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Mira’s head hurts.
It always does after crying. It didn't help that she had woken up crying and launched out of bed so quickly that she nearly fell over, so the head rush she got from that only made her headache just about a thousand times worse. She doesn’t even know why she woke up on the verge of hyperventilating—a dream, she supposes, but still.
That only frustrates her more; Mira didn’t even have a choice in the matter, and having to wake up like that? Fucked up. It makes her more bitter and angry than she'd care to admit.
She’s looped around the kitchen table just about a thousand times, which she thinks is Rumi’s fault, given how prone Rumi is to that sort of thing. It doesn’t make Mira feel better, and it definitely doesn’t help her headache, but it keeps her from thinking too hard about whatever it is that got to her so badly in her dreams that it affected her in real life. Keeping busy helps.
Zoey’s voice echoes out in the back of her mind, reminders of her calling Mira a nurse shark springing up. Mira smiles a little, ducking her head as she keeps pacing. Zoey had called Rumi a tiger shark, which was almost offensive, since apparently nurse sharks are relatively docile, whereas tiger sharks are apparently a little more bold, so why does Rumi get to be bold and Mira has to be stuck with docile, but Zoey had been so persistent about it, and, well, Mira’s never been good at saying no to her.
Plus, Zoey was only really calling the both of them sharks due to their—apparent—inability to stay still. Something about how the both of them had to keep moving or else they’d keel over and die, which is totally not true for Mira, but for Rumi? Zoey was definitely spot on with her.
The memory helps soothe some of the frustration she feels. Mira had been tempted to leave the hanok altogether, to pull her woldo from the honmoon and run drills in the dead of night until she felt like a person again, but she knows how nervous Zoey gets when one of them suddenly disappears. Mira isn’t exactly better; the few times that she’s woken up only to find Rumi gone have always left her feeling sick, too nervous for her own good. She’s never had to worry about it with Zoey, who refuses to wake up until the sun is halfway in the sky.
So she sticks to the kitchen, looping around the table, counting her steps as she tries to walk the anger out of her body. It doesn’t work, not entirely, but Mira feels less and less bitter the longer she moves. She rolls her eyes when she realises that, wincing a second later, because her head still hurts. She distantly has the thought that she should get a glass of water, but Mira is quick to push it away in favour of continuing to move.
She just...doesn’t want to have to think. It’s been months since she cried, and she hates the fact that she cried in her sleep. It makes her feel ridiculous. It makes it worse that she doesn’t even remember what had made her cry in whatever nightmare she had been having. Not like she wants to remember, but maybe it would make her feel less stupid about waking up crying.
“Mira?”
Mira startles so hard she almost falls over, her hand shooting out to grab the table. She doubles over a second later, deflating once she processes the voice through her head, her body quickly realising that it doesn’t need to enter its own, self-proclaimed, fight or fight mode.
“Zoey,” Mira croaks back, managing to raise her head after a moment.
“Sorry,” Zoey offers, a sheepish grin visible on her face as she takes a step out from the hall, padding silently in the kitchen. Mira wonders when she picked up that habit; did she get it from Rumi, or from Celine? Probably Rumi, she thinks after a second later. “I thought I heard something, and...you know. Here we are.”
Mira winces, looking away. “Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”
“You’re fine,” Zoey quickly assures her, covering the last of the distance between them. Mira is hardly surprised when both of Zoey’s hands come to cup either side of her face, how Zoey peers up at her; she’s always been physically touchy, and Mira has never minded, not when it comes to Zoey. “What’s up with you, Mir?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Mira murmurs, not particularly wanting to get into the exact details of it all.
Zoey makes a soft noise, her thumb stroking along Mira’s cheekbone. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” Mira rasps, silently grateful for the way Zoey nods, how she doesn’t press. She’s not surprised—Zoey has always been good about that sort of thing, compassionate and sweet, always waiting for Mira to come to her instead of the other way around.
Mira doesn’t understand her most of the time. Not like that’s a bad thing, Zoey is just...nice. Really, really nice, and she’s always been nice, even when Mira was arguably mean to her back when they first met. It’s not like Mira was trying to be mean, but Zoey had been so different from anyone she had met, even Rumi, that she found it difficult to believe that Zoey was actually being sincere, and that she wasn’t trying to make Mira look like an idiot.
Zoey hums, seeming completely unbothered by Mira’s response. “Okay. You wanna hang out in my room? It’s still pretty early, and you already know that Rumi is going to wake us up at five in the morning, and we’re gonna have to, like, I don’t know,” Zoey mutters, “Scale the hanok, or cut down trees with just our hands, or spend the whole day doing backflips.”
Mira snorts, pressing the side of her face further into Zoey’s palm. “I did hear Celine say something about the forest getting a little too overgrown,” she teases, quietly laughing at the sour look that immediately crosses Zoey’s face, like Mira has personally offended her by saying those words.
“Don’t even start,” Zoey says, but the soft smile stretched out across her face is enough to counteract the faux-irritation on her voice. “So...? Is that a yes to a sleepover with my bestest friend ever? ‘Cause we still haven’t done that yet, and, honestly, I’m starting to think you hate me.”
“What?” Mira laughs, squinting a little now. “You’re ridiculous. It’s not my fault that you like to pass out super early and—”
“I do not!” Zoey giggles, squeezing Mira’s face, sticking out her tongue. “You take naps all day! Don’t think that I haven’t picked up on your mid-spar naps, babe. You’re not good at hiding it, hate to break it to you.”
Mira rolls her eyes, wincing again, because, okay, it still hurts, maybe she should get that through her head by now. “Whatever. I don’t do that,” she says, ignoring the way that Zoey squints right back at her, clearly disbelieving. “Do you...want me to—”
“Yes!” Zoey interrupts, giving her a look. “Yes, Mira, obviously I want you to hang out with me. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, you know that. Do you wanna grab your own, like, blankets and stuff? You can sleep in the bed with me, if you want, I mean, you don’t have to, but you totally can, or I can take the floor, or whatever. But I’m apparently a blanket hog, and I can’t help whatever atrocities I commit in my sleep, so, y’know. Warning you now.”
Mira grins, feeling a little dizzy from the rush of Zoey’s words. “I’m fine with sharing. I’m taller than you, though. I’ll fight back.”
Zoey giggles again, her hands moving from Mira’s face down to her hands, tugging her away from the kitchen and into the hallway. “Blankets? Pillows?” Zoey whispers, squeezing her hand softly.
Mira squeezes her hand back. She detangles herself from Zoey once they’re stopped in front of her door, and Mira slinks back into her bedroom for all of thirty seconds to tuck a few blankets under her arm. She grabs her water bottle for good measure, since her head still sort of hurts, and she doesn’t want to have to deal with that any longer than she already has.
She moves back into the hall, her hand immediately being captured by Zoey again; it makes her warm in a way nothing else ever has, her heart steadily starting to beat faster than it really has any right to. Mira lets herself get dragged the rest of the way into Zoey’s room, laughing when Zoey gives her a little shove toward the bed as she goes to shut the door.
Mira tosses her blankets onto the bed, taking a quick swig from her water bottle before she sets that on Zoey’s—mostly—emtpy nightstand to the left of her bed, rather than the full one on the right. Mira has always liked Zoey’s room. It’s brimming with things, and all of it screams Zoey. All the little knick-knacks, her wide array of coloured pens that seemingly don’t have an actual home, the dozens of scattered stuffed animals in the closet, all of her hundreds and hundreds of notebooks sprawled out along her floor. It’s always calmed Mira’s mind to be here.
“Get comfy, babe,” Zoey gently calls over her shoulder, twisting to face Mira again a second later. “I literally don’t care how we sleep. I’ll work around you.”
Mira grins, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and send another wave of splitting pain through her head. “Uh-huh. ‘Work around’, sure, Zo.”
Zoey gives her another shove, one that actually sends Mira toppling onto her bed. It’s all she can do to keep herself from laughing at the ridiculous, wide grin Zoey shoots her way. She’s given all of three seconds to prepare before Zoey is crawling into bed with her, and this time Mira does laugh, tipping her head back as she grins so hard it makes her face hurt.
“I thought you said—?”
“You’re taking too long!” Zoey teases, planting a hand on her chest, shoving Mira fully back. Mira scoffs, though the fight is knocked right out of her body when Zoey comes to lay down directly beside her, with a good amount of space in between them. “Get comfortable, Mir. You look like you’re preparing to get into, like, a coffin. Do you sleep like that? Like...coffin-pose?”
Mira scoffs again, but she’s sure it hardly comes across given how hard she’s smiling. “You literally have given me no time to move, Zoey,” Mira helpfully reminds her, shifting so she’s facing the door; she’s never liked having her back to any door, even here in the hanok. Habit, or whatever. “There. Comfortable. Exceedingly comfortable. Your bed is great, Zo. Are you happy?”
Mira feels like the air has been punched out of her lungs when she feels Zoey’s arms snake around her, one of Zoey’s legs hooking on top of her own, with Zoey’s head coming to settle against her shoulder, breath warm against Mira’s ear when she murmurs, “Yup. This is the best day of my life, actually.”
“Yeah?” Mira asks, her voice coming out far too shaky.
“Uh-huh,” Zoey agrees, without a beat of hesitation. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Mira whispers, feeling her breath hitch in her throat.
She’s never been held like this before. Mira has never wanted that sort of thing before, and has always rolled her eyes and turned her nose up at the idea of it. She’s always been perfectly content to limit any and all physical contact—until Zoey, of course—but this is suddenly...almost overwhelming. Zoey’s hold on her is gentle but firm, and Mira knows she could wriggle out if she wanted to, or she could just say something and Zoey would move without a second of hesitation, but she doesn’t want any of that. Mira thinks she could stay like this for the rest of her life.
It’s almost ridiculous how quickly the tension bleeds out of her, as if it was never even there in the first place. Mira can feel herself completely deflating, pushing back into Zoey’s hold, feeling her heart pound louder in her chest when Zoey shifts to hold her even tighter than she already had been.
She draws in a slow breath, quietly melting back into Zoey until they’re pretty much melded together. Mira can hear Zoey’s breathless laughter from behind her, ignoring the way that makes her heart pound even harder.
After a second, Mira quietly whispers, “Shouldn’t this—like...be the other way around? I’m...taller.”
“So?” Zoey asks, and Mira can hear the amusement in her voice. “I wanted to. I got here first. Do you want to move?”
“No,” Mira says, maybe a little too quickly, but whatever. Zoey’s already got her in her grasp, she’s already been ensnared, it’s not like it’s exactly a secret that she...likes this, as embarrassing as it is to have to admit. Zoey is painfully good at reading people, and Mira is hardly free from that constant scrutiny.
Zoey makes a pleased noise, one that only makes Mira’s face burn hotter. “Then there’s no problem, huh, babe?”
Mira is going to die. Zoey has to know what she’s doing, because Zoey has never not done anything intentionally, especially not when it comes to something like this. Mira squeezes her eyes shut, as tight as she can manage, and lets out a slow breath, trying to get her heart under control. “Goodnight, Zoey.”
Zoey giggles, squeezing her tighter. “Goodnight, Mira.”
It takes Mira an embarrassingly long time to fall asleep, too focused on trying to even out her heartbeat so Zoey doesn’t notice—more than she probably already has.
When she does finally manage, her last thoughts are filled with the idea of being warm and safe and content, and how Zoey has managed to do all of that for her without even trying.
Mira’s last real thought quietly whispers something about love and adoration, but she’s asleep before it can take hold.
(More than it already has.)