Archive of Our Own

The Saturday evening sun poured in through the wide windows of Zoey’s apartment, casting stripes of golden light over the coffee table. Controllers were scattered across it like battle gear, a couple of energy drink cans leaning precariously against a mountain of empty chip bags. The faint electronic soundtrack of the fighting game thrummed from the TV speakers, syncing with the hum of determination in the air.

Zoey, in an oversized hoodie and socks, sat cross-legged on the couch. She was narrowing her eyes at the game screen as if sheer focus could bend pixels to her will.

Next to her, Jinu lounged sideways, one knee propped up, controller balanced on his thigh. Across from them, on the beanbag chair, Rumi sat upright with military precision. Her hair was tied up high, a few stray strands framing her face. Beside her, Mira looked equally intense, shoulders squared like she was about to perform an actual demon hunt.

“This is the last warm-up round,” Zoey said, leaning forward. “After this, we go into the real matches. Winner gets bragging rights for a week.”

“And loser?” Mira asked, clicking her tongue.

“Has to treat everyone to bubble tea,” Zoey replied without hesitation.

Mira grinned, nudging Rumi. “Guess you’ll be buying me a large matcha with pearls.”

Rumi smirked. “Not a chance.”

The game began. Zoey and Jinu’s team took an early lead, but Mira was surprisingly aggressive. She cornered Jinu’s character twice in a row, pulling off combos so fast even Zoey had to whistle in appreciation.

“Where did that come from?” Zoey said, side-eyeing Mira.

“I train,” Mira replied coolly, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

Rumi’s style was different—precise, calculating, almost surgical. When she moved in, it was with lethal timing.

Jinu noticed. “Wow,” he said mid-match, “you’re scary when you’re in the zone, Rumi.”

She didn’t even glance up. “Good. That means it’s working.”

By the end of the round, Mira and Rumi scraped out a narrow win. Zoey dropped her controller onto her lap with an exaggerated groan.

“Okay, okay,” Zoey said. “You two are good. But we’re not done.”

As they reset for the next round, Zoey caught something—a flicker in Rumi’s expression when Jinu spoke. It wasn’t much, just the tiniest hesitation, but Zoey’s brain filed it away.

During the next break, she nudged Jinu. “Hey, come to the kitchen with me.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Why?”

“Strategy meeting,” she whispered, tugging him away.

In the kitchen, Zoey leaned against the counter, arms crossed like a coach. “Okay. I’ve cracked it. Rumi’s weakness.”

Jinu tilted his head. “She has a weakness?”

“Yes,” Zoey said, smirking. “It’s you.”

“…Me?”

“I saw it,” Zoey insisted. “Every time you talk to her, especially if you say something nice, she freezes for a split second. That’s all we need. You flirt, she flusters, we win.”

Jinu ran a hand through his hair. “Flirt? Like, during the match?”

“Yes. She can’t block a combo if she’s too busy blushing.”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure—”

Zoey clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me. This is war. And in war, you use every weapon you have.”

When they returned, Mira gave them a suspicious glance. “What were you two plotting?”

Zoey grinned innocently. “Oh, just deciding what flavor bubble tea we want.”

The match began. Rumi’s avatar faced off against Jinu’s in the first round. She was quick, her fingers flying over the buttons. But halfway through a heated exchange, Jinu spoke.

“Nice combo, Rumi,” he said smoothly. “Not as nice as your smile, though.”

Rumi’s thumb slipped. Her character took a heavy hit.

“What was that?” she said, her voice catching.

Jinu chuckled, not looking away from the screen. “Just giving credit where it’s due. You’re… kind of distracting.”

Her focus wavered again, another hit landed.

Zoey bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Ooh, what’s this? Rumi losing?”

Rumi gritted her teeth, trying to block, but Jinu leaned closer. “You know, your eyeliner’s perfect tonight. Matches your precision. Except I think I like you better when you’re smiling than when you’re scowling at me.”

Her cheeks turned pink. Mira noticed immediately.

“Rumi, what’s happening?!” Mira yelped.

“I—He’s—It’s nothing!” Rumi sputtered, fumbling her moves.

Zoey and Jinu’s team won that round handily. Zoey high-fived Jinu so hard their hands stung.

The next match was even worse for Rumi. Jinu turned up the charm—complimenting her focus, teasing her about how cute she looked when she was frustrated, even joking about taking her out for ice cream after “winning fair and square.”

“Jinu,” she said through clenched teeth, “stop talking.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to tell you how cool you look when you’re trying not to laugh,” he replied, eyes twinkling.

Mira finally caught on. “Wait… is this why we’re losing?” She gasped, pointing an accusing finger. “He’s sabotaging you!”

Zoey burst into laughter. “Oh, we’re just playing the game.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “Dirty play. Unfair advantage.”

“Hey,” Jinu said, feigning innocence, “I can’t help it if Rumi gets flustered.”

The final match of the set ended with Zoey and Jinu’s decisive victory. Zoey jumped up, doing a ridiculous victory dance that Jinu quickly joined in on.

“Teamwork, baby!” Zoey cheered, holding her hand up for another high-five.

“Teamwork,” Jinu agreed, smacking her palm.

They both collapsed onto the couch, laughing until they could barely breathe.

Mira crossed her arms, muttering. “Unbelievable.”

Rumi sat back on the beanbag, cheeks still faintly pink. “I feel like I just lost a game I should’ve won.”

“You did,” Mira said bluntly. “Because he was weaponizing romance.”

Rumi shot Jinu a look. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Jinu gave her an almost shy smile. “Maybe a little.”

After the others left to grab bubble tea, Jinu lingered behind while Rumi packed up the controllers.

“Hey,” he said softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry if I… messed with your game too much.”

Rumi arched an eyebrow. “Too much? You obliterated my focus.”

He chuckled sheepishly. “I guess I owe you a rematch. No flirting. Just fair play.”

She smirked. “And if I win?”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” he said without missing a beat.

Her heart skipped, but she played it cool. “And if you win?”

“Then… I still buy you dinner. But you have to admit I’m better at the game.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Deal.”

The next evening, they sat side by side at Rumi’s place, controllers in hand. No audience, no distractions—just the two of them.

This time, Jinu kept his mouth shut during matches, but between rounds, they laughed about their worst mistakes, teased each other over bad button timing, and shared snacks without thinking about it.

By the final round, Rumi won by the smallest possible margin. She raised her arms in triumph. “Yes! Justice!”

Jinu laughed, setting down his controller. “Guess that means I’m buying dinner.”

“You were going to anyway,” she said, nudging his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he admitted, smiling warmly. “But now I get to say it’s a victory celebration for you.”

That night, walking back from a cozy little ramen shop, Rumi realized something: maybe Zoey’s strategy hadn’t been entirely unfair. Because, distracting or not, Jinu had a way of making her want to play another round—both in games and, maybe, in life.