’ house.”

“Do you miss it?” Rumi asks.

“Sometimes. I might pick it up again. Not classical, though. Maybe hip hop, or breakdance.”

“Oh my god that would be so cool!” Zoey chirps. “Now I want to do it too. Do you think I could pull it off? Oh! The three of us should take classes together! Wait. Where do you guys live?”

Rumi laughs. Zoey’s chaotic and unstoppable energy feels like a breath of fresh air.

“Seoul,” Mira answers.

“Yeeees, me too! Rumi?”

“I’m in Gwangju.”

“Ugh,” Zoey sighs. “I mean, Gwangju’s cool! But it’s so far. Okay well Mira and I will take some breakdance classes together while you find a way to move to Seoul, deal?”

Rumi laughs again. “Yeah, deal.” The same pang she’s felt earlier squeezes her chest. It shouldn’t matter, really. She met them yesterday. They’re basically strangers. But they feel like friends already, and they’re talking about the future, and Rumi knows Zoey’s not really serious, she knows it’s all conversational, wishful thinking, promises middle schoolers make during their last pajama party before never seeing each other again. But… She’d have loved it, honestly. A world where she gets to know Mira and Zoey a bit more after the show ends.

They keep chatting, talking about their daily lives back home, Zoey’s work as a florist, Mira’s project to open her own architectural firm in a few years, Rumi’s job in a communication company that she absolutely loathes but that she can’t quit because her aunt got it for her. They’re interrupted by Abby walking towards them and standing awkwardly in front of their couch.

“Hey, uh, Mira?”

Mira gives him a once-over that would chill Rumi’s blood if it was directed at her before leaning more comfortably against the couch and crossing her arms over her chest.

“What?”

“Okay, so, Bobby had a long talk with me and Baby, and then just with me because I had like, more questions, but…” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Like, really sorry. If a guy I barely knew had suddenly tickled my balls for fun or some shit like that I wouldn’t have liked it at all.”

Zoey hides her snort with a cough, Rumi grabs the water bottle and drinks in order not to smile, and Mira doesn’t move.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, you know? I thought it’d be fun. I—I’ll try to be better. To think about others before I do random shit like that. I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He pauses. Mira still doesn’t flinch or give away anything and he clears his throat.

“Anyway. If you, any of you, catch me doing something like that again, tell me, yeah?”

Finally, Mira lets out a long sigh and nods.

“We will. Thank you, Abby. I appreciate the apology.”

“We cool?”

“We cool.”

“Hell yes,” he grins.

He holds his hand up in front of Mira, who gives him a massive eyeroll but high-fives him anyway.

“You’re the best, boo!”

And just like that, he leaves and joins Jinu, Myst and Nayeon on the terrace, on the other side of the pool.

“Wow,” Zoey whispers. “Growth.”

“He’s fine,” Mira mumbles.

“I highly doubt Baby will go through the same emotional journey,” Rumi says, staring at him.

He’s inside, next to the bar, chatting with Rom and Nayeon and completely ignoring Zoey.

Zoey waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s fine. I don’t care. And I got a great dance partner out of it.”

Rumi suddenly feels like she’s intruding, but Abby comes to the rescue.

“Yo! Zoey! Weren’t you talking about frogs this morning? Come check this out, there’s a massive one over here!”

“Oh my god.”

Zoey’s already on her feet like she’s on a mission to save the world, not even sparing Mira and Rumi a glance before zooming towards Abby and crouching next to him in front of some bushes.

Mira snorts. “She’s something.”

“She is,” Rumi smiles. She gives Mira a side glance and catches the softness on her face. Her stomach is oddly twisting when she murmurs, “You two should share the bed tonight.”

“What?” Mira frowns and stares at Rumi. “Why? Did I bug you last night?”

“No, no. Not at all. I slept pretty well, actually. It took me a little while to relax, but once I did… I don’t recall sleeping that well next to anyone else.”

Mira’s shoulders visibly loosen.

“Is it because of Premium Douchebag over there?” She jerks her chin at Baby. “Because I don’t mind sleeping next to him. I’ll make sure he fears for his life with me there. Man, that sounds quite fun, actually. I’m excited for this.”

Rumi laughs and breathes out, “You’re so weird,” and Mira smiles.

She gently nudges Rumi’s arm.

“Then why?”

Rumi looks back at Zoey. She can’t say the truth, because the truth is very silly. I don’t want to get in the way. The way of what, she doesn’t know.

“I was thinking of maybe sharing a bed with Jinu?”

God, she sounds so unconvinced. Mira immediately picks up on it.

“How about you sleep with Zoey tonight?” she slowly offers. “I think she’d like to have someone she trusts with her, and I would very much like to make sure Mr. Buttface pisses his pants and never comes close to us again.”

Rumi snorts. “Yes, okay.” She’s relieved, even though she’s the one who offered to sleep next to Jinu, and Christ she’s quite fucked in the head, isn’t she? Coming here to find herself, to fix herself, to spend time with boys and find a guy who makes her feel anything but what she’s felt in her previous relationships—bored, like a fraud, like she was not trying hard enough—, and yet she can’t get herself to actually go for it, even though Jinu’s perfect on paper and checking all the boxes.

“You’re kind,” she points out.

Mira shrugs and says, “Only with you and Zoey.” She tries to play it cool, a detached look on her face, but her cheeks are red.

“Why us?”

Rumi knows she’s pushing into dangerous territory, but she can’t help it. Seeing Mira embarrassed makes her feel a bit giddy. Mira exhales through the nose. She leans against the couch and looks Rumi in the eyes.

“Who knows. Maybe I have a thing for pretty girls.”

Rumi can feel herself heating up from her collarbones to the tip of her ears. She looks away and pinches her lips, but not before catching Mira’s expression, her amused smile, her slightly lifted brows, saying clear as day You shoot me, I shoot you. Is she just joking? Maybe she’s just joking. Probably.

“Do you like girls?”

She wants to know. From the corner of her eye, she can see Mira watching her.

“I do,” she finally answers.

“And boys,” Rumi says dumbly.

“And boys, yes. Although only physically. I don’t think I could ever fall in love with a guy.”

“Why?”

Mira snorts. “Have you met them? They’re too dumb for me.”

Rumi laughs and finally looks back at Mira. She doesn’t seem offended by Rumi’s questions. Simply curious.

“So why come here? On a straight dating show?”

Mira opens her mouth to answer and immediately closes it when Jinu appears in front of them. He smiles politely at Mira, then a bit more softly at Rumi.

“Do you want to go for a walk with me? Before the sunset ends?”

Rumi can feel Mira going perfectly still at her side. She wants to say no. She wants to stay here. She wants to ask Mira about love and sex and Zoey. But she’s here to fix herself, even though she doesn’t know what’s broken, and so she smiles and says, “I’d love to.”

Chapter Text

When she comes back from her shower, Zoey finds Mira in the bed she’d shared with Baby the night before. She’s lying perfectly still, arms along her body, face turned towards Baby, eyes shooting daggers, spears and axes at him. He looks particularly uneasy, sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s ready to bolt as soon as Mira makes any suspicious movements.

“I’m just gonna sleep somewhere else,” he mutters.

“And ruin all the fun?” Mira immediately replies. “Don’t be that guy.” She smiles, and it’s wicked. Zoey finds it super hot. “Come on.” Mira pats the empty mattress at her side. “I don’t bite.”

He rolls his eyes, frowns, checks the room, but every bed is already full aside from the first one, where Rumi is lying. Zoey doesn’t even give him a chance to consider it; she falls face first into the mattress, before rolling on her back and grinning at Rumi.

“Ugh, fine,” he groans. Unlike the night before, he grabs a shirt and puts it on before slipping into bed. Mira doesn’t take her eyes off him for one second. Zoey hasn’t even seen her blink since she came back to the bedroom.

“She’s terrifying,” Rumi murmurs to Zoey, eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and admiration.

“She is,” Zoey murmurs back. “I dig it.”

 Rumi chuckles. “Of course you do.” Then, she turns to her side to face Zoey, and wow that girl should be on every magazine cover. “I hope it’s okay. This. Us sharing a bed.”

“Of course it’s okay!”

Rumi wiggles a little under the sheet to get closer to her and Zoey’s heart rate spikes. She whispers, “I offered to let you two have the bed but she insisted on, and I quote, making him piss his pants.”

Zoey laughs, so hard she surprises even herself and slaps her hand on her mouth with wide eyes. Rumi smiles at her. There’s the same spark in her eyes as the one Zoey had seen in Mira’s earlier. Fondness. And it makes her feel insane. Not unworthy, not uneasy, not doubting, but simply, purely insane. Never in her life has she thought two girls as interesting and beautiful as those two would look at her that way. Especially not when she’s being, well, herself. Loud and spontaneous and taking more space than she’s been given.

“Thank you,” Zoey finally says as she drops her hand on her chest, a smile still plastered on her face.

“You should thank Mira.”

“I will. But I want to thank you too. For, you know. Caring.”

And then, then, Rumi does something Zoey hasn’t seen her do since she met her: she initiates contact. Full on skin-on-skin contact. She grabs Zoey’s hand, squeezes it for two seconds and releases it.

“I should thank you too, then. It’s thanks to you that I shared a bed with Mira last night. I think if it had been any of the guys, anyone but you or her, really, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all.”

“You might not sleep at all with me tonight,” Zoey sighs. “I do toss and turn, you know? And talk. And, uh, I’ve been told I sometimes, like, spoon people.”

Rumi laughs, lies on her back and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think the problem is the other person,” she murmurs. “I think the problem is me.”

There’s a hint of sadness and resignation in her voice, as if she was confessing to more than just sleeping habits, and Zoey instinctively moves closer and wraps her arm and leg around Rumi, over the sheet. She rests her head on her shoulder and squeezes her tight while Rumi laughs.

“You’re not the problem.” She doesn’t know what this is really about, but she can’t handle the idea of Rumi blaming herself like this.

Rumi keeps laughing. “If you say so, girl I met yesterday!”

“Hey!” Zoey props herself up on one elbow to glare at Rumi—fuck she’s close, she’s so close, and she’s so pretty holy shit, how can eyebrows be so damn perfect, and she smells so good—“I’m a great judge of character! Well, no, actually that’s not true. People take advantage of me all the time. But! I know in my heart you’re an awesome person!”

Rumi snorts and shakes her head. Zoey’s about to roll away, back to her side of the bed, when she looks up and meets Mira’s gaze. She’s lying on her side now, turning her back to Baby, staring at the two of them with a warm expression on her usually haughty face. Well, haughty’s not the word. Not now that Zoey knows she’s such a kind person. She just has a massive case of resting bitch face—sexy resting bitch face. Zoey smiles at her, Mira smiles back, and suddenly Zoey’s thinking about this afternoon, the dance, the touches. There. Just like that. She feels herself blushing and hastily moves back to her spot. She misses Rumi’s warmth, but it’s quickly replaced with a powerful heat wave spreading from her lower stomach to her neck. She cannot, under any circumstances, get horny for Mira while in bed with Rumi. That would be crossing the line. Wait, what if she got horny for Rumi while in bed with Rumi? Would that be a breach of friendship? Definitely. Although if she doesn’t tell her, there’s no harm done, right? Wait, what is she even thinking?

Jinu gets up and turns the light off. The room plunges into darkness.

“Goodnight guys!” Abby says.

Everyone says it back more or less cheerfully, even Mira. Then, a small whisper from the pillow next to Zoey. “Goodnight, Zoey.”

Aw, fuck. Horny for Rumi it is.

“Goodnight, Rumi.”

***

Zoey didn’t lie: she did toss and turn in her sleep, rolling around until she found Rumi in the middle of the night and started clinging to her like a koala to a tree. That seemed to soothe her, and she slept like a rock for the rest of the night. Rumi woke up every time Zoey moved around, but she also managed to fall back asleep every time. When Zoey decided she would be her cuddly toy and spooned her from behind, Rumi tensed up completely. She stayed awake for long minutes, listening to the gentle snores coming from other beds, to Zoey’s deep breath tickling her nape. Every nerve in her body seemed to send her multiple streams of information at once. Zoey’s chest flush against her back. Zoey’s nose sometimes brushing her hair. Zoey’s arm wrapped around her waist. Zoey’s hand limp on her stomach. Zoey’s thighs, calves, feet, pressing against hers. Zoey, being her Zoey self, physical, clingy even in her sleep, and overall just plain adorable.

Eventually, Rumi started to relax. She found comfort in Zoey’s warmth, which was spreading to her through her pajama pants and t-shirt. She let Zoey’s slow breath lull her to sleep. She fell back into slumber with a calm heart and a calm mind, and she didn’t wake up until morning, when Zoey started to stir gently against her.

“Hmmmm,” Zoey’s now groaning.

She stretches a little, still wrapped around Rumi, and Rumi can feel the moment she finally comes awake and realizes the position they’re in.

“Shit,” Zoey whispers.

Slowly, very slowly, she untangles herself from Rumi. Rumi fights the urge to stop her. Because it’s weird. To want a friend to cuddle you longer, a friend who likes girls, a friend she met two days ago. And it’s even weirder considering the fact that Rumi actually managed to sleep decently even though Zoey did not, at all, respect her personal space during the night.

So, Rumi pretends to still be asleep, while she wonders why Mira and Zoey, two girls she didn’t know the existence of until the day before yesterday, managed to do what none of her boyfriends or other friends could ever do. She has a theory, one that gets somewhat confirmed when she finally opens her eyes and sees Mira sitting on her own bed and glowering at Baby like she wants to disintegrate him first thing in the morning. Mira and Zoey are so… unapologetically themselves. So unafraid to be who they are, despite not being like most. It makes Rumi feel brave. It makes her want to be herself too, to drop the walls, to find out what hides behind all those layers she’s wrapped herself in over the years. And sleep, well, isn’t it the one time where you can’t control yourself at all? Where you’re the most open and vulnerable? As silly as it sounds, Rumi is starting to realize that she didn’t want anyone to see her sleep, even in the dark, even if it’s just sleeping, because it’d feel like, somehow, they’d get a glimpse of her true self. But she doesn’t mind Mira and Zoey seeing her true self. She wants them to.

Mira’s unblinking stare glides from Baby to Rumi and immediately softens when she notices she’s awake.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. Her voice is a bit hoarse and it sends a shiver down Rumi’s spine. Were she a boy, she would have fallen here and there. Or, maybe, were she to like girls.

“Morning,” she says in the same gentle tone.

She feels Zoey fidgeting behind her, and soon enough a cheerful whisper travels above her ear. “Morning Mira! Morning Rumi!”

Rumi rolls on her back and is greeted by a blinding smile on Zoey’s face.

“Morning, little koala bear,” she teases.

Zoey blanches and scrambles onto her knees.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes out, panic in her voice. “I—I thought I could get it under control but then I fell asleep and the next thing I know I woke up clinging to you like a leech and I—”

“Zoey,” Rumi laughs. She sits up, knows Mira’s watching the interaction from her bed. Around them, people are starting to wake up, and the room rustles with whispers, yawns and good mornings. “You’re fine.”

“No, no, I really am sorry, you already have trouble sleeping next to people and here I am being so damn—”

“Spiraling?” Rumi wants to rub her thumb on Zoey’s cheekbones to ease her worries. Instead, she says, “I slept well.”

“You—what?”

“I slept well. Really.”

“Oh.”

Zoey doesn’t say anything after that.

“I also slept well,” Mira says as she stretches her arms above her head.

“You stared at me the whole night,” Baby groans as he kicks the sheets and gets up. “Like a creep.”

“Did I? I just sleep with my eyes opened sometimes, sorry.”

He scoffs and leaves the bedroom before anyone else is even out of bed.

“Wait, do you, really?” Zoey asks.

Mira barks a laugh.

“No. I just wanted to scare the shit out of him.”

She yawns loudly, the back of her hand covering her mouth, before rolling her shoulders.

“So you didn’t sleep at all?” Rumi asks, somehow delighted. “Way to commit to the bit.”

“Worth it.”

Mira winks at her and Rumi suddenly needs to remember how to breathe. Next to her, Zoey giggles and murmurs You’re so cool before getting out of bed. Rumi takes a little while to snap out of it. When she does, she feels oddly excited for the day to come.

***

Mira has always liked girls from afar. She never let herself get too close, be it with her pseudo-friends in university, her coworkers or the girls she’d spend one night with when she got too lonely. She’s always liked it this way. It felt safe, easy to control. Feelings are messy. Feelings can hurt. And despite loving whom she has become, she also knows she’s not easy to love, and she’d likely get her heart broken before anything could get too serious. Distance is better.

But here, distance is non-existent. She’s trapped on this island with no one else but five dumb boys, two boring girls, and Zoey and Rumi. Sometimes, there’s a housemaid cleaning the place or a cook discreetly pushing a cart heavy with their lunch or dinner, but that’s it. And Mira would be fine if it weren’t for Zoey and Rumi. With everyone else, she doesn’t need distance. But with them? She wants to be close, which means she should avoid them like the plague. But she can’t. She’s drawn to them. She wants to talk to them, look at them, listen to them, protect them. She wants Rumi laughing out loud on the couch and leaning slightly against Mira’s shoulder as she wipes her tears, she wants Zoey sneaking her way between her arms, her back flush against Mira’s chest, while she’s watching the sunset from the terrace. And the thing is, she has it. All of it, and more. She has Rumi’s smiles, teasing and comforting, and she has Zoey’s touch, light and lingering. She has their attention, their care, their drive, their humor, their unity, and it feels safe and right and Mira knows it’ll fall apart. It has to. It has to because this is starting to feel like how family should feel, and she knows that’s a fairytale she doesn’t get to live in.

They’ve been on the island for six days now, and they’ve settled into some sort of routine. The mornings are lazy. They wake up and slowly get ready for the day. Some go for a swim in the pool, some do their workout in the garden. Mira retreats to the beach to do her yoga. On the morning of the third day, she offered Rumi and Zoey to join, and they both enthusiastically agreed.

There’s no screen here, no phone, no computer, no TV, no way to connect to the outside world or to pass the time like they’d usually do. But there are cards, board games, a foosball table, a pool table and a ping pong table, and so they play. She likes it better when it’s just the three of them, but she still has fun when some other people join them. The boys have been fine since the dance workshop. Abby’s growing on her. The perfect picture of a himbo, harmless, stupid, pretty, meaning well but not always managing to connect the dots. Myst is almost like a ghost, barely speaking to anyone but Jinu, but he still hangs out and plays with them. Rom is busy flirting with both Tzuyu and Nayeon, who in turn have started to get a bit snappy at each other. Girls fighting over boys, a tragedy old as time. Baby is Baby, but he hasn’t approached or even glanced at Zoey, Rumi or her since the night Mira forced him to sleep in her bed. And Jinu, well. Jinu’s well behaved and sometimes funny, never straying from his quest to grow closer to Rumi. He chats with the other girls, but always keeps it polite and a bit distant. With Rumi, though, he turns the charm up. Flirts, but not too openly. Gives her the space she needs to not suffocate, but always reminds her of his existence. He’s good, Mira will give him that. She doesn’t hate him per se. But she does hate the way he diverts Rumi’s attention from her and Zoey. And that, that is a problem.

Mira has absolutely no right to be jealous. This is a dating show. A straight dating show. Rumi is here to meet a guy. Jinu hasn’t done anything remotely problematic ever since their arrival. If Rumi wants to get to know him more, Mira should encourage her. And it’d be one thing if Mira had a crush on Rumi and didn’t want to share the time she gets with her with anyone else. It’d be stupid but expected, simple to explain. But it’s not what’s happening here. It’s not, because there’s Zoey. And Mira likes Zoey. She likes her joy and openness and carefreeness and weirdness and the way everything seems to sparkle in her eyes, even Mira. She likes her pretty little face, her big brown eyes, her light freckles, her shiny black hair, the way her smile brightens every room she walks in. And she likes her body, how short she is, how easy it is for Mira to wrap her arms around her and rest her chin on the top of her head, how warm and soft her skin is, how each one of her cells seems to react to Mira whenever Mira intentionally lets her hand hover on the small of her back. She really, really likes her.

So how come she likes Rumi too? How come she can’t help but stare at her whenever she goes away, to the bathroom, to talk to Jinu, to get them a snack? How come she can’t get enough of the way she laughs, or the glint in her eyes whenever she’s listening to Zoey babble about one of her many hyperfixations, or how she appears so cool and confident when she’s talking to Nayeon and Tzuyu, and a bit more relaxed and vulnerable when no one but Mira and Zoey are around? How come she wants to trace each line of her tattoos, how come she keeps wondering where they reach, what other parts of her body they cover?

Fuck. Mira goes from not letting herself like anyone ever to falling for two girls at once. What a tragic, blissful mess. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

***

Zoey’s horny as fuck. It’s not like she’s a sex maniac, but you can’t blame a girl for needing some time to herself after spending almost a full week stuck like glue to the two hottest girls to have ever walked this Earth. She wishes she had a way to sneak one behind Lana’s back, but there are cameras in the bedroom, and she’s not skilled enough to stay still and quiet while doing it under the sheets—also, she feels depraved just considering masturbating while sharing a bed with someone else. There are cameras in the bathroom too, angled just right, and even though her full body is not on display she knows they’ll be able to spot her from a mile away. And there’s one camera in the pool—she checked, after thinking maybe she could go for a swim late at night while everyone is asleep. There’s just no escape from this lust hell, and she feels herself going a bit crazier each passing day.

Rumi and Mira don’t make it any easier. Rumi doesn’t mean to complicate things. She’s blissfully oblivious of Zoey’s endless torture, doesn’t know Zoey’s mouth goes dry whenever she bends over during yoga, doesn’t know Zoey completely heats up whenever she innocently touches her—and she’s been doing it more and more, getting comfortable around Zoey and Mira, and it makes Zoey so damn happy but also dear lord she can feel Rumi’s abs whenever they hug and they’re rock hard and if Zoey had a willy she’d be rock hard too and uuuugh she just needs five minutes! Not even five! Three! Three minutes alone, away from people and cameras! Please!

Mira, on the other hand, is perfectly aware Zoey’s on the verge of insanity. Every single one of her touches is deliberate. The hand lingering on her waist. The lips almost brushing her ear when she murmurs a joke Zoey can’t even process. The thigh flush against Zoey’s whenever they’re sitting on their couch. Mira knows, oh, she knows. And she’s always so—so—ugh! That little smirk on her face whenever Zoey almost spontaneously combusts after she touches her! That cocked eyebrow, that knowing look, so aloof! The way she plays innocent, gracefully moving away like nothing happened! God. She’s so fucking hot.

When Lana tells them she’s throwing them a party, on the evening of the seventh day, Zoey’s both excited and terrified. Excited because hell yes! A party! Music, cocktails, merry people getting buzzed together! And terrified because sober Zoey can barely hold it together, and she doesn’t trust tipsy Zoey not to implode and do something really stupid like drag Mira to a closet or tell Rumi exactly how much she enjoys her company.

The afternoon goes by in a flash. Zoey spends most of it psyching herself up to act like a responsible adult this evening. Think about the money, she keeps telling herself. Think about what you could do with 11,000 dollars. You could go to a hotel for a few days, give yourself time and space to find a new place to live, pay the deposit and the first months of rent without any worry. Yeah. That feels like incentive enough. When the music starts, she’s hanging with Abby and Nayeon by the pool. She’s almost convinced herself everything will be fine tonight. And then, Mira and Rumi walk into the patio. Mira’s wearing a perfectly fitted black jumpsuit, her hair down, a pair of golden glasses adorning her face, while Rumi’s put on ripped black shorts with a white crop top and an open yellow shirt revealing her slightly defined abs.

Oh. Ooooh no. Think about the money. Think about the mon—

***

Rumi wakes up with a massive hangover. She groans, rolls on her other side, finds Mira still passed out on her side of the bed. Timid sunlight is barely coming inside through the interstice by the curtains, but Rumi can tell it’s still early. She lifts her head, pushes through the nausea and focuses on the digital clock by the door. 6:37. So damn early. She contemplates going back to sleep, but she feels icky and achy and thirsty, so she decides to get up instead. Quietly, she leaves the bed. Mira stirs a little but doesn’t wake up. On the other bed, Zoey’s face is buried in her pillow and Rumi wonders for a second how she can breathe. Abby’s snoring a little next to her, one arm dangling from the mattress. Everyone is still sound asleep. She grabs the mike on her nightstand, puts it on and leaves.

Still in her PJs, Rumi moves to the kitchen, downs a glass of water and then another, grabs an apple from the fruit basket and heads to the patio. Dawn is breaking, its soft pink light spilling over the sky and the sea. The air is fresh. She shivers, grabs a throw blanket from one of the couches, wraps it around her shoulders and walks to the beach. She sits there, barefoot, her nausea slowly disappearing. She eats her apple, throws the core into the sea for the fish to eat, and sighs. She’s… happy. It's a feeling she’s rarely felt. Wonders if she’s ever truly felt it, even, or if she just thought she did because that’s what was expected of her. Happy to graduate from high school. Happy to get her master’s in communication. Happy to get her new job. Happy a cute boy asked her out. That’s what she was supposed to feel. She’s not supposed to feel happy right now. She hasn’t accomplished anything. She’s on reality TV, hasn’t made any progress with Jinu, is just spending her time lazing around and talking nonsense with Mira and Zoey. And yet, here she is, feeling warm and content, at peace, a quiet thrill buzzing through her veins.

She had a good time, last night. A great time. She spent almost all of it with Mira and Zoey, sometimes chatting with Jinu and the others, mostly sticking to her friends, issuing and taking on the silliest of challenges. Zoey cartwheeled on the beach, Mira jumped in the pool while still fully clothed, Rumi climbed the mango tree and got stuck there for a good five minutes before she let herself fall into Mira’s arms—they both crashed on the grass and stayed there laughing like maniacs, even more when Zoey excitedly joined the pile and laid down on top of Rumi. Unlike during the first party, Rumi felt safe enough to have a few drinks. She made the predictable mistake of letting Zoey whip a cocktail up for her, almost choked on it when she tasted it. She watched as Mira in turn tried it, blanched, poured the drink down the sink and prepped a cocktail herself that made Rumi moan each time she took a sip of it. It was a goofy night, full of laughter, alcohol and warmth. She went to bed a bit before Zoey and Mira, a carefree smile on her face. She wishes she’d had more nights like that. Weird, unpredictable yet safe nights with people who’ve truly started to feel like family to her. It’s almost magical how fast human beings can bond with one another.

She hears soft footsteps behind her, turns around and finds Jinu walking towards her. He’s wearing simple blue shorts and a plain white t-shirt, mike hanging around his neck, and he looks as good as usual.

“Mind if I join?”

“Please do.”

He sits next to her, crosses his arms over his bent knees, watches the sun rise. They stay there for a while, in companiable silence, until he speaks without looking at her.

“I was wondering why you came here. To a dating show.”

Rumi doesn’t tense. She would have, a few days ago. But she’s learned to trust and like Jinu. There’s no malice in his words.

“My dating life is a mess,” she says with a calm voice. From the corner of her eye, she can see him turning his head to look at her, but she keeps staring straight ahead at the pink sea. “I’ve had eight relationships. From two months long to two years long. And they were all failures.” He moves a little, as if to say something, but she raises a hand to cut him off. “I mean it. They weren’t failures because they eventually ended, they were failures because it felt like I wasn’t even a part of it. Like they didn’t matter, or the guy I was seeing didn’t matter, or I didn’t matter. Like I was following an instruction manual rather than writing my own story.”

Jinu doesn’t say anything.

“I came here because nothing else worked. Dating a friend failed. Dating a stranger who randomly approached me at a party failed. Dating apps failed. And I know, I know it’s not them. Most of them were sweet and fun guys. So if it’s not them, it’s me. I thought this—” She vaguely gestures at nothing. “—could somehow help me figure out what I’m doing wrong. What I should change. Or even just help me find a guy with whom it’d actually work.”

She wonders if all of this is pushing Jinu away. If she were him, she’d run as fast as she could.

“Is it?” he asks quietly. “Helping?”

She takes a second to think about it. Then, voice a murmur, “I think so, yes.”

She looks at him. He’s been staring at her for a while now. He smiles. It’s small and kind.

“It’s not me, huh,” he says. “The one actually helping.”

Her heart squeezes a little in her chest. She doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“No,” she whispers. “It’s not you.” She looks at her hands, twisting a little over her crossed legs, and adds, “It could be. I do enjoy spending time with you. And you’re, well, quite handsome.” He smiles. She should be blushing, she should feel shy, anything, yet she remains calm and in control. He doesn’t make her feel nervous anymore. She knows that, with him, she doesn’t have to be anyone she doesn’t want to be. “I’m not trying to lead you on. I just—I guess I’m just slowly figuring things out and learning how to be me.”

“That’s a good thing. A rare thing.”

It is, good and rare. Just like the two people she owes those feelings to.

“I like you, Rumi.”

She looks at him. He has a quiet confidence to his words that would make any other girl swoon.

“I think you’re beautiful, interesting, funny, and aware. I came here on a bet. I didn’t expect to find anyone I’d actually care about. But I care about you.”

She likes Jinu, and Jinu’s the perfect guy. So why isn’t she leaping with joy right now? Why is it so hard for her to feel close to him? To want to feel close to him, truly want, in her heart, not in her pragmatic mind? Maybe she needs more time. Maybe she needs more answers. To know herself better, before opening up to him.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he says with a soft voice. The wind ruffles his hair, the sun paints his smooth skin in gold. He truly is the definition of beauty, the one you find in dictionaries and romance books. “I just want you to know that I like you, and that I’ll wait for you. I’ll be there when you find the answers you’re looking for, whatever they are.”

He gets up, smiles at her one last time and leaves. Rumi tugs at her mike. It’s itchy around her neck. She thinks of Zoey and Mira, wishes they’d been the ones to get up at dawn and watch the sunset with her. Is it so wrong, to be more interested in friendship than in romance? She doesn’t want to live in a world in which the answer is yes.

Rumi stays there for a long while, blanket on her shoulders, until the sun has fully risen. Then, she gets up, stretches and goes back to the house. In the next few hours, people start to wake up and join her on the patio. Her heart quickens when Mira and Zoey walk outside side by side, one stretching and yawning, the other dragging her feet with a loud groan. She laughs when Zoey throws her arms around her neck and says, “Rumi, I’m dying!”, softens when Mira gently pushes Zoey’s shoulder and scolds her, “I told you that last tequila shot was a bad idea.” She feels on the brink of something, knows one of the answers she’s looking for is there, almost within grasp. People eat their breakfast and lie on the lounge chairs by the pool, and she tries to recall everything she’s felt this past week. That tension in her body she keeps feeling around Mira and Zoey, so different than the kind she feels around Jinu and all of her ex-boyfriends. The warmth. The fluster. The curiosity. The ease, too, when Mira and Zoey take turns sharing her bed. How she’s both bothered and unbothered by them liking girls. By them liking each other.

From the couch, she watches as they quietly talk next to the bar in the living room, Zoey glancing at her once, twice, thrice, and she wonders what all of this is about when they start walking towards her. But before they can reach her, Lana lights up on the coffee table.

“Good morning, everyone.”

People greet her more or less enthusiastically. Most of them are hungover.

“I’d like you all to gather on the patio.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Abby slumps on the couch next to Rumi.

Zoey flops down on one of the single sofas, while Mira sits next to Abby. It feels weird, all of a sudden. Like they’re not where they should be. They should be next to each other, like always, and uneasiness creeps in Rumi’s stomach. Once everyone is settled, Lana speaks again.

“I hope you all had a great party last night.”

“Too great,” Rom mutters, holding an ice-cold bottle of water against his temple. Tzuyu rubs his arm as if to soothe him.

“I am pleased to know you all had a good time. However, I am sad to report that there were multiple breaches of the rules last night.”

Everyone freezes, except Abby who shouts, “What? Who did it?! Guys, come on!”

Rumi narrows her eyes towards Tzuyu, who’s now suspiciously contemplating her nails instead of touching Rom all over like she’s been doing for the past seven days.

“For the transgression of kissing, I have deducted 4,000,000 won from the prize.”

“Holy fuck,” Baby swears. “Hope it was worth it.”

“Seriously, who did it?” Abby asks, looking around. “Cause it sure wasn’t me!”

But before anyone can come clean, Lana lights up.

“Rom.”

Rom groans against his water bottle.

“And Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu bites her lip, sighs, raises her hands in the air as if to appease them. “Look, guys, we’re sorry. We got tipsy, we were having a good time, and it happened. It was just a kiss!”

“A kiss that cost us 4,000,000 won,” Nayeon mutters. “Congrats.”

Even Myst looks disappointed. Rumi can feel the energy shift, and she hates how small Tzuyu looks right now.

“Look, guys,” she says. “What’s done is done. I think we can all agree that it sucks, but they just made one mistake. Let’s just be better from now on, yeah? There’s no point in going at each other’s throats over this.”

Abby, Myst and Jinu nod, Baby rolls his eyes, Nayeon hisses something under her breath, Rom doesn’t move and Tzuyu shoots Rumi a grateful look. Zoey and Mira stay very still and very quiet, even though Rumi had expected them to be her biggest supporters. The uneasiness she felt earlier comes back in full force, but before she has time to analyze it, Lana speaks once more.

“That is not all.”

“What now,” Nayeon sighs.

“For the transgressions of kissing and heavy petting—”

“For fuck’s sake guys,” Baby groans.

“—I have deducted 14,000,000 won from the prize.”

“Seriously?” Abby rubs his temples between his hands. Jinu looks tense on the couch. Baby’s glaring at Rumi as if she was the culprit, yet Rumi can’t bring herself to care. She’s staring fixedly at Zoey, who’s now fidgeting on her sofa and avoiding eye contact with everyone around her.

“Zoey,” Lana says.

Zoey drops her face in her hands and whines, “I’m so sorry guys.”

“And Mira.”

Baby immediately straightens up. “Oh, that’s rich! Miss perfect breaks the rules!”

“At least I’m not grabbing girls’ asses without their consent,” Mira spits back.

“You just cost us 14,000,000 won!”

“And you cost yourself your dignity just by existing!”

“Guys, come on, no fighting.”

The argument sounds muffled, a bit far away. Rumi’s still staring at Zoey, who’s finally staring back. “I’m sorry,” Zoey mouths, and she looks sorry, like a little puppy being scolded for destroying the toilet paper, but instead of feeling angry or disappointed or forgiving, there’s a void in Rumi’s heart. Kissing and heavy petting. Mira and Zoey had done that. They had done that while Rumi wasn’t there. And they didn’t tell her. They got to bed, woke up, went about their day, and they didn’t tell her.

“Thank you for your attention,” Lana lights up one final time.

Nayeon is immediately on her feet. She storms out of the patio, clearly furious and hurt Rom hadn’t picked her to break the rules with. Jinu goes to Baby, lays a hand on his shoulder and says, “Come on, let’s walk it off.” Baby shoots one last angry look at Mira before leaving with Jinu. Abby eventually sighs and gets up too.

“Not cool, guys,” he says. He looks at Zoey, gestures towards Mira and adds with a gentler voice, “But like, I get it. I’m like, mad, but if I had had the chance…” He turns to Mira and throws her a playful smile. “Yeah, I’d want to cost the group some money too.”

Mira doesn’t roll her eyes, but there’s a hint of gratitude in them as Abby nods at her and leaves the patio, dragging Myst with him. The only ones left are Rom and Tzuyu, both quiet, and Rumi, Zoey and Mira.

“Rumi,” Zoey starts tentatively.

Rumi shoots up on her feet, back stiff and jaws clenched, and she leaves without a glance at them.

Chapter Text

Zoey’s notorious lack of self-control isn’t her most dangerous enemy, this evening. No. It’s Rumi. More specifically, tipsy Rumi. The Rumi who constantly throws her arms around Zoey’s waist, giggles in her ear, slurs compliments left and right, touches her all the fuck over and devotes the same kind of relentless attention to Mira. That Rumi will be the death of her. Because, really, it’s not enough that Zoey has been plummeting into madness these past few days. Not enough that she feels like this whole show is just an excuse to put her in a perpetual state of edging with no hope of release in the coming weeks. Not enough that Mira has been teasing and torturing her, thoroughly enjoying watching Zoey implode at every touch or gravelly whisper. No. Rumi has to act like that.

And Zoey’s had clingy friends before. Hell, she’s the clingiest of them all. She’s used to straight girls hugging her and kissing her cheek and shouting “I love you!” before throwing themselves in some random guy’s arms. She’s learned not to let herself hope too much, to just appreciate the moment and move on. But with Rumi? Holy fucking macaroni, she’s making Zoey appreciate the moment waaaay too much. Her touches are lingering. Her hugs are tight, face buried in Zoey’s neck, a hand between her shoulder blades, the other on the small of her back. And she keeps saying stuff like “I really like you” and “I’m so happy you’re here” and “You’re the most adorable koala bear in the world” and what is Zoey supposed to do? Not react?

She’s done a fantastic job this past week, keeping her mind in check as much as possible and her hands above the sheets at all times. She deserves a fucking medal for not dragging Mira into the pantry, grabbing her hand and shoving it into her own shorts. She’s thought about it. Multiple times. But she always pushed the thought away. And she never, ever let herself think those things with Rumi. Mira likes girls. Mira likes her. There’s no doubt in that. But Rumi? Who knows what she wants, aside from apparently giving Zoey a heart attack tonight.

“You have such soft skin,” Rumi says with wonder as she brushes her fingers on Zoey’s arm.

Zoey’s melting. She takes a sip of her piña colada in hope it’ll cool her down but it shockingly doesn’t work. Mira’s watching, feet dangling into the pool, arms stretched behind her. Her jumpsuit is still clinging to her skin after she leaped into the water—she had cocked one eyebrow, had smiled and had gone for it almost immediately after Zoey had dared her to do so. She’s been surprisingly merciful so far, but Zoey knows it’s about to change. There’s a knowing little smile on her lips, and Zoey wants to smash her mouth on Mira’s to erase it.  

“Aw, I finished my drink…” Rumi pouts. “Mira? Do you think you could make me one more? I’ve never had a cocktail as good as this!”

“I’ve got you.”

Rumi cheers and is already moving towards the kitchen, leaving Zoey alone on their couch. Mira gracefully stands up, walks towards Zoey, puts one knee right next to her thigh and leans towards her. Zoey’s whole body catches on fire. Mira’s lips brush the tip of her ear and her damp hair tickles Zoey’s shoulder.

“How are you holding on?” Mira murmurs.

Zoey’s about to pass out. “I’m great.” Her high-pitched voice gives her away, and she can feel Mira’s low chuckle all the way to her bones. Mira leans back, takes Zoey’s chin between two gentle fingers, tilts her face towards hers. Jesus fucking christ. If she continues, Zoey might very well come right here and now.

“Liar.” Who the fuck gave Mira permission to be this fucking hot? Then, voice hushed in a whisper, “I know you’re wet.”

Zoey suppresses a moan and takes a long, shaky breath through her nose. She’s tipsy. She’s horny. She’s this close to losing it. But before she gets the chance, Mira smirks, stands up and leaves. Fucking hell.

When people start to go to bed, Zoey’s drunk on desire. She had a few drinks, sure, and that last tequila shot might tip her over from tipsy to fully drunk in the next few minutes, but she still feels fine. Well, not fine, because her body is liquefying and she’s never been wetter in her life, but she knows alcohol isn’t the issue here.

Half of said issue is going to bed. Rumi is laughing with Jinu, eyes hazy, looking more relaxed than Zoey has ever seen her. She happily waves at Zoey and Mira, trips on her feet and giggles, and good lord she’s the sexiest woman Zoey has ever seen. Well, actually, that’s not true. She shares the title with the other half of Zoey’s issue, who’s looking at Rumi with such a fond smile it has Zoey melt all over again.

“Hey boo!”

Abby’s clearly drunk and having the time of his life. He throws an arm around Mira’s shoulders like he does with Jinu and Rom, an easy grin on his face. It’s nothing sexual. More like a bro sign of friendship. “Wanna share a bed with me tonight?” Okay, maybe it is sexual. And it pisses Zoey off.

“I’m sleeping with Rumi,” Mira replies. She’s not shrugging him off. She doesn’t even look repulsed right now, just amused. And Zoey remembers oh too clearly how Abby was the first guy to catch Mira’s eye.

“Lucky Rumi,” Abby giggles, and he immediately lets go of Mira and walks away. He lifts his hand in front of Zoey as he passes next to her and she can’t help but deflate and high-five him with a smile of her own. It’s hard to stay mad at Abby. But still. As soon as he disappears into the corridor leading to the bedroom and the bathrooms, Zoey zeroes in on Mira. They’re the last ones standing on the patio. Rom and Tzuyu are walking down the path towards the beach, and everyone else is getting ready for bed or already passed out on their mattress.

“What?” Mira asks.

“You like him.”

“Are you jealous?”

Zoey blushes. She is, dammit. But she can’t admit that out loud. She can’t give Mira the satisfaction, and she also has no right to be jealous.

“I just remember you saying you’d fuck him and get it over with.” She emphasizes with air quotes, and Mira snorts.

“You are jealous.”

Zoey feels herself reddening a bit more. She pouts. “I’m not. I’m just trying to figure out what you want.”

Mira glances at her side. It takes a second for Zoey to realize she’s staring at one of the cameras hidden in a plant pot. Mira carefully takes off the mike hanging around her neck, then the one around Zoey’s neck. Zoey goes rigid as Mira’s fingers brush her collarbones. Mira steps a bit closer. Zoey’s heart is beating so hard it might break a rib. Mira smirks—again, those goddamn smirks!—, wraps her arms around Zoey’s waist and shoves the mikes in the back pocket of Zoey’s shorts. Zoey blacks out for a second.

 “I’m doing it to piss off my parents,” Mira whispers in her ear. “And there’s no better way of doing so than fucking a guy on screen for the world to see.” 

“Oh. My. God.” Zoey starts laughing and tries to keep it in control. She feels on the verge of hysterics, completely overwhelmed by this whole evening. “You’re my fucking hero.”

Mira steps back and smiles. It’s soft, a bit lopsided.

“Can I have my mike back?”

Zoey could potentially, maybe, theoretically get the mikes herself. But that wouldn’t be fun at all, would it?

“You can.” She doesn’t move, waits for Mira to get the hint, and when she does Mira’s eyes light up brightly.

“Teasing me,” she almost purrs, before resting her hands on Zoey’s waist again, sliding them down, down, down, and picking the mikes from her pocket. She ties one around Zoey’s neck and the other around hers.

“We should head to bed,” she sighs.

Zoey loathes that idea. She’s not thinking clearly anymore. She just knows that they’re alone, and Mira wants her, and Zoey can’t cope anymore. She thinks of Rumi, the ghost of her lips on Zoey’s neck, she thinks of Mira, the husky I know you’re wet that had Zoey short-circuit. Almost instinctively, Zoey catches her wrist and Mira goes perfectly still.

“You know…” Zoey breathes out, velvet in her voice. “This is a very straight show. Like, very straight.”

She looks expectantly at Mira, who squints at her, suspicious. “It is,” she carefully agrees.

“Right. And you know what the straights say.” Zoey pauses for effect. “It doesn’t count if it’s two girls.” 

Mira’s breath visibly catches in her throat. She swallows, keeps her eyes focused on Zoey.

“… Go on.”

“Let’s do an experiment,” Zoey rasps, leaning closer. She’s a bit dizzy, and it’s not from the alcohol. “For science.”

“Right. For science.” 

“We can test the waters. See if there are any repercussions at all.”

“You’re way more devilish than you look,” Mira murmurs.

“Thank you.” 

“And yes.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s… experiment.”

Zoey’s heart rings in her ears. She said yes. She said yes.

“Not here.” Zoey’s suddenly extremely impatient. She takes Mira’s hand, strides towards the side of the house, pulls her behind her. String lights and lanterns illuminate the garden, their dim glow reflected on the smooth surface of the pond. It’s beautiful. Zoey wishes Rumi was with them, wonders how her tattoos would look under this soft golden light. She drags Mira to the mango tree, then around it, hiding them away from prying eyes, and finally comes to a halt.

Mira chuckles. “So eager.”

Zoey presses her against the trunk and crashes her mouth against hers.

***

Lana’s dropped the bomb and ratted on Rom, Tzuyu, Zoey and Mira, and it’s a fucking mess. People are understandably mad at them, but Mira could not care less about any of them, even Baby who jumped on the opportunity to be the massive asshole he is. The only person that matters right now is Rumi, whose face completely closed up before she rose to her feet and strode out of the patio. And at that moment, when all she could see was her friend’s back as she fled from them, from her, Mira felt what she’s spent her life protecting herself from. Heartbreak. Heartbreak, and guilt. A pain of her own doing. She had known it, yesterday, that it wasn’t right. Not Zoey and her. She will never regret that. No, it wasn’t right because Rumi should have been there, as insane as it sounds.

She’s the first to get up after Rumi leaves. She feels a bit sick, stomach twisted in a tight knot, the air in her lungs thin, as if it carries no oxygen. She leans down in front of Zoey, who’s petrified on her sofa, and gently grabs her hand.

“Come on.”

Zoey blinks and lets Mira pull her off the couch. They walk towards the terrace, then around the side of the house where Rumi has disappeared.

“We should have told her,” Zoey whispers.

“We tried.”

Zoey looks completely wrecked with guilt. Truth be told, Mira isn’t feeling any better. She wonders if she can salvage this. Wonders what it is she’s trying to salvage. Friendship? Is that what’s bonding the three of them? Would Rumi be so hurt, if that was all they shared?

They find Rumi crouching by the pond, in the garden. She’s absentmindedly grazing the surface of the water and staring at the swarm of fish mistaking her fingertips for food. She doesn’t look up when Zoey and Mira walk to her and squat by her side. They stay silent for a while, Zoey oozing nervousness and Rumi showing the perfect poker face. Mira sits in the grass. She’d give anything to know what Rumi’s thinking right now. Gently, so very gently, she takes her hand, tugs it a little, watches as her friend finally sits too, followed by Zoey. Rumi still refuses to look any of them in the eye. Mira lets go of her hand. She feels so fucking shitty.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually croaks.

“Me too,” Zoey says, anxiously twisting her fingers. “So sorry. 14,000,000 won is a lot of money.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

Zoey shuts her mouth and Mira waits, until Rumi’s poker face crumbles. She frowns, pinches her lips, clenches her jaws, shakes her head.

“I don’t care about the money,” she repeats with more strength, more frustration, something on the edge of anger. “I was with you all night. All night. Did you do it as soon as I left to go to bed? Were you two waiting for me to finally leave you alone?”

Zoey vigorously shakes her head. “No, Rumi, you got it all wrong.”

“Do I? Because it sure doesn’t feel like I got it wrong. It feels like I’m the fucking third wheel! Like I’ve been in the way all this time and you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings! And I know you two like each other, I figured that out as soon as Mira told me she liked girls, but—I—We’re just friends, but I thought the three of us had something—That I wasn’t just an obstacle to you guys, that—”

“Rumi.” Mira understands, now. She knows how Rumi’s feeling, had spent the past week pushing the thought down as soon as it crept up in her mind. The fear of losing them. The fear of being left out, of this bond they share—so strong yet so fragile—suddenly crumbling into dust. She takes Rumi’s hand between hers, brings it to her mouth and drops a light kiss on her knuckles. “That is not what happened. Not at all.”

Rumi’s eyes fall to her hand and Mira releases it. Her skin grows cold. Rumi stares back at her.

“What happened, then?”

Mira shares a look with Zoey, who’s fidgeting by Rumi’s other side. Zoey stares at her with big pleading eyes, clearly desperate for this situation to be resolved, and so Mira tells Rumi about Abby and the conversation that followed. She doesn’t care if the world hears her. If her parents know the only reason why she’s here is to fuck someone on screen in order to get under their skin. She tells Rumi about how it took Zoey absolutely zero effort to convince Mira to break the rules. How they went to the garden and hid behind the mango tree like schoolgirls running away. How they were tipsy, and happy, and horny, and not planning for any of it to happen. How Mira had a fucking blast last night, with Rumi and Zoey, how not even once she thought it’d be better without Rumi around. She tells her about how Zoey pushed her against the trunk and kissed her. And all the while, Rumi stays quiet, anger and hurt slowly vanishing from her face. Now, her expression is one of marble, impassible and unreadable.

“And then?” she finally asks after Mira has fallen quiet. “Lana didn’t punish you for just kissing.”

Behind her, Zoey stops fidgeting. Mira doesn’t take her eyes off Rumi. She studies her, tries to find something, anything in her hazel eyes, a hint of fear or doubt or defensiveness, but Rumi gives her nothing. So, Mira answers, voice dropping a note.

“Then, I spun us around. I pinned Zoey against the tree and I kissed her back.” Rumi doesn’t move. “I slipped a hand under her shirt and my tongue into her mouth.” She still doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink, only breathes slowly. Next to her, Zoey’s biting her lip, eyes darting from Rumi to Mira. Mira tilts her head to the side.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she murmurs.

Rumi’s jaw tightens slightly. She turns her head towards Zoey.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Zoey says with a breathy voice.

Rumi stares at her for a couple more seconds before turning back to Mira.

“Keep going.”

Something twists in Mira’s stomach. A familiar heat spreads between her legs. Rumi’s face is still one of stone, but her chest rises and falls quicker than before.

“I pushed her shirt down her shoulder and I bit the base of her neck. Hard.”

Rumi glances at Zoey, who’s getting redder by the second as Mira recalls out loud the events of the previous night. Her eyes find the darker spot on her neck, half hidden under Zoey’s mike and the collar of her tank top.

“Did you like it?” Rumi murmurs.

Zoey nods and replies without an ounce of hesitation, “I did. I really, really did.”

Rumi stares back at Mira. There’s a light in her eyes, an invitation to keep going, a spark that makes Mira so damn wet. She knows she could have it wrong. That this could just be Rumi wanting to feel included, to know she wasn’t in the way. Or it could be something else entirely.

“She started to shake and whine in my arms,” Mira whispers. She looks at Zoey, who’s looking back at her with so much want it feels like a punch in the guts. “It was so fucking hot.”

Zoey swallows, digs her nails into her thigh. Mira looks back at Rumi. Her cheekbones and ears are now pink, her eyes fiery. Is it truly friendship, all of this?

“And then she turned us around, slammed me against the tree again, slipped her thigh between my legs, made me go insane for a few seconds and… She pulled away.”

Rumi stays silent for a little while before setting her eyes on Zoey. “Why?”

“Because it was wrong,” Zoey answers quietly. “The money, the rules, but mainly… I… Fuck it, I’ll just say it. I—I wanted you to be there. Watching around the corner to make sure nobody would come and catch us, or just watching us, or—”

She stops talking, pinching her lips as if not to say more, and Mira knows exactly what she’s thinking. What she truly wants. Rumi keeps quiet for a long while. She gazes at the pond, the icy mask on her face slowly melting into something more genuine, something gentler, sadder.

“Thank you for telling me,” she eventually says. “I know it’s a bit fucked, going into detail like that with me.”

“It’s not fucked.” Zoey blushes but keeps going. “It’s hot.”

“Super hot,” Mira approves.

Rumi snorts, shakes her head in disbelief, but there’s finally, finally the hint of a smile on her lips and Mira doesn’t want to lose that.

“A really attractive straight girl wanting to know in detail about my gay prowess? Please. That’s a dream come true.”

“Honestly? Life goal,” Zoey adds with a chuckle. “This will be all I think about for a while!”

It feels important. This. Them including her in that part of their lives, them making sure she understands that her being straight is the only reason why she wasn’t the one getting pinned against that tree last night. Even if Mira’s starting to wonder. Even if a lot of tiny things are starting to add up.

Rumi’s laughing a little now. “Really? Life goal?”

“You do not understand the impact straight girls can have on us queer girls,” Zoey says very seriously. “Especially when they’re as hot as you.”

Rumi blushes, but she keeps smiling and looking the both of them in the eye. Fuck, this is how it should be. None of them should ever feel left out. Ever.

“You’re a part of this,” Mira says.

“I wasn’t last night.” There’s no resentment to it. Rumi’s simply pointing out facts, cheeks dusted with pink, looking a little unsure but not so hurt anymore.

“That’s the thing,” Zoey says. “You were. You weren’t there, but you were still very much a part of it.”

Rumi smiles. “You’re making no sense.”

“She is, though,” Mira says softly.

Rumi cocks her eyebrows. “In what world?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

Rumi takes a second, as if bracing herself. “Always.”

“When you spilled your drink on your crop top,” Mira says without an ounce of hesitation. Rumi frowns, confused. “When you jumped on my back for a piggy ride.” Rumi looks more and more lost. “When you took your shirt off because you were too warm.”

Suddenly, understanding washes all over her face. She furiously blushes and her breath hitches while Zoey adds, “When you laughed so hard you tripped on me and we crashed on the couch.”

“When you dragged us into the pantry to hide from the boys.”

“When you whispered in my ears that you really liked me.”

“When you jumped off the tree and fell into my arms.”

“When you hugged me. Tightly. Multiple times.”

“I—” Rumi clears her throat, looks away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Mira says with a hushed voice.

“But that’s why you were a part of it,” Zoey adds, before sheepishly rubbing her neck. “If I’m being completely honest here, that’s why I lost control last night. I just— I couldn’t—” She flushes, hard. “I was so pent up, I—”

“Same,” Mira says, voice hoarse. “I have quite a bit of self-control, but the two of you pushed me to my limits.” Suddenly, doubt creeps up her spine. She watches Rumi and asks, trying to hide her fear, “Is that—Is that okay?”

This is all so fucking weird. They’ve just admitted that they wanted Rumi to be there with them when they were making out, that they want Rumi, plain and simple. Yet Rumi’s straight. Or at the very least she’s convinced she is. Maybe all of this is making her feel uneasy. Maybe they’re no better than all those guys circling around her, than the ex-boyfriends making her so guarded at night.

“It is,” Rumi finally says after a long while. “It really is.” She lies down on the grass, hands crossed over her stomach, and she looks at the sky. She’s redder than Zoey now, but she looks calm. “I’m sorry I reacted so strongly. I—I don’t know why I was so insecure.”

Zoey lies next to her, her left bun brushing Rumi’s long French braid. “You had every right to react the way you did. I’m sorry it got so messy. We tried to tell you, this morning, but Lana stole our thunder.”

Rumi chuckles. “Feels like something she’d do, yeah.”

Mira watches the both of them, arms a bit limp, warmth in her chest. She’s never felt lucky in her life before. She hates the family she was born in, hates the school they put her in, hates the classmates who shut her out. All of her accomplishments, she owed them to herself, not luck; her admission to Seoul National University, her master of science in architectural engineering, her first job at a renowned firm, her first successful projects. Yet, now, as she gazes at her two friends laughing about Lana’s weird sense of drama, she feels indisputably lucky. She clings to the feeling, tries not to think about what comes next—the loss, because things like this never last. She lies on her back next to Rumi, and she stares at the clear sky while they chat quietly next to her.

***

Rumi is sitting on the beach by herself for the second time today. This morning feels like a lifetime away, her conversation with Jinu a distant memory in her tired mind. She stifles a yawn, rolls her head to ease the pain in her neck. It’s been a long day. Not a bad one, not after she talked with Zoey and Mira. But a long one for sure.

“Ruuumi!”

She smiles before even turning around, immediately recognizing that cheerful voice.

“Hey, little koala bear.”

She’s been calling her like that ever since they spent their first night together. Because it fits and it’s adorable, but mainly because it makes Zoey blush every single time. And here she is, cheeks reddening without fault as she sits down on the sand next to Rumi, a notebook and a pen in hand.

“Where’s Mira?” Rumi asks, checking behind her, but the path to the house is empty.

“Abby’s teaching her how to play ping pong. She’s terrible at it.”

Rumi laughs. “It makes me feel better that there’s at least one thing she’s not excelling at.”

“Right?!”

“I still can’t believe how good she is at darts.”

“It’s terrifying!”

Rumi lifts her eyebrows and throws her a playful smile. “And hot?”

Zoey sighs dramatically. “And hot.”

Rumi laughs. It feels… good, to be able to talk openly about Zoey’s and Mira’s attraction for each other. It wasn’t really a taboo subject before, but before this morning Rumi would never have been able to bring it up herself, so naturally at that. Plus, she’s starting to get it. To put herself in their shoes. Mira throwing her darts at the speed of light and hitting bullseye every single time while she has the most threatening glower on her face is hot. She gets why Zoey lost it last night. If she was gay, she’d lose it too.

That, and now Rumi knows she has an effect on them. And that also feels good. Fucking great, even, if she’s honest with herself. She never cared about catching the interest of a guy. Well, no, she cared, but she didn’t care. She cared that she had a chance with someone new, a chance at building a better relationship than the previous disastrous ones. But she didn’t actually care that a guy wanted her. She didn’t particularly like it, even. The attention. The flirting. The innuendos that more often than not were the opposite of subtle. But with Mira and Zoey… It feels good to be wanted. Like she’s wanted for her whole body and her whole mind. For herself. Not just a part of her. Not just the mask she shows.

“Hey,” Zoey whispers. “Are you okay? You zoned out for a second.”

Rumi smiles. “I’m fine.” Lost. Confused. A bit scared. But fine. Excited. Ready for whatever this weird retreat throws at her next. “I really am.”

Zoey seems to relax. She lifts her hands and unties her buns one by one. Her hair falls freely around her face, and Rumi lets herself stare. It’s such a rare sight, Zoey with untied hair. She saw it once after Zoey came out of the shower, hair all wet and sticking to her face and neck, and another time for a few seconds when she was redoing her buns.

“You’re so pretty with your hair down,” Rumi murmurs. She’s aware her words will have an effect on Zoey, aware she’s the reason Zoey’s now blushing, looking away, laughing awkwardly while whispering a shy “Thank you.” Aware she’s complimenting a queer girl who has admitted only a few hours ago that she wanted her. And, fuck, it feels good to say it. It feels good to watch her flush and squirm and mutter something under her breath. To say out loud what her heart has been feeling quietly all this time, so quietly her own brain couldn’t hear it. “And with your buns. And with the ponytail you had that one time.”

“Rumi…”

Zoey’s cheekbones and ears are red. She’s now looking at her with an intensity that has Rumi’s heart quickening. And Rumi feels a thrill running down her spine and warmth spreading between her legs, and the same sensation as this morning seizes her, as if the answer is right there, as if she just had to reach for Zoey to get it. But something is missing—someone—and so she doesn’t.

“What’s in the notebook?” she asks.

“Oh.” Zoey squeezes it a little, eyes dropping to her feet. “Just a collection of some thoughts and doodles, or some lyrics that came to mind. Nothing important!”

“It feels important to me.” All the more because Zoey seems embarrassed all of a sudden, as if she was expecting mockery or dismissal. “I won’t pry,” Rumi reassures her with a soft voice. “I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“They’re silly.” Zoey sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. “And most of them aren’t even complete, just some lines I randomly thought of during the day.”

“Do you sing?”

“Um, a little. I—I try to… rap?”

Rumi’s eyes widen with surprise. She snorts and shakes her head. “Why is this so on brand for you…”

“It is?”

“I can totally see you rapping! Turning into demon mode and throwing one banger line after the other… I hope I get to see it one day! I bet you’re amazing at it!”

Zoey’s now avoiding eye contact and staring at her notebook, cheeks so red Rumi feels completely charmed. Zoey is so, so lovely.

“I mean it,” she adds with a soft voice, poking at Zoey’s thigh to catch her eyes.

“People used to make fun of me for it.”

“Is that why you haven’t taken your notebook out since we arrived here?”

“Yeah.”

Zoey sighs, lies on her back and rests her head on Rumi’s lap. Rumi’s heart skips a beat. She raises her hand, puts it on Zoey’s head, starts caressing her hair. It’s silky, the raven strands spilling on her bare thighs, and Rumi wonders if she’s ever had such an intimate moment with any of her ex-boyfriends.

“You made me want to be brave,” Zoey confesses in a murmur, face slightly turned towards the sea.

“Me?” Rumi thinks about Jinu. “I’m the biggest coward there is.”

“That’s not true. Not one bit. I would never have been able to tell you guys how upset I was, if you two had made out without me knowing.”

Rumi’s whole body reacts to the idea of her and Mira making out. Her heart leaps, her lungs tighten, her blood heats up, her skin tingles from her neck to her fingertips. She stays perfectly still and focuses on Zoey.

“I’d have hidden my feelings behind a smile and some cheers,” Zoey continues, “and waited to be alone in the shower to cry about it.”

“You and Mira are the ones who made me brave enough to not run away and pretend everything was fine.” Rumi’s absentmindedly combing Zoey’s hair with her fingers. She feels the words in her throat, a lump that has always been stuck there, that she never could swallow or spit out. But Zoey’s closing her eyes as Rumi brushes her hair, and she’s sighing a little, and she’s being open and vulnerable and all Rumi feels for her is love. So, she chooses to be open and vulnerable too, chooses to believe that all Zoey would feel for her is also love.

“I was raised by my aunt Celine,” she tells her quietly. Zoey opens her eyes, stares at her from her lap. “We’re not related. She and my mother were best friends, and when my mother died, Celine took me in. I was two.”

Zoey takes her hand, the one not caressing her hair, and she brings it to her chest.

“I never lacked for anything. I was raised in a nice home, with care and love, and I never, ever felt unwanted. But Celine wasn’t my mother. She isn’t. She made sure I understood that from the earliest age. I grew up calling her Celine, not mom. I grew up with the memories of my real mother, or at least the ones Celine would share with me. And it’s nice, in a way, you know? To still have a mother, even if only through stories. But that woman isn’t the one who raised me, who taught me how to swim, who took me to school every day, or to the hospital when I had appendicitis. The one who cared for me. That was all Celine.”

Zoey’s brushing Rumi’s fingers with her thumb. It’s a bit distracting, but Rumi wouldn’t want her to stop for anything in the world.

“Celine loves me. I know she does. But she was also so… burdened by the responsibility. She wanted to do a good job raising me, for me, but also for my mother. To make sure that she would be at peace, were she to watch me from wherever she is. It took me a long time to realize this. It was little clues, all adding up. The quiet pressure she’d put on my studies, how she enrolled me in martial arts classes and made sure I never skipped a lesson, how she took it upon herself to teach me about music, art, history, the kind they don’t always tell you about in school. She wanted me to grow up strong, smart, cultured. She pushed me to do a master’s in communication, because I’d get a lot of job opportunities, some that would pay very well. She got me my first job through an acquaintance of hers. The money’s good, and I could have a decent career in the company. But… All of it, it’s just what she wants, what society wants. I’ve never stopped to consider what I want. There always was this sort of underlying pressure that forced me to follow one path and never stray from it. I didn’t want to disappoint Celine. To add to her burden. She never was obvious about it, but I could tell. Every time I brought back good grades, she wasn’t happy. She was relieved.”

Zoey turns around on her lap. She wraps her arms around Rumi’s waist, buries her face in her stomach and squeezes her. She’s warm. Soft. Gentle. Rumi feels like crying. She keeps combing her silky hair and silently marvels at its softness.

“So, I studied hard. I had quiet friends, a workout routine, a polite smile on my face at all time. I went through life without causing a ripple, just being who Celine wanted me to be. I snapped once, when I got my tattoos, but Celine didn’t really care about them. The one expectation I couldn’t meet was the one about my romantic life. I wanted to bring home a nice boy, with a nice career ahead of him. Someone with whom I’d have a stable, quiet and comfortable life. I tried, over and over again. But I kept failing. I couldn’t feel close to any of them. I genuinely liked some, but I never loved them. Never wanted them. I had eight real relationships and countless dates. None of them worked. And Celine never said anything about it, you know? She never actually put pressure on me to find the one perfect guy. I put that pressure on myself. And after all of those failures, I started to realize that there was something wrong with me. That I was the problem.”

Zoey tightens her arms around her, rubs her face in the soft tissue of her t-shirt, digs her fingers in the small of her back. Rumi feels warm, in her heart, on the surface of her skin, deep in her lower stomach.

“You’re not the problem.” Zoey’s voice is muffled by Rumi’s shirt. Those are the exact same words she said the first night they shared a bed. They barely knew each other back then. But now… Zoey finally turns her face, stares at Rumi who’s staring back down at her. There’s a disarming resolve in her eyes, as if she needs Rumi to understand her every word. “You’re figuring things out. You’ve lived your whole life for others, for Celine, for your mom’s memory, for society. That’s not on you. All you did was try to ease a burden that you didn’t even create. You’re just doing your best. And I think that’s amazing. I think you’re amazing. And I know, I just know you’re not the problem, Rumi.”

“I’m part of it,” Rumi murmurs.

Zoey reaches up, lifting her arm in the air and so very carefully, so very gently setting her hand on Rumi’s cheek. Rumi leans into the touch, closes her eyes, looks back at Zoey. Fuck. This is it, isn’t it? This is the moment everything starts to click into place.

“It’s my fault I never stopped looking ahead of me. I’ve been so focused on that picture of the perfect girl I wanted to become that I forgot to look inside. To learn who I truly was. To care for myself. And that’s why you and Mira make me brave. You’re just so unafraid to be who you are. And I want that. I want to be like you.”

Zoey drops her arm back on her chest and laughs. It’s weak, half-hearted. “I guess that’s how it looks, uh.” She turns her head and looks out at the sea. “Sometimes, I’m just… terrified, you know? Of being too much, too loud, too energetic, or taking too much space. It wouldn’t be the first time people start to distance themselves from me because they’ve realized they simply can’t handle me.”

“Fuck them.” Rumi spoke without thinking, but she doesn’t take it back. Her heart is squeezing in her chest at the idea of anyone hurting Zoey because she was just her kind, bubbly, incredible self. Zoey shakes her head with a sad smile, and Rumi slides a hand along her cheek and makes her face her once more. “Really, Zoey. Fuck them. You bring people so much joy and strength, and if they can’t handle that then it’s on them.”

“People always think they can at first, you know? And they do try. It’s not their fault if I’m—”

“Adorable?” Rumi cuts her off. She’s now brushing Zoey’s cheekbone with her thumb. Grazing at her upper lip. Tracing the contour of her bottom one. It’s intentional. Every word, every gesture is intentional. “Passionate? Interesting? Curious?”

“Rumi…”

“Kind? Generous? Supportive? Funny?”

Zoey chuckles. Her face is red. Her eyes shine with something Rumi’s starting to recognize, to accept for what it really is.

“You’re not making this easy,” Zoey croaks.

“Making what easy?”

Rumi knows. She just wants to hear it.

“To not look at you like that,” Zoey says, voice shy.

Rumi pauses. For the first time, she thinks about what she wants. For herself, not for others, not for Celine, not for her late mother, not for anyone but her.

“I want you to,” she murmurs. Then, with more confidence, with a thrill running deep in her chest, “I want you to look at me like that.”

It feels so fucking good to admit it. She wants Zoey to look at her with sheer desire. She wants her to be her entire self, to never feel ashamed of who she is, of what she likes, of what she wants.

“You do?” Zoey whispers.

“It’s just another part of your incredible self.”

Zoey snorts. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”

Rumi smiles. She’s never been called a sweet-talker before. She’s never been active, in her previous relationships. She’s never been the one to do the first step, to throw a line at a guy, to flirt, to initiate touches. But right now, with Zoey on her lap? She feels so damn confident. She understands with a frightening clarity why Mira keeps teasing Zoey when she thinks Rumi’s not looking.

“Just honest,” she finally says with a smile.

Zoey bites the inside of her lip before suddenly rolling off Rumi’s lap and sitting back next to her. Rumi throws her a questioning look, and Zoey opens her notebook with a furious blush.

“If this keeps going, I might just kiss you,” she mutters.

Rumi stares at her while she starts scribbling on an empty page. A prickle runs on her skin. Energy coils within her, buzzing in her muscles, begging to be released. She feels like she needs to get up and run on the beach as fast as she can, to scream at the top of her lungs, to let it out, this, all of this, all of this tension, all of those years of lies and cowardice and repression. She hears footsteps and turns around. Mira’s walking towards them, unbearably beautiful in the red and white sarong she’s wrapped around her waist and tied at one shoulder, and Rumi knows, deep in her bones, that there’s no turning back from this. Zoey and Mira hold the answers she’s been desperately looking for, and she’s done running away from herself.

Mira halts next to Rumi, stares at Zoey’s crimson face for a second, then sits down next to her.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Zoey mumbles just as Rumi says “A lot.”

Rumi snorts. Reaches for Zoey. Tucks a strand of hair behind her pink ear.

“I’ll tell you later,” she murmurs to Mira, who nods with a small but gentle smile, an open curiosity on her face as she watches the both of them.

Then, Rumi gets up and, without ceremony, she takes her shirt off and throws it on the sand.

“What are you doing?” Mira asks, a tightness in her words that sends a jolt of electricity through Rumi’s whole body. She shakes her shorts off, drops them on her shirt, turns around to find Zoey gaping at her, pen barely held in her fingers, and Mira completely rooted in place, her eyes fixed on Rumi’s black bra.

“I’m going for a swim,” Rumi grins before turning around, sprinting and leaping into the cool sea. It takes about thirty seconds before Mira and Zoey join her. They yelp, they laugh, they splash each other and dive underwater, and for the very first time in her life, Rumi feels entirely, unapologetically free.

Chapter Text

Mira never thought she’d feel so much during a stupid dating show. She thought she’d spend the month by herself, practicing yoga, swimming, meditating, contemplating the meaning of life and the best ways to send her parents to an early grave. She thought her only real interactions would be with the one guy she’d choose to achieve her ultimate goal with, and that she’d completely ignore him the next day along with the rest of the group.

She was wrong.

It’s been eight days since the retreat started, and now she has two best friends, a himbo buddy and a nemesis. She’s laughed more in a week than she has in her whole life. She’s felt more in a week than she has in her whole life: joy, fondness, gratitude, desire, pain, guilt, relief. She’s learned that her heart can hold much more love than she thought it could. That with emotional intimacy comes the need for physical intimacy. That she could want someone not because her body has needs, but simply for the person themselves.

There’s still some friction in the air after Lana deducted money from the prize this morning, but it has mostly vanished. Nayeon has decided to completely ignore Tzuyu and Rom, spending her time with Jinu, Abby or Myst instead, and Mira’s new life purpose is to make Baby as uncomfortable as possible with a wide collection of death glares and furious frowns. Other than that, the rest of the day goes smoothly. Everyone but Baby has been graceful about Zoey and Mira’s and Rom and Tzuyu’s slip up. Abby had been the first to reach out, dragging Mira to the ping pong table and shoving a racket in her hand, and she will never admit it to him but she’s getting quite fond of that dumb himbo. Jinu doesn’t seem particularly bothered, favoring the cohesion of the group over the money, and Myst aligns with whatever him or Abby have decided.

Most importantly, Rumi has forgiven them. Their talk by the pond, and later her discussion with Zoey, seem to have put her completely at peace. She’s radiant, even, some sort of relaxation to her every movement, as if all the knots in her muscles had come loose.

That evening, everyone gets ready for bed with quieter chatter than usual, but chatter nonetheless. Nayeon zooms past the bed where Rom is already lying down and sits on Myst’s bed with such a forceful determination he looks at her with surprised eyes.

“Come on babe, don’t be like that,” Rom tells her, but she ignores him. Zoey and Rumi are already lying on the bed by the door, and Mira takes the one next to them. She knew it was coming. She slept with Rumi last night, so it’s Zoey’s turn tonight. Yet she can’t help but feel a little bit left out. After everything that happened today, she wants to feel close to them. But that’s okay. It’s not like there’s much of a choice, and she doesn’t want to come between Zoey and Rumi either. They bonded, on the beach. She could tell. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, but she knows it was important, intense, the kind of discussion that sets things into motion. Something’s changed in the way Rumi looks at Zoey. And Mira’s not jealous. Not exactly. But she does feel a little twinge in her heart. She tries to chase the fear away, rationalizes, reminds herself how much worse it had been for Rumi when she found out Mira and Zoey had made out. But despite her best effort, her whole body is stiff as she slides under the sheets and props her back against the headboard. She’s scared to look at them, but she can hear them happily chat together.

“Hey boo!” Abby’s standing by her bed, skin flushed from his shower, hair still damp, abs on full display under the dim light of the bedroom. “Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

He flashes her a hopeful and harmless grin. Not for the first time today, Mira feels a surge of gratitude towards him. She smirks, pats the mattress next to her, and he cheers as he jumps into bed with her.

“Oh, I forgot the fan!”

He leaps back out of bed with boundless energy and goes to the narrow coffee table the producers had bought and set up for the group a few days ago, when the temperatures rose to the point they needed fans to be able to breathe in the bedroom.

“Alright guys! Who needs air tonight?”

There’s a concert of “Me” and “Please” and Abby chuckles, slamming the buttons of the five fans crammed on the table. It fills the room with a welcome breeze and a strong, buzzing sound that immediately drowns the background noises. Mira can’t hear Rom and Tzuyu whispering on their bed anymore, can barely discern Baby’s voice as he chats with Jinu at the other end of the bedroom. She can still hear Zoey’s giggles on the bed next to her, but she knows she wouldn’t be able to understand anything they say if they started to murmur instead of speak out loud. She pushes the thought aside and focuses on Abby, who’s joined her in bed once again.

“Hi!” he grins. “You’re so pretty in your PJs!”

She rolls her eyes, shoves his arm and huffs a tiny laugh as he exaggeratedly pumps his eyebrows. Old Mira would have gone for it. Abby’s fun, kind, stupid and ripped. The absolute perfect boy toy, one who wouldn’t catch feelings, who would see a night together for what it is; a transaction, some fun with no strings attached, and nothing else. Mira doesn’t care about the money. She has money. More than she could use, if she’s being honest. And she’s selfish enough to break the rules and cost the group a chunk of the prize if it means she gets what she came here for. Or… she thought she was selfish enough. But now, there’s Zoey and Rumi. There’s Abby. There’s Jinu, and Nayeon, and Myst, and even if she’s barely spoken to them, she doesn’t want to take away what could make a big difference in their lives. She’s aware that, for most people, 15,000,000 won is a lot. Or whatever’s left for each of them now that the prize has been revised downward. But mainly, she doesn’t want to hurt Zoey and Rumi. Although she can’t help but wonder: would it hurt them at all, if she fucked someone else? 

“Not gonna lie,” Abby says while he thoroughly pats his pillow as he does every night—some strange ritual he never strays from—“I thought you’d share the bed with Zoey today. I ain’t complaining though!”

Mira can’t help but glance to her side and freezes when she notices both Rumi and Zoey staring at her. Zoey immediately looks away when Mira catches her gaze, but not fast enough for Mira not to notice her pinched lips and the annoyed spark in her eyes. Rumi stays still. She smiles at Mira, but it’s a bit stiff, almost forced. Mira nods at her and returns her smile, immediately catches the way Rumi’s expression tightens when Abby sighs and throws an arm over Mira’s lap.

“Is that okay?” Abby asks, voice muffled by his pillow, and she turns her attention towards him. He’s on his stomach, face almost entirely swallowed by his pillow, back muscles perfectly defined as he stretches his arm across Mira. His hand is hanging in the air, only his elbow and forearm are resting on her thighs, and she doesn’t feel any kind of way about it. She thinks about Zoey’s irritation and Rumi’s chilled face, and she smiles. She rests a hand on his head and starts playing with his damp hair.

“It’s fine,” she whispers, weirdly hoping Zoey and Rumi won’t hear her. “But don’t get any ideas.”

“I won’t.” He seems to relax under her touch.

“I mean it.”

“Me too.” He cracks an eye open and slightly turns his face so he can stare at her. There’s an odd seriousness in his stare. “Like, you’re super hot and I wouldn’t mind at all if, y’know. But…” He shrugs. “You’re cool. I like the idea of us being bros.”

She smiles. She likes it too. She wonders if she should tell him he’s her first male pal, decides he’d be too insufferable about it and keeps quiet. She chances a glance at the other bed. Zoey’s now lying on her side, half her face hidden by Rumi’s body, and the one eye Mira can see is shooting lightning bolts at Abby. Rumi has turned her back to Mira, but her neck is rigid, and a very misplaced sense of victory washes all over Mira along with relief.

As he does almost every night now, Jinu gets up and turns off the light.

“Goodnight guys,” Abby slurs, voice already fading to sleep, and people say it back as they always do. Mira plays with his hair a little while longer, strangely happy. Zoey and Rumi are indubitably her friends—probably the closest she’ll ever have—, but she still wants them with every fiber of her body. Abby, though? Abby is just a friend. Nothing more. And it feels good, to realize she has it in her to bond with someone that way.

After a minute or two, she slides down the mattress. Abby groans, gives her a light pat on the shoulder and rolls to his side. It takes about thirty seconds for him to fall asleep, and Mira can hear his slow, deep breaths despite the ceaseless hum of the fans. She perks up her ears and tries to listen to Zoey and Rumi, but no sound comes out of their bed. She misses Rumi’s presence by her side. Wishes she knew what it’s like to fall asleep next to Zoey. Rumi keeps calling her a little koala bear, and even though Mira hates cuddling with her one-night stands, she knows with a staggering certainty that she would very much love every single second of it if Zoey clung to her all night long.

Her thoughts drift away, never lingering long in her mind, and soon the low buzz of the fans starts to lull her to sleep. She’s lost awareness of her surroundings when a hand slides up her forearm and jolts her back awake. She tenses on instinct, doesn’t quite relax when her eyes get accustomed to the dark and she recognizes Rumi’s gray silhouette by her bed. Rumi’s hand slides back down her arm and slots into hers. She tugs at her a little, and Mira props herself up on one elbow, her heart racing. She wants to ask what’s going on, but she’s scared it’ll wake Abby up. She doesn’t want anyone to be aware of this. Of Rumi getting out of bed and waking her up as she was falling asleep.

Rumi’s tug grows a bit more insistent and Mira lets her pull her out of bed and drag her to the one she shares with Zoey. Mira can barely breathe. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but she’s starting to put some pieces together. Rumi’s behavior this past week. Her pain when she found out about the kiss. How she asked for more details and didn’t pull away when they explicitly told her they wanted her there. The way she was looking at Zoey on the beach when Mira joined them.

Rumi gets back into her bed and Mira wordlessly follows. Her heart is hammering in her chest. Her blood thrums with adrenaline. Warmth spreads in her lower stomach. Rumi settles on her side, turning her back to her, but she doesn’t let go of her hand. She draws Mira’s arm until Mira’s hand is resting on her stomach and Mira’s chest is pressed against her back. And then, she sighs.

Mira’s whole body heats up. Every time she slept with Rumi this past week, she’s kept to her side of the bed. She knew Rumi had boundaries, and the only thing that mattered to Mira was that her friend was feeling safe and comfortable enough to sleep by her side. She made a point of staying as far away as possible on the mattress, even though she knew Rumi didn’t mind it when Zoey inevitably stuck to her during the night. But Mira wasn’t Zoey. She and Rumi never touched at night, not once. And now, Rumi’s dragged her out of bed and into hers and made sure every single part of their bodies is connected. Mira’s about to lose it.

Her breathing is heavy, and she knows Rumi can feel how deeply her chest is rising and falling against her back. She’s completely tensed, but not uncomfortably so. Her mind is fuzzy with expectation and greed. She tests the waters. Flinches her fingers against Rumi’s stomach, feels her abs through the fabric of her oversized shirt. She moves closer, enough that her boobs are now squeezed against Rumi, and she feels Rumi’s responding shiver like an electric shock. Mira breathes out a shuddering breath that grazes against Rumi’s nape, and Rumi curls up a bit more against her, tightening her grip around her hand. Fucking hell.

The room around them is quiet aside from the purrs of the fans. Mira can hear Rumi. Feel how fast her breathing is now. Deep and quick, her stomach expending against Mira’s hand with each breath. Mira curls a bit more against her, pushing her thighs against Rumi’s just enough that it’s not a simple touch anymore, but intentional pressure, and Rumi digs her nails into the palm of Mira’s hand, hard enough Mira can’t help but let out a low grunt. Rumi jerks a little at the sound, and Mira’s so turned on she has to press her forehead to Rumi’s neck to keep herself from biting her shoulder. As if all of this wasn’t enough, she feels a hand tentatively reaching hers and Rumi’s. Zoey. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Zoey drags her fingers on the back of Mira’s hand, on her forearm, all the way to her elbow. She halts when Mira uncontrollably quivers, before resuming her slow movement with more intent and less pressure, just a feather brush on her skin. Mira hears the sheets rustle, feels the mattress dip a little under her, and suddenly the hand Rumi’s still holding is trapped between both Rumi’s and Zoey’s stomachs. Zoey has more reach now, enough to scrape Mira’s naked shoulder, to run a finger under the strap of her tank top, then over it, continuing her journey all the way to her neck, the outline of her jaw, the lobe then the tip of her ear. Mira holds back a moan, her grip firmer around Rumi’s waist, and Rumi starts to shake a little against her.

Zoey moves closer. Mira hears the swish of sheets and clothes before she feels Zoey’s breath against her cheek. Zoey’s now burying her face in Rumi’s neck, who’s once again jerking against Mira, and jesus fucking christ what is even happening?! Mira’s so wet she can smell it. Fuck. She lets go of Rumi’s hand, slips her own under Rumi’s shirt, glides it over her smooth skin, marvels at how tight her abs are as she keeps shivering against Mira. Mira bites her lip, so hard it hurts, before slowly sliding her hand down, down, down, until her fingertips dip under the waistband of Rumi’s pajama pants. As soon as she feels the fabric of Rumi’s underwear, Rumi snatches her wrist and Mira freezes. But before guilt can overtake her, Rumi turns around a little, Zoey’s face now hovering against her collarbones.

“The rules,” she whispers, and she sounds wrecked, words ragged with want.

It takes every last bit of Mira’s self-control to not dive her hand lower and feel just exactly how aroused Rumi is. She nods against Rumi’s neck, retracts her hand, settles it on her waist, heavy and shaking. Zoey drags her own hand up Mira’s arm again, in a more soothing way, until it reaches her cheek and she starts affectionately brushing Mira’s cheekbone with her thumb. There’s so much tenderness in that one simple gesture, and something deep inside Mira shatters. She’s suddenly overwhelmed, Rumi burning with want in her arms, Zoey grounding her in the dark. She turns her face and kisses Zoey’s hand once, twice, thrice, and she hopes Zoey can feel how much she cares.

“I should go,” Mira whispers even though every cell of her body is screaming the opposite. As soon as the words leave her mouth, Rumi snatches her arm and holds her close.

“Stay,” she breathes out. “Please.”

“Fuck.” Mira buries her face into Rumi’s nape, takes a long and deep breath, wills her body to cool down. “Okay,” she finally says, voice a strangled hush.

“Just—Don’t—”

Zoey moves and Rumi’s murmur turns into a quiet moan that almost makes Mira black out.

“Zoey,” Rumi whispers, breathless, voice a bit sharper and accusatory.

“Sorry… You’re just so…” Zoey sighs.

Mira gets it. Fuck, does she get it. She’s extremely grateful for the five fans roaring at the center of the bedroom and covering the many, many sounds they’re making.

“Okay,” she whispers, a bit more decisive. “Sleep.”

“Sleep,” Rumi nods.

Zoey sighs again, but she says it too. “Sleep… I guess…”

Mira chuckles, and soon she feels Rumi silently laughing against her and hears Zoey’s own quiet giggle. God, these women. They stop talking after that. It takes a long while for the tension to evaporate, but once it does, Mira finds herself leaning into Rumi’s warmth and appreciating the embrace for what it is. She’s never shared anything like this with anyone before. Never felt this close, this intimate with someone, even the boys and girls she’s had sex with.

When her restlessness finally settles and she fully relaxes, nestled against Rumi and in sync with her breathing, she murmurs, “Goodnight, guys.”

“Goodnight,” Zoey mumbles, clearly half asleep already.

“Goodnight,” Rumi whispers.

She gently takes Mira’s hand, brings it to her mouth and drops a kiss on her knuckles before replacing it on her waist. Mira sighs, so perfectly content. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep after that.

***

Zoey slowly drifts away from sleep. She gradually becomes aware of the softness of the sheets on her legs and the coolness of the breeze on her bare skin as it rhythmically washes over her arms. Her body feels limp, and she slowly starts stretching her toes and legs, eyes closed, while taking a long breath. Muscles still lax with sleep, she rolls around and… falls face first onto the floor. She yelps, eyes shooting wide open, and scrambles on her knees to get back up, one hand rubbing her nose, the other gripping the sheets. Rumi’s groggily pushing herself on one elbow, and she fully awakens when she sees Zoey on the floor. She starts laughing, a quiet, husky chuckle that leaves Zoey even more breathless than she already is, before extending a hand towards her.

“Come here,” she whispers, smile big, eyes still puffed with sleep but shining with mischief nonetheless.

Zoey glances at the digital clock. 8:53 am. She climbs back onto the bed. Rumi takes her hand as soon as it’s within reach. She pulls Zoey towards her, and Zoey ends up curled in front of Rumi, facing her and not knowing what to do with the sheer amount of beauty she’s being exposed to first thing in the morning.

“Are you hurt?” Rumi asks quietly.

“Oh no, don’t worry.” Zoey grins. “Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve fallen out of bed.

Rumi giggles again. “Oh I believe you.”

“It’s because I wasn’t clinging to you this time,” Zoey whispers, playful and happy and a bit dizzy from her fall and the softness in Rumi’s eyes. “I lost my anchor.”

“Hmmmmm.” Rumi slightly turns her head to look at Mira from the corner of her eye. Their friend is still sleeping. There’s some distance between Mira’s and Rumi’s body now, but Mira’s hand is resting on Rumi’s thigh, her face so peaceful Zoey feels a surge of love so massive it startles her.

“I guess you’ll have to take turns,” Rumi whispers as she faces Zoey again, a small smirk on her lips.

The words punch Zoey in the face harder than the floor had one minute ago, and her body immediately catches on fire. She tries to chase away the images her mind instinctively conjured—her and Mira taking turns on top of Rumi, over and over and over again until Rumi dissolves into a shivering, wet mess under their hands—, but as soon as she manages to banish those unholy thoughts, her brain summons the memories of last night.

Rumi getting out of bed and Zoey thinking she was going to the bathroom. Rumi getting back in bed, breath oddly ragged. Rumi’s hand gripping Zoey’s pajama shirt and bringing her closer. Zoey realizing Mira was in bed with them. And then, the low growl, the shivers, the little gasps, Rumi’s smell, Rumi’s skin, Rumi’s warmth as Zoey buried her face into her neck, the weak moan Rumi let out when Zoey slid a leg between hers and pushed, just a little, just for a second. Fuck. That was actually insane. And the best part is? Zoey never saw it coming. She never even let herself daydream about it, because she wanted to be a good friend to Rumi, Rumi who is straight. Supposedly so. Less and less convincingly so. In fact, Zoey’s pretty sure Rumi is the least straight of them all.

People are starting to wake up, probably because Zoey was loud as fuck when she crashed on the floor. They start to groan, to yawn, to say “Good morning” in hoarse voices. Behind Rumi, Mira stirs. Her eyes blink open, hazy and unfocused. Her hand flinches on Rumi’s thigh, who turns around to look and smile at her. Zoey rolls on her stomach, props herself on her elbows, chin on her crossed fingers, and she watches, enraptured, as Rumi pushes aside the long lock of hair that got caught in Mira’s eyelashes.

“Hi,” Rumi murmurs.

Mira doesn’t reply. Her gaze sharpens, the last remnant of sleep vanishing into thin air, and she glances at Zoey then Rumi, clearly replaying the events of last night in her mind.

“How did you sleep?”

Mira’s voice is even more gravelly than usual. God. It’s not even 9 am and Zoey’s already wet.

“Pretty well, once I managed to fall asleep.”

Mira hums, her lips twisting into one of those slow smirks that make Zoey’s toes curl.

“I wonder what could have possibly kept you up,” she teases.

Rumi blushes and Zoey laughs.

“Awwww you guys are so cute!” Nayeon coos as she walks in front of their bed.

“Aren’t we?” Zoey grins while Rumi pushes herself a bit more under the sheet and Mira simply gazes at Nayeon with a neutral face. Does Nayeon have a single clue of what happened last night? Of the way their relationship has strayed from friendship to whatever the fuck this is at the speed of light? Zoey highly doubts so.

Nayeon leaves with a giggle, followed closely by Rom. The room starts to buzz with activity, and it’s their cue to get out of bed too, even though Zoey wishes they could stay there, in their own little bubble, while the others go about their day. She sighs, before finally getting up.

***

They go to the beach for their morning yoga. It starts as it always does. Mira guides them through some breathing exercises for a few minutes, before going on all four to do some cat-cow stretches. Rumi slowly arches her back, face turned towards the clear sky, before rounding it and dropping her head between her shoulders. She’s repeating the movement for the third time when she hears a very loud gasp coming from her left. She glances at Zoey, who’s staring at the horizon with wide eyes.

“What?” Rumi asks.

“Lana,” Zoey breathes out before turning towards Rumi and Mira. “Do you think we’re in trouble? Oh god, I can’t cost the group any more money!”

“Why would you cost the group money?” Mira asks before finishing her stretch and sitting down on the sand in the lotus position. Rumi follows suit.

“You know why!”

Mira cocks her eyebrows. “I don’t.”

Zoey slouches next to Rumi and gestures wildly in the air. “Last night? In bed? The three of us?”

“I didn’t break any rules last night. Did you?”

“What? No? I—I mean I don’t think so? I mean it’s like—what do they even mean by heavy petting, you know? Like—There definitely wasn’t any kissing! But uh—”

Rumi watches with growing amusement as Mira’s eyebrows lift more and more while Zoey stammers and blushes more and more, before she decides to come to Zoey’s rescue.

“Relax. I don’t think we broke any rules,” she says with a comforting smile, reaching to run her fingers on Zoey’s forearm, who seems to deflate at the touch. “It was just some cuddles.”

Mira snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“It was! Nothing sexual happened.” She thinks about Mira’s fingers dipping under her waistband and Zoey’s thigh pressing into her crotch and she clears her throat, cheeks warming up. “Mostly, anyway. But really, I don’t think holding each other close counts as heavy petting.”

“I also think we’re fine,” Mira approves, before throwing an inquisitive look at Zoey. “Unless you did something we should know about?”

Zoey puffs her chest with indignation. “How dare you. I’ve been exemplary ever since we set foot on this island!”

“Aside from when you had your tongue down my throat, you mean?”

Rumi bursts out laughing while Zoey mutters, “You weren’t complaining at the time.”

“I’m just saying.”

God. Rumi can’t get enough of them.

“So, since we’re done pretending we’re going to do any yoga today…” Mira stares at Rumi, eyes intense, as if she was studying her. “What happened last night?”

Rumi stretches her arms behind her and leans on them. She stares at the sky, wonders at how safe she’s feeling right now. Once the show airs, the whole world will be able to see her. To truly see her. There will be no more hiding, no more mask. And she knows it’ll be hard. She knows it’ll be terrifying, even, sometimes, but right now she doesn’t feel scared. She feels like, with those two by her side? She can accomplish anything.

“I’m starting to figure it out,” she finally answers, eyes anchored on the few white clouds hanging at the horizon. “But I still have so much more to learn.”

She turns her head and catches Mira’s gaze. Mira is looking at her like she knows exactly where Rumi’s going. And Rumi tenses as that new, exhilarating feeling stiffens her muscles with anticipation, the same she repressed this past week, the same she fully embraced last night. Want.

Her voice tightens a little when she says, “I need your help. To figure myself out.”

Zoey’s already jumping on her feet and bursting with uncontained excitement. “Oh my god, yes! Anything for you Rumi! We could just talk endlessly about super meaningful subjects, or—or—Oh! We could write down a hundred questions and you need to answer truthfully! Or—”

“I don’t think that’s what she has in mind, Zo.” Mira’s eyes are still fastened on Rumi.

“What do you mean, that’s not—Oh. Oooooh.”

Zoey plops back down on the sand, right next to Rumi. Her cheeks are reddening as she bites the inside of her bottom lip. Rumi stares at her mouth. Wonders how soft it is. Wonders what sounds Zoey would make if Rumi pushed a finger between those pretty lips of hers.

“We could do that too, yeah,” Zoey murmurs, eyes lighting up with a swordlike intensity.

“But no breaking the rules,” Rumi warns.

Mira’s mouth stretches in a smile. “Deal.”

“I mean I will try, but…”

“Zoey,” Rumi laughs, and Zoey dramatically sighs.

“Ugh, fine. Deal.”

It should be odd, how everything’s changing so fast, yet at the same time it feels like it’s just them, just who they’ve always been together. And how weird is it, that “always”, for them, means nine days only? Zoey’s the first to break.

“I fucking adore you guys,” she whispers, and it feels so right, the perfect reflection of what has been fully blooming within Rumi’s chest since yesterday, that she doesn’t even think, takes Zoey’s hand and drops a kiss on her knuckles just as she had done to Mira the night before. Zoey goes rigid, eyes widening. Mira doesn’t say it back, but she looks at the both of them with such fondness Rumi doesn’t doubt for one second that she feels the same way.

Then, Mira leans towards Rumi. Her voice drops a note when she says, “Could you elaborate on what exactly you’d like us to do? Just so we’re perfectly on the same page.”

Oh, that little… But Rumi can’t be mad at her, not when Mira’s looking at her like that, knowing and teasing and hungry and, fuck, Rumi wishes she could crash her mouth into hers, drag Zoey against them, let herself feel, explore, discover, be.

“This,” she whispers. She’s still holding Zoey’s hand. It’s soft and warm, twitching a little. “I want you to do this.”

Mira cocks an eyebrow, the shadow of a smile on her dark lips. “Meaning?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I need you to say it out loud.”

Rumi blushes. Hard. Heat rises from her toes to the tip of her ears. I want you to turn me on just like you did last night. I want you to make me want and ache and need, to make me feel all those things I’ve never felt with a guy. I want you to drive me so insane I’ll never, ever question my preferences again. But she can’t say it. There are mikes around their necks. A camera in the bushes. A part of her, that properly raised part of her, that don’t make a ripple part of her, that still clings under her skin and traps the words in her throat.

“Don’t tease her, Mira…” Zoey says with a gentle voice. She squeezes Rumi’s hand, drags her other hand across Rumi’s arm, brushes the length of her neck with light fingers. “We know exactly what she wants.”

Rumi releases a sharp breath, trying really hard not to start squirming under Zoey’s agonizing touch. “You’re no better than her,” she whispers, an accusing note in her tone.

Zoey grins, and it’s so. fucking. hot. Zoey baring her teeth with a crooked smile, the way her eyes roam all over Rumi, slowly, appraisingly, lingering on her tattoos as if she’s carving them into her memory. Mira’s low chuckle sends a shiver down Rumi’s spine, and she’s fucked, isn’t she? So completely fucked.

“She’s just giving you what you asked for,” Mira comments with a smile Rumi can only define as predatory.

Zoey giggles and rests her chin on Rumi’s shoulder. It should be cute, an innocent and affectionate gesture, yet all it does is make Rumi hyperaware of how close Zoey is, how soft her skin is, how good her smell is.

“I mean—I meant—not right now,” she croaks, and she knows she’s bright red.

Both Mira and Zoey laugh, but they hear her unsaid plea. Zoey wraps her arms around Rumi’s waist and squeezes her tight for a few seconds before releasing her and standing up. She stretches with a content groan and looks down at Mira and Rumi.

“Jinu was saying he wanted to do some beach volley this morning! You guys wanna join?”

“Count me in,” Rumi says, still a bit shaken even though her shoulders are starting to relax a little.

“Sure,” Mira adds. “I’ll ask Abby too.”

She stands up, gracefully wipes the sand stuck on her butt and thighs and extends a hand towards Rumi. Rumi takes it, gets up with Mira’s help, smiles at her once they come face to face. The distance between them is respectable, yet Rumi knows she would have kissed Mira here and now if it weren’t for Lana’s rules.

The morning goes by in a blur. The whole group ends up hanging out at the beach for a few hours, throwing volley balls at each other, going for a swim or, in Zoey and Abby’s cases, building an extremely elaborate sand castle surrounded by a moat filled with sea water.

“We should find a hermit crab and put it in!” Abby exclaims, to which Zoey shrieks with absolute delight.

“Oh my god! You’re so right! Duke Crabbington! Ruler of the sea!!”

“I think I saw one earlier, wait!”

He’s already bolting to his feet while Zoey giggles with the widest smile on her face and Rumi just can’t help it. She leans close to her, murmurs “You’re so fucking cute” into her ear, and walks towards Jinu, who’s waiting for her with a ball in his hands. She doesn’t have to look back to know Zoey’s redder than Duke Crabbington probably is.

Rumi has a great day until early in the evening, when Lana asks them to gather on the patio. She’s suddenly nervous, wondering if Zoey was right and Lana will indeed deduct money from the prize after last night, but at least the three of them are sitting together on the couch, unlike the morning after Zoey and Mira had kissed, and she draws strength and comfort from their unity.

“You have now been on this island for nine days,” Lana starts.

People are crossing their arms over their chest or rapidly shaking their leg in a nervous tell, and it doesn’t take a genius to know they’re all wondering if they’re about to lose more money.

“And during those nine days, I have had the immense pleasure of watching you all grow emotionally closer.”

Rumi relaxes a little. It’s not a bad start. It doesn’t feel like Lana considers whatever the fuck happened last night as a breach of the rules.

“However—” Oh god. There’s always a however with that stupid white cone. “—I have noticed that two of you have been ignoring the purpose of this retreat.”

They all exchange a few questioning glances.

“The goal of your stay here is to learn how to form a solid, intimate and committed relationship with someone else. As much as I appreciate seeing you bonding with other people, it is important to keep in mind that focus and fidelity are the core of any healthy romantic relationship.”

Rumi pales. She has a horrible feeling.

“Rom,” Lana says with her usual robotic edges. “You have spent the first week of this retreat playing with both Nayeon’s and Tzuyu’s hearts. You have not once showed any indication that you preferred one over the other. You have given each of them hope without ever being honest about your relationship with the other. You could have set things right after the party, yet you decided to keep leading Nayeon on, even after sharing a kiss with Tzuyu. In the process, you have hurt their feelings and brought to life insecurities that should never exist in a strong relationship.”

Wow. She’s crushing him. Yet Rumi can’t feel any sort of satisfaction from it because she knows what’s coming next.

“And Rumi.” Yeah. Here it is. “You have shown clear interest for Jinu since the very first day, and have kept doing so despite not growing emotionally closer to him. You have kept him at arm’s length, never letting him in but never rejecting him either, even though it is obvious that you are now developing feelings for someone else, feelings that are getting in the way of another pair’s romantic bonding.”

Oh. No. Rumi doesn’t care about Lana scolding her like she’s an unstable six-year-old. She doesn’t care about hurting Jinu—she was honest with him, as honest as she could be while lying to herself, and she knows he will understand her. But Lana said someone else, singular, and it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, and she knows whoever is left out will get hurt.

“Which is why I would like to help you both. Rom, Rumi, I have prepared a romantic date for you to share with the person of your choice, in the hope it will help you walk on the path to commitment.”

It’s bullshit. It’s such bullshit.

“Rom. Who would you like to take out on a date tonight? Tzuyu, or Nayeon?”

Rom looks extremely annoyed, his jaws clenching and unclenching at an almost regular rhythm. He refuses to look at Tzuyu or Nayeon.

“Do I have to choose?” he finally asks.

“If you do not choose, I will take it as a sign that you are not willing to participate to the retreat as it is intended. You will be deemed unworthy of the prize, and you will be asked to leave the island effective immediately.”

Fuck. Rumi hates this. Hates that Lana’s doing this to her as soon as she’s finally started to feel right about herself. Hates that she’ll be forced to choose and to hurt someone in the process. Rom sighs. He looks as frustrated as Rumi feels, although she knows it’s not for the same reason. He just likes to have a side piece.

“Fine,” he finally groans. “Tzuyu.”

Nayeon sinks into her sofa, eyes filling with tears, and Rumi feels so fucking bad for her.

“Noted,” Lana chimes. “And now, Rumi.”

Rumi feels both Zoey and Mira go rigid at her sides. Sees Jinu straighten up a little in the corner of her vision. Knows there’s no right answer. Not one Lana would accept, anyway.

“Who would you like to take out on a date tonight? Jinu?”

She shuts her eyes. She doesn’t want any of them to get hurt. Doesn’t want Mira or Zoey to feel left out.

“Or Zoey?”

Fuck. Fuck. Rumi opens her eyes and turns towards Mira. Mira smiles at her. It’s stiff, forced, a clear attempt at hiding her true feelings, and Rumi feels her heart sink into her stomach. She wants to grab Mira’s hand and tell her how much she means to her, but she can’t. She can’t, because Lana would say she’s playing with three people at once, interfering, preventing Mira and Zoey from getting together, giving all of them hope instead of choosing. She would send her away, and Rumi can’t go. She can’t. She has so much to learn. About herself, about Zoey, about Mira. She can’t go, not when these nine days with them have brought her more happiness and peace of mind and excitement than she’s ever felt during her twenty-six years on Earth.

So, she tears her eyes away from Mira’s faint smile, stares at her feet instead and, tongue heavy with guilt, she finally gives her answer.

“Zoey.”

Chapter Text

Zoey’s not fine. She feels anxious, guilty and fucking angry. She should be over the moon to have a date with Rumi, yet it’s all wrong. And it’s none of their fault. Lana has put Rumi in an impossible position, and Rumi made the only decision that could eventually salvage this whole mess. But until they manage to sort it out, to talk, to reassure themselves, to find a way to defeat this crazy robot’s system, one of them has to get hurt. Mira has to get hurt.

As soon as Rumi makes her choice, Lana pushes, giving them no time to breathe. “Your dates start in thirty minutes. The four of you should go get ready.”

Zoey gets up and immediately turns to Mira, who gives her a smile she thinks reassuring but is just plain strained.

“Go,” Mira says, voice gentle and perfectly controlled. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Mira…” Rumi tries, but Mira waves her off.

“I swear I’ll be fine. Come on guys, go get ready. I’ll be there when you’re done.”

Zoey glances at Rumi, who glances back at her, uncertainty in her eyes. But Mira isn’t budging, and everyone is staring at them, and so Rumi eventually stands up, leaving Mira alone on the couch.

“Promise you’ll be there before we go?” Zoey asks.

Mira nods. Zoey takes a deep breath, smiles at her in a last attempt to comfort her, and moves towards the house, followed by Rumi. They walk in an almost awkward silence, until Zoey nervously breaks it when they enter the bedroom.

“So, uh, how do we do this? Like, do we want a big reveal, or… Or maybe do we just, play it down? Dress casual? For… you know, for Mira?”

Rumi smiles. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Zoey feels like complete crap. Mira’s all alone on their couch. Rumi clearly isn’t leaping with joy at the idea of going on a date with Zoey. And Zoey… She’s trying to see the bright side, except she can’t find any. What should have been a beautiful, fun and exciting event under any other circumstances is now just leaving her powerless and bitter.

“Let’s dress up and do a little reveal,” Rumi says with a kind voice. “I’ll take the boys’ bathroom to get ready, you take the girls’. We can meet up in the bedroom. And then we find Mira and talk to her before going on our date. To set things straight. To make sure she knows if it were up to us, she’d be there with us. Deal?”

Zoey nods, her smile too small. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Hey.” Rumi takes her hand and Zoey’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry this is all so fucked up, but for what it’s worth… I do really, really like the idea of going on a date with you.”

Zoey stares at her. Rumi’s words are soft and genuine and lighting up a spark in Zoey’s chest.

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” Rumi chuckles as she squeezes Zoey’s hand. Then, she sighs. “It’s just… It’s not how it should have happened.”

“I know. I hate it. But—We’ll figure it out. The three of us.”

Zoey is reassuring herself as much as she’s trying to reassure Rumi. And it works a little. If they talk, like they had after Zoey and Mira kissed or after they shared their first night together, all three of them, then they’ll survive this. Yeah. They’re stronger than that bitch of a lamp.

“Okay,” Zoey claps her hands. “Let’s get ready, and then let’s talk with Mira before we head out for our date!”

“Okay.”

They both rummage through their closets to pick out their clothes, and Zoey feels slightly better about all of this. The weight of the situation is still heavy on her shoulders, but at least she feels like she can breathe. They just have to talk. Rumi, Mira and her. They won’t be defeated by a fucking cone.

Zoey opts for a turquoise spaghetti straps crop top with a somewhat decent neckline—nothing as outrageous as Mira’s swimsuit, but still more revealing than what Zoey usually wears—, paired with beige wide pants that she secures around her waist with a black belt. The waistband covers half of her belly button and exposes the faint line between her abs, nowhere as defined as Rumi’s but still visible. Tzuyu walks in as Zoey’s doing her make-up—light except for a tad of glitter on her eyelids—, and they smile awkwardly at each other. None of this is ideal, and they both know it.

Zoey adds a few golden bracelets around her left wrist and a few rings on the fingers of her right hand, before checking herself in the mirror. Despite all of it, Zoey can’t help but get excited at the idea of both Rumi and Mira seeing her like this. She feels pretty, which is not a daily occurrence.

She lifts her hands to redo her buns, halts, unties them instead. She stares at her reflection, runs her fingers through her hair, tucks a strand behind an ear, rearranges her bangs. She’s a bit unsure now. But Rumi had said Zoey’s pretty with her hair down—and with her buns, and with a ponytail—, so Zoey decides to push aside the comfort of familiarity and to go with her guts.

Tzuyu glances at her in the mirror. She sets her mascara down on the counter, turns to her and gives her a smile.

“She’s going to lose it,” she whispers. It feels honest, and it gives Zoey the last boost of confidence she needs.

“So is Rom,” she replies with a grin and a wink. “Have fun on your date!”

“You too.”

Zoey takes one last deep breath and leaves the bathroom. As soon as she enters the bedroom, she forgets how to walk. Literally trips on her feet, barely avoids crashing onto the floor, starts giggling super nervously while rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh, uh, wow, sorry, you took me by surprise.”

God she’s pathetic. Rumi cocks an eyebrow from the bed she’s sitting on.

“Didn’t we agree to meet here?”

“We did.” Good lord, Zoey knows she’s blushing so hard they could probably see it from Seoul. “It’s just—you’re—I mean like, you’re always super pretty, but…”

When did she lose all of her fucking game? Fuck! Zoey’s not bad at flirting, normally. But Rumi is so—so—

“Says the girl who would make any head turn,” Rumi hums as she gracefully stands up.

She’s wearing black jeans. High waist. Ripped. Tight. A silky, sleeveless white blouse tucked into them, the neckline low enough a hint of black lace peeks out from underneath it. A silver bracelet loops multiple times around her upper right arm, shining over her tattoos. Five silver rings adorn the side of her left ear. She’s wearing white sneakers, and the outfit is overall quite simple yet Zoey feels like screaming.

“No—But—Like—Rumi, fuck.”

Rumi walks the few steps that separate them, halts in front of Zoey, slightly tilts her face down. She raises a hand and runs a delicate finger through Zoey’s loose hair.

“You let it down,” she murmurs, a trace of marvel in her voice. “You’re so, so pretty, Zoey. Fuck. So pretty.”

Zoey should be the one doing all the praise. She should be the one taking the lead. Rumi’s still figuring a lot of things out, going on a date with a girl for the first time in her life, and fuck it she just deserves all the compliments in the world. Yet she’s looking at Zoey with eyes so intense, hungry and a bit possessive, and all Zoey can do is restrain herself from pressing Rumi flat against the first bed she sees.

“Okay,” Zoey breathes out, not even bothering to hide the despair in her voice. “Okay, okay, okay. Let’s uh, let’s go. Now. Before I completely lose it and cost the group a lot of money.”

Rumi chuckles, light and husky, and Zoey wonders if by the end of the evening she’ll be wet enough even her pants will be ruined. She’s getting there real fast.

“Yes,” Rumi finally says with a lingering smile. “Let’s go. Mira is going to lose her mind when she sees you like this.”

“And you,” Zoey adds with a shy voice. “God, I really hope she’ll get it. That—That it’s not just for the two of us.”

“We’ll make sure she does.”

Zoey follows Rumi out of the bedroom. Her eyes drift down her ass more than once, even though she catches herself and tries to be respectable. When they get out on the patio, Zoey looks around. It’s empty, outside from one production assistant standing by the pool, talkie walkie clipped to his belt.

“Where’s Mira?” Rumi asks.

“She left a while ago,” he answers with a bland voice. “If you would please follow me.”

“No, no, wait.” Zoey steps towards him, nervousness spiking once again. She keeps looking around, almost feverish, hoping to spot a hint of dark pink hair, but the terrace is still and quiet. Production probably asked everyone to leave until the two pairs made their way to their date location. And Zoey feels completely lost. This is not what was supposed to happen.

“Can we go look for her?” she asks, almost pleading. “It won’t take long, I swear! We just need to talk to her real quick.”

They were supposed to meet her here, to sit down on their couch, to each grab one of her hands, to tell her with hushed voices that she should be there with them, that they want her, that Lana’s just stirring drama for shock value, that Rumi did the best she could and that it was in no way a reflection of their true feelings for Mira.

“I’m afraid we do not have the time,” he says, voice still monotone.

Something twists in Zoey’s stomach. She’s not nervous anymore. She’s angry.

“Look, buddy.” She steps towards him, adrenaline pulsing in her veins. He’s much taller than her and she has to lift her face to look him in the eyes, but she doesn’t back down. “You’re trying to control us, and I frankly do not appreciate it. We need to talk to Mira. It’ll take two minutes. You don’t have to add it to the end montage. It won’t harm anyone to let us—”

Rumi wraps a soft hand around Zoey’s arm. Zoey glances at her, still furious, but she immediately deflates when she sees the resignation on Rumi’s face, along with the slow shake of her head.

“Show us the way,” Rumi murmurs after a few seconds, looking back at the assistant who turns around and starts walking towards the little stone path leading to the beach. He stops not even ten seconds later.

“Please follow the lanterns. Your date location is by the beach.”

Are they fucking serious? They sent someone just for that? Or rather, they sent someone just to make sure they would go straight to the beach and not try to get Mira. Those fucking motherfucking pieces of shi—

“Let’s go, Zo,” Rumi murmurs, gently taking Zoey’s hand.

And Zoey’s lost, and confused, and annoyed, and Rumi’s skin is soft and warm against hers, and Zoey doesn’t understand. Why is Rumi playing their game right now? She lets her friend lead them on the stone path. Zoey’s heart tightens when she spots the little picnic area production has set up for them. It’s honestly gorgeous. A red blanket on the sand, dozens of lanterns planted around it, wide flames flickering inside them, a massive picnic basket on the side, a cute little wooden table at the center of the blanket and multiple throw pillows surrounding it. There are even some white flower petals sprinkled everywhere, adding to the charm.

Rumi drags Zoey to the picnic area, sits down, waits for her to do the same by her side. The sea rumbles close by, dark and alive.

“They went all out,” Rumi comments.

“Rumi…” Zoey stares at her with a frown. “We were supposed to talk to Mira.”

“I know.” Rumi’s face breaks, and Zoey can suddenly see all the pain and the guilt she’s been concealing. “I know,” she repeats, voice weak. “I’m sorry. I just—You saw how they went all out to make sure we wouldn’t be able to reach her. I—I don’t want Lana to kick you off the island.”

“What?”

“You heard what she said to Rom. If we don’t choose, then we’ll be asked to leave. And it’s not just for Rom and me. I—I don’t want to give them any reason to threaten you too. If anything, I should have just left by myself. You and Mira could still get to know each other more, and get some money at the end. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking coward.”

The last words are a whisper, barely audible as a wave washes over the shore.

“Rumi, what are you talking about?” Zoey finds Rumi’s hand and squeezes it so tight she’s probably hurting her, but she has to convey her feelings to her somehow. “You’re not a coward! They’re just massive assholes! Like, I get why they’re making Rom choose, he’s being a dick to both Nayeon and Tzuyu, but when it comes to us it should be very obvious that we—we—” She struggles to find the right words, settles for the safest option. “That we’re not playing with each other! That we’re genuine, and that we all want this. Together! I do not want to hear about any kind of self-sacrificial bullshit, okay? You should not have to pay for production’s bigoted ways! Neither of us should.”

Rumi sighs, brings Zoey’s hand to her face, softly rubs her cheek against her knuckles, and Zoey melts at the sight.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, keeping Zoey’s hand against her cheek in a gesture so tender it transforms Zoey’s whole perception of what intimacy should be. “I just—I just don’t want any of you to get hurt, or to feel left out, or to get kicked off the island, and it feels like I’m asking for too much. If we go get Mira right now, one of us will be asked to leave. I just know it. But at the same time…”

Rumi stares at her feet, releasing Zoey’s hand. She grabs a white petal on the blanket and starts fiddling with it.

“You didn’t see her face, Zo,” she whispers. “When I had to choose. She was… Fuck. She was trying to be strong, but I could tell she was so hurt, and I hate this, I fucking hate this. I know rationally that this is just production trying to add stupid drama and tension, that it’s not what we actually want, but fuck. If it had been me, I’d have been terrified of being left behind.”

Zoey can’t stand it anymore. She jumps on her feet and extends a hand towards Rumi. “Fuck it. Let’s go get her.”

“But—”

“If they want to kick me out, so be it! I don’t want their money! They can shove their prize up their shiny close-minded assholes for all I care! And if they kick you or Mira out, then I’ll leave with you! And I know Mira will too. We stay here together, or we leave together. Let them try to salvage their show after their main sensational throuple quits on them!”

Rumi looks up at Zoey, a bit stunned, before sliding her hand into hers and letting her pull her on her feet.

“A throuple?” she asks with a small but genuine smile.

“Yeah! Like, a couple, but with three people!”

“So we’re a three-way couple now?”

Zoey suddenly wishes she could disintegrate on the spot. Her head sinks into her shoulders as a massive blush spreads all over her face and neck.

“No—I mean—I wasn’t saying—Fucking hell Rumi now is not the time!”

Rumi laughs out loud, and suddenly it feels right and good and Zoey’s not scared anymore.

“Alright, alright.” Rumi starts walking, a beautiful grin on her even more beautiful face. “Let’s go get our third.”

***

When a production assistant asks them to leave the patio and to stay in the game room until the dates have both started, Mira feels both broken and relieved. Broken because she won’t get to see Zoey and Rumi before their date starts, and relieved because she won’t have to see them before their date starts. She won’t have to try to save face, to pretend all is good, to act as if she’s mature enough not to take all of this like a woldo straight into her heart.

She’s the first on her feet. She strides to the game room, which is actually a massive sunroom at the back of the house in which the producers have installed a bunch of games for the group. That’s where Abby has tried and failed to teach her ping pong, and where she’s demonstrated with quite a bit of smugness her unmatched skills when it comes to throwing darts. There are sofas in a corner, a minifridge, a table close to a shelf with a few board games, and even a pool table, and the group usually spends a good portion of their day here. 

Mira walks straight to one of the sofas. She sits on it, legs crossed, arms crossed, brows knitted in a deep frown she can’t smooth, doesn’t want to smooth, because at least it means people will stay the fuck away from her. Or so she thought.

When the rest of the group arrives, they all gather around the pool table except for Abby, who makes a beeline towards the fridge. From the corner of her eye, Mira sees him grab two beers and uncap them before walking towards her. Her initial reaction is fuck no. But as she watches him wave at Jinu and cross the room with a massive grin on his face, she’s not so sure his company is unwelcomed anymore.

“Here you go.” He gives her one of the bottles, sits on the armrest right next to her, takes a sip and sighs. “Nothing like a good fresh beer at the end of a hard day.”

Mira glances at him and pushes his arm a little. “What hard day? All you did was build a sand castle and nap by the pool.”

“Hey! Being an architect is hard work!”

Mira snorts. “I should know.”

“Oh yeaaaaah, you are an architect! Shit that’s so cool! What’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever built?”

She shrugs. “I don’t build things, I design the plans. And I’ve never worked on anything other than houses.”

“That’s it? Damn! You’re so, you know, confident and smart, I’d have assumed you’d have, like, designed a whole museum or something.”

“I’m a junior freshly out of university, I won’t get large-scale projects for another few years.” 

Abby keeps asking her about her job, and even though she knows it’s mainly to distract her from Rumi and Zoey’s date, he does look genuinely interested in her answers. It doesn’t make her feel better. She still feels like someone stomped on her heart and moved on without looking at her body twitching on the ground. She feels hurt, scared, and so damn angry at herself for feeling those things. For letting her guard down, for letting herself care enough, to the point the heartbreak became inevitable.

It took her by surprise. The pain. That sinking feeling in her chest and stomach, gripping around her throat even though she knows full well it’s completely irrational. It’s this stupid show. Those stupid people behind the scenes and their need to draw in the audience with crazy drama. It’s not Rumi. It’s not Zoey. They didn’t ask for any of this, and Mira knows, deep down, that they would never, ever have left her out. Yet she can’t shake the gnawing feeling that they could leave her out after this. That they will. That they’ll realize how much easier it is, with just the two of them, how things are lighter when Mira’s not around.

Abby has stopped asking her questions. Their beers sit on the coffee table, half empty, and they’re now both watching as Myst is silently crushing everyone at pool. He’s just sunk a ball with a perfectly executed jump shot when Abby slightly turns towards her.

“Boo?”

She glances up and stares at him, caught by surprise by the softness she can see in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

She huffs, sinking a bit more into her sofa. “What do you mean?” She knows exactly what he means. She’s just trying to buy time, to decide if she wants to answer him or not.

“I mean…” He frowns, as if he’s thinking about it really hard. “I thought you and Zoey definitely had something. Like, you guys kissed! And I thought Rumi and Jinu had something too. But then I wake up this morning and you’re in bed with Zoey and Rumi, and now the two of them are on a date and you’re here? It’s just—I don’t know, man. It feels wrong.”

Mira looks back at her hands, tensed on her thighs. She’s acutely aware of the mike around her neck and the cameras covering the whole room. Everything she says could be added to the show. But then, Abby wraps an arm around her shoulders and brings her closer to him. He holds her close, drops a kiss on the top of her head and releases her.

“It’s okay, boo. You don’t have to say anything.”

And it’s so kind, and Mira’s never had a friend before this show, and he’s not pushing, and Zoey and Rumi are on a date together, and he’s just there for her, and she feels so fucking alone except she’s not, she’s not, she has him, she had them. She leans against him, sighs when he settles his arm around her shoulders once more, and nestles her face against his torso.

“I like them,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. “I like them so fucking much.”

Abby rounds his other arm around her and brings her into a tight hug, and she leans into the embrace, holds him close, lets it out, tears and fears alike.

“And I’ve never liked anyone before. Never, not like that. I’ve always told myself that it would never end well, that I would get hurt, and now I like them and I was right. I got hurt, and I don’t know what to do, Abby. I don’t want to be an obstacle to them, but—but—I don’t know if I can just stay behind and watch as they—”

“Why would you?” he asks, voice soft. “These girls are crazy about you, boo. Like, I don’t know what exactly is going on, but I know they love you for sure.”

“As a friend, maybe. But I’m not—I know how I am. I know I’m—harsh, and cold, and bitchy, and I don’t compromise—”

“Yeah! And?”

Abby leans back to look at her, an amused smile on his lips, and she hastily wipes the tear falling down her cheek. “That’s what makes you so damn awesome, boo! So what if you know how to make people respect you? That’s a good fucking thing! Hell, I’m so glad you put me back into my place!”

“It’s not the same,” she whispers, chest tightening. “It made you want to be friends with me, not—”

He snorts. “I’m going to stop you right there. You’re the only girl on this island I’ve actually been interested in, and it’s all because of your personality and that, like, super hot face you make when you glower at people.” She laughs a little as he continues, “And I’m not saying that to score points. We’re bros now, and I won’t ruin that. But Mira, boo, you can’t let this whole thing go to your head. It’s not like they chose to go without you!”

“I know, Abby. I know. But they’re so fun to be with, and I’m—I’m me, and once they realize how easy it is when I’m not there then—”

Abby nudges her with his elbow and jerks his chin towards the door of the game room, and Mira immediately falls quiet. Rumi and Zoey are there. As soon as they spot her, they stride towards her.

“You’ve got this, boo,” Abby whispers before jumping to his feet with a big smile. “She’s all yours!” he exclaims to Rumi and Zoey before joining the rest of the group by the pool table.

Mira barely has time to register what’s happening—how beautiful they both are, how serious they both look—before Rumi grabs her hand and pulls her off the sofa.

***

The walk is quiet and charged. Rumi’s leading them, Mira one step behind, their hands linked. Zoey brings up the rear, her light steps echoing behind theirs. When they reach the picnic table, Zoey plops down on the blanket. Rumi sits too, never letting go of Mira's hand, and she gently tugs her along so that Mira ends up settled between both Rumi and Zoey. She can feel how cautious Mira is, analyzing, alert and on edge. She noticed her red eyes, knows Mira was probably crying in Abby’s arms, despises that she’s the reason why she got hurt in the first place.

“Okay!” Zoey claps her hands before rummaging inside the picnic basket. “Oh my god, kimbaps! Strawberries! And wine! There are only two glasses but I reaaally don't mind sharing one. Do you like red?”

Mira takes a little while before nodding once, the movement curt.

“Awesome!” Zoey grabs the bottle and starts pouring some wine into the glasses she took out of the basket. Her grin is fixed, as if she's stretching her usual enthusiasm a little bit, trying and failing to act natural, but if Rumi finds it adorable, she knows it'll only tense Mira more.

“Honestly I think there's enough food for the three of us,” Zoey babbles with a chuckle on the edge of nervous as she takes out an enormous glass container and drops it on the table. “I can't wait to try those kimbaps!”

Mira sighs. It's weary, her expression hardening.

“Guys…” She pauses, shakes her head, looks away at the dark sea. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm fine, really. I know this is just production trying to push in a direction and stir some drama in the process. You didn’t choose this. But you guys should get to know each other better anyway. We've been joined at the hip since we set foot on this island. You two should have this moment to yourselves.”

“But we don't want to,” Zoey says, setting the wine bottle down. She looks a bit desperate, her big doe eyes wider than usual.

Mira stares back at her, her face now cold, a way for her to control the emotions she's so clearly trying to hide from Zoey and Rumi.

“I don't want to get in the way.” Her tone is dry, and Rumi feels a knot growing deep below her chest.

“Mira,” she tries, but Mira won't let her finish.

“It's okay, really. I don't want to be the reason why you guys miss the chance to have a date together.”

She starts to get up but Rumi is faster than her. She catches her arm, rolls on her knees and straddles Mira's lap, trapping her to the ground.

“You're not listening,” she groans.

Mira freezes. Her icy mask cracks, and her expression is now candid, a mix of surprise and longing and sadness that twists something inside Rumi's heart. She cradles Mira's face between her hands and holds her luminous hazel gaze.

“We want you here,” she whispers.

And then, Mira breaks.

“Why?” she asks in a choked whisper. Her eyes flick to Zoey, lost and pained, and Zoey immediately snuggles against her, wrapping her arms around Mira’s waist and holding her tight. “I'm not—I know I'm not—”

“Not what?” Rumi asks with as much softness as she can, her heart aching as Mira’s usual confidence crumbles before her eyes.

“Not—” Mira looks away. Her fingers are digging into the blanket, as if she's holding back and fighting not to touch them. “Not easy to love.”

It’s a hush, four words light as a breeze and carrying so much sadness and finality Rumi shatters and kisses her. Mira freezes, before whimpering against her mouth, hands shooting up to grab Rumi by the waist and bring her closer, and it's Rumi’s first kiss with a girl, her first kiss with Mira, and it feels utterly, irrevocably right. She leans into it, fingers gliding from Mira’s face to her neck and collarbones before clenching her tank top to pull her more against her, and they both moan a little as their bodies press against each other's.

“Fuck, guys,” Zoey sighs. Rumi feels her hand sliding up her arm, grazing the tip of her ear, caressing her hair, and it shakes her to the core. She deepens her kiss with Mira, because she wants to, because she needs to, because she knows it's the only one she gets. She slides her tongue between her lips, feels Mira’s groan vibrating against her own ribcage, and she has to keep the wild beast that has suddenly awakened within her on a leash, to keep herself from grinding against Mira, pushing her down, biting her neck, claiming her in every way.

Mira’s lips are soft. Her tongue meets Rumi’s with sharp precision, exploring and methodical, sometimes pulling back to lick Rumi's upper lip. Her hands keep Rumi grounded on her lap, flexing against her waist, the touch burning her skin through the fabric. And Rumi’s melting. She's so fucking wet, wetter than she's ever been with any guy, even though it's just a kiss. Her skin heats up and tingles, and when she starts shaking she finally wills herself to pull back. She sets her forehead against Mira’s, breathless, her fingers slowly releasing Mira’s top to caress her jaw and brush her bottom lip with her thumb.

Then, she turns to Zoey. Zoey's watching them with awe, and tenderness, and want, and when Rumi leans towards her Zoey meets her halfway as if it's the most natural thing in the world. They kiss. And it's soft at first, tentative, until it’s not. Rumi doesn’t know who breaks first. She moans as Zoey surges towards her, pushing on her knees and pressing Rumi back onto Mira’s lap. Where Mira kisses with minuteness, Zoey kisses with abandon. She kisses as if her life depends on it, whimpering into Rumi’s mouth as she pulls Rumi’s lip between her teeth, slides her tongue against hers, grips her shoulders to hold herself steady. Rumi barely hears Mira when she swears—right there, she’s right there, Rumi’s still straddling her while Zoey’s licking into her mouth and Mira’s right there—. She feels Mira’s hands heavy on her hips, tugging a little, as if encouraging her to start grinding against her, and Rumi moans again, tangles her fingers into Zoey’s hair, holds on to Mira best she can—hand on the hard muscle connected to her shoulder, thumb against her neck—. Her fingers dangerously twitch around Mira’s throat when Zoey deepens the kiss as if she’s trying to merge their tongues together.

It takes absolutely everything in Rumi to pull away. Zoey chases her mouth with a desperate whine, and Rumi has to put a hand on her chest to stop her. Zoey clings to the back of Rumi’s blouse. She’s panting, her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, her eyes anchored on Rumi’s mouth, and she’s so clearly needy. But before Zoey can lean forward again, Mira slides a hand on her cheek and turns her face towards hers. And Rumi watches as Zoey takes a sharp breath, as Mira crashes her mouth to hers, as they fall into each other, something impetuous, something reckless, something primal that has Rumi’s body screaming with want.

Every time one of them deepens the kiss, Rumi can feel it. In the way Mira scraps her waist with her nails through the fabric of her blouse. In the way Zoey does the exact same thing in Rumi’s back. In the way Mira groans, low in her throat, and Zoey whimpers, frantic and pleading. And everything is falling into place. Each one of Rumi’s senses is sharpened with raw desire, and she’s taking everything in with so much more clarity than she’s ever done with anything in her life.

Mira’s the one pulling back first. But instead of Zoey trying to chase her lips like she did with Rumi, she buries her face in the crook of Mira’s neck and slides both arms around her in a clingy, fierce hug.

“Will you have this date with us? Please?” Zoey asks against Mira’s throat.

Mira laughs. And fuck if it’s not the most beautiful thing Rumi has ever seen and heard. “I guess I have to, now.”

Zoey moves back, a blinding smile on her face that Rumi can’t help but mirror. Mira smiles too. Then, she frowns and glances at Rumi.

“Aren’t you guys worried about Lana?”

After everything they’ve been through, after everything Zoey said—we stay here together, or we leave together—, after these kisses? Yeah. Fuck Lana.

“Lana can suck my dick,” Rumi huffs.

Zoey’s voice drops when she immediately replies, “Lucky Lana…”

Mira squirms a little under Rumi, eyes fixed on Zoey, face red, and Rumi frowns, confused, until—Oh. Oh. That’s… That’s a thing. Right. She clears her throat, cheeks weirdly heating up. She knows nothing about it. Has seen nothing of it. Yet, the idea makes her restless.

“Filing that away for later.” Mira’s voice is low, low, low. She tears her eyes away from Zoey as if it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done and stares back at Rumi. “But really, I know production won’t take this kindly.”

“Zoey found a way.”

Mira cocks an eyebrow, glancing at Zoey, and Zoey lifts her index finger in the air, face suddenly serious.

“If they fuck us over, we fuck them over.”

Mira snorts. “Meaning?”

“Meaning if any one of us gets kicked off the show, the other two will leave with them,” Rumi answers with a soft voice. She stares, fascinated, as understanding and tenderness wash all over Mira’s face. She wants to kiss her again. God does she want to.

“Would that be okay with you?” Zoey asks, as if it occurred to her for the first time that Mira might not actually get on board with her impulsive plan.

“More than okay.”

Rumi leans forward, rests her forehead on Mira’s for a few seconds, and eventually pushes herself out of her lap. She stays close to her as she grabs the glass of wine Zoey had filled earlier, and she lifts it in front of them.

“Fuck Lana.”

Mira chuckles and takes the other glass of wine while Zoey leans her head on her shoulder with a happy sigh.

“Fuck Lana.”

***

They stay on the beach for hours. They talk, they laugh, they lay on the blanket and watch the stars, bundled together, voice soft and touches light. Rumi and Mira keep telling Zoey how pretty she is, over and over again, until Zoey’s as red as the picnic blanket. Mira and Zoey make sure Rumi gets absolutely wrecked with want every ten minutes, their fingers lingering on her thighs, their nails grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, their words fueled with innuendos. Rumi and Zoey make fun of Mira for befriending the one himbo of the group, but it’s gentle, laced with care and understanding, and when Mira confesses that she never truly had any friends before coming to this island, they bring her into a hug so tight she struggles to breathe and ends up on her back, laughing out loud, Rumi and Zoey in each arm.

They decide to follow the rules, or at least to try to. They wonder about how people will react to their story, once the show airs, wonder how production will decide to frame it. They don’t talk about the future. They don’t talk about what they’ll do after this retreat is over, about Rumi living on the other side of the country and how complicated it will be for the three of them to keep things the way they are. This way, it’s easy. This way, they can focus on the present, on this one evening, on being their weird, happy, free selves together.

When they head to bed, everybody is already asleep. They tip toe their way into the bedroom after taking their shower—and how hard it was, for Rumi not to walk into Zoey’s stall and make out with her under the hot water, how hard it was, for Mira not to grab Rumi’s thighs and lift her on the counter when she saw her in her oversized pajama shirt, how hard it was, for Zoey not to rip Mira’s towel off when Mira got out of the shower skin flushed and steamy—.

They get into bed, their quiet whispers covered by the buzzes of the fans. Rumi pushes Mira to the middle of the mattress, and for the first time ever since they arrived on the island, Mira gets to sleep next to Zoey. They cuddle and wiggle and giggle, and when they finally, finally quiet down and start drifting off to sleep, they all have a tiny smile on their faces.

Chapter Text

“There were multiple breaches of the rules last night.”

“Of fucking course,” Baby grunts.

Rumi’s sitting on the couch, Mira to her left, Zoey to her right. She feels bad. A little. Just a little. She knows they’ve cost the group a lot of money, but at the same time she doesn’t have it in her to regret it. It was necessary. Kissing Mira. Kissing Zoey. Them kissing. All the words in the world would not have been able to convey what those kisses had. It brought the three of them so much closer, sealed something within them, as if it had made their bond tangible and indestructible. That, and… Rumi kissed a girl. Actually, she kissed two girls. She hasn’t gone five minutes since waking curled against Mira’s back this morning without thinking of it.

“For the transgression of kissing, I have deducted 12,000,000 won from the prize.”

“12,000,000?!” It comes from Nayeon this time. “I thought kissing was 4,000,000 won!”

“It is,” Lana replies. “And there were three different instances of kissing last night.”

“Fuck’s sake guys,” Baby mutters.

He throws Rom and Tzuyu an angry look.

“Hey, that’s not on us!” Tzuyu says, raising her hands in the air. “We didn’t do anything last night!”

“We totally should have,” Rom mumbles. “Might as well do it, since no one else seems to care. Can’t believe we missed our shot.”

“It’s okay babe, we still had a good time, right?”

“Well, yeah, but… It wouldn’t hurt if we had, you know...”

“You know what?” Tzuyu gets up and glares at him. “Fuck you, Rom. I deserve better than a loser who only cares about scoring as many girls as he can.”

She stomps away from him and sits down on the floor, right next to Nayeon’s sofa. Nayeon stares at her with surprised eyes, and when Tzuyu looks back up at her, they share a tentative smile.

“Ooookay,” Abby says before turning towards Lana—shining pink on her coffee table, as per usual when she’s talking to them—. “So uh, where were we?”

“As I was saying, there have been three different instances of kissing last night. Each involving a different couple.”

“What? How?” Jinu asks, frowning, clearly trying to do the math in his head.

Rumi will have to talk to him after this. She owes him an explanation.

“Here is a recollection of last night’s transgressions,” Lana says, a bit more robotic than usual, and Rumi sinks a little into the couch. Zoey’s nervously shaking her leg next to her while Mira’s looking oddly relaxed, almost slouched on the couch in an attempt to appear unbothered and innocent. Rumi holds back a laugh. Mira’s not fooling anyone.

“Rumi and Mira.” Rumi pinches her lips and stares at her feet. “Rumi and Zoey.” She slightly turns her head to hide her face from the group. “Mira and Zoey.”

“I can’t believe I did it again,” Zoey gasps as she slaps her hands to her face. “I’m so fucking sorry guys.”

“I’m not,” Mira mutters, inaudible except for Rumi and Zoey, and Rumi nudges her with her elbow.

“Wait, wait,” Abby says, clearly confused, the gears almost visibly turning in his head. “Wait.” And then, he grins and jumps on his feet. “Fuck yeah! That’s my boo!” He takes a gigantic step towards Mira and lifts his hand in front of her, and Mira high-fives him with a smirk.

“She just cost us 12,000,000 won!” Baby fumes. “Don’t congratulate her!”

“Actually, it was 8,000,000 won,” Mira deadpans. “But I guess basic math is hard to do, with that tiny little brain of yours.”

“You fucking—”

“Guys.” Jinu sets a hand on Baby’s shoulder to calm him down—or maybe to keep him rooted on the couch instead of jumping at Mira’s throat—. “Let’s be civil, yes?”

“Well of course,” Mira smiles gracefully, and Rumi rolls her eyes.

She leans towards her and murmurs, “Play nice.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Please? For me?”

It works. Mira blushes, huffs, crosses her arms over her chest, but she doesn’t take another jab at Baby. Rumi feels an odd sense of pride rushing through her veins. The idea that Mira, cool, aloof, unyielding Mira could bend so easily for Rumi is intoxicating.

“No but, wait, so, you all kissed?” Nayeon asks, eyes wide. “Wasn’t the date supposed to be between Rumi and Zoey?”

“Um, yeah,” Zoey nervously chuckles. “But… It just—It wasn’t right. No matter what Lana says, we just—We won’t choose. It’s all of us or nothing.”

Tzuyu sighs. “You know what, you guys are so fucking adorable, I can’t even be mad at you right now.”

“Oh come on!” Baby blows up. “We lost so much money because of them, and you’re just giving them a free pass?”

“It’s done, Baby.” Jinu speaks with a steady voice, and if there’s anyone who can calm Baby down, it’s him. “There’s still a lot of money left. Hopefully, it’ll be the last time anyone slips up.” As he says it, he looks pointedly at Rumi, who suddenly wishes she could dig herself a nice little hole in the ground for her to hide in.

There’s a silence before Lana lights up. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh god,” Nayeon sighs while Baby rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head.

“Rumi, Mira, Zoey.”

Rumi tenses. She feels her friends go rigid at her side. She doesn’t want this to end, not when it has barely begun, but she knows production didn’t appreciate the little stunt they pulled last night. Zoey slides a timid hand into hers, and Rumi holds it tight. She presses her thigh a bit more against Mira’s, a discreet reminder that she’s there, that they’re in this together, no matter what Lana throws at them.

“I would like to apologize.”

“If one of us leaves all of us le—Wait, what?” Zoey squeaks.

“I have been programmed to define a romantic relationship as a strong emotional connection between two people. I tried to separate the three of you so that you would fit into my own perception of what a relationship should be, and in doing so I have hurt you and the bond you were forming with each other. Your resolve last night has made me understand the depth of the feelings you all share with each other. I have been humbled, and I deeply apologize for my recent behavior. This will not happen again.”

“Did you hear that?” Mira mutters under her breath. “We humbled the great white cone.”

Rumi snorts, nudges Mira with her elbow once more, and finally lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you understand,” she tells Lana—she tells the producers, the assistants, the whole team behind this show—. “And we’re sorry we broke the rules.”

“Again,” Zoey winces.

“You guys better behave from now on,” Nayeon mumbles.

She’s understandably pissed—they probably all are, except for apparently Abby—, and Rumi shoots her an apologetic look.

“We will,” she promises.

“Hmmm,” Mira hums, a deep and low sound rumbling in her chest, while Zoey lets out a nervous giggle.

Oh boy. Rumi knows it will be a particularly hard promise to keep.

***

“That went better than expected.”

Mira’s stretching, sitting on one of the throw blankets they grabbed from the couch and spread by the pond.

“Right? I was totally sure one of us would get kicked out! I even started packing this morning!”

Mira snorts at Zoey and ruffles her hair, a fond and amused smile on her lips. “I saw. Such little faith in our dear producers.”

“As if you had more hope,” Zoey mumbles, cheeks getting red before she catches Mira’s hand, drops a quick peck on it and shoves it away from her.

It’s so damn sweet Mira wants to tease her again, just to see what else she’d do.

“It was a surprise for sure,” Rumi says with a little smile as she watches the exchange. “But now we have to abide by the rules. No more missteps.”

“I’ll do my best!” Zoey chirps very seriously.

“Of course,” Mira drawls.

“Guys… I mean it. We can’t lose more money.”

Mira leans on her arms behind her back. She’s a bit less invested in this than Rumi and Zoey probably are. She’s not too sure about their financial situation, but she’s certain they could use the prize money one way or another. It wouldn’t make a difference for her, though.

“What would you guys do with the money?” she asks.

Zoey stays oddly quiet, lips pinching as if to make sure she keeps silent, while Rumi shrugs at her side.

“I don’t know,” Rumi says. “Probably put it into my savings account.”

“No big plans to buy a house, or a car, or to go traveling?”

“Traveling sounds nice,” Rumi says softly, eyes following the koi fish circling in the pond. “Maybe next year. I used all of my vacation time for this retreat.”

Mira nods; it’s the same for her.

“What about you, Zo?” Rumi asks, turning towards Zoey, who looks slightly smaller than usual.

“Hm? Me? Oh! Um, the same I guess?” Her voice is high-pitched, her chuckle a bit awkward, and she’s scratching her cheek in a nervous tic that has Mira squint at her with suspicion.

“How about you give us the real answer?”

“Weeeell uh…It’s—It’s kind of lame.” She laughs a little, as if she’s brushing it off, yet all it does is make Mira impossibly curious and Rumi scoot closer to her.

“You know we won’t judge,” Mira says softly.

Rumi brushes Zoey’s bangs aside and smiles at her, with so much tenderness Zoey visibly deflates.

“Okay. But really, it’s—it’s pathetic. So uh, you know how I came to South Korea to be with my girlfriend at the time?”

They both nod. Zoey told them about it a few days ago. She met this girl through some obscure anime forum, and they almost immediately started dating. Long-distance was a bitch, but they managed to go through it for a couple of years. They saw each other two times, for a week and then ten days, and it went so well both times they eventually decided to take the next step. Zoey has dual citizenship, so it was easier for her to move to South Korea. She quit her job in the garden center she had been working at for the past three years, sold all of her stuff and jumped on a plane to Seoul with only two suitcases and a heart full of love to her name. From what she had told Mira and Rumi, she had found a job at a local florist shop quite fast and, overall, the move hadn’t been that complicated.

“Well, uh—So the thing is, I moved in with her right away, right? And then she broke up with me three months after I arrived in Seoul, and uh, you know, she kind of, kicked me out?”

“What?” Mira snaps just as Rumi hisses, “She kicked you out?!”

“Which is totally fair! It’s her space and all, and I just—She said I’m exhausting to live with—”

“She said what?” Mira’s nostrils are flaring with absolute rage. Who the FUCK would make Zoey feel that way? As if her bubbly, joyful, radiant personality could do anything but lift anyone’s spirit every single day? And then she fucking kicked her out?!

“I mean, yes, she—she did? But she’s right! She’s not the first one to get tired of my—my—”

“I’m going to fucking kill her.”

“I’m with you,” Rumi groans, and there’s a light in her eyes, sharp, dangerous, protective, and holy fuck she’s hot.

Mira focuses back on Zoey, who’s anxiously twisting her fingers over her lap.

“It’s fine, guys, really. I don’t—I’m not mad at her or anything! But yeah so anyway, I had to find a place to stay super fast, and I didn’t know anyone in Seoul aside from her, and so I just—I—” Her head sinks between her shoulders. She blushes, clearly embarrassed, before continuing in a squeaky voice, “My boss lets me stay in the flower shop. There’s a back room with a sink and a little kitchen, so I just set up an air mattress there. And there’s a bathhouse almost next door! So really, it’s not too much of a hardship. My boss is super nice about it, she’s a real angel, really, but even if I’m paying her a small rent for the room I don’t want to overstay either. That’s partially why I applied for this dating show. To give her the space back. I didn’t have any vacation days so I’m just taking a break without getting paid, but at least I have a nice place to crash at for a whole month before I go back to that mess! So, uh, yeah, if I had some money I’d just go to a hotel until I find a little studio to live in or something. It’s just so expensive, and I don’t have enough to pay the deposit because I sent a bunch of my savings to my mom when I got to Seoul like a fool, and—”

She shrinks before them, not looking either of them in the eye, and Mira cannot stand it. She wraps her arms around Zoey’s shoulders and squeezes her as hard as she can, until Zoey starts giggling and squirming against her.

“Mira…” she laughs, voice a bit choked. “Mira, I can’t breathe!”

Mira loosens her hold, just a little, but she doesn’t move away.

“You’re amazing,” she whispers, propping her chin on top of Zoey’s head. “You have the kindest heart, and the prettiest smile, and the bravest soul, and the shittiest ex.”

Rumi laughs, a little huff through the nose, but she nods along with every one of Mira’s words.

“Everything will be alright,” Rumi says, a hand caressing Zoey’s arm. “We’ll get the prize money, and if for whatever reason we can’t, then we’ll figure out something else. You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got you.”

“We do.”

Mira tightens her arms around Zoey when Zoey’s body starts shaking a little against her. She hears a loud sniffle, feels a tear on her collarbone and a twist in her heart.

“Oh, darling…” she whispers, gently rocking Zoey as she starts sobbing in her arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Rumi joins them, arms around Zoey’s trembling body, a hand on Mira’s back.

“Can you—” Zoey sniffles loudly. “Can you say it again?”

“It’s okay,” Mira immediately murmurs.

Zoey shakes her head.

“Not that.”

Mira feels herself blush. She’s never used any terms of endearment before. Never had anyone this close. Never knew she had it in her, to feel so strongly and tenderly for someone else.

“You’re okay, darling,” she whispers, and Zoey brings her closer against her, sobbing again. “You’re okay.”

They rock her gently in their arms for a few minutes while she lets it all out. When she finally calms down, Zoey untangles herself from them and sniffs noisily.

“Oh, god,” she whines, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m so gross.”

“You’re perfect,” Rumi murmurs before kissing her cheek. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Not true.”

Mira picks a tear on Zoey’s chin with her index finger. “Straight girls are always right,” she deadpans to lighten the mood.

Zoey snorts. “Well then definitely not true.”

They all laugh. Rumi seems so at ease it warms Mira’s heart. She hasn’t said it out loud yet. That she’s not straight. That she’s probably the most lesbian of them all. But she’s not fighting it—herself—anymore.

“I mean it, though,” Rumi whispers, voice weak and vulnerable. “You, the both of you… You are the most amazing girls I’ve ever met. The most amazing persons I’ve ever met. Don’t ever doubt that. Neither of you.”

“Sap,” Mira teases, but it’s mostly to distract them from the sudden heat on her cheeks and ears.

Zoey gently pushes Mira’s shoulder and grins through her lingering tears, “Says the girl who called me darling not even two minutes ago.”

“You liked it,” Mira grumbles while both Zoey and Rumi laugh.

“I really, really did,” Zoey sighs.

Her eyes are still red and puffy, but she seems relaxed, back to her normal self, and that’s all that matters. If Mira has to take the hit and get a tad bit embarrassed for Zoey to get her smile back, then she’ll do it a thousand times a day.

“Okay!” Rumi straightens up, showing a resolve and confidence that make Mira weak in the knees. “Operation No More Rule Breaks is on! From now on, we will be admirable. No more slip ups!”

“Deal,” Mira says, serious this time, because she knows what’s at stake.

Zoey winces and Rumi cocks her eyebrows.

“But, guys,” Zoey whines, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re so fucking hot, and I’m so fucking horny, and we have the best chemistry, and really is the money that import—”

“Yes!” Both Rumi and Mira shout, and Zoey dramatically flops on her back.

“Uuuuuugh. Okay. Fine.” She shoots them a look from the blanket. Her voice softens when she adds, “Thank you.”

They both smile at her. They stay silent for a little while, and it’s easy, just them enjoying the light breeze ruffling the leaves, the sunshine warming their skin, the birds singing in the mango tree. Zoey eventually breaks the silence with the tiniest voice.

“Maybe I could get one last kiss from you guys before we—”

“No,” Mira snorts.

“No more breaking the rules!”

Rumi looks so damn serious it’s a bit scary. Mira loves it.

“Okay, okay,” Zoey says, resigned. “No more breaking the rules.”

***

They’ve been on the island for twenty days now. Twenty days of emotional, physical and spiritual torture. The only reason why Zoey hasn’t already ripped Mira’s and Rumi’s clothes away from their stupidly sexy bodies is because they won’t let her. They’re all high and mighty about “respecting the rules” and “not losing any more money” and although Zoey knows it’s mainly for her, knows it’s because they care and want to help her and improve her shitty situation back in Seoul, she also feels like each day she spends not being able to touch them—to touch herself—is a whole year scratched out of her life expectancy. She’s like a taut rubber band, about to snap any minute and leave a red imprint on somebody’s skin—on Mira’s back, around Rumi’s throat, on their thighs as she goes down on them and fuck, no, bad Zoey! Bad!—.

She knows it’s not easy for them. She sees it every day. The way Mira has to look away, breath tight, or how her fingers sometimes dig into her thigh, as if she’s holding herself back. The way Rumi’s smooth skin turns bright red whenever Mira murmurs something quite risky with her low, low voice, or how she sometimes abruptly stands up from the couch they’ve been cuddling in and blurts “I need to take a walk”. And maaaybe Zoey’s being a tad handsy. Maaaybe she’s pushing a little, biting her bottom lip a bit more suggestively when she looks at Mira or letting her hand find the soft skin of Rumi’s hip under her shirt when they’re cuddling. But it’s not her fault! It’s not! They’re just so fucking hot!

Sometimes, she remembers the prize. Or rather, they remind her of it, with a scowl and flushed cheeks after she’s said something along the lines of “Let’s go fuck in the pantry? Please? Please?” Most times, she doesn’t think about it. It’s quite easy to forget about the rules, and the mikes around their necks, and the cameras at every corner, and the thousands, maybe millions of people who will watch them when the show airs in a few months. It’s easy because she’s having so much fun. Because when she’s around Rumi or Mira, she doesn’t have to think too deeply about anything. She can be herself. She can yap about her favorite insects, she can sit next to Mira and sketch the frog she’s just seen by the pond without worrying Mira will find it cringe, she can mumble some rap lines and test their rhythm when they come to her without overthinking about Rumi being right there, staring at her with her gorgeous, bright eyes. She feels free. She feels loved. By two insanely hot women who seem to see her for who she truly is, and want her nonetheless.

So, yeah. Zoey forgets, most times, and she both hates and loves Rumi and Mira for keeping her in check and making sure they do have some money left to bring back home by the end of this retreat. And it’s a bit… scary. How often the word love comes to her mind. How she’s not even second-guessing it. That they love her. It might not be in that way, but it’s still there, warm and gentle and safe and real, and Zoey doesn’t think she’s ever been loved this way, not by her exes, not by her best friends back in high school and university. Maybe a little by her parents. That unconditional feeling, that comfort she used to get, before their divorce, thinking they would love her no matter what she does or becomes. But that has faded, more and more as she grew up and became her weird, hyper-obsessed, hyper-energetic self. But with Mira and Rumi? She feels like they love her because of it. They love her because of who she is, not who she’s trying to be, not what she does for them.

Lana tells them they’re going to have another workshop this afternoon. Zoey cheers, along with Rumi, Abby, Tzuyu, Nayeon and Jinu. She loves the workshops. They’re fun, and she gets to see Bobby, who somehow, in the two times she met him, has become her favorite little guy in Korea. They had another session with him two weeks into the retreat. They spread clay all over everyone’s bodies, each of them taking turns getting muddied by the whole group, and it had been weird as fuck, and fun, and somehow kind. They had all embraced each other—shockingly, the clay didn’t catch on fire when Mira and Baby had extremely reluctantly hugged one another—before screaming at the top of their lungs, Bobby shouting “Yes! Let it all out! Let the fears out! Be yourselves!” And then they had all run into the sea, laughing and howling, and they had come out of it stronger, lighter and oddly closer.

Now, Bobby’s gathering them on the beach.

“Alright everybody, we’re going to form a circle and stay close to each other!”

He points out where each of them needs to sit. Zoey ends up between Abby and Nayeon. Rumi’s facing her, Baby at her left and Jinu at her right, while Mira is sitting between Nayeon and Rom. Bobby sits close to Abby, a thick and short stick in his hands.

“Okay! Today’s workshop will be about honesty. Honesty with each other, yes, but mainly honesty with ourselves. Each one of you will answer my question truthfully. I would ask the group to kindly refrain from intervening. This is a time for acknowledgment, not discussion.”

He smiles, that soft smile on his round face that Zoey loves so much.

“As you well know, this journey is about emotional growth and helping you develop genuine and long-lasting relationships with a romantic partner, or multiple ones.”

Zoey beams. Funny, how three words could make her day like this. She feels seen, included, taken seriously for once.

“Your applications gave us an idea of how you approach intimate relationships, and helped us choose the ten of you, amongst thousands of applicants, for this emotional journey. I would like to ask each of you: why were you chosen for this retreat?”

Bobby gestures the stick in the air. “This is the stick of honesty,” he says with solemnity.

“Kill me,” Mira mutters.

“Oh my god I love those things!” Zoey chirps.

“Whoever has the stick in hand will have to be truthful. Do we all agree?”

There’s a concert of “Yes Bobby” and a long grunt coming from Mira, and Zoey can’t help but giggle.

“Now, who would like to tell us why they think they’ve been chosen for this retreat?”

“Ouh, me! Me!”

Zoey waves at him and Bobby hands her the stick with a bright smile. As soon as Zoey takes it, she gives her answer.

“I have no fucking clue!”

Everyone laughs, even Baby, who’s still considering the three of them as public enemy number one.

“No, seriously!” Zoey adds, a goofy smile on her lips. She likes making people laugh. “I’ve been in serious relationships before. I love commitment! Commitment is my jam! So I really don’t know why I’m here. Not that I’m complaining.” 

She glances at Mira, then Rumi, then her feet, and tries very hard not to blush after seeing the fire in both of their gazes. Bobby nods very seriously.

“I appreciate your honest answer, Zoey. And I’d like to give you my point of view. As you may recall, you had all been asked to fill out a psychological evaluation form when you applied for the show, as well as a little blurb about your previous relationships. Those forms and essays helped us get to know you better. Zoey, everything you said is true, of course. You have been in multiple serious relationships before, and you do not fear commitment. In fact, your love of commitment is partially the reason why you are here.”

Zoey frowns.

“You are so focused on staying with the person you’re with that you forget yourself in the process. You have never been truthful in your past relationships, because you have always been scared they would leave you if they ever saw the real you.”

Zoey frowns even more. Her fingers tighten around the stick. She’s not sure she likes this game anymore. Yet Bobby doesn’t seem to pick up her sudden nervosity; he keeps going.

“You are so terrified of being left that you dim your true self, sometimes alter it, in order to fit what you think your partner wants to see in you. And you also tend to use physical intimacy as a shield, to distract them or keep them close.”

“You got all that from one stupid form?” Zoey mumbles as she crosses her arms.

She’s a bit angry, and a bit scared, and a bit embarrassed, and a bit ashamed. Because all of it is true. She’s known that for a while now, yet she never found the strength to fight this destructive instinct to just please people, no matter how, no matter the cost. And now everybody knows. She chances a glance at Mira and her breath gets stuck in her throat for a couple of seconds. Mira’s looking at her with so much love Zoey feels like crying. She stares back at her feet and doesn’t even dare look Rumi’s way. She knows, she knows she’ll find the same tenderness on her face, and she can’t start crying in front of the whole group.

“From the form and from your essay,” Bobby says, kindness in his voice. “You were one of the most expansive of all the candidates.”

“Serves me right,” she mutters, before sighing. “I—I know I’m—” She pinches her lips and thinks of Mira and Rumi, who’ve been by her side for three weeks now, and who still want her, despite not having sex, despite her quirks, despite her loudness, despite her everything. Because of it. “I know it’s something I do. Used to do. Putting myself aside to make sure my partner is always satisfied. And it’s easy? Somehow? When we’re not living together? I can hide the—the weirdness pretty well. But every time I try to take it to the next step with someone and they live with me for more than two weeks straight, it just—it ends badly. Because I can’t keep the façade on for that long, every day, and they just—Everyone gets tired of me and—” She shakes her head. Feels Rumi and Mira’s gazes on her. You’re loved, she thinks. You’re seen, and loved. “And it’s their loss.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m a fucking catch, just the way I am.”

She says it with strength, with a conviction that’s been slowly spreading its roots in her mind these past three weeks. Abby cheers, and soon the rest of the group follows suit. Rumi’s clapping alongside them, the gentlest smile on her face, and Zoey really, really wants to kiss her. Mira’s the only one not overtly cheering. Zoey doesn’t mind. She can see the pride in Mira’s eyes as she stares at her with a quiet intensity, and Zoey really, really wants to kiss her too. She can’t remember the last time someone was proud of her.

“Thank you, Zoey,” Bobby murmurs. He has tears in his eyes and Zoey panics.

“Bobby, if you cry I’ll cry, and I’ve been trying really hard not to, and—”

“I’m sorry! You’re just—You’re such a beautiful person…”

He wipes a tear on his cheek and Zoey turns away and shoves the stick into Nayeon’s hands so fast Nayeon yelps. Sorry. It’s that or Zoey starts sobbing like a big baby.

They all take turns sharing. Most of the group gives a predictable answer. That they got so hurt before they’re now terrified of commitment, or that it’s just easier this way, to not put any effort into a relationship, to move on before it becomes “work” and not just pleasure. At some point, the only ones left are Rumi, Mira and Jinu. Jinu takes the stick from Myst, who’s just pronounced more words in two minutes than he has this whole retreat, and he stares at it. He’s silent, turning the piece of wood in his fingers, never looking away from it.

“A few years ago, I hurt someone I loved dearly. The kind of hurt that cannot and should not be forgiven. And ever since then, I’ve been… scared. Scared of doing it again. Scared because I know what I’m capable of. So rather than risk it, I just leave every relationship as soon as they start getting serious. It’s easier. It’s safer. But…”

His eyes flick to Rumi. Zoey holds her breath. Rumi and Jinu have been talking more, ever since it came to light that what Rumi, Mira and Zoey share is not just friendship.

“I want to believe that I’m different now. That my shame and fears helped me become a better man. When I came here, I thought I’d do what I always do. Be the perfect guy, get the perfect girl and then leave her. But now… I want to stop living behind walls. I want to be me.”

Rumi smiles at him. It’s faint, almost imperceptible, but Zoey can feel the invisible bond they share vibrating between them.

“And I want to be proud.”

Zoey fills up the silence that follows. Proud, the way Rumi is. Free, happy, embracing everything and not running away from it anymore. Scared and lost but still moving forward, because she can finally shine and she doesn’t care anymore if she blinds the people around her.

Bobby slowly claps his hands, and soon the whole group is applauding him. Mira extends a hand, and Jinu gives her the stick. She doesn’t look as annoyed with the whole exercise anymore. In fact, she’s looking at the piece of wood in her hands with a new seriousness, and it makes Zoey so damn happy that Mira’s not dismissing any of this, that she’s willing to play along.

“I’m here because I’ve been taught that I am not worthy of love.”

Oof. Zoey has to repress the urge to throw herself into Mira’s arms and show her just how worthy of love she thinks she is.

“I’ve pushed away any form of emotional intimacy because I thought I was protecting myself from heartbreak, disappointment, pain and all that. All it did was isolate me. I never connected with the people around me. Even through sex. I saw it as something very clinical. A mechanical interaction, something for my body, not my heart. I’ve been—”

Her voice wavers and she snaps her lips shut for a second, before taking a sharp breath and continuing, “I’ve been lonely. The kind of lonely that slowly eats you away without you realizing it. But ever since I came here, I feel—”

She falls silent. Looks at Rumi. Zoey. Abby. Her bottom lip quivers a little, and suddenly she shakes her head and extends the stick towards Rumi in a curt gesture. Everyone is looking at Mira while she’s staring at the patch of sand in the middle of their circle like she wants to drill a hole into it. Rumi raises her hand, wraps her fingers around the wood but doesn’t take it.

“You feel what?” she asks, warmth and care in her voice, and even though Bobby has asked them to not intervene he’s staying very quiet, watching the exchange with glimmering eyes.

Mira looks up, at both their hands around the stick, then at Rumi’s eyes, open and patient and encouraging.

“I feel loved,” she breathes out.

Rumi smiles and takes the stick. Abby scrambles on his knees, gives Mira five kisses on her temple, making her laugh lightly, and goes back to his designed spot. And Zoey, well, she tries very, very hard not to break. Mira’s words speared through her, shattered the glass layer around her heart, and now Zoey sees what has been so, so very evident this whole time.

She’s in love with Mira. She’s desperately, devotedly in love with Mira.

“Alright Rumi,” Bobby says with a tight voice. He clearly has tears in his eyes again, and Zoey feels overwhelmed. “You’re last.”

Zoey looks at Rumi, who’s still staring at Mira with immeasurable fondness, and it feels like her heart triples in size in her chest. She’s in love with Rumi. She’s in love with her kindness, her loyalty, the way she gently but firmly takes space, she’s in love with her laugh, teasing but never cruel, she’s in love with her quiet confidence, she’s in love with her, she’s in love with her, she’s in love with them.

“I think everyone knows why I’m here,” Rumi starts with a smile.

People around her laugh, even Mira, that deep chuckle that does so many things to Zoey, but Zoey doesn’t join them. She’s staring at Rumi, her whole body overflowing with emotions. She loves them. She loves them so damn much.

“I was so lost, before this show. I was engaging in meaningless relationships over and over again, never fully connecting with my boyfriends, physically or emotionally, and trying so, so very hard to be someone I’m not.”

Zoey grips her thigh to ground herself. This workshop has been so much more intense than she had anticipated. She feels bare, her nerves frayed, every single cell of her body about to burst with energy and raw emotion. She knows she’s not the only one. Mira opened her heart to them, and she still looks shaken, her breath shorter than usual, her back and shoulders tensed, threads of vulnerability lingering on her face. And now it’s Rumi’s turn. This is it, isn’t it? This is the moment Rumi says it. The moment she fully faces who she is and who she likes.

“I’ve built so many walls around me. No one could truly see me, not even myself.”

Zoey’s staring so intensely at Rumi she’s pretty sure she hasn’t blinked since Rumi started talking.

“How could I form an actual emotional bond with someone when I didn’t even know what I wanted? What I needed?”

She wonders. How she’ll say it. If she’ll say something generic like queer, or if she’ll use something more specific. Zoey doesn’t care. She just wants Rumi to finally feel safe enough, free enough to say it out loud. I’m—

“So, yeah.” Rumi scratches the nape of her neck with a sheepish smile. “I’m here because I kept running away from myself. But I’m figuring things out now.”

She hands the stick to Bobby, who thanks her with a gentle smile, and Zoey was expecting so much, she’s said so much, Mira’s said so much, even Jinu dropped quite the bomb there, and this is what Rumi gives them? She stares at Mira, a bit incredulous, and Mira stares back at her. She cocks one eyebrow, her eyes brightening, as if she knows exactly how Zoey’s feeling right now.

Bobby praises their emotional growth, thanks them for their honesty and bids them goodbye. The group slowly dissolves, some people staying on the beach, others going back to the house. Rumi’s already walking with Jinu towards the villa, so obviously avoiding eye contact with Mira and Zoey there’s absolutely no doubt she feels somewhat guilty about not having fully opened up like everyone else had. Mira and Zoey exchange a look. A sharp, intense look that, without any ambiguity, says Not on our watch.

***

For a second there, Rumi thinks she got away with it. She saw Mira’s and Zoey’s faces, felt their gazes boring a hole between her eyes, knew as she was talking, stick in hand, I’m here because I kept running away from myself, that she was doing exactly just that. Running away. And when they all said goodbye to Bobby and started going about their way, Rumi was absolutely certain Zoey and Mira would immediately call her out on her bullshit. If she’s being honest with herself, she wants them to. She wants them to shake away her last defense like a coconut tree, that last part of her clinging to a past identity so unfit it had distorted her whole self. But no. They watched her leave with Jinu, stayed behind, only joined them a few minutes later, looking and acting as usual, as if all of this hadn’t affected them—yet it had affected them, Rumi knows, Rumi saw it, the surprise and the confusion replacing the expectation on their pretty faces—.

She’s not sure why she didn’t say it. She feels it, deep inside her. Yet she can’t seem to put the words together, not even in her mind. It’s not shame. It’s not fear. Maybe, just maybe, it’s years and years of denying, layers and layers of disguise, a habit she cultivated for so long it got encoded in her DNA.

The fact remains that by the end of the day, when they all head to the bedroom, Rumi truly believes she got away with it. She’s the first to reach their bed after the shower. It’s Zoey’s turn to be in the middle—they’ve been switching every night and have never once slept in two separate beds ever since they spent their first night together, the three of them—. Rumi slides under the sheets with a content sigh, watches with a grin as Zoey and Mira enter the room. Zoey jumps and faceplants on the bed with a laugh that brings to life hundreds of butterflies in Rumi’s stomach.

“Scoot,” Mira commands, a frown on her face yet her voice is soft.

Zoey moves to the middle and Mira takes her place next to her. The room buzzes for a little while as it always does, people finding their spot, turning on the fans, joking around one last time before Jinu gets up to turn off the light. Like always, it’s Mira’s cue. She sits up, leans across Zoey and drops a kiss on Rumi’s cheek, then on Zoey’s, before rolling to her side.

“Goodnight, guys.”

“Goodnight, babes,” Zoey says with a happy smile.

“Goodnight,” Rumi replies, throat a bit tight. Mira does it every night. A gentle kiss on their cheek after Jinu switches the light off. And every night, Rumi replays it in her head, except it’s a bit different. They’re alone, there’s no Lana, no rules, no cameras, and Mira kisses them on the lips instead of the cheek. It startles Rumi a little, how much she longs for this kind of intimacy with Mira and Zoey.

It never stops at that, though. Mira and Zoey make sure of it. They always press themselves against her, slide an innocent hand on her thigh or her hip, sigh against her ear, and it’s enough for Rumi’s body to catch on fire and for her train of thought to completely derail. Mira’s goodnight kiss turns into an urgent make out session in Rumi’s mind, and she imagines Mira’s long fingers on the flat of her stomach, Zoey’s teeth sinking into her thigh, her own hands fisting into their hair.

Tonight is an exception. Zoey takes Rumi’s arm and flips it over her hip to make sure they’re spooning, but aside from that, there are no lingering touches, no devious whispers, nothing but an odd and silent stillness in their bed. Rumi briefly wonders if it’s their way of punishing her for today, before shaking the thought away. They both had a very emotional moment during the workshop, opening up in front of the whole group—the whole world—, admitting to their flaws and their broken hopes that they could be loved for who they are. It’s no wonder they’re both crashing out now. So, Rumi buries her face in Zoey’s neck and lets sleep slowly wash over her.

She’s completely asleep when someone shakes her shoulder. She grunts, opens her eyes, glances at the digital clock. 2:53 am. What the hell? Mira’s standing by the bed. Zoey’s on her knees on the mattress, a hand now slipping into Rumi’s and tugging at it a little.

“What—”

Zoey presses her index finger to Rumi’s lips before she can finish her whisper, and it sends a jolt of electricity through her body that completely wakes her up. She wordlessly follows Zoey out of bed, heart hammering in her chest. They get out of the bedroom and Mira quietly closes the door behind them. Zoey walks along the dark corridor, Rumi’s hand still in hers, and Rumi wonders, knows, tenses with anticipation. When they reach the patio, Mira turns on the pool light and closes the glass doors behind them. Zoey drops Rumi’s hand and kneels by the pool to dip her fingers in it.

It's 3 in the morning. They’re alone. Two sets of doors and a long corridor separate them from the rest of the group. The only light around them comes from the water, a beautiful turquoise glow fully contained within the pool borders. Rumi’s not stupid. They’re coming after her. But the thing is, instead of fearing it, instead of already looking for an escape plan, she just waits there, lower stomach heating up, a now very familiar throb pulsing between her thighs. But still, she won’t go down without a fight—and she needs the money, not even for herself, simply to make sure Zoey has the most options ahead of her when the retreat ends—.

“What’s going on?” she asks, as innocently as she can manage, and if her voice is a bit hoarse right now she can blame it on the fact she just woke up.

“Not much,” Mira drawls with a shrug. “We just wanted to have a little midnight swim.”

“It’s 3 am.”

“Potato potato,” Zoey giggles, shaking the hand she just pulled out of the pool. “The water is so nice.”

“I don’t have my swimsuit on,” Rumi points out. She knows full well where this is leading, but she can’t help but play dumb to save her skin for a few seconds longer, even though she doesn’t want to be saved. She wants to be called out, to be punished for her own cowardice, to be pushed and bent and molded to their wills. Jesus fucking christ, she didn’t know she had it in her to be so—so—

“I’m sure we can find a very sensible solution,” Mira replies.

“I’m not getting naked. There are cameras everywhere.”

“You don’t have to.”

As if giving her an example, Mira smiles, her tight-lipped, knowing, sexy little smirk that drives Rumi crazy every time, and she walks down the first step of the pool. She’s wearing her usual PJs, a plain white shirt with no pants. Rumi stops breathing and watches fixedly as Mira walks one more step into the pool, then another, her long, long legs slowly disappearing under the water. The hem of her shirt touches the surface, and Mira keeps going down, down, down, until she finally dives completely under the water, swims underneath the surface and emerges by the edge of the pool, right in front of Zoey. She wipes her eyes, smooths her soaked hair out of her face and gives Zoey a smile. Zoey leans forward. Rumi can’t hear what she whispers into Mira’s ear, but she can clearly hear Mira’s responding hum, that deep, low sound rolling in her chest like distant thunder and traveling straight to Rumi’s crotch.

Rumi drags her eyes across Mira’s face, down her dripping neck, all the way to her torso. Her shirt is clinging to her skin. Her white shirt. Her drenched, white shirt. Hugging every single inch of her chest, clutching around her nipples. They’re erect. Perfectly visible through the soaked fabric. Stiffened by the fresh water, and maybe something else.

“Like what you see?” Mira teases.

Rumi snaps her eyes back to hers, praying that neither Mira nor Zoey can see her furious blush in the dim ambient light.

“How could she not…” Zoey sighs dreamily. “You’re so. fucking. sexy.”

“Yeah?” Mira crosses her arms on the edge of the pool, eyes shining brighter than the illuminated water.

“Yeah,” Zoey breathes out.

She leans closer. Her nose brushes Mira’s. And fuck, fuck, Rumi wants nothing more than to watch them kiss, to watch Mira pull at Zoey’s bottom lip with her teeth, to drink in every second of it, of the way Zoey will whimper and shake and silently beg for more. But they need to follow the rules. They need the money.

“Guys,” she whispers. She doesn’t have the strength to speak louder. Yet, it works. They both slowly pull away while taking a deep breath.

“Fuck,” Zoey murmurs. She shakes her head, looks up at Rumi and grins. “I guess I need a cold shower!”

She lets herself drop into the pool. Not a jump or a slide from the edge, no. Zoey straight up flops into the water from where she was crouching, and Mira laughs as she gets splashed in the process. Zoey dives back up with a happy laugh of her own.

“God, it feels so good!”

She lifts her arms in the air to untie her soggy buns, and now Rumi’s eyes are glued to Zoey’s boobs, because of course she’s just wearing a light gray tank top over some shorties, of course it’s also perfectly see-through, of course Zoey doesn’t care, just like Mira, that her chest is almost on full display. All air has now left Rumi’s lungs. She’s wet. She’s seen them both in their swimsuits before, seen their legs and their arms and their cleavages and their stomachs and their hips, but this? This is lewd, and it makes her fingers twitch on the side of her thigh. She doesn’t know what she wants more. Zoey and Mira fucking her to oblivion, or her pounding into them, one by one, and making them howl until they lose their voices.

“Come,” Mira says, eyes on Rumi, and Rumi hates—loves—that her body automatically obeys. She moves close to the edge of the pool and stares down at Mira, who’s looking at her with a somewhat lazy smile. “You don’t want to join us?”

Rumi shakes her head. She doesn’t trust her voice right now.

“That’s a shame.”

“At least sit here and dip your toes in! I promise we won’t drag you into the water!”

Rumi squints at Zoey, who raises a hand in the air. “Scout’s honor!”

“Were you even a scout?”

“Well, no, but…”

Rumi laughs. She hesitates for one second, but the sight before her makes her fold more easily than a reed under a gentle breeze. Who is she to deny those two? She shakes her pajama pants off and sits on the edge of the pool. She dips her feet into the water. It’s fresh but not cold, and she sighs as she settles, water up to the middle of her calves. She closes her eyes, allowing herself to relax for a second before opening them again and glancing at both Mira and Zoey.

“Okay,” she says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Mira replies, stepping closer. “We just wanted to have a little midnight swim, the three of us.”

“Oh, really. Because from where I stand you two look like sharks circling their prey.”

“Actually,” Zoey chirps, “sharks very rarely hunt together. You can sometimes see groups of sharks gather around abundant food sources, but they’re never coordinated and—You know what, I’ll save that for later, now is not the time.”

Rumi laughs while Mira wraps her arms around Zoey’s waist, under the water, and sets her chin on Zoey’s shoulder.

“You’ll tell us about it tomorrow, okay?” she says with so much softness and sincerity both Rumi and Zoey blush.

Zoey lets out a noise that was probably supposed to be a sound of approval but turned into a chocked squeak, and Rumi can’t blame her. If Mira, if any of them were to hold her like that, to talk to her like that… Rumi looks away, thighs clenching, fingers gripping a little around the smooth edge of the pool.

“Seriously,” she says, still not looking at them. “I’m not stupid. You woke me up at 3 am to drag me to the pool while everyone else is sleeping. What do you want?”

She hears a wave of water, someone stepping closer to her, and she gasps when two wet hands slide up her thighs. She stares back down at Mira, who’s now standing right in front of her. She’s so tall she barely has to lift her eyes to hold Rumi’s gaze.

“We were very honest during the workshop, Zoey and I.” At her side, Zoey nods, eyes fixed on Mira’s fingers, now slightly, so very slightly digging into Rumi’s flesh. “We opened up to everyone else, to you, because it felt right, needed, a testimony of our trust for each other. But you—” Her fingers twitch, nails scratching at Rumi’s skin, just a little, just enough for Rumi to feel their sharpness linger even after Mira flattens her hands on her thighs again. “—You gave us nothing.”

Zoey steps closer. She’s now at Rumi’s side, an elbow on the edge of the pool, her other hand starting to play with the hem of Rumi’s oversized black shirt.

“I was honest,” Rumi breathes out, and it’s a lie, it’s a lie, and she hopes Mira will make her confess, she hopes Zoey will bite at her neck and tear the truth out of her with her bare teeth.

“Were you? What is it she said, Zo?”

“That she was figuring things out.”

Zoey’s still fiddling with her shirt, and it’s agonizing, because all Rumi wants is her hands on her, her skin on her skin, contact, pressure, but Zoey’s giving her nothing. Meanwhile, Mira’s giving her too much.

“Right. Figuring things out. Tell me, Rumi.” Mira drags her hands up Rumi’s legs, slowly, her thumbs deliberately dipping into the inside of her thighs, and Rumi’s so wet, she’s so wet, she’s so wet, and she wonders, with panicked hope, if Mira and Zoey can smell her. It wouldn’t take much. Mira would just have to lean forward a little and—

“You hadn’t figured it out, when you dragged me into your bed for the first time?”

Rumi forces herself to breathe, else she passes out. “No,” she murmurs. Liar.

“Really,” Mira hums. She digs her fingers into Rumi’s thighs and Rumi lets out a weak whimper. “What about the next day, when you kissed both of us during our date?”

“No.”

It’s a puff of air, barely a sound. Liar. Mira starts spreading Rumi’s legs open, almost leisurely, yet there’s enough strength in her grip Rumi doesn’t even try to resist her. She doesn’t want to.

“No. Huh. I would not have guessed,” Mira drawls.

“I think someone is not being very honest right now,” Zoey whispers. Her fingers slip under Rumi’s shirt and Rumi starts when she finally, finally touches her. Zoey starts exploring her skin, the arch of her hip, the small of her back, the curve of her spine, and Rumi has to bite her lip, hard, to not whimper again.

“What about—” Mira completely spreads her open. Rumi’s gripping the edge of the pool so tightly she knows her knuckles are white. “—right now?”

“What about it?” Rumi whispers with the last of her strength.

She stares into Mira’s eyes and almost cuts herself on how sharp they are. Yet the final blow comes from Zoey. She pushes on the tip of her toes and, mouth at Rumi’s ear, she murmurs, “I can smell you, Rumi.”

Rumi lets out a long, frail and shaky moan. She starts quivering a little while Mira fully steps between her legs. Zoey wraps her fingers around the collar of Rumi’s shirt and tugs, and Rumi leans towards her without any resistance—she doesn’t have the strength, she doesn’t have the will, she’s powerless and free and everything she’s ever wanted to be—.

“Say it,” Zoey whispers, and it’s soft and expectant and loving, and Rumi remembers the feel of her lips on hers, remembers the sounds of her whines as they kissed, remembers, with a frightening clarity, what it feels like to give herself to Zoey.

“I—” Her voice gets stuck in her throat.

Mira leans forward, her nose brushing Rumi’s neck, her lips a ghost on her skin.

“Say it,” Mira commands, and it’s cutting and urgent and fierce, and Rumi wonders what it feels like to fall apart in Mira’s arms, wonders what it feels like to have her fingers inside her, wonders if she’ll talk her through it as she makes Rumi com—Mira bites her neck and Rumi lets out another moan, high-keyed and strangled.

“I—I’m—” Her mind is hazy with want and adrenaline, yet a distinct thought manages to push through the fog. “The rules,” she croaks, but she’s tangling her fingers into Mira’s hair to bring her closer, and gripping into Zoey’s soaked tank top to press her against her, and Mira bites her again, harder, while Zoey’s hand is still roaming under her shirt.

“We don’t care about the rules,” Zoey whispers. Her fingertips brush under Rumi’s boob and Rumi jerks so hard Mira tightens her grip around her thighs to keep her steady. “This is more important.”

“No—but—fuck—the money—”

“Say it, and we’ll stop,” Mira murmurs.

What kind of fucked up torture is this? Zoey’s fingers brush over Rumi’s nipple and Rumi gasps, fisting Zoey’s tank top so hard she might rip it apart. She’s holding onto them like a lifeline, tears welling up in her eyes as a tsunami of sensations and emotions overwhelms her. She needs them to stop, yet if they do she’ll break apart.

“I’m—Fuck, guys—I’m—” Her voice is choked, high, needy, and when Mira growls against her neck she gasps again, clenching her fingers into her hair, pushing her against her. Mira gets the very obvious hint and sinks her teeth into her skin once more, and Rumi’s moan is unrestrained and gravelly and loud, and it drags even longer when Zoey starts rolling her nipple between her fingers.

She can barely think straight anymore, barely remember the cameras all around them, how even though they are alone, everyone, everyone will be able to see what they’re doing. And she’s embarrassed, but also so oddly, so unapologetically turned on by the idea. Let the world see. This is who she is. This is who she wants.

“I’m—”

Zoey’s hand releases her nipple, her nails scratch their way down her stomach and, without an ounce of hesitation, she dips her fingers under the waistband of Rumi’s underwear.

“I’m gay,” Rumi rasps, and it feels so good to say it that she has to cling tightly around Mira and Zoey not to completely fall apart. Mira unclenches her jaw and finally releases Rumi’s pulse point, while Zoey retracts her hand and immediately wraps her arm around Rumi’s waist to hold her tight.

“I’m gay,” Rumi repeats, tears now rolling down her cheeks, and it feels good, it feels good, it feels so good, and she’s wrecked, and she might have come a little, she’s not sure, and it doesn’t matter because she’s gay and a whole new world has just opened up before her, bright and colorful and queer and hers. Mira’s kissing the tears away from her cheeks while Zoey squeezes her so hard she might bruise her, and it’s right, and she’s gay and it’s right, and Rumi finally breaks apart and starts sobbing against Mira, an arm wrapped around Zoey’s small body to keep her as close as possible.

“You’re amazing,” Zoey murmurs, awe in her voice. “And beautiful. And perfect. And—”

Her voice tightens. She falls quiet, and Mira ends her sentence for her.

“—And ours.”

Rumi cries harder, years and years and years of repression, of denial, of lies, of pressure, of fear and cowardice, all washing away into Mira’s humid hair, the lingering pain soothed by Zoey’s soft words.

“Ours,” Zoey’s breathing out. “Ours, ours, ours.”

Rumi burrows herself a bit more into their bodies and, between two uncontrollable sobs, she whispers, “Yours.”

Chapter Text

“Mira’s, Rumi’s and Zoey’s actions have cost 30,000,000 won.”

This time, nobody stands up for them, and Mira can’t blame them. People swear, frown, throw their arms in the air or hold their heads in their hands in a very defeated gesture. Yeah. They fucked up. Bad. Mira cares a little, just a little, mainly because she can see the disappointment on Abby’s face and she hates it. On the other hand, what happened last night was… World redefining, really. Rumi finally broke apart in their arms and said what she had needed to say this entire time, her entire life. She’s gay. She’s theirs. Mira shivers just thinking about it, about Rumi’s voice when she said it, that hush full of tears and relief, Yours. Mira doesn’t quite know what it means, exactly. Well, she does, but she also doesn’t. She doesn’t know what will happen once the retreat ends. Zoey lives in Seoul, so Mira will be able to see her as often as she wants, but Rumi? How will they manage the distance? How will they make sure she doesn’t feel left out? How can they keep everything as it is right now, finally perfectly balanced, when only two of them will be close? Do any of them even want to? Maybe Mira’s the only one hoping for more.

“Guys I beg of you, you have to stop,” Nayeon sighs, rubbing her temple. “Money might mean nothing to you but some of us could actually use it.”

“No, no,” Zoey says, twisting her fingers over her lap, face pale with guilt. “I get it, trust me. I—I really need the money too. It was just—It felt so important—”

“Oh enough already!” Baby snaps. “No more excuses, no more bullshit! You guys just can’t keep it in your pants and you don’t give a single fuck about the rest of us!”

Mira almost says it. Someone’s sore they haven’t got any action so far. But she doesn’t. As painful as it is to admit, Baby is right. They’ve been selfish. Even if, technically, they didn’t lose the group any money. They came here with zero, and if they leave with zero, well, you know, not a loss. But she gets it. She briefly considers sending them the money they’ve lost, once the retreat is over. It wouldn’t make much of a difference for her, but it would for them. She wants to ask Zoey and Rumi about it, if they think it’s a good idea. But she can’t. She’s scared she’d just come off as a super arrogant, above-it-all rich girl, like the rest of her family is. And she doesn’t trust the producers with that information. Although they probably know she comes from one of the richest families in Korea. It doesn’t take much research to find that out.

She stores the idea in a corner of her mind for now and waits quietly on the couch for the storm to pass. Rumi’s sitting straighter than ever next to her, careful not to touch her, as if it’d be even more disrespectful to the group if they shared any sort of physical contact in front of them right now. When Lana finally dismisses them and everyone but them leaves, Zoey lets out a long, pained grunt and flops onto Rumi’s lap.

“I feel so bad.”

“Yeah,” Rumi sighs, immediately starting to play with Zoey’s bangs. “We really fucked up.”

“Hmmm,” Mira hums. “We have one week left. Let’s be better.”

Zoey looks at her from Rumi’s lap and nods. “Yeah. I can’t stand the idea of fucking the prize one more time.”

“We won’t,” Rumi says with determination. “No more breaking the rules. For real, this time.”

***

(“There has been another breach of the rules this afternoon.”

Baby’s already shouting “Oh. My. GOD!”, Rumi’s dropping her head on the back of the couch with a low “Shit.” while Zoey’s jumping on her feet, arms in the air, squealing “We didn’t mean to! We really didn’t! It was supposed to be a joke!”

“I told you guys it would count,” Mira groans.

Everyone’s clearly upset, even Jinu with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face. It’s pure chaos, and the girls have no one to blame but themselves. Again.)

***

The following week is both bliss and torture. They’re extra cautious not to cross any boundaries, never cuddling for too long lest they start getting too handsy, and they keep any sort of innuendo to themselves the best they can. They’re all shoving any visible form of desire under the carpet, and if it works and keeps them from breaking any more rules, it also feels like a ticking time bomb.

Rumi is about to combust on the spot. She’s constantly wet. Constantly horny. Constantly fighting not to stick a hand into her underwear to find just the barest of releases. She wants them like she’s never wanted anyone in her life, and the fact that she can’t even express it anymore makes it so, so much worse. That, and… She’s gay. She likes girls. She wants girls. She has two stunners by her side, who want her too, who like her too, who told her she was theirs, and fucking hell why can’t she act on it? Why can’t she explore it, them, herself? The retreat is reaching its end, and after that, will she even get another chance with them?

Mira and Zoey will probably start dating. They haven’t mentioned anything of the sort, but it makes sense. They both live in Seoul, and Zoey has already written down a list of everything she wants to do with Mira once they’re back in the city. She keeps including Rumi, too. “You can visit us on the weekend!” or “We’ll definitely wait for the three of us to be together to do that one!” and other gentle comments of the same sort, but all it does is tighten the knot in Rumi’s stomach. It’s more and more evident that even though she’s theirs, it’s only for a few more days. And, because of Lana, the rules, the cameras, those days are spent with so many restraints it feels like her very own quartering agony.

But it doesn’t mean the rest is insignificant. It feels the perfect opposite, actually. Ever since that night in the pool, Rumi’s heart keeps expanding, full of joy and love and gratitude and curiosity, of fear and doubt, too, when she lets herself think a bit too long about the future. She knows they should sit down and talk about it. Try to put words to their relationship, be clear about what they want after this. But Rumi’s scared. She knows there’s no real solution. Even if they all wanted this, all wanted to be together, Rumi’s still living on the other side of the country. And, shit, does she want it? She came here three weeks ago looking for her prince charming, and now, she’s wondering if she should take that huge leap of faith with not one but two girls? Isn’t it too fast? Shouldn’t she hit the brake, take a deep breath, give herself time to sort out her feelings?

“Earth to Rumi? Helloooo?”

Rumi snaps out of her momentary daze and looks at Zoey. She’s standing, leaning towards her and waving a hand in front of her face, lips curled into an amused smile. Fuck she’s pretty. As if Rumi would ever be able to hit the brake.

“Sorry. Hi. I’m here.”

“What were you thinking about?” Zoey asks as she drops by her side on their couch and rests her head on her shoulder with a sigh.

Rumi tries not to think too much about the intimacy of that gesture, about how comfortable she is, having Zoey over her all of the time, about how she keeps wanting more and more.

“Nothing,” she lies. “My phone.” It’s not the right place or the right time to say Hey, I think I’m developing super strong feelings for you guys, wanna date me even though there’s three of us and I’ve never been with a girl and I’m a bit of a mess oh and also I don’t live in the same city?

“Your phone?”

“Yeah, I—I miss scrolling, you know? It’s nice to have a break from it, but I’m looking forward to mindlessly zoning out looking at the screen from time to time.”

“Oh my god, yes, I totally see what you mean. There’s this guy I follow on YouTube who does weekly videos about terrariums and vivariums and I have missed three already! Not to mention all the drama episodes that were released this month. Gosh I have so much to catch up with when I get back!”

She snuggles a bit closer, burying her nose into Rumi’s neck, digging her fingers into Rumi’s shirt, just a little, just enough for Rumi’s breath to catch in her throat.

“I wish I could watch it with you,” Zoey murmurs. Her voice is muffled, hot air tickling against Rumi’s skin, and Rumi closes her eyes for a second. Zoey isn’t doing anything sexual, but Rumi can’t help it. The way she’s clinging to her right now, the pleading inflection in her voice, the barely concealed neediness, it drives her a bit crazy. It makes her want to hold her tight. To turn her hushed worries into quiet moans. To take, and take, and take, and Rumi’s never felt that way before. So greedy. So possessive.

“We can call each other and stream it at the same time,” she says instead, voice a bit hoarse, a finger drawing a circle on Zoey’s forearm.

She’s so scared. So fucking scared. She wants it. She wants the casual intimacy, the domesticity, the daily habits. But she doesn’t know how she’ll react if she sees them sharing a couch, a bed, the same air while she’s so far away. Sure, she could come see them on the weekends. But she wouldn’t be able to take breakdance lessons with them. To grab lunch together when their schedules allow it. To order take out for them after they’ve had a really long day at work. She wouldn’t be able to take care of them, but they would be able to take care of each other. God, she’s such a mess. So damn horny, terrified of the idea of a relationship with them yet unable to push past the feeling that it’s exactly what she needs, bouncing from one emotion to the other so fast it’s dizzying.

“Do you—,” Zoey starts, but she falls quiet before finishing her sentence, her fingers curling a bit more into the fabric of Rumi’s shirt.

“Hm?”

“Do you mean that?”

Her voice is so weak Rumi pulls away a little to stare at her face. Zoey’s looking at her feet, a frown and a pout on her face, as if she’s sad, or worried, or uncertain, or all of the above. Rumi slides her index finger under Zoey’s chin and tilts her face so she looks her in the eye.

“Yes,” she says simply. “I want to watch your dramas with you.”

And it’s so silly. So small of a detail. But it says so, so much more, and Zoey understands. Her face lights up, a smile slowly pulling her lips, a blush painting her freckled cheekbones.

“Yeah?”

She sounds so hopeful. So thrilled. Fuck. Rumi pushes aside the fear, the doubt gnawing at her guts, the little voice telling her that she’s going too fast, promising too much, taking on more than she can handle, and she smiles back at Zoey. All she wants right now is to make her happy.

“Yeah.”

***

Zoey’s ecstatic. Borderline hysterical, even. She’s keeping it down so that she doesn’t look absolutely insane in front of the whole group as they’re eating their lunch together, but her whole body is resonating with joy and energy and excitement. Rumi said yes. Rumi wants to watch her stupid dramas with her. Rumi wants to keep her in her life. Rumi wants her, past the next few days, past this island. And not just for sex—which, mind you, Zoey very much wants too—. No, Rumi wants to do something trivial and casual, the kind of thing a couple would do to chill together after a long day.

Zoey’s already planning it all in her head. Once she finds a new place to live in, she’ll get a nice TV and a nice couch. Oh, and some speakers to connect her phone to. That way she and Mira will be able to hear Rumi perfectly well while they’re watching TV. Maybe she should get a camera? One of those fancy webcams, so that Rumi gets the best video calls ever? Or maybe, even, so that Zoey and Mira could send her a little gift when she’s feeling down, something to keep her mind and hands occupied under the sheets and… God, no, no, no. Way to get ahead of yourself, Zoey. Maybe Rumi wouldn’t like that. Maybe it’d make her feel even more isolated. Plus, Mira might not be comfortable with that kind of thing. Hell, Mira might not even want to be in a relationship with them and—Wait, does Rumi want to be in a relationship with them? All she said was that she’d watch a show with Zoey. That’s it. Dammit. They really need to talk about all of this. Zoey can’t take much more of these emotional rollercoasters—not to mention the physical ones—.

They all bring their empty plates back to the kitchen for the cleaners to take care of. Mira grabs three apples from the fruit basket and gives Rumi and Zoey a glance. She doesn’t need to say anything. It’s become their little ritual, eating a fruit on the beach after lunch, away from everyone else.

The sky is gray today. Darker clouds hang over the horizon, a promise of some rain later in the day. There’s a fresh breeze ruffling their hair. The sea is agitated, waves breaking on the shore, small and sharp and relentless. The air is filled with scents of salt, algae, and that unmistakable smell that comes before a storm. Petrichor, Zoey thinks it’s called. She loves it.

They all sit on the beach. Mira digs her bare feet into the sand, gives them each one apple and bites into her own, eyes on the horizon, and Zoey wonders if she should just… ask. Rip that bandage off. They’ve been so open and honest about everything else, surely this wouldn’t be different, right? Surely Zoey could say, Hey, I’m in love with the both of you, let’s be together after the show ends.

She takes a deep breath, summons all of her bravery, opens her mouth and immediately shuts it when she hears a loud cronch and feels a little push against the hand holding her apple.

“Hey!” she squeaks, but Rumi’s already bolting on her feet with a giggle, chewing on the piece she just bit off Zoey’s apple. “Hey, thief! That’s mine!”

Zoey leaps after her with a laugh, all worries evaporating into thin air. She runs behind Rumi, who turns around and faces her in a combative stance, a grin on her face, eyes gleaming with mischief. And fuck, Zoey loves that side of her. That carefree, childlike, free side of her that sometimes overtakes her more poised facet—it’s been happening more and more since the retreat started, as if the more Rumi accepts who she is, the more playful and unstrained she is—.

“What are you going to do? Get it back?”

Rumi chuckles, taunting Zoey. The piece of fruit is long gone, but Zoey won’t accept defeat. She lurches towards Rumi and manages to snatch her wrist.

“A bite for a bite!” she says, all laughter and energy, trying to nip the apple Rumi’s holding firmly in her hand.

Rumi laughs and tries to push her away, but their legs tangle with each other and she stumbles backward. Her eyes go wide as she tries to hold on to Zoey’s arm, and she falls on her ass with an undignified yelp, Zoey following suit and crashing onto her with an even louder shriek. Zoey ends up piled on top of Rumi, laughing so hard her stomach hurts, Rumi’s own laughter shaking her chest.

“You guys okay?” Mira chuckles. She’s still sitting in the same spot, apple half eaten now, clearly amused by the unexpected show.

“Yep!” Zoey chirps, pushing herself on her arms. “Just trying to get justice done!”

And with that she lowers her head and bites at Rumi’s apple, or she tries to, but Rumi’s faster than her and already moving her fruit away. As a result, Zoey’s teeth sink into Rumi’s finger, and Rumi lets out a surprised “Ow, ow!” that has Zoey mortified and scrambling off of her.

“Oh my god, Rumi, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

 “You bit me!”

“I didn’t mean to! I was trying to get your apple and you moved and—”

“It hurts so bad,” Rumi pouts, bringing her allegedly injured finger against her chest, but Zoey can see right through her bullshit. Next to them, Mira snorts loudly. Zoey laughs at the gleam in Rumi’s eyes, that hint of foolishness she cherishes so much, and decides to go along.

“Really, huh? What can I do to make it up to you?”

The spark in Rumi’s eyes turns into a wild fire, and Zoey’s smile freezes when Rumi answers, voice quieter and all the more dangerous, “A bite for a bite.”

Next to them, Mira cocks an eyebrow. “Guys,” she warns, but it sounds a bit distant.

“No, no, it’s only fair,” Zoey hurries to say, before glancing at Mira. Fuck she’s so damn hot when she’s scowling like that. When they’re back in Seoul, when the rules don’t apply, when Zoey is free to act on every single desire she’s had ever since they’ve arrived here, she’ll find a way to really, really—and harmlessly—annoy Mira. Just to see what type of punishment she’ll throw back at her.

“A bite for a bite.”

She says it with as much nonchalance as she can muster. Mira sees right through her and pinches her lips, frown deepening. But before she can stop whatever nonsense is about to happen, Rumi takes Zoey’s hand and brings it to her mouth. Zoey automatically stretches out her index finger and watches, hypnotized, as Rumi’s lips part open. Soon, her teeth sink into Zoey’s flesh. It’s gentle, just enough pressure to get back at Zoey, even if all it does is make her so very uncomfortably wet. Rumi bites at her finger one more time, eyes anchored on Zoey. It’s harder this time. Zoey can’t help but wince for a second, and as soon as she does, Rumi unclenches her jaws and flicks her tongue against Zoey’s finger.

“Shit,” Zoey breathes out.

“Guys,” Mira murmurs again, but her voice is weak and strained, and Zoey knows she doesn’t actually have it in her to stop whatever the fuck is happening right now. Zoey doesn’t have it in her either. In fact, she’s so far gone she forgets how to think and acts on instinct, slowly pushing her finger further into Rumi’s mouth. Rumi immediately wraps her mouth around it, tongue teasing her fingertip. Zoey draws a short breath through the nose, pushes a bit deeper, and when her first knuckle gets past the sharpness of Rumi’s teeth, Rumi curls her tongue around her finger and starts sucking it. Zoey lets out a weak moan, which triggers a weak moan from Rumi, and fuck shit fuck the rules! Zoey snaps her hand against her chest, breathless, her skin burning, her finger coated in spit.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Mira murmurs. “I’m pretty certain that’s a—”

“No, it’s not!” Zoey squeaks. “It was just—friendly play! That’s all!”

She glances at Rumi, panic flaring in her chest and immediately getting smothered by the expression on Rumi’s face. Rumi looks… fuck. Wrecked, is the word. Frozen in place, mouth still slightly open and panting a little, eyes so intense Zoey can feel their heat from where she sits. She seems to finally get it together, shakes her head and visibly swallows.

“Yeah,” she says, voice raspy. “We were just goofing around. I’m sure we’re fine.”

Zoey doesn’t know if they’re fine or not. The only thing she’s absolutely certain of is that if she doesn’t get to rail Rumi in the next two days, she’ll fucking implode.

***

“What do you even mean it was supposed to be a joke?!” Rom is shouting.

“We just—I just—I thought it’d be funny! But then Rumi started actually sucking on it and—”

“She sucked on what?” Abby yells while Rumi dives head first against Mira’s shoulder and hides her face against her. She knows she’s redder than a tomato, and she will probably dissolve on the spot if she meets anyone else’s eyes.

“My finger! Just my finger!”

“Just your finger?!” Abby repeats in a shriek, completely bewildered.

“How on Earth did you not think it’d break the rules?” Baby hisses.

“It was—I swear it made sense at the time—I didn’t mean to—”

“Okay, guys, stop picking on Zoey,” Mira intervenes, threat lacing her tone. “It was an accident and frankly it’s super bitchy of Lana to count it as a rule break.”

“Oh, yeah, super bitchy of Lana to consider a finger in the mouth as a transgression!” Baby snaps, before turning towards the lamp sitting perfectly still on the coffee table. “Come on, out with it. How much did they cost us this time?”

Lana lights up.

“Zoey, Rumi, for the transgression of heavy petting, I have deduced 10,000,000 won from the prize.”

“Heavy pet—Oh come on! That’s bullshit! It lasted two seconds top!”

From the corner of her eye, Rumi can see Zoey flinging her arms in the air, frustration all over her face. Rumi finally gets the courage to lean back and face the group again.

“I do think it’s a bit unfair,” she mumbles, both feeling extremely guilty for costing the group more money and trying to defend herself, and wronged by Lana because, really, it was over in the blink of an eye and all she did was… suck… on Zoey’s finger… and moan around it… and… God, fuck. Yeah, maybe 10,000,000 is justified.

“I will not change my ruling,” Lana says, emotionless as per usual. “Zoey, Rumi, and Mira, you have now cost the group a total of 66,000,000 won.”

Baby grunts, Nayeon huffs, Jinu wipes a hand over his face.

“Including the 4,000,000’s deduction from Rom and Tzuyu’s transgression, the total prize now amounts to 80,000,000 won.”

“You lost almost half of the prize. Fucking great, guys! Amazing job!”

It comes from Baby, of course, but Rumi can’t blame him. They fucked up. Again. They didn’t mean to, but they did, and they could have so very easily avoided it. She doesn’t even know what happened, back on the beach. She felt Zoey’s finger inside her mouth, felt Mira’s eyes on her, and she just… lost it. Blacked out. Surrendered, whatever the word.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Zoey murmurs as she slumps on the couch.

The silence that follows is deafening. Rumi’s never felt so guilty in her life. Or maybe once. That day after she got her tattoos and Celine noticed, despite the large hoodie and comfy pants. Those five seconds of silence, before Celine patted the couch next to her and started asking questions with a gentler voice than Rumi was used to.

“You have now been here for twenty-seven days,” Lana finally says. “The retreat is coming to an end. Despite the numerous transgressions, you have all grown emotionally. Zoey, Rumi and Mira, while you have cost the group the most money, you have also shown the deepest connection. You have fought to keep and strengthen your bond, and to accept yourselves fully. As an acknowledgement of your hard work, I would like to give you the chance to win back some money.”

“Holy shit,” Abby says before cheering out loud. “Fuck yes!”

Rumi perks up, heart pounding in her chest. She wants to win that money back. She wants to make amends.

“However—”

“Of fucking course,” Mira mutters.

“—this will not come without an ultimate test of your strength. Zoey, Rumi, Mira. You will have to spend a whole night in a private suite, with no physical contact at all.”

“Okay so we’re not getting any money back,” Baby groans.

“Have faith,” Jinu scolds.

Rumi pales. No physical contact? At all?

“Wait, wait,” Zoey leans forward, dread in her voice. “Not even cuddling?”

“No touching of any kind,” Lana confirms.

Fuck. No touching them? When they get privacy for the very first time since the retreat started, their own space, a bed far from prying eyes and ears? When Rumi finally knows what she wants, what she’s been missing her whole life—them, them, them—? When there are two nights left before she goes back to her dull house, dull job, dull life, so far from them? Rumi bites her lip. Fuck. Fuck.

“If you succeed, all the money the three of you have lost will be returned to the prize fund.”

“Okay let’s fucking go!” Abby’s on his feet and already bending in front of Mira like a boxing coach. “Listen to me boo. You can do this. I know they’re super hotties and so are you, but you have to keep your hands to yourselves, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“I have faith in you, boo.”

Mira nods like she’s about to enter the ring. “I won’t let you down.”

“That’s my girl!”

“The trial will start soon. Please proceed to the back of the house and follow the red ribbons. The new rules will apply as soon as you step inside the private suit.”

Zoey’s already on her feet and zooming towards the side of the house.

“We’ve got this, guys!” she shouts just before disappearing around the corner, and Rumi feels herself melting.

She shares a side look with Mira, and the glint in her eyes throws her stomach into a loop. How can someone who has spent their whole life shielding themselves from others and recoiling from any kind of intimacy look at her with so much openness and tenderness?

“We’ve got this,” Mira repeats, quiet, soft, certain, and Rumi’s throat tightens along with her heart. She’s feeling so much. And all of her emotions have nowhere to go.

She smiles, nods, stares at the group and says with a confidence she doesn’t quite feel, “We do.”

***

The private suite is actually a private hanok, all the way on the other side of the island. It’s only a five minute walk away, and a beautiful one at that. Lanterns with red ribbons are illuminating the path, the white rocks and the lush bushes guiding their way. A few meters lower, they can hear the sea brushing over the sand or breaking against the small cliff portion of the island. The moon is almost full, massive, still low on the horizon and glowing with a deep and soothing orange. A few clouds paint their odd shapes on one of its sides, and the air is fresher than usual, curtesy of the afternoon’s rainstorm.

The porch of the hanok is illuminated. A few stone steps lead to the front door of the little house, all wooden beams, gray tiled roof and white stone walls. The door and large windows are framed with sturdy wood.

“God, I just love Korean architecture,” Zoey marvels.

She’s the first to get to the front door, a bounce in her step, a grin on her face. Mira wants to kiss her. To lean forward, to tell her how cute she is and how much Mira loves seeing her fully embrace a foreign culture. Instead, she walks next to her, ruffles her hair and watches as Zoey giggles and tries to smooth it back.

“Guys, no touching,” Rumi gently scolds.

“It’s only once we’re inside,” Mira points out.

She’s a bit on edge, the air thinner than usual in her lungs. They have two nights left, and they’re not even allowed to cuddle for one of them. It’d be easier if they knew what would happen after the retreat ends. But they don’t, because none of them has mustered the courage to talk about it. Maybe they will tonight. They definitely should.

Zoey throws her arms around Mira’s waist and squeezes her so tight it’s hard to breathe.

“Just one last hug before we start the longest night of my life,” Zoey whispers.

Mira chuckles, wraps her arms around her shoulders, presses her even closer against her as she deeply inhales her scent. Still flowery and a bit sweet. Still intoxicating. She lifts her eyes, catches Rumi’s, and they stare at each other for a while. It’s intense. Thick. Almost palpable. Then, Mira mouths Come here, and Rumi joins them. She slides her arms around Zoey, rests one hand on Mira’s waist and the other between her shoulder blades, her face on the other side of Zoey’s head. They stay there in silence for a long, long while, and it feels like this is about more than just tonight. They’re all wondering, Mira realizes. All wondering about what will happen afterward.

She takes a deep breath and a step back, kisses Zoey on her forehead and Rumi on her cheek, and turns around before any of them can catch the light blush she can feel creeping up her cheeks. Without any ceremony, she opens the door and steps inside.

It’s absolutely stunning. Polished wooden floors, thick and matte paper separating the rooms, tall ceilings supported by heavy wooden beams. The lights are already on, flooding the space with a cozy warm tone, showcasing the intricate details on the paper panels and the couple of doors opening to the entrance.

“Love it,” Rumi smiles.

Mira hums her approval while Zoey’s already bolting past them to open the first door on her left. It leads to the bedroom.

“Woah!”

The bed is gigantic, neatly made, all white sheets with pale pink pillows and throw blanket. Its low headboard is pushed against the wall, a gorgeous traditional black and white painting hanging above it and a wooden nightstand on each side. There’s a chair in one corner and a two-person sofa in another, with a little coffee table. On it sits an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, three glasses and a beautifully garnished bowl of strawberries.

Zoey points at the coffee table with a wide smile. “Three glasses.”

“Three glasses,” Mira whispers.

She doesn’t mean for it to be so charged yet it hangs in the air, vibrating with unspoken thoughts and an undercurrent that tightens around Mira’s stomach. Three glasses. It feels like they won, like they’re stronger than the showrunners, stronger than the norms. Coming on a straight dating show only to end up together, all three, all women.

Rumi’s the first to break the odd stillness in the air. She looks around with appraising eyes, opens the closet in the back—production has brought in their PJs and bathroom products, all carefully packed in three separate bags—, drags her fingertips on the back of the chair.

“This isn’t bad,” she says. “This isn’t bad at all. One of us could stay on the bed, the other on the sofa and the third on the chair. We’d be cozy chatting the night away, with a big safety distance between us.”

Mira looks at the cameras. Production didn’t even try to hide them. They’re nestled in every corner of the ceiling, a crude reminder of what’s at stake.

“What about the sleeping arrangements?” Mira asks with a pointed look at Zoey. “You know this one will break the rules as soon as she falls asleep.”

“Hey!” Zoey pouts. “Rude. Like, true, but rude.”

Both Mira and Rumi chuckle, before Rumi sits on the chair, testing its cushion. “We’ll figure it out,” she says with a smile—soft, soft, and Mira remembers those lips, remembers those whines, remembers those shivers—.

“Okay I’ll take the bed for now!” Zoey grins. “Ouh, pretty rings!” She fiddles with one of the golden rings adorning the headboard and Mira chokes on air. “Weird decorative style but it adds to it.”

Mira clears her throat, hoping, praying that they don’t notice the heat on her cheeks. She knows those aren’t there for decoration purposes. Zoey probably knows too, if her smug little smirk and the sparkle in her eyes have anything to say about it. But Rumi’s oblivious to the exchange, too busy moving the chair around so that it’s at the perfect angle. Thankfully, Zoey lets it go and opens the drawer of the nightstand next to her. She slams it shut as soon as she takes a glimpse inside. Mira cocks an eyebrow.

“What?”

“What?” Zoey repeats, voice high-pitched, face crimson red, and oh, Mira has a really bad feeling about this one.

“Move,” she orders, tone so sharp Zoey doesn’t even try to fight her for once. She crawls to the middle of the bed and watches as Mira walks towards the nightstand.

“What is it?” Rumi asks from her chair—she finally found the right spot for it, a bit closer to the bed but still at a respectable distance, facing in such a way she’ll be able to look both at the bed and the sofa without straining her neck—.

“Nothing,” Zoey blurts extremely unconvincingly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Mira mumbles as she opens the drawer. She looks inside for a few seconds, takes a deep breath and slowly closes the drawer before turning away and walking towards the sofa.

“Well?” Rumi asks, tone inquisitorial. “What is it?”

“Just condoms,” Mira drawls.

“Condoms.”

“Yes. Condoms. I’m assuming you’re familiar with those?”

On the bed, Zoey giggles nervously, scratching her cheek and so evidently giving them away Mira might as well stop trying. Rumi’s already on her feet. She rounds the bed, waits for Mira to begrudgingly step aside, opens the drawer and stays frozen in place for a good ten seconds. Mira barely dares to breathe, eyes glued on Rumi’s profile, her impassive face, her rigid body, her steady breath. Then, as if time itself starts moving again, Rumi slips out of her petrified state and her shoulders slump a little.

“That’s a lot of sextoys,” she comments, voice carefully even.

“A lot,” Mira agrees, voice just as even.

“Well now I feel stupid, I only caught a glimpse,” Zoey mumbles.

Mira snorts before hyperfocusing on Rumi’s hand as soon as it disappears inside the drawer. Then she sticks in her other hand. Then she just rummages in there, pulls out an armful of boxes and bags and unloads it all on the bed. Zoey’s eyes bulge out of her head.

“There’s like, a thousand dollars’ worth of toys in there,” Zoey whispers with awe, before adding when she sees their confused faces, “1,400,000 won or so.”

“I see we have an expert among us,” Mira teases, keeping her eyes rigorously on Rumi and Zoey’s faces, and not on the obscene pile of toys on the bed.

“At least the boxes are unopened,” Rumi comments, taking one and flipping it into her hands. “We know they’re brand new. Not that—not that it matters, since we won’t be using them—”

Mira takes a sharp breath through the nose. This is a disaster in the making. She loves it. Rumi’s surprisingly the most forward of them all. While Zoey sits there on the bed, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and Mira stays straight-backed on the sofa knowing full well if she gets up right now it’ll end up with no more money in the prize, Rumi starts to methodically take the boxes one by one to check them out.

“Oh, I have that one,” she says, and Zoey actually looks away, as if the sight of Rumi holding a womanizer, even in its box, is enough to conjure the unholiest of images in her mind. But Rumi doesn’t stop. Oblivious, stubborn or devilish, Mira’s not sure. “A bullet, yes, a classic. And a wand. No idea what that one is. Oh. I was wondering if—” She stops, a little bag in hand. She very carefully takes out its content, and Mira groans when she sees it.

A harness.

Zoey’s gripping the sheet in her fists as if she’s physically trying to hold herself from jumping Rumi. Mira doesn’t blame her. Fuck production. They couldn’t make this night any worse—or better, because it’s good, it’s so good, Rumi holding a harness with so much curiosity in her eyes—. Rumi’s still staring at it, absentmindedly twirling the thick fabric between her fingers.

Then, voice a murmur, “Have you ever used one?”

Mira and Zoey exchange a look. Zoey’s clearly trying to hold on to her sanity, and although appearing more composed Mira doesn’t feel any better. She clears her throat, eyes back on Rumi. She’s still looking at the damn thing.

“Yes,” Mira answers.

“Um, yeah,” Zoey says softly.

Rumi finally tears her eyes away from the harness. They settle on Mira first, then Zoey. “Were you the ones wearing it, or…”

Mira takes a deep, deep breath. She tries to collect herself. To not think about Zoey taking—wearing—a strap, to not think about Rumi wearing—taking—god fuck it’d be so hot, they’d be so hot, shit.

“Both,” Zoey answers.

It sparks something in Rumi’s eyes, but she doesn’t comment, simply turns towards Mira and waits for her answer.

“I’ve only worn it.”

“You don’t like it when…” Rumi trails off and Mira blushes. Hard.

“I—Maybe. I mean I do enjoy it when—It’s just different with girls and—” Ugh. Way to appear cool and in control, Mira. But neither Rumi nor Zoey are laughing at her, and so she takes a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts and finally manages to form a coherent sentence. “Every time I’ve been with a girl, it always came more naturally for me to wear it. But I wouldn’t mind it if… Well.”

She clears her throat, looks away, fidgets on the sofa.

“Would you let me watch?” Rumi whispers. “While Zoey uses it on you?”

“Ooooooookay, nope, nope, nope!” Zoey snatches one of the boxes and tears the cardboard apart, and for a second Mira gets immensely scared—immensely hopeful—that this whole night is going to take a financially catastrophic turn. But Zoey rips out a pair of handcuffs layered with a soft black padding and, without an ounce of hesitation, she clips one around her right wrist and locks the other part on one of the rings attached to the headboard, the one on the far corner of the bed. She tests it out, tugging at it with considerable strength, before nodding and turning back towards Rumi and Mira. “You may continue.”

They both stare at her in stunned silence, before Mira bursts out laughing, soon followed by Rumi, then Zoey, and the three of them just keep laughing and laughing until they’re clutching their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes.

“God, Zo,” Rumi sighs, still laughing a little. “I fucking adore you.”

Zoey’s last remnants of laugher fade away, replaced by a deep blush and a shy expression, and all Mira feels is love for them. So, so much love. The kind you can’t avoid. The kind you can’t fight. The kind that feels so completely right it’d be foolish to run away from it. And it’s at this very moment, with Zoey self-handcuffed to the bed and Rumi still holding the harness in her hands, that Mira knows, without a doubt, what she wants after this retreat ends.

“I’m just—You guys know I have the worst self-control. I’m trying to earn our money back!”

“I know,” Rumi says with the softest smile. She sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Zoey with so much love Mira’s heart rate spikes. There’s only one path forward, isn’t there? But she keeps quiet, for now, for a little while longer. Tomorrow will be the time.

Mira gets up and sits on the other side of the bed, at the bottom corner. She crosses her legs on the mattress and gives Zoey an amused look.

“Are you going to stay here all night?”

“Depends on if you guys keep talking about fucking each other with a strap,” Zoey quips back, and it strikes directly between Mira’s legs. She pinches her lips, straightens her back, tries very hard to ignore the wet warmth clinging to her underwear.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Rumi breathes out.

Well, fuck.

“Really?” Zoey asks, a bit surprised, a lot eager.

Rumi shrugs. “We have two nights left. I don’t want to break the rules, but… I don’t want to waste our time either.”

“We’re toying with fire,” Mira warns.

“You are toying with fire,” Zoey grins before giving her cuffed wrist a little tug. “I’m playing perfectly safe. Ain’t no way I’m costing us any money tonight!”

“So confident,” Mira says, a threatening edge to her voice, but Zoey’s shit-eating smile stays unwavering on her face.

“Fire away! I’m not touching anyone until the sun rises!”

Oh, she wants to play. Fine. Mira can play.

“You know what,” she drawls, turning towards Rumi. “She’s right. She physically cannot cost us any money right now.”

Rumi slightly lifts her eyebrows. She knows Mira’s going somewhere, but she hasn’t quite figured out where yet, and Mira’s happy to provide some more clues. She leans forward, grabs the second handcuff still on the mattress and tosses it to Zoey.

“Just to be sure.”

Zoey squints.

“Unless that’s too much for you?”

Zoey immediately scoffs, stung in her misplaced pride, and grabs the handcuff with her free hand. She struggles a little to bring it to her tied hand and to clip it around her free wrist, but once it’s done, she smirks at Mira and extends her hand towards Rumi, who takes the end of the handcuff with a now knowing smile before snapping it around one of the golden rings on the headboard.

“There. Are you happy? Reassured? I’m not a danger anymore!” Zoey’s smiling like she’s winning, even though she now has both wrists cuffed to the headboard while lying on the bed—and maybe, just maybe, that is actually a win for Zoey—.

“I’m very happy, yes,” Mira says, dropping her voice just enough for Zoey’s smile to waver a bit.

She crawls on the bed, just a little, just to get closer to Zoey, careful to keep a safe distance from her legs. Rumi fully sits on the bed to mirror Mira, tilting her torso towards Zoey, far, respectfully far, yet it feels like she’s towering over her. Zoey seems to realize she might have grandly miscalculated and her face starts to fall. Mira throws Rumi a look.

“I’m assuming you can keep your hands to yourselves?”

“Oh, trust me. I’m not losing any more money.”

“Good.”

“Um, guys…” Zoey croaks, her confidence faltering.

“Shhhh.” Mira puts a finger to her own lips, a thrill in her spine when she notices Zoey’s eyes glued to her mouth, before she drops her hand and smiles at her. “You’re safe, baby.”

Zoey visibly shivers. Her right hand jerks, tugging at the cuff, but she doesn’t say anything. Mira knew the pet name would have an effect, and if she’s being honest with herself Zoey’s not the only one it has impacted. She likes it. She really, really likes it, the way it feels on her tongue, natural and possessive and loving, the way it makes Zoey react.

“You won’t break any rules tonight, no matter what happens. No matter what we say.”

“Oh, god,” Zoey breathes out, hands curling into fists before uncurling, and the sight of her like this, tied up, shivering, so obviously turned on, makes Mira dizzy. She glances at Rumi, catches the light in her eyes, the intensity, the want, the avidity, the confidence, and she has to force air through her nose.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Mira whispers, eyes still fixed on Rumi.

Rumi drags her eyes from Zoey’s mouth to Mira’s face.

“She is. So perfect.”

“Do you think she’d take good care of me?” Mira asks, and she’s wet, wet, wet, and Rumi’s so poised on the other side of Zoey’s squirming body, so in control, the good kind, the maddeningly sexy kind.

“Yes,” Rumi answers, looking back at Zoey and tilting her head to the side as if she’s studying her. “I think she’d fuck you so well.”

“Good god, guys,” Zoey whines, tugging at her cuffs again.

“Is that right, Zo?” Mira murmurs. She crawls a bit more up the bed, face closer to Zoey’s, always so, so very careful not to touch her. “Would you fuck me well?”

Zoey groans, twisting her neck to look at her restraints, as if they’d open loose if she appeared desperate enough.

“Answer me.”

“I would,” Zoey almost spits out, staring back at her. It’s sharp, frantic. “I’d fuck you so fucking well, Mira.”

“Yeah? Would you use the strap on me?”

“Yes, yes.”

“How?” Rumi asks. Her voice is low, neutral, but her chest rises and falls a bit faster now.

“I—I—fuck, any way you want, Mira.”

Mira hums. Heat pulses down her crotch. “That’s not a real answer.”

“Tell us, Zo,” Rumi’s voice is quiet but insistent, and Zoey immediately caves.

“Fast. I’d fuck you fast. I’d fuck you faster than anyone has fucked you before. I’d be fucking relentless, Mira.” She yanks at her handcuffs, trying to get closer to Mira, and fucking hell this is, by far, the hottest thing Mira’s ever experienced.

“Bold words,” she murmurs, voice a bit strangled with how much she wants right now.

“You know I will,” Zoey immediately replies. Will. Not would. Another promise, of a different kind.

“What do you think, Mira?”

Mira looks back at Rumi, unfathomable if not for her uneven breath.

“Would you like that? Would it be enough for you?”

“Hmmmm.” Mira bites her lip and focuses back on Zoey, panting, desperate Zoey. She’s not concerned about the mikes around their necks. Production simply can’t publish any of this audio, unless they want to make their big debut in the porn industry. “I can’t come from the inside alone,” she tells them. “I’d need her to finish me off with her fingers, or—”

“My mouth,” Zoey gasps. “I want to finish you off with my mouth. I—I want to fuck you senseless until you can’t take me anymore, and then I want you to sit on my face and ride my mouth until you come.”

Both Mira and Rumi take a sharp breath through their noses.

“Quite the show we’d put on for Rumi,” Mira comments, trying very hard not to reveal how much Zoey’s words wrecked her. Because, fuck. She wants it. She wants it so fucking much. She glances at Rumi, whose lips twitch, just barely, as she tries to keep her composure.

“She deserves the show,” Zoey rasps. “She deserves—” She looks at Rumi, eyes wide and bright. “You deserve everything.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Rumi, I’d give you anything, both of you, I—”

“Would you let me take care of you?”

“Fuck,” Zoey whispers. She’s squirming on the bed, legs thrashing a little, fingers curled into fists. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Mira murmurs.

“Yes, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Fuckin—Yes, please, please, Rumi, I want you to take care of me. Any way you want.”

“Hear that?” Mira murmurs, turning to Rumi who seems frozen in place, staring at Zoey with so much intensity Mira briefly wonders if Zoey can feel it, if that should count as a rule break. “Any way you want.”

Rumi still doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and Mira rubs her thighs against each other, just a little, just to feel some friction against her soaked underwear.

“What if I want it in every way?” Rumi murmurs.

“They you can have it,” Zoey immediately answers, tugging at one cuff, lifting her head to face Rumi as properly as she can.

“What if I don’t know how?”

This time it’s a whisper, the words wavering with a hint of vulnerability, and Mira loves how open Rumi is, loves how she won’t let herself be anything she isn’t, not anymore, loves that her mask is long gone and forgotten, crumbled into dust somewhere in the pool or on the beach.

“Then I’ll show you.” Mira’s voice is soft but firm. Rumi stares at her while Zoey nods vigorously, repeating yes, yes, she’ll show you in a hurried hush. Mira smiles at Rumi, before looking down at Zoey. “I’d say to usually start slowly, but… I don’t think Zoey needs that.”

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

“You could simply push her against a wall and she’d get instantly wet for you.”

“Yes,” Zoey acquiesces, the word whiny. “It has happened multiple times already. Fuck, Rumi, I got wet just watching you do yoga, or eating that ice cream last time, or—or—just lying in bed with you—”

Mira chuckles and whispers with adoration, “She’s such a mess.” She wishes she could graze at Zoey’s bangs, trail a finger on her cheek and down her pretty, pretty throat. “You could drag her shorts and underwear down and give her what she wants. Two fingers in, deep.” She lifts an eyebrow when she sees Zoey’s teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Maybe three.” The sudden blaze in Zoey’s eyes is all but proof she got it right. “Probably four.”

“I can take four,” Zoey whimpers. “Fuck, I can take four of your fingers, Rumi. I want to take four of your fingers.”

Rumi takes a long, steadying breath. “Would you like it?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“All stretched for you,” Mira murmurs. “Four is nice. You can go deeper, harder.”

“I like the sound of that,” Rumi whispers. “I want to—” She stops, as if she’s looking for the right word. “I want to make you mine,” she finally rasps. Zoey moans, and it’s loud, long, coming from the deepest part of her chest.

“I am. Yours. Guys I—I’ve been yours since the first fucking day.”

A thousand butterflies flutter in Mira’s stomach.

“You should mark her,” she tells Rumi. “Bite her until she bruises. She likes it.”

Zoey stares at her with such fire Mira feels the burn in her skull. She thinks of that first time, of Zoey’s small body smashed against the mango tree, of the moan she had let out when Mira had bitten deep into her.

“I should mark her, yes,” Rumi murmurs, almost a sigh. “Maybe on her neck. Maybe on her thigh.”

“Both,” Zoey blurts. “Please. Both.”

“You like it that much?”

“I do. I love it. It felt so fucking good when Mira bit me.”

“What if I mark you another way?”

Mira can’t keep her eyes off Rumi. Fierce, poised, demanding Rumi, so still on the bed, so calm, yet her hand grips at her thigh as if she wants to keep it from shaking.

“What way?”

Zoey’s question ends in such a high-pitched noise it makes Mira smile.

“The imprint of my fingers around your throat.”

“God, fuck, holy fucking fuck, um—Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Yes.”

Mira leans closer to Zoey. Her mouth is a breath away from her ear. It’s dangerous. “You want her to choke you?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“You want to gasp under her while she fucks you to oblivion?” Zoey moans as she closes her eyes and nods frantically, before staring back at Rumi, jerking at both handcuffs like she’s possessed. “You want her to pound into you until your cunt is burning and there’s no air left in your lungs?”

There are tears in Zoey’s eyes. Mira should feel bad, maybe, but Zoey drags her eyes away from Rumi and onto her, and the absolute want she reads in them stuns her.

“And you,” Zoey whispers. “I want you. I want the both of you, I want all of you, I—I—”

Mira sees the moment she breaks. The quiver in her lips, the twitch in her eyebrows, the light in her eyes, fainter, like a candle flickering in front of a wild fire. I love you, is what Zoey almost says. And it breaks Mira too. Rumi feels it. The shift in the air, the low earthquake rumbling in the distance before it shakes their very foundations. She reaches for Zoey’s wrist and wordlessly unclasps the handcuff from the headboard, and Mira does the same with the other handcuff. Zoey brings both arms against her chest, still cuffed, and curls onto herself, her breath ragged and her body shaking. Mira wishes she could touch her, wrap her arms around her, bring her against her so they’re melting into one another.

“You did amazing, baby,” she whispers instead. “You did so well for us.”

“You’re okay, Zo,” Rumi adds in a low, comforting voice. “You’re okay.”

She lifts her gaze and meets Mira’s above Zoey’s still shivering body, and they both stop breathing. It’s so intense. This. Them.

“I’m sorry guys,” Zoey whispers as she tries to take a deep breath. “I swear I’m fine. This was—This was incredible. I’m just—”

“You’re perfect, love,” Mira breathes out, and Zoey’s eyes fill with tears again at the word of endearment. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Fuck. Okay, okay. You, uh. You both need to move away a bit. I—I don’t trust myself not to touch you.”

Mira almost says it. Fuck the rules. This is more important. I can cover for our loss. But there’s something behind the teary haze in Zoey’s eyes, a resolve that keeps her quiet. It’d be wrong, for them to break the rules now. They need to prove to Lana, to the group, to the world that this goes way, way beyond any form or sexual desire. They need to prove it to themselves.

“Do you need anything?” Rumi asks softly as she stands up. “Water? Champagne, strawberries? Your comfy PJs?”

“No, um—Just—Don’t go too far. I—I need you here. In the room.”

Rumi’s smile is the gentlest Mira’s ever seen it. “Of course, Zo. We’re not going anywhere.”

Mira wills herself to move. She slides off the bed and settles on the sofa, watching as Zoey slowly sits down, still recovering from the landslide of emotions and sensations that had crashed into her not a minute ago.

“You never told us about those shark habits,” she casually says.

Zoey blinks. “What?”

“In the pool, the other day. You started talking about how sharks hunt, but we never got to hear the full thing.”

“Oh. Oh! You’re right!” And just like that, she’s gone. “Okay so, it widely depends on the species of course, but some sharks have very specific hunting technics. They can use electroreception to locate their prey even when it's hiding, it’s super cool, they can basically feel the electric current whenever a fish moves and—”

Mira lies back against the sofa, a small and happy smile on her lips. Rumi mirrors her on the chair, on the other side of the bedroom, and they both intently listen to Zoey as she rambles about sharks—and then whales, and then turtles—, sometimes glancing at each other, fondness written all over their faces.

They end up talking for most of the night. Not about the future. Still not. But they chat, they laugh, they eat the strawberries, they exist in the same room, and it’s enough. Eventually, they go and take a shower, one by one. The bathroom fits the rest of the hanok, cozy, elegant, a big, fancy tub in the middle.

“I’m sleeping in there!” Zoey announces when she comes back from the shower, skin flush, shoulders relaxed.

Mira cocks an eyebrow. “Where?”

“In the bathroom! Specifically, in the tub.”

Mira snorts.

“You’re not sleeping in the tub, Zo,” Rumi laughs.

“Oh, I am. I am not sharing a bed with you guys, you know full well I’m a clinger when I sleep. And, well, uh, when I don’t sleep, but the point is, if I put a blanket and a few pillows in the tub, it’ll be super cozy! I used to do it a lot when I was a kid. It’ll be so fun!”

“Zoey—” Mira starts.

“No! I’ve decided! And I really, really want to get that money back. I don’t want to let the group down again. So, please? Let me sleep there?”

Mira sighs and looks away from the massive puppy eyes Zoey’s throwing at her. “I can’t say no to that face,” she mumbles in defeat, and Zoey cheers.

As weird as it is, they help her get ready for her night in the tub. Rumi finds a few extra blankets and pillows while Mira meticulously wipes the tub with a towel. They help Zoey build her pillow fort, each from a side of the tub, always cautious not to come too close. They watch as Zoey sinks into her bath of plushness with a giggle, and they ask for the hundredth time if she’s sure she’ll be okay.

“I will! I promise! Now shoo!”

“Come find us if you need anything,” Rumi sighs.

“Or if your back or neck starts to hurt,” Mira adds.

“Are you sure you don’t need an extra pillow?”

“Do you want us to stay until you fall asleep?”

“Guys,” Zoey chuckles. “I’ll be just fine. Now stop being so damn adorable and leave before I climb out of here and kiss you.”

Mira feels herself blushing.

“Sleep well, Zo,” she mumbles, almost hurt she can’t give Zoey her usual goodnight kiss.

“Goodnight, guys. No shenanigans!”

“We’ll be good,” Rumi reassures her. “Have sweet dreams.”

They leave her in the bathroom, not without one last glance, turn the light off and make their way to the bedroom. They talk, worried and delighted by Zoey, and they keep whispering long after they’ve slipped under the sheets and turned off the lights. They’re far from each other, too far in that gigantic bed, but it’s okay. It’s okay, because tomorrow will come. They’ll get the money back. They won’t let the group down. And they’ll talk. Mira will talk.

Mira will make sure she’s leaving this island without any regrets.

***

Rumi wakes up when she hears Mira get out of bed. She cracks an eye open, notices the faint sunlight seeping into the room, yawns.

“What time is it?” she croaks.

“No idea.” Mira peeks behind the curtain. “Early.”

Rumi groans. She’s considering going back to sleep when she catches Mira’s eyes on her.

“What?”

“We made it,” Mira says, voice feather-light, and Rumi’s heart skips a beat.

She rolls on her side to face Mira, hands tucked under her head, and she smiles.

“We made it,” she repeats.

“I’m proud of us.”

“Me too. We make a very good team.”

“Yeah,” Mira says. Soft, soft, soft. “We do.”

Rumi swallows. Her heart is pulsing against her ribcage. Today is their last full day on the island. But it doesn’t have to be their last day together. She just needs to find the courage to talk to them. The courage to face her own uncertain future. She sits, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. Mira’s still looking at her. Rumi wouldn’t mind waking up to her every day. Wouldn’t mind feeling so safe and cared for every morning, every passing hour. She smiles. All you have to do is be brave, she tells herself, and she’s not so scared anymore.

“Let’s go get our girl,” she tells Mira as she leaves the bed.

Mira smiles and nods. They find Zoey passed out in the tub, barely visible under the chaotic mess of pillows and blankets. Rumi leans against the doorframe, crosses her arms over her chest and watches as Mira kneels by the tub and gently calls Zoey’s name to wake her up. Rumi shakes her head to herself. She feels limp, and dumb, and happy, and so, so very in love.

“Hhmmmmm whht…”

“The sun is up,” Mira says as Zoey emerges from her cocoon.

“S’up?”

“It’s up.”

Zoey blinks, eyes puffy with sleep, and slowly sits in the tub.

“We didn’t break the rules,” Mira murmurs, and Rumi watches as understanding progressively lights up Zoey’s face, tugging at her lips, widening her eyes, painting her cheeks a light pink.

“We did it?”

“We did it,” Mira nods.

Zoey cheers, and Mira has to hastily stand away from the tub when she jumps out of it with a victorious yell.

“No touching! I don’t know until when exactly the rules apply!”

They all laugh, and Zoey’s bouncing on her feet, and Mira’s jumping from one side to the other to avoid her, and Rumi’s still leaning against the doorframe, still watching them, a spark of hope blooming in her chest. If it’s the three of them, then they can make it work.  

They say their goodbyes to the house and step outside. The air is fresh, the sun hanging low on the horizon, round and big and tender, the sea golden. It’s quiet. Just the sounds of the waves fizzling on the sand, of the breeze whishing along the cliff, of the birds singing their first songs of the day.

Rumi notices for the first time the little stone bench on the side of the hanok, overlooking the sea. Both Mira and Zoey see it too, and they all exchange a look. Rumi takes a deep breath and wordlessly walks towards it, soon followed by Mira and Zoey. They sit down, Rumi in the middle. Their shoulders brush hers. They could touch, if they wanted. That rule doesn’t apply anymore, yet none of them lean into the other. Rumi stares at the sea, taking in the golden glitter on the crest of each small wave, the gilded swell of the water, the immensity and beauty of it all. She knows, deep down, that if she doesn’t speak now, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.

“I want this,” she whispers. The words come surprisingly easy. “I want this with the both of you. I can’t imagine a life without you anymore. But…” She keeps staring at the sea and forces her voice to stay steady. “I’m also terrified. Because you will both be in Seoul, and I’ll be in Gwangju, and I know it’s only a two-hour train ride away, but—I wouldn’t be able to see you during the week. And while I’m stuck there, you two would grow closer, and—I’m—”

A small hand slides into hers. Zoey’s. “We wouldn’t let you feel left out. We’d video call you all the time when we go out, when we have lunch, when we watch something at night. I mean—I—That’s what I want. This. With the both of you. I don’t want to speak for you Mira, I just—”

“I have a really big apartment,” Mira blurts.

It comes out of nowhere, and Rumi turns to stare at her, eyebrows lifted high in confusion. Mira’s frowning at her feet as if they have personally offended her, cheeks almost as pink as her hair. Zoey bends forward to stare at Mira too.

“What?” she asks, a bemused smile on her lips.

Mira stands up abruptly, her movements stiff, her back straighter than Rumi’s ever seen it.

“I have a really big apartment,” she repeats with more strength as she starts pacing in front of them. “With two bedrooms and an office, but I almost never use it so we could easily turn it into a third bedroom.”

“We?” Zoey murmurs, voice high-pitched, eyes wide.

Mira ignores her, walking back and forth like a caged lion, the blush on her cheek more and more visible. “It’s not in your neighborhood so it might take a while for you to commute to your flower shop, but I think it’d be worth it. Gangnam-gu is a really nice district to live in.”

Rumi chokes on air. “Gangnam-gu?” As in, the wealthiest neighborhood in Seoul—probably in all of South Korea—?

It’s like Mira doesn’t even hear them. She keeps rambling, faster and faster, eyes furiously glaring at the ground. She’s jumping from one thought to the other so fast Rumi struggles to keep up.

“You’d have to quit your job,” Mira’s saying while gesturing at Rumi, “but you said you don’t like it anyway, so it wouldn’t be a loss. Honestly Zoey you could quit too if you wanted. I can provide for the both of you. I have money.”

“You have money?”

Zoey’s eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. For the first time, Mira slows down and eventually stops. She glances at Zoey, then Rumi, then her feet.

“Yes.”

“What kind of money?” Zoey squeaks.

“The—The a lot kind.”

“The a lot kind?!”

Zoey’s voice keeps getting higher and higher, and Rumi feels as borderline manic as Zoey sounds.

“Yes. I—Honestly I don’t even need to work, I just—I didn’t want to be a trust fund baby, and it’s nice to have something to do during the d—”

“A trust fund baby?” Zoey shrieks as she snatches Rumi’s forearm and holds her in a grip so tight it’ll probably leave a mark on her bone.

Rumi winces, frowns and finally manages to catch Mira’s eyes. She looks… She looks like a madwoman, honestly. Scowling so hard as if it’s the only way for her to keep the last shred of her composure, cheeks crimson, lips so tightly sealed Rumi can’t even see them anymore.

“Okay,” Rumi says, feeling a little insane too. This is clearly slipping out of control. “Okay. Deep breath. All of us. Just like during yoga.”

Both Mira and Zoey follow her lead and take three long breaths with her.

“Alright,” Rumi says, feeling calmer. “Okay. Good. Mira, babe?”

“Hm?”

“What the fuck??”

Mira’s shoulders slump and she lets out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually murmurs. “I should have told you guys sooner. I just—I didn’t want production to find out and be less lenient because of it. And I was also a bit scared that you would look at me differently. I know how some rich people come across. And the idea of you thinking of me that way, like a—like a—”

“Mira, I do not care that you’re disgustingly rich and have been fed lobster in a baby bottle!” Zoey snaps, standing up. “You’re telling me all this time, all this time, we could have banged?! And it wouldn’t have made a difference because you could have paid the group back?!”

And Zoey’s so damn offended over the most ridiculous thing Rumi starts to laugh, quietly, then loudly, then uncontrollably, and both Mira and Zoey look at her like she’s insane until they start laughing too, hard and hearty and almost hysterical. They’re left with tears in her eyes. Mira wipes them with a delicate finger, a grin still plastered on her face.

“Really, I’m sorry. I thought about it, you know? But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I—I actually like the rules. It’s driving me up the fucking wall not being able to touch you how I want to, don’t get me wrong, but… I like what it brought out in us. In me.”

Zoey softens, takes Mira’s hand and presses it against her cheek. Rumi melts at the sight.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,” Zoey mumbles, but she’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling. “You’re forgiv—Wait. Wait.” She drops Mira’s hand and takes a step back, shock and incredulity written all over her face. “Did you just ask us to move in with you?”

Rumi gasps. With everything that went on, she couldn’t even process the most important information of this chaotic discussion.

“Um…” Mira might as well combust into flames. She stares at her feet, looking so shy and embarrassed and vulnerable Rumi’s physically hurting. “I—I did?”

Zoey stares at her in a stunned silence, before snorting loudly. “Oh. My. God. Wow. Okay. Well, Rumi, you won’t find anything gayer than that.”

Rumi chuckles, stepping closer to Mira, sliding a hand along her arm, leaning against her. She’s so fucking adorable. So, so fucking adorable.

“I won’t?” she breathes out, closing her eyes when she feels Mira rest her head against hers with a sigh.

“Are you kidding me? Asking two girls she met not even a month ago to move in with her? Before she even asked them to be her girlfriends? Peak gayness.”

Rumi leans away with a smile so big and irrepressible it hurts her cheeks. She stares at Mira, who still can’t look either of them in the eye.

“Zo’s right,” Rumi murmurs, teasing, happy, happy, happy. “You didn’t even ask us.”

“Well I—It’s not mandatory—I figured it could wait—Will you guys answer me before I have a fucking heart attack?”

Both Rumi and Zoey laugh out loud and cling to her, tight, their hands and arms tangled, their heart as one.

“Of course I’m moving in with you,” Rumi breathes out, and it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made in her whole life.

“What she said,” Zoey says, squeezing Mira tighter, one of her hands searching and taking Rumi’s on Mira’s back.

Mira lets out the loudest sigh ever.

“Thank god.”

Chapter Text

They raid the kitchen in the early morning light, take their haul to the beach and wait there for the group to wake up. They bring a few throw blankets too, to lie on and to shield themselves from the fresh sea breeze. They bundle up together, pass along bags of street food flavored chips, dried squids, yakgwa, or spicy candies. It’s a nutritionist’s worst nightmare, and they couldn’t dream of a better breakfast.

“Ogay sho how aw we gooing do do jish?”

“Swallow.”

Zoey obeys; it’s that or choking on her mouthful of chips. Mira’s word—command—had an immediate effect on her, and she wishes she could blame it solely on the one-month pent-up frustration pushing her body to its limits.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, and she knows her fluster is showing because both Mira and Rumi are smirking—Rumi admittedly more softly than Mira—. “I was saying, how are we going to do this?”

“The move?” Rumi asks.

Mira suddenly starts reading the back of the candy bag she’s holding like it’s the most enlightening poetry in the world. She’s still embarrassed, and Zoey cannot wait to kiss her for it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

“Yeah.”

Rumi seems to ponder for a little while. “I don’t know. Is there anything that works best for you when it comes to timing, Mira?”

Mira lifts the bag of candy a bit higher while mumbling under her breath, and Zoey snorts. She’s so fucking cute.

“What’s that, babe?”

Mira grumbles.

“Use your words, honey,” Rumi teases.

Mira blushes, frowns, and finally mutters a bit more intelligibly, “The sooner the better.”

“Awwwwwwww,” Zoey croons while Rumi leans against Mira’s shoulder with a smile.

“Then I can give my one-month notice as soon as I come home,” Rumi says.

“One month?” Zoey stares at her with wide eyes. “You have to stay in Gwangju for one month before you can move to Seoul?”

“Pretty much, yes. It’s not too bad, I still have a lot to do, sell my stuff, do some paperwork, give my flat back, all of that. God, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this…”

“Yes, yes, sure, but…” Zoey nods along, not wanting to be dismissive yet extremely preoccupied by some other matter entirely.

Mira snorts as she puts the bag down. Oh, now she’s getting her confidence back.

“Someone’s about to lose it,” Mira teases, looking pointedly at Zoey.

“Well, duh! You mean we have to wait one more month? Or… or maybe you could visit us next weekend? Or—we could get a hotel? I can pay for it!”

“You’re not paying for anything, Zo,” Mira scoffs. “But… You might have a point. I could get us a hotel for tomorrow night.”

“You could?”

“I could.”

“I’d have to take a train early in the morning,” Rumi says, glancing at Mira then Zoey. “But… It could work…”

They all stare at each other. Considering. Imagining. And the more Zoey thinks about it, really thinks about it, the more turned on she gets, and the more it feels… Rumi takes her hand and brushes her knuckles with her thumb.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, voice soft, the smallest hint of worry in her face.

“Nothing,” Zoey blurts, but both Mira and Rumi are staring at her with incisive eyes, and she knows she can’t fool them. She doesn’t want to anyway. She just doesn’t know exactly why something’s feeling a bit off all of a sudden. “I just—I—”

“Whatever you want to say, it’s okay,” Mira murmurs as she takes her other hand and squeezes it lightly. “This is our safe space.”

Zoey melts a little under their touch and care. She does feel safe. She feels safer than she’s ever felt since her parents’ divorce.

“I think I want to wait,” she finally confesses, surprising herself just as much as them, because really if someone’s bringing the horniness championship belt back home, it’s her. “Like—I really want this, guys. You have no idea how much I want to just be able to—to—ugh! But after everything we’ve been through I—I want this to be right? I don’t know, just—I want us to all be together and to not have to worry about the next day, about Rumi going back to Gwangju, or about not being able to see each other, all three of us, for days or weeks… I’m sorry. This is so messy. I’ve been begging for it for a month and now I’m chickening out.”

“Hey,” Rumi says as she gives her hand a little squeeze. Her touch is light but firm. “You’re not chickening out. You’re making some very valid points. And the more I think about it, the more I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

Rumi softens, if that’s even possible. “Yes. I—” She stops, stares at Zoey, then Mira, and she blushes. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life,” she whispers. “And I—I’ve never been with a girl before, let alone two, so, I think I’d love it if I could just… Stay with you in the morning, you know? And every morning after that.”

“That’s so gay,” Zoey can’t help but tease, but she’s smiling like a goof now, because she hasn’t ruined things, and Rumi understands, and Mira’s slowly nodding and looking at them with that small smile Zoey loves so damn much, and it’s so incredible that they can all be on the same page even though they couldn’t be more different people—even though they’re three, and not two—.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Mira finally says. “What’s one more month, right?”

“Oh, god.” It suddenly dawns on Zoey everything it implies. One more month. “I can’t believe we’re doing this to ourselves.”

“It feels right,” Rumi says, gentle, fingers now brushing Zoey’s bangs.

“It’ll be torture,” Zoey whines, yet she agrees; it feels right. And then, dread washes all over her. “We—We can still, like, self-gratificate, right?” Her tone is so pitiful both Mira and Rumi laugh.

“Yes,” Rumi finally answers. “God, yes. I have a lot of self-gratification to catch up to as soon as I get back home.”

“God you’re hot,” Mira groans.

Zoey’s whole body agrees. “Okay,” she breathes out. “Okay. What about kisses?”

“We better kiss the second this damn retreat is over,” Mira warns, tone bordering on threatening, and fuck does Zoey love her. “And whenever we see each other before the move. I can hold back on the sex but I have my limits.”

Rumi chuckles. “Same. I’ve been dreaming about our kisses on the beach ever since it happened.”

It’s so stupid that after everything, after getting handcuffed to a bed and having Rumi and Mira murmur absolute filth into her ears until she broke down, that little comment from Rumi gets Zoey extremely shy and flush. It still feels surreal, all of it. There’s a silence before Rumi smiles softly at Zoey.

“You should move in with Mira as soon as you can, though. Just because I can’t doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

There’s no pain, no tension, no apprehension in Rumi’s voice, yet Zoey’s stomach tightens into a knot.

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t even have a place to stay at right now.”

“I do! I have the flower shop, and I can pay for a hotel for a few weeks with the money we’re getting from the show!”

“Zoey, I—”

“Please, Rumi.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound so weak. “I know it’s stupid. I know it’s a waste of money. I know it’s the least logical option. But—I want all of us to do this together. I want to start this together.”

Rumi seems to consider it for a long while, before her eyes slowly drift to Mira.

“You’ll still see each other in Seoul, right?” she asks. It’s almost pleading, and it makes Zoey’s heart bloom in her chest. How far they’ve come.

“Yes,” Mira says, soft and kind.

“And kiss each other whenever you do, right?”

Zoey blushes. “I mean—If—If that’s okay with you.”

“I want you to. And maybe you could tell me about it sometimes?”

“God, yes, of course, anything you want!” Zoey will write three pages about each one of her kisses with Mira if that makes Rumi feel included.

“But no sex,” Mira declares.

“No, no sex!” Zoey quickly agrees. “Our first time will be together, with the three of us.”

Their first time. Their first time. God, isn’t she the luckiest woman alive?

“Okay,” Rumi agrees softly.

Then, a very important thought crosses Zoey’s mind.

“How do you guys feel about nudes?”

“No nudes,” Mira immediately replies, but before Zoey’s disappointment takes over, she adds with a husky voice, “I want to be able to touch you when I see you naked for the first time.”

“Oh.” Zoey takes a deep breath while Rumi stares at them with an amused smile. “Okay.”

“So. New rules,” Mira says as she straightens up. “You two move in with me the same day. Zoey and I can still hang out in the meantime. Kisses are allowed. No nudes. And no sex until we’re all officially living together.”

“We’re really doing this, uh?” Zoey whispers, staring at them with wide eyes, feeling so completely dumbfounded. “We’re really moving in together.”

“Yes,” Mira says as she brings Zoey’s hand against her chest. “It’s so… I should be terrified, shouldn’t I?”

“We all should,” Rumi breathes out. “We met one month ago. We kissed once. Twice for you two, but that’s it. We haven’t even…” She trails off before clearing her throat. “Well, I guess last night kind of counts.”

Zoey giggles. “It definitely counted for me, I can tell you that.”

Mira cocks an eyebrow at her. “Did you…”

“I think so? Internally? Everything was so intense, and it never happened to me like that, you know, without any kind of physical stimulation, but… I definitely felt something.”

“Hmmmm. We’ll have to test it out more.”

Zoey sucks in a breath and tries very hard not to squirm under Mira’s sharp gaze.

“We—Uh—We should, yes,” she chuckles, a bit nervous, not because she’s not sure she’d want it again, but because she knows she’d love it and keep wanting more. “But—Um—Yes, anyway, it’s a lot. Us. I know I should be scared, especially after what happened with my ex, but… I just cannot be bothered, man!” Mira snorts and Zoey keeps going with a growing smile. “Like, it feels good and right! I get to spend my days with two absolutely stunning women who also happen to be so damn adorable and funny and smart and to both have their own very unique qualities! And I’m like, a sugar baby now? Please! It’s a dream come true! I’m not fighting against any of this!”

Rumi laughs. “Oh my god. Mira, you are a sugar mommy.”

Mira shrugs, even though her embarrassment is still visible. “I just want my girls to be happy.”

“Your girls, uh?” Zoey sighs dreamingly as she lies down and rests her head on Mira’s lap.

“Mine,” Mira answers, voice soft, fingers caressing Zoey’s cheek.

Rumi leans into Mira, rests her head on her shoulder, closes her eyes and breathes out, “I like the sound of that.”

***

Their bags of snacks have long been emptied when an assistant seeks them out on the beach and invites them to come back to the house. He waves dismissively at them when they start to clean up after themselves; their job is to be pretty and dramatic, not to pick up trash, so they start walking towards the house.

“It’s show time,” Rumi says with a mischievous smile before schooling herself into something neutral.

“They’re going to lose their shit,” Zoey giggles.

Mira takes their hands into hers as they walk along the little path leading to the house. She doesn’t say anything, but an odd, unspeakable part of her hopes Abby will be proud.

The whole group is already gathered on the patio. They look pale and nervous, and their eyes snap to them as soon as they appear.

“So?” Baby is the first to speak, voice dry.

“Hello to you too,” Mira drawls as she settles on the couch—their couch—in between Rumi and Zoey.

“Hi boo! You look beautiful! How did it go?”

Mira can’t help but chuckle a little before pinching her lips and putting a colder mask on. She wants to make them sweat.

“You guys aren’t going to give us an answer?” Tzuyu squeaks, worry written all over her face. “Oh fuck, that doesn’t look good, that doesn’t look good at all.”

“I have faith,” Jinu says, eyes on Rumi. They’re soft, and Mira would have been jealous only a couple of weeks ago, but now? Now, Rumi said it. Zoey said it. Mira said it. They’re hers. Just as completely as she’s theirs.

“I don’t!” Baby scoffs. “Fuck, guys, I swear to god, if you fucked it up…”

“Good morning,” Lana suddenly lights up on the coffee table, and Baby starts, to Mira’s greatest delight. People greet her back with little to none enthusiasm. “Today is your last day on the island, and yesterday was the last trial for some of our most eager participants. Rumi, Zoey, Mira, you were asked to spend a full night in a private suite with no physical contact at all. If you succeeded, the total amount of money you lost throughout the retreat would be allocated back into the prize. If not, I would have to deduce more money depending on the transgression.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Baby mutters, nervously twisting his fingers over her lap, and Mira is absolutely feasting on that sight of him.

“It is now time to share the results with your peers.”

There’s a silence, and Mira refrains from rolling her eyes. Of course. Lana and her sense of drama.

“Last night,” Lana starts, and the whole group waits with bated breath. “There was…”

“Fucking hell, no, no, no,” Rom groans.

“One breach of the rules.”

“WHAT?” Zoey leaps from the couch so fast she almost crashes into the coffee table. “No! No, we didn’t do anything! We respected the rules! We swear, guys! We never touched!”

Mira’s blood turns cold. She quickly rewinds the events of last night in her head and tries to find out when, when they broke the damn rules. No touching. That’s all Lana said. She didn’t mention anything about talking. Did she? She chances a look towards Abby, who’s staring at her with a frown on his face. It’s not an angry frown. It’s a confused one, as if he really, really wants to believe Zoey.

“We didn’t do anything,” Mira also says, because she needs him to understand that they didn’t break the rules, that she cares.

“We didn’t,” Rumi adds, voice strained by confusion and frustration.

“Clearly you did!” Baby shouts. “You guys just don’t give a single fuck! You lost so much fucking money and you don’t even feel sorry for it!”

“Could you be more of a prick?” Mira snaps. “We told you we didn’t do anything!”

“Then who did?!”

“Nayeon,” Lana’s robotic voice rings in the air, and every head turns towards Nayeon, who’s sinking into the couch with a deep blush. “And Myst.”

“Myst?!” Rom yelps, offended and shocked and it’s all so damn unexpected and objectively funny that Mira lets out a long, relieved laugh.

“For the transgression of kissing, I have deducted 4,000,000 won from the prize,” Lana continues.

“Myst, you sneaky little bastard,” Abby scoffs, but he’s grinning, glancing back at Mira with a bright spark in his eyes.

“Fucking hell,” Zoey lets out as she collapses back on the couch. “I thought I was going crazy.”

Mira takes her hand and kisses its back, watches as Zoey relaxes and blushes a little under her lips.

“Zoey, Rumi and Mira.” Mira straightens up, her other hand landing on Rumi’s knee. “Although last night was, by far, the most sexual encounter that has ever happened on this island, you did not break the rules.”

Everyone but them exchange some very, very confused look, and Mira bites back a proud smile while Lana continues.

“Not only that, but your emotional awareness was also exemplary. As a reward, I have already refunded the prize with the 66,000,000 won you have lost during the retreat.”

“Fuck yeah! I’m so proud of you, boo! You’re the fucking best!”

“What do you mean the most sexual thing that has ever happened?” Jinu asks, clearly a bit aghast.

“Myst? Really?” Rom is still staring at the other boy as if he had committed the biggest of betrayals, while Tzuyu gives Nayeon a soft smile.

“The prize now stands at 142,000,000 won. It will be divided equally between the ten on you as soon as you leave the island.”

“Good god Lana, maybe lead with that next time!” Zoey whines and both Rumi and Mira chuckle. Lana remains unfazed.

“For your last night here, and as a celebration of all of your accomplishments, I am throwing a party in your honor tonight.”

“Woohoo!”

“God, what a rollercoaster,” Mira groans.

“We did it, guys, we really did it!” Zoey cheers.

“Yes.” Rumi’s voice is full of love, and it makes Mira slightly dizzy. “We really did.”

***

The party is chaotic and joyous. Just before Lana starts blasting pop music into the speakers, she tells them the rules do not apply anymore. Rumi’s all over Mira’s face before Lana even finishes her sentence. Then it’s Zoey’s turn. Then it’s Mira and Zoey together. Then… Then they spend the night with the whole group. They laugh, drink, cheer, enjoy their company for one last evening. They all go to sleep together and chuckle as Abby turns on the fans and Jinu turns off the lights one last time. It’s a bit bittersweet for all of them.

Rumi presses Zoey into the mattress as soon as the bedroom is plunged into darkness. She grabs her wrists, pins them at each side of her face and crashes her mouth into Zoey’s without any second thought. She feels Zoey squirm under her, knows she’s trying her best to hold back her whimpers, and it drives Rumi insane with desire. Mira’s on top of them in a matter of seconds. Her pelvis pushes against Rumi’s ass as she starts slowly grinding against her, holding her weight with one arm, the other snaking around Rumi’s stomach and clutching her tight. Rumi’s teeth sometimes clash against Zoey’s when Mira jolts them a bit too strongly against each other, and Rumi couldn’t care less. It’s hot. It’s wild. It’s good. And it’s also very, very dangerous. Lana’s rules don’t apply, but there are still seven other people in the room with them, and despite the loud buzz of the fans it wouldn’t take long before they realize what is going on in the next bed. That, and they now have their own rules to follow.

It takes Rumi tremendous effort before she manages to push herself off Zoey and to roll on her back. She can’t help but grab Mira’s collar to bring her close, and she kisses her as fervently as she kissed Zoey moments ago, before pushing her away.

“Rules,” she groans, and her toes curl when Mira chuckles—low, deep, happy—.

“Okay, fine,” Zoey whispers at their side. “But I am owed a kiss. Like, right the fuck now.”

So Mira kisses Zoey, and although Rumi can’t see it, not quite, she can hear it, the wet sounds of their lips and tongues melting against each other’s.

“Fuck,” Zoey finally breathes out. “You guys are fantastic kissers.”

“Takes one to know one,” Mira whispers, and Rumi agrees wholeheartedly.

They behave, for the most part. It takes them a long, long while to fall asleep, enough time for their hands to roam where they shouldn’t, for their breaths to hitch, for Mira’s thigh to slide in between Rumi’s and to press right there, but no rules are broken tonight.

The next morning, everything goes by in a blur. They grab a quick breakfast, pack, say their goodbyes to the island and hop on a boat twice as big as the one that brought them here in the first place—they arrived one by one, and now they’re leaving together—. A couple of cars are waiting for them at the harbor. Assistants drive them back to the production’s temporary office in the city, where they all gather the belongings they had left before embarking on this journey. And then, it’s over. Some have to grab a plane, some a train, and they all end up jumping into their respective cab after one last embrace with the others.

Rumi spots Mira wiping a tear as she hugs Abby. Zoey’s exchanging socials with Nayeon and Tzuyu before the girls disappear in a taxi. Rumi gets Jinu’s number, tells him she’ll call him soon, and she means it. Jinu’s a friend, now. A good friend, who smiled so genuinely when she confessed the three of them were going to move in together in a few weeks. She doesn’t want to lose contact with him.

And then, it’s her turn. Zoey’s already bawling her eyes out, sobbing against Rumi as she hugs her tighter than anyone has ever hugged her in her life, and Rumi can’t help but cry too, breaking even more when she sees the tears running down Mira’s cheeks. They share one last embrace, one last kiss, one last moment of intimacy before Rumi opens the taxi’s door.

“One month,” she whispers.

Zoey nods between two loud sniffles.

“I’ll miss you,” Mira murmurs, voice choked, and Rumi has to sit down on the backseat. If she waits one second longer, she’ll never be able to leave them.

“We’ll text you every day,” Zoey says. “And video call every day! And I want selfies too! Every day!”

Rumi chuckles, her laugh wet and weak.

“Be good,” is all she manages to say before closing the door. The engine starts, the car drives away, and just like that, she can no longer see them.

***

Mira booked a hotel room for Zoey for the next month. Zoey tried to protest, vehemently, yet all she got from Mira was some very laconic “They don’t have a refund policy,” which is absolute horseshit, yet she knows that Mira will keep the room available for her even if she never sets foot in the hotel. So, Zoey caves, and for the first time in her life she’s treated to the sugar baby lifestyle. And holy fucking fuck is it a nice lifestyle. Mira didn’t get her the fanciest hotel in Seoul, thank god, but it’s definitely a step up from the one or two-star hotels she’s gotten used to over the years.

Her room is big, cozy, up high in a skyscraper with a gorgeous view over the city. Mira has somehow managed to include room service and meals in the bill, and Zoey gets to order whatever she wants, whenever she wants, without having to worry about the price. She does worry about how much Mira’s spending on her over the month, knows it’s probably more than what Zoey makes in a year, but every time Zoey mentions it Mira brushes it off with a shrug or an ”I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t afford it.” Which makes Zoey wonder how fucking rich her soon-to-be girlfriend is.

She keeps working at the flower shop. She likes it there, and she wants to repay her boss for all of her kindness. A little part of her whispers in the back of her mind that she’s doing well, that she needs to be financially independent no matter what. A bigger, wilder, realer part of her tells her Mira and Rumi are it, and that she’ll never have to worry about money or loneliness ever again. And something, something light and strong and certain, something she’s never felt before, something soothing and true, tells her it’s not just wishful thinking.

The month passes both incredibly fast and atrociously slowly. She sees Mira all the time. Not at her apartment. Never at her apartment. She wants to discover it with Rumi, even though Rumi keeps telling them Zoey should go there sometimes, that she wouldn’t mind. And Zoey knows Rumi wouldn’t mind. She just wants it for herself. She wants this new part of her life to start with both of them.

So, Mira comes to her flower shop often. The first time, she bought the biggest bouquet there while giving Zoey’s boss a very succinct but very precise compliment—she’ll never admit it, but Zoey knows she was trying to make a good impression—. The other times, she gets one of the arrangements Zoey has made herself. My favorites, Mira would say as she contemplates the bouquet like it’s a piece of art, and Zoey has to bite her tongue not to tell her I love you. For that too, she wants to wait until the three of them are together. Sometimes they eat lunch together, sometimes Mira walks Zoey back to her hotel, sometimes they spend the evening in Zoey’s room, watching something or sharing a snack on the bed while talking idly. Every time, they video call Rumi. Every time, they include her, or try to. Rumi’s often busy selling her things, visiting Celine or tying up some loose ends at work before her departure. But it’s okay. It’s rough, and Zoey misses her a fuck ton, but she knows it’s for the sole purpose of being able to join them here.

So, yeah, time passes fast. But there’s one aspect of this whole chaotic situation that also makes time pass slowly. Painfully slowly. The same thing that had turned their retreat on the island into paradisiac hell. The same thing that had almost entirely consumed Zoey’s mind, that still manages to eat at her every day despite having so many things to do.

Zoey is horny.

Zoey is hornier than she’s ever been. She thought it’d be better, once they were back on land. She spent the first five hours—five hours—in her new nice hotel room touching herself all over, with her fingers, with her vibrator on her breasts and her clit, with her dildo inside, on her back and on her knees, relentlessly trying to ride it all out, to ease the want, the need, yet it was to no avail. Sure, it helped a little. It released some of the tension and it felt good, fuck, so good. But it came back just as hard and just as fast the second Rumi sent them a selfie on their group chat, then the next day as soon as she saw Mira walk into her flower shop. So, she touched herself all over again that evening, but it didn’t ease her as much. And it was the same the next day, and the next day, and the next day. All it did in the end was set her even more on edge.

The days she’s seeing Mira are the worst—the best, the best, she loves seeing her, she loves talking to her, she loves walking around with their fingers intertwined, she loves her—. Especially when Mira comes back to her hotel room and they inevitably start making out. It’s never sweet. Well, maybe sometimes, at first, but it always turns desperate in less than half a minute. Mira pins her against the wall or Zoey straddles her on the bed, and there are teeth tugging at lips and tongues licking along necks, there are urgent whimpers and unrestrained groans, there are hands on asses and fingers around throats. They never cross the line. Never. They had promised Rumi, and so it isn’t even a hardship, really, to stop it all when it gets too heated. But it’s still painful. It’s still going against Zoey’s most primal needs. And even sinking three fingers deep inside as soon as Mira closes the door behind her when she leaves doesn’t alleviate the pressure building within Zoey’s every nerve.

They tell Rumi. Not every time, but often. We wish you were here; Mira just left and I’m still shaking; I was thinking of you when I slammed Zoey against the door earlier. Rumi reacts, always, needy and flustered, a string of curses, a countdown—only 17 more days—, a picture of her fingers coated with cum, once. See what you do to me? It sends Zoey into overdrive.

One time, they video call her past 10 p.m. while making out. Rumi almost drops the glass she’s holding. She slowly sits on her couch and she watches as Zoey digs her nails into Mira’s back, through her shirt, while Mira slowly rolls her hips, a leg between hers. Zoey looks at her through the little screen of the phone she had carefully set on the nightstand, panting, tears in her eyes, reaching out with one hand towards Rumi’s face. A moan escapes her when Mira thrusts a bit harder in between her legs. They’re fully clothed. They’re not having sex. They won’t. But they need Rumi here, with them, they need her presence while they lose themselves in each other.

“We were talking about you,” Mira groans. She bites Zoey’s neck and groans again when she hears Zoey’s whine. “Saying how much we miss you. How much we want you. How much we’re going to ravage you as soon as we get the chance.”

“Fuck,” Rumi breathes out, and after that Zoey loses control.

“Rumi, Rumi, Rumi,” she chokes on her name while Mira grabs her hip with one hand and presses her hard against the mattress to prevent her from jerking, her thigh rubbing against her fast and hard, but it’s not enough, it’s not enough, because there are layers of clothes in between them, because they can’t go any further than this, because Rumi’s not touching her.

“When we move in,” Mira rasps, “I want you to say her name when I make you come.” She takes Zoey’s chin between her fingers and forces her to look at her. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll scream her name while you make me come, fuck, please.”

Mira leans down and takes Zoey’s bottom lip between her teeth. It’s sharp and it hurts just enough. Mira soothes the pain with the tip of her tongue.

“Would you like that, Rumi?” she asks.

“Yes.” It’s almost a moan. Zoey looks back at her phone and sees how devastated Rumi is. “I—Guys I don’t know if I can—If I stay longer I’ll start touching myself and I’m pretty sure this would count as a rule break.”

“Don’t go,” Zoey immediately blurts, a tear rolling down her eyes—fuck, fuck, she’s never been a crier in bed, always a pleaser one way or another, but ever since she’s met them it seems all she does is fucking cry of sheer pleasure and frustration and overwhelming emotions. “Don’t go,” she repeats, because the thought of Rumi leaving right now breaks her heart in half.

Mira senses it, stops rocking her hips, stays there for a few seconds, out of breath, face buried into Zoey’s neck, before pushing herself away.

“You shouldn’t stop,” Rumi murmurs with a shaky voice. “Not for me.”

Mira leans over Zoey, takes the phone, brings it over her face as she lies down on her back and Zoey immediately curls herself against her.

“This is ours,” Mira says softly. “For the three of us.”

Rumi gets it. She nods, eyes bright, visibly trying to hold back tears of her own. They lay there for a while, slowly recovering their senses, talking about their move—only six more days!—, their days, their plans. Rumi’s the one suggesting they watch a show, and they’re both more than eager to agree. They settle with one of Zoey’s silly dramas, and they watch three episodes well into the night until they really, really have to go to bed to get at least a few hours of sleep before work. Zoey almost breaks. Almost says “I love you” when Rumi wishes them goodnight with a soft, soft voice. Almost.

Mira stays the night. She borrows one of Zoey’s pajamas, and it looks so tiny and ridiculous on her Zoey laughs for a good five minutes, taking a dozen pictures and sending them to their group chat with strings of emojis and LOLs that make Mira mutter under her breath. Still, Mira kisses her gently when they turn off the lights, and Zoey almost says it again. Almost. But it’s okay. It’s okay. She only has to keep it in for six more days.

***

When Rumi gets out of the cab, she’s a bundle of nerves. The driver helps her grab her two massive suitcases from the trunk of his car. She thanks him and watches as he goes back into his taxi and leaves her on the sidewalk. She has more stuff waiting at Celine’s place, of course. She’ll grab them when she visits her in a month or two. But for now, this will be enough.

She takes a deep breath and tries to calm her racing heart. A look at the building tells her everything she needs to know. It’s tall, modern, in the center of the Gangnam-gu neighborhood. Mira wasn’t lying when she said she had money.

“Rumi!”

She barely has time to turn around; someone crashes into her so fiercely she stumbles backward and almost falls. She finds her footing again, wraps her arms around the girl burying her face in her chest and holds her close, heart overflowing with emotions.

“Zoey,” she whispers, and she can’t believe this, she’s here, she’s really here, in Seoul, in front of Mira’s building, and Zoey’s hugging her, and this is the start of her new life with two girls, and fuck, how did she even get to this point? How does it still feel so right? “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Zoey clings to her harder in response, before taking a step back. There’s a massive grin on her face, perhaps the biggest Rumi’s ever seen on her.

“You’re here! You’re really here! Oh, Rumi, you have no idea how happy I am!”

She launches herself against her once more, and Rumi laughs. She has a little idea. It’s probably half as happy as she is right now.

“I can’t believe you’re on time,” Rumi can’t help but tease.

“Hey!” Zoey steps back, a fake offended scowl on her face. “This is important. Our big debut! I’d never be late for something like this! We said 5 p.m., I’m here at 5 p.m.!”

Rumi laughs again, then looks around. “Where is your stuff?”

“Oh, shit!”

Zoey whirls around and starts running towards the two suitcases she left twenty meters behind. She pushes them back towards Rumi with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. I saw you and I just dropped everything. Thank god this is not America, someone would have snatched them already!”

“God you’re so fucking adorable,” Rumi can’t help but sigh, blood already warming up.

It’s been two minutes, and already she’s overpowered with so many emotions and needs. Zoey blushes, and it’s so cute Rumi’s vision blurs for a second.

“Let’s go,” she says, tone firm. She’s not nervous anymore. Not one bit.

Zoey seems to understand exactly what’s going on, because she lets out a breathy “Yeah” and starts pushing her suitcases towards the building. The lobby is big and spotless, with shining marble floors and golden pillars.

“Holy shit,” Zoey whispers.

“Holy shit is right,” Rumi muses, eyes wide.

She’s never set foot in a building this fancy before.

“There’s even a doorman,” Zoey whispers louder, shock written all over her pretty little face, and if it weren’t for said doorman, Rumi would have kissed her here and now. “I’m sending her a quick text. I—I thought we’d just have to call on the intercom.”

Rumi thought the same. But they can’t stand here uselessly, so she walks to the front desk while Zoey feverishly types on her phone. They’re greeted with a deep bow and an impassive face.

“Hello,” Rumi bows back, channeling all the proper manners Celine had drilled into her since her first baby steps. “We’re here to see Mira Hong?”

“Of course. Miss Rumi and miss Zoey, I assume?”

“Yes,” Rumi smiles politely.

She feels Zoey fidget at her side.

“Miss Hong has been expecting you. Let me call her.”

As soon as he picks up the phone, the elevator doors ding and Mira steps out with hurried strides. Rumi swears her heart stops beating for a couple of seconds.

“Ah, miss Hong,” the doorman bows deeply before her. “I was about to call you.”

“Thank you, Hae-Jin. I’ll take it from here.”

She throws Rumi and Zoey a pointed look, clearly fighting to keep the neutral mask on, before grabbing one of their suitcases each and walking towards the elevator. As soon as the doors close in front of them, her shoulders slump a little. Both Zoey and Rumi stare at her until she crosses her arms over her chest.

“What?”

“Babe, you’re like…” Zoey starts.

“Rich,” Rumi finishes.

“I told you.”

“Yes. But. Like. You’re rich, rich.”

Mira shrugs, cheeks dusted with pink, and she’s so, so damn beautiful.

“I want to kiss you,” Rumi blurts, before glancing at Zoey. “Both of you.”

Mira takes a sharp breath through the nose while Zoey bites her bottom lip.

“Two more minutes,” Mira murmurs. Then, as if to explain herself, “There’s a camera.”

Rumi notices the device for the very first time, staring at them from the corner of the ceiling. Zoey snorts.

“Wow. Talk about bringing back some memories.”

Mira hums, her trademark slow smirk curling at her lips, and Rumi suddenly cannot take her eyes away from her mouth. It’s been so long. It’s been so fucking long since she got to be with them, to touch them, to hug them, to kiss them.

The ride lasts two minutes and three years. When the doors finally open, on the thirty-seventh floor, something has shifted in the air. They’re all quiet. Very, very quiet. Zoey’s almost vibrating next to them, Mira’s eyes are sharper than a razor blade and Rumi’s gripping her suitcase’s handle so tightly her knuckles are white.

“Down the corridor,” Mira informs them.

She doesn’t walk fast, but she walks with purpose, dragging two of their suitcases with her. She stops in front of a door, looks at the little screen on top of the handle for a second and pushes it open as soon as a click sounds in the air.

“It has face recognition,” she mumbles when she notices their wide stare, setting the suitcases in the entrance and closing the door behind them.

Rumi doesn’t even have time to take in the place. Zoey’s on her as soon as the door shuts. She balls her fists into Rumi’s shirt, pushes on her toes and smashes her mouth on Rumi’s hard enough Rumi takes a step back. Zoey presses her advantage, pushes against her until Rumi’s back hits the door, and Rumi lets out a hmf that’s quickly swallowed by Zoey’s hungry mouth. She can barely think anymore, acting on instincts, on one—two—months of frustration, of want, of longing. She parts her lips, meets Zoey’s tongue with the same urgency, moans as she finally, finally gets to taste her again. She unglues her face from Zoey’s just for a second, long enough to murmur “Mira”, a hand lifted behind Zoey’s back, the other tightly wrapped around Zoey’s waist. She kisses Zoey again, relishing her whimpers, and oh, how she has missed those sounds, those weak, pathetic, pleading little sounds that Zoey can’t contain and that drive Rumi absolutely insane.

As soon as she feels Mira’s hand in hers, Rumi leans back, pulls, and she kisses her over Zoey’s shoulder. It’s softer. Reverent, almost, as if the act itself was sacred. Rumi presses her lips against Mira’s, inhales her scent, intertwines their fingers together. She shivers when Zoey leaves a trail of kisses along her neck, groans when she feels Mira’s hand slide on Zoey’s stomach, pressed against Rumi’s, and when she hears Zoey’s responding moan. Mira groans too, deepens the kiss, slides her hand down, down under Zoey’s stomach, and Rumi snaps.

“Bed,” she rasps. “Now.”

They’re both eager to comply. Mira grabs them by the hand and leads them through her apartment. Rumi barely notices the place, the two bouquets of flowers on the coffee table, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city buzzing underneath them, immense and colorful. Mira all but slams open the last door down the corridor, and they’re greeted by a gigantic bed, even bigger than the ones on the island.

“Love the bed,” Rumi comments, already out of breath.

“Bought it just for us,” Mira mutters before stepping towards Rumi. She grabs her by the collar, yanks her and shoves her tongue into Rumi’s mouth. Rumi lets out a long, throaty moan as her knees buckle.

“You’re hogging her,” Zoey breathes out after a while, reprimand in her voice, and Mira reluctantly steps back.

Zoey’s immediately pressing into Rumi’s space. She twirls her around, pushes her until Rumi’s legs hit the bed and straddles her as soon as she flops down on it. Rumi whines—she whines— at the sight of Zoey like that, on top of her, eyes greedy and hair already a bit of a mess.

“What do you want, baby?” Zoey asks, fingers skating down Rumi’s chest, then up under her shirt.

And fuck, it should be a simple question, except Rumi doesn’t know, she doesn’t know, she wants it all, she wants her, she wants Mira, she wants them, she wants to take and to give, to break and to be broken, she wants their fingers and their mouths and the toys she knows Mira’s stashing somewhere in the bedroom, she wants their moans and their tears and her name on their tongue as they come for her.

“Do you want us to take care of you?” Zoey murmurs as she leans down. “Do you want us to fuck you so well you forget your own name?”

“Yes,” Rumi breathes out, a plea, a confession, so much relief. “Yes.”

Mira sits next to them, unhurried, graceful, her eyes studying Rumi like she would a religious text, before lying on her elbow and propping her cheek on her hand.

“Do you think you’ll like it?” she asks, voice detached, and fuck if it isn’t doing things to Rumi.

“Fuck, yes, of course I’ll like it.”

Mira lowers her voice. “Do you think you’ll like getting fucked by a girl?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, I will, I know I will.”

“We’re going to fuck you so good, baby,” Zoey grins as she straightens up, both hands on Rumi’s stomach, and starts to slowly, so very slowly rock her hips on top of Rumi.

The friction sends a lightning bolt through Rumi’s body, and she can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips.

“She’s so responsive,” Zoey marvels.

“She is. Such a sensitive little thing. So perfect.”

“Perfect,” Zoey repeats in a breath, picking up the pace of her grinding. “Perfect, perfect.”

Rumi’s going insane. She’s soaked, choking on a moan, fingers digging into Zoey’s shorts and urging her to rock faster against her. She turns her face, searching for Mira, and as soon as they make eye contact Mira leans towards her and gives her exactly what she wants.

This kiss isn’t soft. Mira makes sure of it. She licks into Rumi’s mouth, tugs at her lip, soothes the sting with the tip of her tongue. Her hands frame Rumi’s face, firm, possessive, and Rumi squirms as Mira pushes her tongue against hers, as Zoey grinds even more vigorously on top of her.

“You guys are so hot,” Zoey groans, voice ragged, clearly getting off on everything that’s going on right now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Mira suddenly leans back and Rumi feels the loss like a slap in the face. She grasps Mira’s shirt in a desperate attempt to keep her close, but lets it go as soon as she realizes what Mira’s doing.

“I want to see you,” Mira whispers as she lifts the hem of Zoey’s tank top.

Zoey slows down, just a little, while Mira pulls her top over her head. For a second there, Rumi forgets how to breathe. Zoey’s wearing a simple white bra, and it’s the hottest thing Rumi’s ever seen—she’s seen her in a swimming suit, yes, but never in her bra, never in her underwear, never while pinned under her—. She pushes on her arms, sits up, kisses Zoey, who kisses her back, a little sound stuck in the back of her throat. Mira works fast. When Rumi pulls away, Zoey’s bra is gone.

“Oh.”

It’s not the first time she sees someone’s breasts, of course. She’s gone to plenty of public baths in her life, saw some more liberated movies, hell, she’s even watched porn, multiple times, when she was trying to figure out why sex with her boyfriends had always been so insipid. Yet it feels like the first time. Zoey’s boobs are small, perky, the nipples pink and hard.

“God, Zoey,” Mira groans. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Zoey giggles with a blush, and Rumi can’t take it. She leans down and flicks her tongue against one of her nipples. Zoey’s reaction is immediate. Her breath hitches, her hands clutch into Rumi’s hair, her back arches, seeking more of Rumi’s mouth. Rumi provides. How could she not? She licks around Zoey’s nipple, plays with it with the tip of her tongue, gently cups it in her hand, before starting to suck it in earnest. The moan Zoey lets out shakes her to the core. She’s about to lose control and flip Zoey onto the mattress when Zoey pushes her away.

“Bad Rumi,” she breathes out, fire in her eyes, her index finger pulling at Rumi’s bottom lip. “We’re taking care of you first. You’ll have to wait for your turn.”

And because Rumi can’t suck on Zoey’s nipple, she decides—her body decides—to suck on her finger. Zoey’s mouth falls slightly open as she intently searches Rumi’s eyes.

“Do you see that, Mira?” she murmurs. “Do you see how good she is?”

“I do.” Mira’s voice is low and husky. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

“I wonder what else she’d like to suck on,” Zoey muses.

Rumi moans and closes her eyes, never letting Zoey’s finger go, sucking it even harder. She knows what Zoey’s implying. She likes what Zoey’s implying.

“We’ll find out,” Mira hums. She trails her fingers down Rumi’s back and drags her nails on the small patch of skin under the hem of her shirt. “Remember what she said to us on the beach? She needs our help to figure herself out.”

Fuck does Rumi love it when they talk like that, about her but not to her, as if they didn’t even need her thoughts to know exactly what her needs are. She’s never liked dirty talk before. But with them? God.

“Fuck,” Zoey groans. “I can’t take it anymore.”

In one second, she’s at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning Rumi’s shorts with precise fingers. As soon as she pulls them down Rumi’s legs, Mira’s by Rumi’s side. She slides a hand on Rumi’s stomach, over her shirt, and dips her fingers into her underwear. Rumi’s breath catches in her throat. Her lips part, her eyes widen, and as soon as Mira’s hand halts in a silent question she snatches Mira’s wrist and pushes it deeper into her underwear. They both moan at the same time when Mira’s fingers find her already slick clit.

“Fuck, Zo, she’s so wet.”

Zoey’s little whine is her only response. She grabs Rumi’s underwear and yanks it down her legs, before throwing it somewhere along with Rumi’s shorts.

“Oh, god, fuck, Rumi.”

Rumi lifts her head and catches the look on Zoey’s face. Zoey’s watching with something close to worship as Mira’s fingers slowly trail down and back up, teasing her, gathering the liquid heat Rumi can feel spread all the way to her upper thighs now. She drops her head back on the mattress with a sharp breath, pushing Mira’s hand against her in an attempt to get more, more, more, but Mira’s touch remains light as a feather.

“Oh, darling,” Mira says as she stares at Rumi’s face. “You’re so, so ready for us.”

“I am,” Rumi breathes out. “I’ve been ready for you for weeks.” She jolts when Zoey kisses her inner thigh, on the side of her knee. “I think—I think I’ve—waited long enough—” she manages to rasp as Zoey kisses her higher, as Mira’s fingertips brush against her clit, once, twice, so light, so very very light.

“Take your shirt off,” Mira says.

Rumi instantly obeys, releasing Mira’s wrist to grab the hem of her shirt before throwing it somewhere behind her. Mira’s eyes fall on her chest and she takes a long, deep breath. Rumi’s wearing her best bra for the occasion, black, lacey, cupping her boobs just right.

“This, too,” Mira adds after a while.

Her voice is weaker, as if broken by want, and it sends a thrill down Rumi’s spine. Rumi complies, squirming a little to unclasp her bra before tossing it on the floor. Zoey’s kisses have stopped and Rumi knows she’s watching. She can hear her gasp, even, as soon as her naked breasts come to view.

“Jesus christ,” Zoey murmurs.

Mira stays silent. Her fingers are motionless on Rumi’s cunt, her eyes fixed on her chest, then her face, and Rumi has never felt more beautiful, never felt more wanted, never felt better about herself than right at this moment.

“Zoey?” Mira croaks.

“Hmm?”

“Me first.”

And before Rumi can even process what’s happening, Mira smashes her mouth onto hers. Her fingers start to move again, this time with intent, this time giving Rumi exactly what she needs. Rumi’s moan is muffled by Mira, yet it resonates in the air. Mira’s drawing heavenly circles on Rumi’s clit with two fingers, and she keeps her rhythm perfectly steady even though Rumi’s hips start to buck, her moans multiply, her right hand grips Mira’s arm, the other searching, searching, until it finds Zoey. Zoey lies down at Rumi’s other side, facing Mira, and she cups Rumi’s breast, rolls her nipple in between her fingers, gently sinks her teeth in her shoulder before licking at the tip of her ear. Rumi’s feeling so much pleasure from so many different places at once, and it feels like she’s losing her damn mind. Tension builds in her lower stomach, hot and dense and taut, and holy fuck is she really about to come now, so fast, so fast, yes, fuck, just like that, just like that—

“Just like that Mira, fuck, just like th—”

Mira’s fingers freeze and Rumi lets out a mournful wail.

“No—you can’t—”

“I’m not done,” Mira murmurs before kissing Rumi, sloppy and deep.

Rumi’s hips are jerking into the air, looking for pressure, pleasure still spiking into her clit in a maddening, insufficient way. Zoey chuckles against Rumi’s ear, pressing her body against hers—her breasts on Rumi’s arm, fuck, it feels so nice, it feels so nice—.

“She’s about to break you,” Zoey sighs dreamily.

Rumi moans into Mira’s mouth, pants when Mira pulls away and moans again when Zoey claims her lips. Now she’s the one whimpering against Zoey’s mouth, deepening the kiss as much as she can, fingers tangled into Zoey’s hair to bring her closer, and she’s needy, fuck, she’s so needy, she’s never been like this before, never, ever, never wanted enough, never felt safe enough, never felt free enough, and now she needs and they won’t give her anything and—Her whimper turns into a long, hoarse shout when Mira sinks two fingers inside her.

“God, the sounds you make,” Zoey whispers before kissing her again with an overwhelming urgency.

And then, finally, finally, Mira starts fucking her in earnest. There’s no build-up, no crescendo, no learning curve. She takes her hard, fingers pounding deep inside, and if it weren’t for Zoey’s mouth, Rumi’s cries would have probably been heard from the first floor. They do ring in the air when Zoey leans back, just enough to watch Mira claim Rumi like she never even thought she could be claimed.

“This is so fucking hot,” Zoey groans, breathless. She leans back down, bites at Rumi’s bottom lip, licks her collarbone. “So fucking hot.”

“Yes,” Rumi chokes. “So hot—”

“You like it?” Zoey asks. “You like how she’s ruining you?”

“Yes.”

“You like it when a girl fucks deep into you?”

“Fuck, yes!”

“I can’t wait to make you come with my mouth,” Zoey moans before grazing Rumi’s nipple with her teeth.

Rumi’s body arches at the sensation, at the picture of Zoey’s face buried between her legs, and her orgasm crashes into her so fast she doesn’t even feel it coming. She bites deep into her fist and yells against it, body bent and still, toes curled, her other hand snatching Mira’s wrist to keep her fingers buried as deep as possible inside her. It’s like something shattered within her, and her release is powerful, voracious, leaving her gasping and convulsing on the bed while Zoey soothes her, awe in her voice, “You’re so beautiful, you’re so sexy, holy fuck, the sounds you make when you come, fuck Rumi, fuck.”

Rumi’s still shaking when she reaches to grab Mira by the shirt—she’s still clothed, why is she still clothed— and pulls her into a frantic kiss. She pushes her away after a few moments and looks into her eyes through the haze of her remaining pleasure.

“This was the best sex I’ve ever had,” she rasps.

Mira surges forward and kisses her again, pressing her flat against the mattress, and Rumi’s never been so satisfied in her life yet she wants more. She bites into Mira’s lip—a taste of her own medicine—before turning her head towards Zoey, who’s watching them with a raging wildfire in her eyes.

“I need more,” she murmurs, voice hoarse from all the moaning and yelling.

Zoey takes a sharp breath through the nose.

“You need more?”

“I need you.”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Thank you.”

And there’s something about Zoey saying thank you that turns on a switch deep in Rumi’s mind.

“Use your mouth,” she whispers.

Both Zoey and Mira groan at her words, and Zoey’s immediately between Rumi’s legs, spreading them open not so gently and sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of her inner thigh. Rumi lifts her head and watches, hypnotized, as Zoey licks her skin, kisses her, digs her fingers into her muscles, before finally wrapping her lips around Rumi’s clit. And, oh. Oh. Rumi has never enjoyed it when a guy went down on her. She found it boring, a bit gross, a waste of her time. But Zoey? It’s like she’s working with magic. Like there’s an electrical undercurrent on her tongue that ignites sparks inside Rumi. That, and Zoey makes sure Rumi knows how much she’s enjoying going down on her.

“You taste so fucking good,” she slurs before diving right back in, whimpers spilling from her throat as her tongue gives birth to so many sensations Rumi’s never experienced before in her life.

“Fuck, Zo, you’re so good, you feel so good, you feel so so good.”

Zoey moans against her and it vibrates all the way to Rumi’s lower stomach. She keeps a steady pace, tongue relentlessly flicking against Rumi’s clit, and Rumi chokes on air, chest rumbling with deep, gravelly moans.

Mira swears by her side, pressing her body against Rumi’s and burying her face in her neck. It’s only when Mira lets out a moan of her own that Rumi realizes she’s touching herself. Fuck. Fuck this is so. damn. hot. Rumi slides her hand down Mira’s arm, all the way to her wrist and the hand moving frenetically between her legs. Rumi grabs it and forces her to stop. Mira stares at her with cutting eyes.

“I want to make you come,” Rumi manages to slur. Between her legs, Zoey picks up the pace. “After—fuck, Zo, that feels good—Just—Please—I want you to come for me—because of me—Zoey, shit, shit—”

“Okay,” Mira croaks, out of breath. “I’ll wait for you, darling.”

The endearment sends her closer to the edge and Rumi lets out a choked whimper, a hand gripping so tight around Mira’s she’ll probably leave a mark, the other clenching into Zoey’s hair like a lifeline. It’s Zoey’s cue to start doing… something with her mouth, and it has Rumi gasping for air on the bed.

“Say it again,” she moans, eyes closed, nails digging into Mira’s wrist.

“Darling,” Mira whispers. “Darling, darling, darling.”

She feels it coming this time. That heat rising, licking her skin, coiling into her muscles and spiraling in her lower stomach.

“Fuck, don’t stop, neither of you don’t you dare stop—”

“We won’t, darling, I promise, we won’t.”

Zoey moans against Rumi’s cunt, never stopping whatever the fuck she’s doing, and Rumi’s every nerve is getting overwhelmed, electrified, chanting under her skin. It’s so much. It’s so much. And it’s all thanks to them, to Zoey working on her clit with an unwavering devotion, to Mira talking her through what has to be a life-shattering sexual experience, voice soft and full of awe and care and love.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Mira whispers.

Rumi clasps both arms around her, brings her against her, buries her face in her neck and hair as she starts uncontrollably shaking.

“I want you to come for us,” Mira keeps murmuring, reverence in her voice. “Fuck, darling, I want to hear you come again. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rumi’s crying. Her hips are frantically rocking against Zoey’s face, thighs clenched against her head. Her fingers are piercing into Mira’s shoulder blades through the fabric of her shirt. Mira’s scent overwhelms her, faint and a bit spicy. She’s missed it so much. She’s missed her so much.

“You sound so good, darling. You’re doing so well. I’ve waited so long for this. I—”

“I love you,” Rumi breaks in a strangled whisper. Mira freezes in her arms, before leaning away to look her in the eye. Rumi knows Zoey can’t hear her, not with Rumi’s thighs pressed against her ears, but she says it again anyway. “I love you.” This is for Mira to hear. This is for Mira to understand. “I love you, Mira, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She sees the tears filling Mira’s eyes, and suddenly everything snaps. Rumi arches on the bed and goes perfectly still and silent for a few seconds, until everything collapses and she lets out a sobbing wail, something bestial, something barely human. Pleasure crushes her and she falls flat on the bed, shaking violently despite Mira’s weight on top of her. She clings to her, gasps, sobs into her neck as her orgasm undoes and redoes every part of her.

She doesn’t know how long it takes her to finally calm down. She does know that Mira hasn’t let go of her once. That her arms are fully wrapped around Rumi’s waist, holding her as close as physically possible. That her face is pressed against Rumi’s neck, and a few of her tears have lost their way on Rumi’s skin.

Rumi’s still panting when she gently rolls Mira onto her back and stares into her blurry, red-rimmed eyes. She’s so beautiful Rumi almost cries again.

“I am so, so deeply in love with you, Mira.”

Mira’s lips quiver and she buries her face into Rumi’s chest. Rumi kisses the top of her head, heart bursting in her chest, and she searches for Zoey. She’s sitting at the bottom of the bed, and she looks… Fuck. Hair a mess, lips swollen, traces of cum on her chin.

“Come here,” Rumi says softly, so softly, as softly as she’s feeling. Zoey wordlessly obeys and lies down next to them. “Did you hear that?” Rumi asks.

Zoey glances at Mira, eyes wide and shimmering, and nods.

“Let me say it again,” Rumi breathes out, lifting a hand to caress Zoey’s cheek, the other still holding Mira close. “I am so, so deeply in love with you, Zoey.”

Zoey’s eyes fill with tears.

“Do you understand?” Rumi asks, because she’s never needed anything more in her life. They have to understand. They have to know. It’s not a phase. It’s not the post-orgasm bliss talking. It’s not another one of her masks. It’s the naked truth, the only truth.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you, the both of you, so damn much.”

“I—” Zoey sniffles, tears now flowing down her cheeks. “I love you too. God, guys, I love you so much. I’ve almost said it a hundred times this past month. You two are so, so fucking amazing, and I’ve been feeling so much, and I—I—fuck, can you kiss me? Please?”

Rumi kisses her, and it’s soft, full of promises and adoration. She can taste herself on Zoey’s lips. When they part, Zoey wipes her tears with the back of her hand. Rumi mirrors her—she started crying again—. Mira has unburied her face from Rumi’s chest, and she’s now watching them with her own watery eyes. Zoey chuckles.

“Man, we’re a mess. Look at us. All crying like babies.”

“I think Lana would approve,” Rumi smiles. “She’d call that emotional growth.”

They all laugh. Zoey sighs happily as she snuggles against Mira, and a comfortable silence lingers until Mira speaks, or tries to.

“I—” The words clearly get stuck in her throat and her chest starts heaving.

“Baby, baby,” Zoey whispers, immediately leaning closer to her. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to,” Mira breathes out. “I just—I’ve never—”

Never said it. Never been told. And it breaks Rumi’s heart, because she can’t think of someone more worthy of love than Mira.

“We know,” Rumi murmurs, leaning down to kiss her. “You can say it whenever it feels right.” She kisses her again. “We don’t need to hear it to know it.” And again. And again, and again, until tenderness turns into heat, until Mira’s squirming under Rumi’s body, until the want is back roaring, thick with a new sense of urgency, with the desperate need to show Mira how much Rumi loves her. Rumi and Zoey grab Mira’s shirt and pull it over her head. Mira’s elbows get stuck for a second, and they laugh, until Rumi’s eyes drop on Mira’s chest and she chokes on her own air.

Mira’s not wearing a bra. Her boobs are slightly bigger than Zoey’s, her nipples darker. Zoey’s the first to react, snapping out of her trance to gently tug at Mira’s leggings and drag them down her legs. Mira’s underwear comes with, and soon she’s naked on the bed.

“Baby,” Zoey sighs, a hand sliding on Mira’s waist. They’re lying on their side, Mira in between them. “Oh, baby. You’re so fucking pretty.”

Rumi can’t take her eyes away from Mira, the smooth skin of her stomach, the darker patch of hair in between her legs. When Mira groans and turns her face to hide her embarrassment, Rumi finally shakes herself out of it. She won’t let her look away. She needs to see her.

“Look at me,” she whispers.

Mira takes a deep breath before complying. There’s so much vulnerability in her eyes.

“I love you,” Rumi says. “Don’t look away. Look at me. Look at me, baby.” Mira does, visibly fighting her instincts to avoid eye contact with any of them as tears threaten to fall once again. “I love you.”

Rumi rolls herself on top of Mira and skates her hand down Mira’s torso and stomach. She meets Zoey’s hand on her hip, and they look at each other for a second, their fingers brushing, before focusing on Mira again. Rumi feels so completely overwhelmed. She’s never wanted to show love this way before. She’s never wanted for her partner to feel pleasure, real pleasure, the unraveling kind. She keeps whispering I love you, look at me, I love you while her fingers trail down, smoothing the hairs between Mira’s legs, and down, meeting her wet warmth, discovering, exploring, worshipping.

“I love you,” she says again as she pushes one finger inside her, and Rumi’s lips part in sync with Mira’s as she slowly presses deeper inside her.

Mira closes her eyes, arches into the touch, digs her nails in Rumi’s back with one hand and in Zoey’s hair with the other. Zoey whispers something in her ear. Rumi can’t quite hear it, but she sees the tear fall on Mira’s cheek. She slowly pulls her finger out, slowly pushes in again, watches, in awe, as Mira lets out a shuddering breath.

“More,” she whispers, and Rumi feels her own wetness dripping down her thigh.

She slides another finger inside Mira and moans as she feels her muscles clench around her.

“You feel so good,” she breathes out, voice choked with want and wonder. “Zo, she feels so good.”

Zoey groans, presses herself closer against Mira, drops hot and open kisses in the crook of her neck. Mira’s eyes snap open and she stares at Rumi, something wild flickering in her gaze.

“More,” she says, and Rumi moans, pulls out, comes back with three fingers, and she moans again when Mira jerks and her hips start rolling against her, chasing for more.

“You feel so good,” Rumi chokes, “You feel so, so good,” and she pushes into Mira, feels her stretch around her fingers, loses control. She fucks her. She fucks her. She pounds into her, hard, slow, relishing the pain in her back as Mira’s nails sink into her skin. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t soften. Pumps into her, unhurried, brutal and unyielding. Knows Mira likes it. Her pleasure is silent but evident. Her chest rises and falls at the erratic rhythm of her breathing, her hips keep jerking, pushing down for more contact, more pressure whenever Rumi presses deep inside her, her hand pulls at Zoey’s hair, making Zoey whimper against the neck she’s now biting.

Rumi’s losing her mind. The sight of Mira like this, cool, composed Mira bending under her hands, feeling so much, feeling so good she’s losing her poise, left trembling and gasping for air and holding on to them as if it’s the only thing keeping her sane, that sight has Rumi moan and groan and shake, has her want more, more, more. Something flicks in the back of her mind, a distant memory that rushes back to her with perfect clarity. That night in the private suite.

“Zo,” she says, more a growl than anything. “She can’t come from the inside alone.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Zoey hums. “You’re right. What do you say, baby? Do you want me to help you come?”

Mira nods. It’s frantic. Zoey’s fingers are instantly on her clit, rubbing circles in a slow pace, and for the first time Mira lets out the smallest whimper.

“You’re so hot,” Rumi groans, lowering her head so she can watch, mesmerized, the way Zoey works on Mira’s clit. “You’re both so, so hot.”

She’s so turned on she starts speeding up, ramming into Mira just as deeply but faster, and Mira lets out another whimper, a bit louder and higher-pitched. Fuck. She’s so. fucking. sexy.

“You’re so beautiful like this baby,” Zoey coos as she picks up the pace on Mira’s clit. “You’re so, so beautiful. Are you going to come for us?”

Mira bites her lip, back arching on the bed as she tries to stifle another whimper.

“You’re so close,” Zoey murmurs, fingers now frenetically rubbing Mira’s clit. “I can feel it.”

The sounds are obscene, wet and slick, and it turns Rumi on to no avail. Fuck, she might come from this alone. A deep, low growl starts rumbling in Mira’s chest. She claws into Rumi’s back, with both hands this time.

“Don’t stop—” Her voice is raspy, breathless. “Don’t stop—I—”

“We’ve got you, baby,” Zoey murmurs, her big doe eyes fixed on Mira’s face with unconcealed adoration.

“Don’t stop—Don’t stop—Don’t—”

She comes. Rumi can tell because Mira tenses completely under her, because her muscles crush Rumi’s fingers inside her, because she chokes on her words and lets out a long, loud and guttural moan, and because liquid gushes everywhere onto Rumi’s wrist.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” Rumi blurts, eyes wide, feeling herself dripping onto the mattress.

“Shit, baby, oh my god, this is so fucking hot.”

Zoey visibly lost her mind just as much as Rumi did at the sight of Mira squirting all over her.

“I—Fuck—” Mira’s panting, pushing herself on her elbows with great difficulty to look at the mess she’s just made. “Shit. I’ve never—I didn’t know—I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Zoey scolds her before planting a burning kiss on her lips. “This was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Agreed,” Rumi rasps, still shaking with lust. “Fuck, Mira, love, it was so hot. You’re so hot.”

Mira falls back on the bed with a grunt, before sliding both hands on her face. “It felt so good,” she says, voice muffled.

“For me too,” Rumi murmurs. “God, Mira, that was…”

“Fucking incredible,” Zoey finishes before gently taking Mira’s hands and pushing them away from her face. She kisses her. Mira smiles against her lips, and Rumi’s heart blooms in her chest.

Then, Zoey sits on the bed and glances back and forth between the two of them. She’s still wearing her shorts, Rumi realizes. They’ll have to fix that.

“Okay. Okay. Not to be dramatic but, guys? If you don’t take care of me right the fuck now, I’m going to explode.”

They both laugh, Mira sitting next to her, still panting but eyes gleaming.

“I take it you know exactly how you want us to take care of you?” she teases.

Zoey scoffs. “Of course I do. I’ve fantasized about this for exactly one month and 22 days.”

Mira cocks one eyebrow and Zoey adds, “Since our first night together, the three of us.”

Rumi blushes as she remembers how she woke Mira up to drag her into her bed, how she grabbed Zoey’s PJs to bring her closer, how she got so bold, that night, and will never, ever regret it. She clears her throat.

“So, how?”

Zoey grins. She plants a quick kiss on Mira’s lips, says, “Get your strap,” pushes herself out of bed and disappears out of the bedroom. Both Mira and Rumi snort, and Rumi watches, curious—aroused, so so madly aroused—as Mira rolls on the side of the bed and opens the nightstand’s drawer. Rumi’s gaze lingers on Mira’s perfect silhouette, the line of her spine, the curve of her ass, the muscles of her thighs. How did she get so fucking lucky?

Mira pulls a little bag out of the drawer. She takes out a harness, black, similar to the one in the private hanok on the island, and a dildo. Rumi sucks in a breath as she crawls a little closer to look at it. Mira smiles—it’s not mocking, it’s soft, full of love—and she hands her the toy. It’s… Rumi wouldn’t say big, but it’s definitely not small. It has a dark pink color that reminds her instantly of Mira’s hair. The texture is soft. Rumi wonders how it feels, inside. Knows she’ll find out soon, maybe even tonight.

Zoey comes back holding a bag of her own. She flops on the bed next to them, a wild grin on her face, and she drops the content on the ruffled sheets. Another harness. With another—bigger, way bigger—dildo.

“Oh,” Rumi murmurs.

Next to her, Mira audibly swallows.

“I want you to take turns fucking me,” Zoey chirps, as if she’s not saying one of the filthiest things Rumi’s ever heard in her life.

“Shit,” Mira breathes out.

“Are—Are you sure?” Rumi’s eyes are glued on Zoey’s black dildo. “It’s—”

“A lot,” Mira provides, fingers extending to brush the dildo.

Zoey’s already sliding off her shorts and underwear. Rumi’s eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. Holy fucking shit how can someone be so cute and so fucking sexy at the same time?

“Babes, I appreciate the concern, but I’ve suffered for weeks now and this is what I need. So.” She gently throws the harness at Rumi. “Strap up, and fuck me. Hard.”

“Fucking hell.”

Both Mira and Rumi are on their feet in no time. Mira puts her harness and dildo on in a heartbeat, before helping Rumi adjust her own, fingers lingering a little, breath caught in her throat.

“You look so good with a strap,” Mira murmurs, voice hoarse.

“So do you.” She means it. Fuck does she mean it. Rumi can’t wait for Mira to fuck her like that. She can’t wait for Zoey to fuck her like that. And she also can’t wait to use the strap on Zoey, to claim her, to make her cry out in her arms.

“Lube?” Mira asks, glancing at Zoey, who snorts.

“Not for the first one, no.” And as if to prove her point, she settles herself on the bed, head on a pillow, and she spreads her legs wide open for them.

“Jesus fucking christ, Zo,” Mira mumbles.

Rumi’s this close to pass out. Zoey’s drenched. So fucking pretty. Dark hair perfectly trimmed, clit as pink as her nipples, threads of want sticking to her thighs.

“You should—”

The words get stuck in her throat. She can barely speak anymore.

“Yeah,” Mira breathes out, eyes glued on Zoey. “I’d say it’s because I have the smaller one, but I’d be lying.” She walks to the bed, crawls on it, kneels in between Zoey’s legs. “I just want to fuck you first.”

Zoey grins, arms linking around Mira’s neck as Mira lowers herself towards her. Rumi lies down on her side next to them and watches as Mira positions herself in front of Zoey’s entrance. She pushes the tip in.

“Hard, you said,” Mira murmurs.

As if to answer her, Zoey slides a hand down Mira’s ass and pulls Mira against her, taking the strap deeper and deeper and deeper until it disappears completely inside her. Holy fucking shit. Zoey lets out a moan, before biting at Mira’s bottom lip hard enough Mira hisses.

“Fuck my brains out,” Zoey whispers.

Mira growls. The first two pushes are tentative, as if she’s making sure Zoey can indeed take it. After that, well. Mira throws caution out the window. She fucks Zoey the way Zoey wants. Hard. So fucking hard. Her hips slap against Zoey in a steady and rapid pace. Her fingers dig into Zoey’s waist. Her throat rumbles with low, threatening groans. Zoey whines and squirms under her strong hold, eyes sometimes closed, sometimes wide open and taking in the way Mira’s ravaging her.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, you fuck me so good, you fuck me so good, you fuck me so good—”

“Is that what you wanted?” Mira grunts, never relenting.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Then thank me for it.”

“Thank you,” she immediately whimpers, voice weak and broken as Mira pounds even faster into her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Rumi’s touching herself. Hand slipped under the harness, two fingers dipping inside her, and it’s not enough, fuck, it’s not enough, but she’ll burn alive if she doesn’t try to alleviate some of the tension flaring at the sight of Mira absolutely destroying Zoey before her eyes.

“You think you can take Rumi after I’m done with you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes.”

“How do you want her?”

“I don’t care—However she wants—”

Mira growls, giving a couple of particularly rough hip blows that drag a broken cry out of Zoey.

“Hear that, Rumi? She wants you to use her.”

Rumi now has three fingers in. They’re trapped by the harness, barely reaching where she needs them to. Her hips are bucking instinctively, the dildo between her legs splitting the air in an obscene way.

“Yes, yes,” Zoey’s whining, tears in her eyes, nails leaving claw marks on Mira’s perfect back. “I want you to use me, Rumi. Please use me, please, please—”

Mira groans. Sweat beads on her temples. She’s so fucking hot. They’re so fucking hot.

“Get her ready,” Mira orders.

“Fuck, yes, okay.”

Rumi doesn’t know what Mira means until Zoey grabs her arm and pulls her towards her.

“Come here,” she croaks. “On your knees.”

Rumi’s so turned on she’s dizzy. She slips her hand out of the harness and crawls to Zoey.

“Straddle her,” Mira commands as she sits back to give her space, never ceasing her wild pounding.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rumi breathes out. She obeys. Straddles Zoey’s face. Chokes on a moan when Zoey immediately, immediately takes the strap into her mouth. And it shouldn’t have that effect on her. It shouldn’t. Zoey’s lips aren’t wrapped around her, her tongue isn’t flicking against her, yet the sight of her like that, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, head bobbing up and down between Rumi’s legs, has Rumi on the verge of coming.

“Is she being a good girl for you?” Mira grunts behind her, voice strained by the effort.

“She is,” Rumi rasps. “She’s taking it so well. Fuck, Mira, she’s amazing.”

Mira groans. “Such a pretty little mouth, taking in such a big fat cock.”

Rumi jerks at the words. Zoey lets out a choked, high-pitched noise, and for a second Rumi’s scared she hurt her. But Zoey’s hands dart to her ass and pull, encouraging her to start rocking into her mouth.

“Oh. Oh, shit.”

Rumi presses her hands against the wall, eyes fixed on Zoey’s perfect, perfect face, and she gives her what she wants. Pushes inside her mouth. Pulls out. Pushes back in, a bit deeper, shivering, testing. Zoey whimpers, louder, way, way louder, and so Rumi rocks slightly more into her, watching with astonishment as Zoey takes in more than half of the strap now. She feels her squirm under her, Zoey’s nails drag onto Rumi’s lower back, her whimper intensifies, muffled by the massive dildo in her mouth.

“Are you close?” Rumi asks in a whisper.

Zoey nods around the toy with a strangled cry, urging Rumi deeper.

“She wants it rough,” Mira pants. “Give her rough.”

Rumi drops one of her hands to Zoey’s head. She grabs a fistful of hair, tugs at it to force Zoey’s head back onto the pillow, and starts rocking into her mouth in earnest. Zoey’s moan is loud. Her body thrashes under Rumi. The lewd and wet sound of Mira pounding into her intensifies. Rumi loses it, fucks Zoey’s mouth with her big, black dildo, indescribable pleasure coiling between her legs, and when Zoey comes, freezing completely with a muffled yet resounding shout, Rumi comes too.

***

They take turns. Drag two, three, four orgasms out of her. They only stop when Zoey tells them to, or rather when she gently taps on Mira’s thigh just after she’s drawn out her fourth orgasm of the night. She can barely speak anymore—because she cried out too much, because they both used her mouth to thoroughly clean up the dildos they had buried deep into her cunt moments before—.

It's the wildest, filthiest, most satisfying sex Mira’s ever had. The most emotional too. It’s past 11 p.m. when they decide to take a break. Mira had planned to cook a nice dinner for their first evening there, but it’s way too late now, and they throw a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven instead. They let Zoey decide what she wants to watch. She’s earned it. She opts for a wildlife documentary about birds’ mating rituals and they spend the hour giggling at the crazy feathery dances, all bundled up on Mira’s massive couch—their couch, it’s theirs now, everything she owns, everything she is is theirs—.

They head to bed well into the night, tired and sore and happy. They had to change the sheets, something Rumi and Zoey find deeply amusing, while Mira’s still trying to come to terms with the fact that she can squirt. Mira ends up in the middle, sandwiched between her two girls, and she’s never felt more content in her life. Rumi turns off the light and wraps herself against Mira’s back with a sigh, before groaning when Mira moves to push herself on her arms.

Mira leans down, catches Rumi’s lips in a soft kiss, and whispers, “I love you.” She turns around and does the same with Zoey. A soft kiss on her lips, a quiet I love you against her mouth.

“Sleep well, darlings,” she finally says with a happy sigh, a happy heart, as she lies back down on the bed.

Rumi and Zoey stay oddly quiet until they’re suddenly both over Mira, and dawn is breaking when they’re finally done with her.

Chapter Text

Rumi discovers a lot of things about herself during the next two months. She actually loves sleeping naked with other people. Something about bathing in another human’s warmth under the sheets while the air is fresh in the room, about being able to reach out and feel soft skin against her own, about feeling so connected to the two women she’s been sharing a bed with ever since they moved in together.

She’s also needy. It takes her by surprise. She’s always been the most distant one in all of her relationships, and even if the main reason is painfully obvious now, she still thought it was partially because she was a strong, independent woman who highly valued her personal space and needed her alone time in order to stay sane. Turns out that’s a whole load of horse shit. Rumi is needy, and if it scared her a little at first, her girlfriends gushed over it and encouraged her so much she now never second-guesses herself when she pouts on the couch because Zoey gave Mira a little peck on the lips and not her, or when she beams at Mira and is immediately by her side for a welcome home cuddle when Mira comes back from work, or when she whines because neither of her girlfriends want to take a shower with her that day.

“We need to wash our hair, you know how messy it gets.”

“I can give you some space to comb your hair. The shower is so big!”

“Last time I almost knocked you out with my elbow.”

“And I survived!”

“Come on, baby. Zo, you go first. I’ll cuddle with her and you can take over when you’re done.”

She thought she’d scare them off, always needing their touch, their kisses, their love, but she didn’t. Because, as it turns out, they’re both just as needy as her, just in different ways.

Rumi also discovers she wears happiness well. She wakes up with a content smile on her face every morning, either because Zoey’s stirring against her or grumbling something in her sleep, or because Mira’s cooking breakfast and the smell of roasted garlic is impossible to resist even while in the deepest slumber. She goes about her days singing, sometimes dancing, sending cute selfies to her girlfriends before her morning run—or full-on nudes when she feels like distracting the both of them from work—. She picks up the guitar, starts to learn how to play, finds immense joy listening to music and attempting to cover songs despite lacking the skill—for now—.

Mira told her not to start looking for another job right away.

“You’ve got time, darling. I want you to take a break, slow down, let yourself enjoy life as it is. And if you feel like you want to start working again, then we can all brainstorm ideas to find a job you’d actually love to do.”

Rumi would never have guessed being a sugar baby would be so freeing. She should feel guilty and afraid of not contributing at all to paying the bills, but Mira’s so insistent, so happy to cover for all of their expenses, that after a while Rumi stops questioning it. On the fourth day after they all moved in together, Mira opened a joint bank account for the three of them.

“I can add more if you guys want,” Mira had said nervously when they had checked the account for the first time, sprawled on the couch with some chill music in the background. Rumi had straightened up so brutally when she saw the numbers Zoey had almost fallen off her lap. “I figured I’d just refill it every month, but if you think it’s not enough to last us until then, then—”

“Baby, this is enough to last us a year,” Zoey had squeaked, eyes round.

After that, Zoey had asked her boss if she could work part-time instead of full-time, and Rumi knows it won’t be long until Zoey completely resigns. She loves her job, but the commute is long and, most importantly, it means she can’t spend time with her girlfriends whenever she wants. As for Mira, she’s put a two-months’ notice a few weeks after they all moved in, enough time for her to wrap up her ongoing projects.

“They’ll fire me anyway once the show airs,” she had said with a laconic drawl, completely unbothered by the idea, and now Rumi’s counting the days until none of them will have to work and they can spend all of their time doing whatever they want, together.

It goes against everything Celine has taught her. Rumi should be productive, and independent, and thinking ahead, and trusting herself and only herself, and she knows there’s some truth to it. She knows anything could happen. She knows people break up, and things aren’t permanent, and honestly if anyone had told her they had quit their job to move in with someone they had met one month prior—and didn’t even have sex with yet, didn’t even normally date yet—, she’d have tried her best to throw some sense into them. But she’s not just some random person. She’s some random person who’s loved by Mira and Zoey. Which makes her the luckiest person on earth, and which also, somehow, magically erases any doubt she might have about her future. Sure, they might break up—they won’t, they won’t, she can feel it in her guts—, but even if they do, she’d never be homeless. Mira wouldn’t allow it. Mira’s too kind, too loyal, too caring of a person to ever put any of them in an unstable situation, no matter what happens between them—and nothing will happen between them, they’ll grow strong, they’ll grow together, they’re it, they’re it, they’re it—.

Rumi often texts with Jinu, sometimes has lunch or dinner with him. They live at the opposite sides of Seoul, but he always manages to find time for her. She gets to go on and on and on about how fucking amazing Zoey and Mira are, and he gets to tell her about his admittedly wonky but more honest dating life.

She regularly calls Celine. It’s funny, how much closer they’ve got. She used to see her once every two weeks or so when they were both living in Gwangju. Now, they call every two or three days. Maybe it’s the distance, maybe it’s the fact that they’re both finally, fully themselves with each other. The day she told Celine she was moving to Seoul had been chaotic. It was barely four days after she had come back from the island, and the first time she was seeing Celine since she had left for her vacation.

“You’re leaving?” Celine lowered her chopsticks, surprise in her eyes.

“Yes. I have already given my notice. I have to sell all of my stuff by the end of the month, it’ll be short but I—”

“Wait, wait.” Celine carefully looked at her, studying her every reaction, her every breath. “Did you find a new job in Seoul?”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Then, why?”

“I—I—” Rumi stumbled on the words, her throat closed, her eyes burnt, and it was that sight of her, struggling, scared, vulnerable, that softened the expression on Celine’s face.

“Rumi, whatever it is you need to tell me, you know I’ll listen.”

“I—I met—” She cleared her throat. “During my holiday, I—”

“You’re moving in with someone.” There was no judgment in Celine’s voice, no joy either, just stupefaction.

“Yes. Well, not exactly. It’s not just one person. It’s—It’s two.”

“Two.”

“Two.”

“You’re moving in with—with two guys?”

Celine did her absolute best to conceal her horror, but it still showed in the tremor in her last two words.

“Girls,” Rumi corrected with a weak voice.

“Girls?”

“Yes. I—I’m moving in with two girls.”

“Do you mean as roommates?”

“No. No, I—” Rumi stared at her half-empty bowl as if it could bring her salvation. “I love them.”

It was a whisper, a confession, the first time she said it out loud, and it punched her in the guts how true it felt. How much she loved them. How irrevocable it was. And then, she heard it. The tiniest sniffle. She looked up at Celine and saw the tear she hastily wiped with the back of her hand. She stared, shocked and silent, while Celine tried to regain her composure. She’d never seen Celine cry before. Never.

“I’m sorry,” Celine said. “I—”

Her bottom lip started to quiver and Rumi automatically extended a hand across the table. Celine took it, without hesitation, and at that very moment Rumi knew; everything would be fine.

“What is it?” she asked with as much softness as she could.

Celine refused to meet her eyes when she answered in a murmur, “It’s the first time I think we are alike, you and I.” Then, she shook her head, while the words sank deeply into Rumi’s stomach. “No, that’s not it. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to think that. I—I’ve always—Every beautiful thing you are, I tied it to your mother. I could see her in your smile, in your strength, in your honor, in your resolve, in your intelligence. I never—I could never tell myself you took after me. But—But for this? I—”

“You loved her,” Rumi breathed out, eyes fixed on Celine.

“I loved her,” Celine confessed, and suddenly everything made sense. “Her, and…”

The talk was long and intense, filled with tears and questions and an openness they never truly shared before. At the end, they were both a mess, but an oddly grateful one. They hugged. Celine told Rumi she loved her. That, too, was a first.

Now, they often call, for the smallest thing, to check on each other, to tell the other, See? I think of you, I want you in my life, I need you in my life, See? We are family, I am your daughter, just as much as I was hers.

As the days and weeks go, Rumi also discovers she loves sex. Every form of it. She loves lazy morning sex with Zoey when she doesn’t have to get up in the morning and Mira has already left for work, she loves brutal sex with the both of them when one of them gets in that kind of mood, she loves making love to Mira and watching her cry in her arms as she slowly, gently takes her with two fingers, she loves every filthy word pouring out of Mira’s and Zoey’s mouths as Zoey rides her mouth until she comes with a cry. She loves when Mira goes down on her, precise, unhurried, methodical in the way she unravels her. She loves when Zoey pounds into her with the strap at a barely human speed. She loves fucking and getting fucked, loving and being loved, watching and being watched, she loves it slow and hard and lazy and intense and quick and dirty and lasting. She loves walking out of the shower to the sound of Zoey getting railed by Mira. Loves sitting down and watching them from the little sofa they brought in Mira’s bedroom just for this. Loves that there are no expectations. No jealousy. No pressure. She can sit there and stay still, she can touch herself, she can join them, she can do whatever she wants and they’d all be more than satisfied with it.

So, Rumi wears happiness well. She sings, she dances, she plays the guitar, she calls Celine, she sends pictures to her girls, she kisses them when they get back home, she whines for cuddles, she laughs, talks, listens, has sex, and she loves, she loves, she loves.

***

Zoey will never not—lovingly—make fun of Mira for still being friends with Abby after the show ends. She calls him Mira’s boyfriend, sends him pictures of Mira gracelessly sleeping on the couch with her mouth open and makes sure to always have his favorite beers in stock when she goes grocery shopping. He doesn’t come by often. Him and Mira mostly hang out at the gym—yes, they’re gym bros now, another thing Zoey endlessly revels in—. But Zoey’s always happy to see him, the few times he does visit their place. She likes Abby. She likes his big, dumb heart, his easy smile and how genuine he is. Most of all, she likes how good of a friend he is to Mira. So, even when she teases Mira—How was your date? Did you guys finally confess?—, she always makes sure Mira knows how she truly feels—We should invite him over for dinner! You guys really are so cute together, you know?—.

He's actually hanging out at their place and getting absolutely wrecked by Zoey at Mario Kart when they get the email.

“Guys,” Rumi says as she straightens up on the couch, phone in hand.

“What?” Zoey mumbles, hyperfocused on the race. “Oh my god are you KIDDING ME? Another blue turtle?!”

“The show will be released in a week.”

The news drops like a bomb. Mira misses her turn and dives straight into the water, Abby jumps on his feet with a loud “WHAT?” while still trying to save his second spot, and Zoey can’t process the information and ace the race at the same time, so of course she fumbles her drift and gets yanked out of the road by Abby just before the blue turtle destroys her ass.

“No!” she screams while Abby shouts “YES!”, passes her and freaking wins the race.

“It doesn’t count! I got heavily distracted!”

“We all did! Mira, boo, you okay in there?”

“Uuuugh.”

Mira ends up sixth, and Zoey can’t help but kiss her grumpy pout away.

“Ew, gross,” Abby mocks, before sitting back down and finally focusing on Rumi. “So, wait, the show will be out in one week?”

“Production just confirmed it via email,” she nods.

Zoey notices the tightness in Rumi’s voice, how she got a bit paler, how her fingers clench around her phone, and she sets her controller on the coffee table before leaning her shoulder against Rumi’s.

“You okay baby?”

“Yes. I think so. I—”

Mira’s immediately by her other side, a concerned look on her face.

“It’s just, everybody will see, you know? And it doesn’t really matter, because everyone important to me already knows, but…”

“It’s scary,” Mira nods. “We all got pretty vulnerable out there.”

“Yeah,” Zoey sighs, before giving the both of them a big smile. “But, hey, at least now the whole world will have proof I’ve banged the two hottest girls on earth!”

“Hell yeah!” Abby cheers, and Zoey high-fives him with a giggle.

“It’ll be fine, love,” Mira tells Rumi as she wraps her arms around her shoulders and rests her chin on the top of her head. “It’s not going to change anything. We’re together and we’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Zoey’s about to join in on the hug when Abby steals her place—much like in Mario Kart—, crawling against Mira and wrapping her into a bear hug that makes her huff.

“Abby,” she growls, but there’s a smile at the corner of her lips.

“I’m just so proud of you, boo,” he whispers before dropping a kiss on her temple.

Zoey’s heart blooms in her chest and she joins the group hug with a giggle and so much energy they all collapse against the back of the couch.

Abby leaves a couple of hours later. They’re all content, belly full with take-out, cheeks sore from laughing too much, fingers trailing on soft skin—they keep it at the bare minimum when Abby’s there, and Zoey always ends up missing touching her girls—. Rumi’s looking more relaxed, more confident, yet Zoey knows her. There’s still a fragility underneath her soft smile, a lingering fear she can’t voice, probably can’t really define. And Zoey’s itching to soothe it.

They head to bed after their shower. Zoey and Mira exchange a look as Rumi slides under the sheets, and Zoey knows they’re both thinking the same thing. They each take a side of the bed and lie down.

“It’s Mira’s turn,” Rumi says with a little frown as Zoey scoots her in the middle.

It’s the one rule from the island they’re still devotedly following; every night, they take turns sleeping in the middle.

“We know,” Mira murmurs before dropping a soft kiss on Rumi’s lips. “I’ll sleep in the middle, don’t worry.”

Rumi hums, distracted by Mira’s mouth, so gentle against hers. Zoey sighs as she gazes at them. How lucky is she, to be able to watch the two most beautiful girls on earth kissing like this in front of her? And the best part is? She doesn’t feel left out. Not one bit. They could spend an hour making out without touching her and she’d still feel happy. It’s one of the aspects of their relationship that she loves the most; feeling nothing but love when she watches them bond, when they come back from an errand together, fingers interlaced, cheeks flushed, smiles bright, or when they hold each other close, whispering filth or sweet nothings as they rock against each other. They have their own little world, just like Zoey has her own little world with Mira and her own little world with Rumi, and they all coexist, intertwine, dance around each other, sometimes merging into one.

While Mira keeps pressing soft kisses against Rumi’s lips, Zoey moves closer and, with delicate hands, she starts undressing Rumi. She slowly slides her jogging pants down and drops them on the floor, before climbing back up and tugging at the hem of Rumi’s shirt. Rumi gets the hint and pulls away from Mira just enough so that Zoey can help her slip out of her shirt. As soon as she’s done, Mira claims Rumi’s lips again. Zoey sighs again, a hand reverently touching Rumi’s ribcage, her waist, the bone of her hips, before carefully grasping her underwear. She leaves a trail of kisses along Rumi’s leg as she pulls the piece of fabric down to her knees, to her shins, to her feet. Each kiss gives Rumi goosebumps. The underwear joins the pants on the floor.

It’s always a sight, Rumi naked. Zoey and Mira are blessed with it every single night, and it never ceases to amaze them. Sometimes, when Rumi’s not there, they whisper about her, about her perfect body, about how her abs are so well-defined they look carved in marble, yet her stomach is still so soft under their touch, about which one of her tattoos is their favorite. Mira particularly likes the one under her left collarbone, a slightly curved line dipping towards her breast, while Zoey adores the stroke starting at her hip and ending where her thigh meets her stomach. It looks like a paint brush to Zoey, like calligraphy, and she loves following it with her finger, her breath, her tongue.

Mira’s still kissing Rumi. Still softly, still leisurely, as if they have all the time in the world—and they do, they have a lifetime ahead of them, and Zoey almost giggles just thinking about it—. It’s nothing overtly sexual, yet Rumi’s breathing harder against her mouth now, her legs squirming a little, her toes digging into the mattress. God, she’s perfect. Zoey takes her hand and kisses each one of her fingers, her palm, the inside of her wrist. She moves up, almost lazily, dragging her lips along Rumi’s forearm, flipping the tip of her tongue in the crook of her elbow, just once, kissing the inside of her bicep with a tad more pressure, because she knows Rumi would get ticklish otherwise. She nips at her collarbone, teeth barely grazing the skin, and presses light kisses down her breast, her ribcage, around her navel. Rumi’s body twists a little under her touch, and from the corner of her eye Zoey can see her fingers curling into the sheets. A wet sound drags her eyes back up, and she sees Mira has now deepened the kiss. It’s still languid, her tongue licking at Rumi’s upper lip before sliding inside her mouth. Rumi whines, a muffled little noise in the back of her throat, and Zoey has to will her own body to quiet down, to tame the heat threatening to consume her whole. She wants it slow. Both her and Mira want it slow.

Zoey tenderly opens Rumi’s legs and settles between them. She slides her hands along Rumi’s thighs. Rumi shivers, another tiny noise escaping her throat, and her legs open a bit more in front of Zoey. Zoey takes a deep breath through the nose. Her eyes are fixed on Rumi, on the glistening evidence of how aroused she is. Mira’s now kissing her with more intent. Still slow, but pressing her against the mattress, a hand cupping Rumi’s cheek, their breath heavy and mingling. Rumi has an arm wrapped around Mira’s waist, holding her close. Her other hand falls on Zoey’s, still on her upper thigh. Rumi intertwines their fingers, and the gesture, so simple, so intimate, stuns Zoey for a moment.

It's not the first time it’s happened. Rumi or Mira showing her so much love in such an innocent manner that it dazes her. She’s never been loved like this before. Loved beyond words, beyond empty promises, beyond expectations. With them, she just exists, and it’s enough. Mira will set a steaming bowl of ginseng chicken soup in front of her and say “Eat” with a pointed look when she’s been engrossed in her YouTube videos for so long she forgot she has a body, or Rumi will bring her her fuzzy socks as soon as they’re out of the dryer because they’re still warm and soft and there’s no better feeling in the world for Zoey. It’s the little things, the little looks, the little smiles, all those details showing so much care and love and appreciation. Just like Rumi’s doing right now, linking their fingers together and holding Zoey firmly in her hand, as if saying I need you.

Zoey kisses her thigh, then the other, then her lower stomach, then the patch of dark hair in front of her. Rumi’s hips jerk a little. Mira’s now fully pressing her upper body into the mattress, Rumi’s whines colliding against the tongue Mira’s so thoroughly twirling into her mouth. Her hips jolt again, looking for friction, chasing after Zoey’s own mouth, and Zoey can’t resist anymore.

She licks into her first, moaning at how good she tastes, diving her tongue inside her a few times before dragging it up to her clit. She settles there and starts to work on Rumi’s clit, slow, lazy, little circles around her slick bud, not caving in to the way Rumi’s trying to grind harder against her. Rumi whimpers, her complaint swallowed by Mira’s insatiable mouth. She wants more, Zoey knows. She always marvels at how much Rumi can take. Yet, she doesn’t give her more. She keeps a sluggish pace, sometimes increasing the pressure a little before resuming the feather-light strokes of her tongue, just to keep Rumi on edge.

Rumi untangles their fingers and darts her hand to Zoey’s head, grasping her hair, pushing her against her, and Zoey can’t help the long moan escaping her throat straight into Rumi’s cunt. Rumi arches on the bed, more whimpers stuck in her chest, Mira never relenting on her kiss. Zoey stays strong. Doesn’t give in. Keeps the lazy flicks of her tongue against Rumi. She dives back into her a few times, allowing herself to fully taste her, but mainly stays focused on her clit. When Rumi’s legs start to shake under her hands, Zoey pulls away.

She climbs back up, ignoring Rumi’s whine—so loud, despite Mira still working wonders inside her mouth—, smiling when Rumi clenches at her shirt and tries to push her back between her legs. Zoey drops a light kiss on Mira’s cheek and, finally, Mira unglues her face from Rumi’s. Zoey’s immediately on Mira. Their tongues meet and, with soft little moans, they share Rumi—her taste, her cum, her spit—before pulling away. They look into each other’s eyes for a second, something passing between them, love, understanding, need. They drag their focus back on Rumi, flushed, breathless Rumi squirming under them. Mira dives down between her legs, and Zoey claims her lips with her own.

They take turns bringing Rumi to the edge, unhurried and indifferent to her pleas. She doesn’t beg with words, she can’t, not while they kiss her without interruption, but she begs with muffled whimpers, with her body thrashing more and more against their mouths, with the tears falling down her cheeks. Sometimes, they slide one finger inside her and stay there, immobile, while their tongues ceaselessly work on her clit. They pull it off as soon as they feel Rumi getting too close to release.

They turn Rumi into a sobbing and shivering mess. Mira takes pity on her first. Without a word, she slides two fingers in—Zoey knows because suddenly Rumi’s loud against her mouth, and she pulls away just enough to watch Mira start slowly pumping her fingers inside her—. Mira buries her face deeper in between Rumi’s legs, sucking on Rumi’s clit for the first time tonight, and it takes exactly ten seconds for Rumi to come. It’s powerful, a hoarse cry echoing into Zoey’s mouth as Rumi desperately clings around her back. Zoey kisses her wet cheek and holds her close as she shakes and sobs in her arms, tears spilling on Zoey’s neck. Zoey gently lets her down on the mattress, softly kisses her tear-soaked lips one last time, and crawls back down as Mira moves back up. Zoey settles once again between Rumi’s legs, watching with adoration as her body quivers with the aftermath of her orgasm, as her cunt clenches and unclenches, dripping with cum. Zoey doesn’t let herself stare too long. She takes Mira’s place, wraps her lips around Rumi’s clit, starts sucking it gently, taking advantage of how sensitive it still is, and Rumi’s moan is wet and broken, her sobs uncontrollable, almost violent, as Mira silently holds her close. Zoey sucks a bit more intently, flips the tip of her tongue against Rumi’s clit at the same time, digs her fingers into Rumi’s thighs as they clench around her head. Rumi convulses against her, choking on her tears, chest rising and collapsing with deep sobs, and she comes again.

It takes her a long while to calm down. She’s still sniffling, nestled against Mira, Zoey curled against her back and tracing her tattoos with a light finger, when she speaks for the very first time. “Were you trying to kill me?”

Mira and Zoey chuckle.

“No,” Mira finally answers, her eyes meeting Zoey’s. There’s so much love in them Zoey almost tears up. “We just wanted to make you understand.”

“Make me understand what?” Rumi sighs as she buries her face into Mira’s neck, a hand pulling at Zoey’s wrist to bring her even closer.

“That no matter what happens once the show airs, we’ll be there,” Zoey murmurs, dropping a kiss on Rumi’s shoulder. “We love you. We’ve got you.”

“I already knew that,” Rumi breathes out. “But… Thank you. That was… Thank you.”

They smile, talk, turn off the lights. Rumi insists on Mira taking her rightful place in the middle of the bed for the night, and Mira complies with a low chuckle. In the dark, Zoey wraps herself against Mira. She bathes in her warmth and lies there, eyes wide open, suddenly a bit overwhelmed. Despite the fact that it started with a tacky reality TV show, every day with Mira and Rumi is proof that this? This is the real thing. This is it. And Zoey feels so much love she doesn’t know where to put it.

When Mira brings her closer against her in a gentle embrace, she tears up.

“I love you,” Mira whispers against her ear.

Zoey sniffles against her and squeezes Rumi’s hand when it reaches for her. Fuck. She’s the happiest woman on earth.

“I love you too.”

***

They watch the show as soon as it comes out. They discover that not only are they so fucking hot on-screen, they also like watching each other on-screen. They actually have to pause the show after each risky scene—Mira and Zoey against the mango tree, the three of them in bed at night, the kisses on the beach, the pool, the private hanok—because they got too turned on to stay focused. Even if, at first, they cry laughing when they see the private hanok scene. Zoey handcuffing herself to the bed is funny enough already, but it doesn’t match how hilarious it is to see production actually has to cover their dirty talk with loud beeps. Nothing like watching a tied-up Zoey thrashing on the bed under Mira’s and Rumi’s hungry gazes and hearing, “I can BEEP. Fuck, I can BEEP, Rumi. I want to BEEEEEP.” Yet, despite laughing to tears, the memories come rushing, and Mira has to press pause, to look at them, breath short, a question in her eyes that gets immediately answered when Zoey straddles Rumi’s lap, grabs her wrist and shoves her hand into her shorts. They press play again an hour later, hair a mess and panting, laughing at how fucking desperate they are. Lana would not be proud.

They also find out that a lot happened when they weren’t looking. Rom’s, Tzuyu’s and Nayeon’s love triangle was actually pretty dramatic, and seeing Myst silently but confidently make his moves to comfort Nayeon afterwards is hilarious to watch. But overall, the show focuses on Zoey, Rumi and Mira. Production owned up to their original bigotry, even including clips of the girls talking overtly about it—Mira would have thought they’d never publish anything mentioning the behind the scenes, but they proved her wrong—. Because of that, Lana’s apology to them feels earnest. The show itself feels earnest. As if production’s emotionally growing too and redefining their notion of love and commitment alongside them. It’s… endearing, really.

And so, the show airs, and it breaks the charts. It shouldn’t. It’s a trashy reality TV show, with the dumbest premise, and Mira had expected it to be very mildly popular amongst young adults. But no. After one week, it peaks as the most ever watched reality TV show in South Korea. It’s everywhere on social media. Even at Mira’s work, there are murmurs and sideway glances as she moves around the office. She had expected one, maybe two of her coworkers to eventually find out, and she thought she’d have already left her job by then. Instead, she has to suffer through two more weeks at the office with everyone having watched her antics on the island. It annoys her a little. She’s not ashamed or embarrassed, no—have they seen Rumi and Zoey? Mira’s a fucking Winner—. But she feels like a circus freak, and it irritates her. That is, until one of the interns comes to her office a few days after the show is released, a quiet girl Mira has barely spoken to since she arrived three months ago. With a blush and some worried glances over her shoulder, she tells Mira Thank you. For making her feel less alone. For loving whom she loves so openly and so fiercely. For proving the world that love has no gender and no number.

It's not the only occurrence. Mira finds a printed letter in an envelope in her bag one day. It’s anonymous, and it tells her of an unspoken love, of bravery, of confessing to another boy, of getting rejected but, ultimately, being oneself and proud and less afraid of the future. Mira cries when she reads it. When she reads the hundreds and hundreds of confessions online that Zoey keeps screenshotting and sending to their group chat. Tweets from personal and burner accounts alike shouting into the internet, They did it, so can I - I love her - WE WATCHED THE SHOW TOGETHER AND NOW WE’RE DATING - I think I’m gay. And I think that’s okay.

The hashtag #justlikethem takes over South Korea. Too Hot to Handle isn’t just a trashy and stupid reality TV show anymore, it’s a story about acceptance and resistance, about bravery and discovery, about love and friendship. About figuring yourself out, and fighting against everything and everyone that tries to take that away from you.

Rumi, Zoey and Mira aren’t just gay icons, they’re an effigy of love and unity. Fans find Rumi’s and Zoey’s accounts and their numbers spike up, from a couple of dozens of followers to thousands and thousands. Mira’s account has always been private, and she’s happy to keep it that way. It’s overwhelming. In an unprecedented, unpredictable way. In a good way.

Eight days after the show airs, she gets The Call. Her family wants to see her. Rumi and Zoey watch her leave the house as they would a soldier leaving for war, yet Mira’s just thrilled. Lunch with her parents goes exactly as expected. Terribly. Her mother barely eats, her father shouts, standing multiple times from his chair to pace in their insufferably large dining room. He threatens to disown her, she tells him to go for it. She has enough savings, placed securely away from their reach, and she knows it’s an empty threat anyway. The scandal would be too big.

She comes back home feeling thoroughly satisfied.

“How did it go?” Zoey asks as she rushes to her as soon as she walks into the apartment.

“It was perfect,” Mira sighs dreamily.

So perfect, in fact, that all the anger that has always simmered deep in her chest has now vanished. They can’t touch her anymore. They can’t control her, enrage her, get under her skin. She’s free. She’s happy.

She has her own family.

***

Ten months after the show airs, Zoey comes back home hauling a box.

“I thought you were picking up new shoes for break dance classes,” Mira says suspiciously from the couch, watching her girlfriend drop the tall box on the coffee table with a little huff.

“I was! But then I saw that in a store window and I got sidetracked.”

Rumi sets her phone down and leans towards the container. It’s unassuming, just a plain cardboard box with no writing on it.

“What is it?”

Zoey grins, and oh, Rumi doesn’t like that devilish spark in her eyes, not one bit. Zoey disappears in the kitchen for a second, comes back with a knife and slices the tape holding the container together. She dives both arms into the box and pulls its content out with a massive smile and a dramatic “Behold!”. Rumi almost gets a heart attack. On her side, Mira chokes on her water.

“You can’t be serious,” Rumi finally manages to say, voice croaked.

“Oh, I’m dead serious, babe. Never been more serious in my life!”

Mira slowly, so very slowly sets her glass on a coaster while Zoey puts her haul on the coffee table, kicking the now empty box on the ground. She excitedly claps her hands as she watches that thing as if it’s the best purchase she’s ever made in her life.

“Isn’t she perfect? She looks just like her!”

“Zo—” Rumi starts. She has to clear her throat before continuing. “Zo, baby, I love you, but I need you to tell me why Lana is sitting on our coffee table right now.”

“Oh, you know why,” Zoey grins, devilish, devilish, devilish.

“No,” Mira blurts. “Nuh uh. No way.”

“Yes way! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Do you remember the state you were in when you left the island?” Mira groans, rubbing her temple as she glares at Lana—it’s the exact same fucking white cone, and Rumi wonders with horror if it can also light up in pink—.

“Oh, I do. And after that whole other month until we moved in together. I also remember the sex was fucking epic, not that it’s not epic anymore, don’t get me wrong, we have some insane fun in bed, but I want to feel like that again! Like I’m—Like I’m about to explode!”

She punctuates the word with a wide gesture of her hands in the air, dreamy eyes fixed on nothing, and Rumi can’t help but laugh. She looks at fake Lana, feels her heart hammer in her chest at the memories, and she can’t repress the wave of fondness and excitement washing over her.

“How long?” she asks, lips curling into an amused smile.

“What?! Rumi, no!”

“Yes! One month! Just one month!”

“Just one—Guys, this is insane.”

Zoey sits at Mira’s side, grabs her hand and drops a kiss on her knuckles.

“Do you remember how good we made you feel?” she murmurs to Mira, looking at her with her big, puppy eyes—her ultimate weapon against the both of them—.

“I do. I feel that good every time we have sex,” Mira deadpans.

“Do you remember how thrilling it was to make Rumi and I squirm for all those weeks?”

 Mira deflates a little.

“How hot it was when we had to hold back?”

Her shoulders slump. Rumi knows she’s about to give in. Zoey gives her the final blow.

“Once we’re done, I’ll get on my knees and suck on your strap every day for two weeks.”

Mira takes a deep breath and visibly swallows. “The big one?”

“The big one.”

Mira purses her lips a little, before looking at Rumi.

“What about you?”

Rumi’s smile widens, heat pooling between her legs. Zoey throws her a pleading glance, silently asking her to help her win her case, and so Rumi smiles even more, slides down from the couch and gets on her knees in between Mira’s legs. She places her hands on Mira’s knees and spreads her thighs open, looking up at Mira—wide-eyed, breathless Mira—.

“I’ll do it too. The both of us on our knees for you, every day for two weeks.”

Mira sucks in a sharp breath, looks away, mutters something inaudible before dropping her head against the back of the couch with a loud grunt.

“Uuuuuuugh. Fine.”

Zoey cheers loudly, and Rumi sits back on the couch with a wide grin, blood hot, heart pulsing against her ribcage, wondering with dread and delight what they’re getting themselves into.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Mira groans.

“Me neither,” Rumi laughs. “But… I’m excited for it.”

“Okay!” Zoey chirps. “One month under Lana’s rules, starting now!”

“Now?!” Rumi and Mira both exclaim.

“Yup! Just like on the island. We didn’t see it coming!”

“God, Zo, you’re such a masochist.”

“Hey, where do you think you’re touching! No! We said no kisses!”

“It doesn’t count if it’s on the cheek.”

“Miraaa…”

Rumi is thrown back months prior, to that first day on the island, to that girl, lost and nervous, hiding behind a mask she didn’t even know she was wearing. And now here she is. Life is so weird, she thinks with a smile as she watches her two girlfriends bicker under Lana’s ever-watching eyes. But fuck if it isn’t beautiful.

*

Zoey tweets once this evening.  

@zotastic

Rules: no kissing, no heavy petting, no sex of any kind. Wish us luck and see you in one month! ;p

The internet explodes.