Archive of Our Own

Zoey meets Derpy's blank, questioning gaze in the mirror as she puts on her lip gloss. At least as much as she can, given the way his eyes are also staring at opposite walls.

"Tonight's the night," she says, and he chuffs, urging her onward. "Seriously! This night doesn't end until I tell them and we're kissing under the mistletoe."

Fifteen words, strung together to form one sentence. Thrown together in some particular order, said without any real thought or care. Fifteen words Zoey will come to regret. Or will she? When she looks back on this moment later—much later, she's still trying to reconcile it all—she'll pinpoint those words as the moment everything fell apart.

Christmas in Korea was different. It wasn't a bad different, it was just different. Somehow it was both more and less, which was something Zoey could absolutely relate to.

Her first year in Korea was…interesting, to say the least. Definitely a learning curve.

"What's this?" The furrow between Rumi's brow was adorable as she accepted the small box from Zoey. It was hastily wrapped in an ugly, large patterned tree print, but it was the only paper Zoey had found last minute.

Mira's gift wasn't even wrapped, just had a sloppily tied red bow attached to it. Mira didn't seem to mind, though, as she took it delicately with one of her elegant hands and held it up to examine it, a mix of curiosity and tenderness in her dark eyes.

"It's Christmas," Zoey had said by way of explanation, which only made the furrow between Rumi's brows deepen with her confusion. "Well, Christmas Eve," she started to explain. "And I know this whole thing is new and we're only just getting to know each other but you guys are important to me and I wanted to–to—."

While Zoey had been rambling, Rumi's face had gone from confusion to shock, turning nearly the same shade of pink as Mira's hair. An indelicate bark of laughter from Mira and Rumi's strangled expression derailed Zoey's train of thought immediately.

"Should I—," Zoey had that feeling again, the one where she was being too much. "Should I not have?" Her voice is small and she stumbles over herself in the rush of words that leave her mouth. "I mean, it's OK if you guys didn't get me anything! I wasn't expecting, that is to say, I didn't mean to imply! It's just that I…but totally, like, not big deal if….I just—I just thought…" She can feel the slight sting of tears at the corners of her eyes as she trails off, looking anywhere but at Rumi and Mira for fear of having messed something up. Again.

Rumi shakes herself from her shock and places a hand on Zoey's shoulder while Mira reaches out, fingers curling under Zoey's chin, tugging her face upward to meet her eyes. The look on Mira's face is impossibly soft while Rumi looks at Zoey with something close to wonder, her fingers squeezing just the slightest bit in a gesture meant to reassure.

"Whoa, hey, wait!" Mira is the first to speak and Zoey catches herself holding her breath. "I wasn't laughing at you! Did you see Rumi's face??" There's an undignified huff followed by hey! Mira shoots Rumi a look, a smile overtaking her features once again. "Dude, seriously, you should have—" Mira cuts herself off. "I would never laugh at you, Zoey. I have a feeling—tell us about Christmas in America."

That was how Zoey had learned about her faux-pas, had learned Christmas was more a holiday for couples in Korea, which would explain Rumi's choking.

But the adorable little smile on Mira's face when Zoey had given her that tiny stuffed pink cat and the slight wobble of Rumi's lower lip when she opened the purple teddy bear purse charm was worth any and all embarrassment she had endured at the cost of culture gap. And if that night Mira had thrown together the worst approximation of American hamburgers to ever grace Zoey's palette as a thank you, well, it was one of Zoey's favorite and most cherished memories.

Her second Christmas in Korea, Zoey tears up a little when there are very pointedly presents for her beneath the tree, meticulously wrapped, Mira's sharp Hangul contrasting starkly to Rumi's careful script. Mira makes hamburgers once more and a tradition is born.

By Zoey's third Christmas, she becomes a little more emboldened—and when Zoey says she becomes more emboldened, it really means she becomes an absolute menace.

"What do you guys think?" Her shoes squeak on the dining table and Rumi cringes. Mira smirks, eyebrow arched as she watches Zoey tread to the edge before jumping down.

They all eye the greenery hanging from a light fixture. Rumi's eyes dart around the penthouse, catching on all the other sprigs within her line of sight. Mira glares up at one quite obviously placed in the entryway, lips twitching. Zoey stares at the corner of her mouth, waiting to see what direction it turns.

Zoey loves a little mischief, so it comes as a surprise to absolutely no one that she particularly loves mistletoe.

It's mostly innocent, the wonder being what Zoey really loved. She'd watch her parents bickering—sometimes heated, sometimes not—who would immediately stop and share a peck when they found themselves under the ugly little sprig of leaves. Growing up, Zoey had thought it was magic, this stupid little plant that could stop her parents arguing—even if just momentarily.

Mira's lips finally quirk upward. "I think whoever spikes the punch every year should probably pour lightly." She reaches out, ruffling Zoey's hair. Zoey tries to dodge, but Mira's reach is so long it's bullshit. Zoey switches tactics and playfully shoves her instead.

Rumi is frowning when she joins them, throwing her arms over both their shoulders. "You spike the punch, Mira, and you should probably not do it at all this year."

Zoey hears something that sounds suspiciously like buzzkill come from Mira and she has to hide her snort behind a cough.

"Unless you wanna be in a veritable mistletoe minefield, locked in a rum-punched kiss with some random Idol?"

"Only if it's you, babe," Mira deadpans, throwing a wink at Rumi and this time Zoey is too startled to even try to hide her laugh.

Huntr/x manages to navigate the PR nightmare that was their mistletoe laden penthouse. Bobby, however, is not so lucky. Really, it's his own fault, given that the man never stops working, but Zoey feels for him. He was glued to his phone, wandering around with no real aim or destination as he posts photos to the official Huntr/x account when he pauses next to Celine, blissfully unaware of the fact he'd planted himself firmly in a fiasco.

It's only when the silence of the room becomes deafening that Bobby looks up from the tiny screen in his hands, the stunned glances of party-goers bouncing between him, a stone-faced Celine, and the ugly spring of greenery they're both standing under. Together. It is certainly not difficult to tell what Bobby is thinking, his emotions written clearly on his face as it turns about sixteen different shades of red, frozen from panic.

(Bobby reveals later that he was worried if he kissed Celine, even platonically on the cheek, that it would be a huge HR thing. Would he get fired for kissing the boss under the mistletoe? Would he get fired if he didn't kiss her? Bobby is pretty firmly seated in the homosexual persuasion and it's an open secret that Celine was in love with Mi-yeong…could they exchange a brief brushing of lips and laugh about this in a very distant future? Would it result in mandatory sexual harassment training?)

Unexpectedly, Celine just sort of smirks before picking Bobby up by his lapels—his feet kicking and dangling a full foot off the ground from their height difference—and lays the most obnoxiously loud, wet, smacking kiss against his lips that lasts a full fourteen seconds (Mira filmed it).

Suddenly, all those NDAs Bobby made everyone sign as part of working at Sunlight Entertainment became something to be thankful for because holy fuck. Bobby would be ruined and no one would ever take Celine seriously again if this ever got out.

The girls take it upon themselves to confiscate all the guests phones, destroying any and all picture or video evidence of the occurrence. The staff of Sunlight Entertainment received two Christmas bonuses that year, one just not exactly in the way anyone had thought.

If a photo makes its way out and onto their fireplace every Christmas amongst other silly moments and memories—Mira's smile equal parts mischief and love, Celine's eye twitching slightly, and Bobby's face burning—well, no one dares to say anything about it.

By Zoey's fourth Christmas with Huntr/x, mistletoe is banned.

Somehow, for her fifth Christmas, Zoey has managed to renegotiate the terms of the mistletoe clause. Four bunches of the stuff were to be allowed in well lit, obvious areas. Zoey had a not so secret fifth sprig that hung in her bedroom doorway, mostly just for fun, but also to tease Rumi and Mira that she couldn't sleep unless they kissed her goodnight. They almost always obliged, both bending to kiss her on opposite cheeks together, Zoey grinning so wide her dimples ached.

And maybe that's where this all really starts: with the stupid fucking mistletoe.

Zoey wakes up happy. It's easy to wake up happy when you're Zoey: famed lyricist, internationally renowned pop star, one third of Huntr/x, she could go on. She had everything a girl could want and more. Well, almost everything. Her Christmas list did include the two hottest women on the planet who also happened to be internationally renowned pop stars and made up the other two thirds of Huntr/x. But that was neither here nor there.

It's Christmas Eve and Zoey wakes up happy. Scratch that. Zoey wakes up fucking ecstatic.

Christmas time had always been something magical for Zoey: the cheer, the traditions, the way people somehow became nicer. What it really meant for Zoey was a warmth she missed in the rest of her day to day, her family coming together and her parents being civil. That was really the miracle.

But there was something else about this time of year, too, that Zoey just loved. It was the way that nothing seemed impossible—like if you just believed hard enough, wanted something bad enough—anything could happen.

"Zoey!"

Zoey startles, moves to sit up, tangles herself in her sheets, and falls face-first onto the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"Zoey?"

"I'm fine, I'm fi—WHOA!" She was not fine. In her haste to stand, the sheets tangle tighter around her legs, sending her sprawling once more. "Owww…"

Mira cracks the door to the bedroom open, trying and failing to hide the grin on her face with Rumi not very far behind, also trying her best not to smile. Zoey flops over onto her back and flings her comforter off to the side, blowing her bangs out of her face before grinning up at the other two. Currently they're both still clad in pajamas, faces bare, and hair rumpled with sleep. Zoey admires how soft they look, how different from the way the rest of the world sees them. Rumi is stunningly beautiful and Mira is their visual for a reason, but in these private moments reserved just for them? They're absolutely breathtaking.

"Ready to get this party started?" It's difficult to contain her excitement. Huntr/x's Christmas party is something they've been doing since they debuted and it's one of Zoey's favorite things in the entire world. Mostly, it's just an excuse to hang out in a relaxed setting with other Idols and no worries about paparazzi or fan service, but other times it's an excuse to be human.

Maybe that's a poor choice of words, given recent events, but two things could be true at once.

One year they had planned for a cocktail party. Zoey had been incredibly happy for the opportunity to oogle her girls in shorter dresses with daring necklines, but everyone had been astounded when Bobby showed up to the party in full drag. Another year, Zoey dressed up in a bright red suit, covered in Christmas lights. Mira insisted if she ever wore it again, she'd burn it while Zoey was still wearing it. She's (mostly) sure Mira had been joking, but she absolutely was not brave enough to test the theory any time soon. Instead, the suit hangs hidden in the back of her closet, waiting for the right moment.

This year, they opted for more cozy and casual wear. Rumi was still adjusting to being open with her patterns—therapy had gone a long way—but her urge to cover up was still strong. Zoey just wants Rumi to be comfortable: fully covered, fully uncovered, whatever; Zoey knows she'd look stunning in all scenarios. They had tossed around the idea of an ugly sweater party, but that thought was quickly nixed on the grounds that Mira was "too pretty for an ugly sweater." Zoey had to agree, yet she was pretty certain Mira would look amazing in anything—or nothing, but that was an inside thought.

There's a soft chuckle from the doorway and oh—Zoey was distracted again. Oops.

"What?" She could face-palm for her eloquence. Internationally renowned pop star with an eleven syllable per second rap speed and dozens of writing awards under her belt, yet she's reduced to witless, monosyllabic responses in the face of two pretty girls.

"I said we should probably start decorating," Rumi's smile is fond when she reaches a hand out to pull Zoey from the floor.

"Why?" Mira shoots a glance at Rumi. "I thought you were standing in for the Christmas tree this year."

Rumi gasps in mock outrage and throws the nearest item within reach at Mira: a sock that happens to be draped over Zoey's bedside lamp. She's not exactly sure how it got there, but unsurprisingly, it turns out to be a very poor projectile. Snorting, Zoey subtley positions herself just behind Mira in the doorway.

"She has a point, Rumi. Your patterns flicker so prettily," a grin stretches wide across Zoey's face that she knows could only be described as shit eating.

"Hey!"

"You're like a one woman light show," Mira nods in agreement, her own shit eating grin spreading to match Zoey's. Her hand comes up, subtle but just enough to put herself between their leader and macknae. Zoey melts a little at the gesture, tugging on Mira's shirt to pull them a step backward, anticipation building as Rumi stalks forward, her eyes deadly and smile predatory.

The sparkle of humor in Mira's eyes nearly causes Zoey to stumble, her gaze dipping to the slight curl of soft lips as she continues to rib Rumi. "Much better than any Christmas lights I've ever seen!" Zoey squeaks and ducks behind Mira's shoulder when another sock flies through the air.

You know what! is the only warning they get before Rumi is chasing them down the hallway, cackling with glee.

Zoey meets Derpy's blank, questioning gaze in the mirror as she puts on her lip gloss. At least as much as she can, given the way his eyes also seem to stare at opposite walls.

"Tonight's the night," she says, and he chuffs, urging her onward. "Seriously! This night doesn't end until I tell them and we're kissing under the mistletoe." Derpy offers a slow blink and she assumes it's in support. "I know, I know!" Zoey groans. "I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time! Seriously!"

"Zoey!" Rumi's voice floats to her through the door and she can't help the smile that slides onto her face. "You ready?"

"For you? Always," she breathes then she calls back, "just a sec! I just gotta grab my sweater!"

"Not the Le Tits Now! one!" Mira's voice echoes from somewhere in the penthouse and Zoey sniggers. That was exactly the sweater she had planned to wear had they not already agreed to wear somewhat matching sweaters. Zoey's had trees printed along the front, Rumi's had snowflakes, and Mira's was printed with "Ho, Ho, Ho!" to match her Santa hat.

Zoey adjusts the bows tied around her buns and glances back at Derpy. "I'm telling them." Derpy groans and huffs as he stretches out, laying his head on his gigantic paws. "You can count on it."

Zoey opens her door and makes her way down the hallway, startling when Rumi's door flies open. She watches her step into the open shouting, "Heels! Nails! Blade! Mascara!"

Mira's door is next, joining in, "fit check for my napalm era!"

"Mira, Mira on my phone," Zoey sings, looking them both up and down. "Who's the baddest?"

"Us," Mira deadpans.

"Hello!" Rumi adds with a giggle.

Fuck, Zoey loves them.

It's easy to laugh with them, easy to feel like she belongs. It's so, so easy to love them. It's that feeling that---that easiness---that propels her forward, causes her to sling her arms over their shoulders and pull them down the hall into their living room.

"Come on! That joke is golden," the smile on Rumi's face is infectious and Zoey can't breathe for its radiance.

"Gonna be, gonna be golden?" Mira snorts and Zoey once again finds herself captivated by this side of her only they're privy to.

"You gonna show me how it's done, done, done?" Zoey teases.

"I don't think you're ready for the takedown." A hand pinches at Zoey's waist and Rumi looks into the corner innocently before Mira grabs her and they proceed to tickle her mercilessly, squishing her between them in the process.

"Zoey!"

Zoey startles, moves to sit up, tangles herself in her sheets, and falls face-first onto the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"Zoey?"

"I'm fine, I'm fi—WHOA!" She was not fine. In her haste to stand, the sheets tangle tighter around her legs and send her sprawling once more. "Owww…"

Mira cracks the door open. "You OK?" Her tone is level but Zoey can hear the concern bleed through.

Rubbing her head, Zoey stands up, peeking through her fingers at Mira. Rumi stands slightly behind her, eyes wide and assessing. "Yeah, I'm good. What time is it?" It's not a particularly well kept secret that Zoey tends to sleep late, especially after a marathon writing session or plastering a pleasant smile to her face for the sake of company. "Is it time for presents already?"

Rumi and Mira exchange a look and Zoey can't quite parse out what it means. "What? Do I have drool on my face?" She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, just in case.

The two of them step forward into her room, Mira's hand coming to rest on her shoulder, ducking to check her eyes. Rumi's hand settles against her forehead like she's checking for a fever. "You feeling OK?"

"What? Yeah, I just told you guys, I'm fine. Let me get some coffee and we can attack the tree. I'm excited to show you what Santa has in his sack for you this year." Now Mira and Rumi look really worried. And confused. Which confuses Zoey. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We need to decorate," Mira says slowly, eyes bouncing between her own and Rumi reaches up to press her hand to Zoey's forehead again. Batting the hand away, Zoey turns to look at Rumi, scrunching her nose when Rumi keeps trying to press her fingers against her. Normally Zoey wouldn't complain, but the two of them were acting...weird.

"We decorated yesterday. Unless Rumi decided to be the tree today? We could wrap you up in tinsel, maybe hang some ornaments from your ears…I bet you'll look great with a star on your head."

There's a startled bark of laughter from Mira and Rumi's patterns flicker with embarrassment.

"Seriously, who needs Christmas lights with Rumi around?" Mira's tone is deep and warm with teasing. Rumi turns to gape at her momentarily but thins her lips, sealing whatever retort she was about to make inside. Instead, she focuses her attention back on Zoey.

"We need to decorate for the Christmas party. You know, that thing we've been doing every year since we debuted?" The words Rumi is saying have meaning. The words she's saying make sense in the specific order she's saying them in. But for some reason, they are not translating correctly in Zoey's brain. Maybe she forgot how to speak Korean overnight. Maybe—

Her eyes narrow and she folds her arms, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Are you guys fucking with me?"

"What? Why would we—aish..." Rumi pinches the bridge of her nose and starts muttering. "Jinjja jangnanhanya? Zoey, get dressed, please. Mira, can you make some coffee...?" Rumi's eyes scan her face again. "Strong coffee." Mira salutes and the two of them disappear, leaving her alone to wonder what the fuck just happened.

Zoey's slippered feet scuff softly on the carpet as she meanders into the kitchen. She finds herself leaning over the counter, fingers laced and forearms pressed against it while she watches Mira, who slides a cup across the bar and directly into her hand. Zoey can't help the happy hum that escapes her when she takes her first sip. Mira shows her love for them in subtle ways: a hand on the corner of a shelf or a table to keep them from bumping their heads, walking on the sidewalk closest to the street, a perfect cup of coffee. It was so easy to fall in love with Mira's beauty; it was even easier to fall in love with Mira the person. Zoey doesn't miss the way her eyes soften while she's watching her take another sip, the way her shoulders relax in response to Zoey's own dropping in relief.

Rumi wanders in then, box of decorations in hand, and begins to work, Christmas carols sang quietly under her breath. It's only while Zoey is watching Rumi's quick and efficient movements that she realizes the penthouse is bare. No tree, no lights, no tinsel.

No mistletoe.

Zoey doesn't remember cleaning up last night. Why would they have, anyway? They usually leave the tree up for a few days after Christmas, depending on their schedule. Once, they'd left it up until after the new year. Bobby had threatened to hire someone to do it for them; they threatened to send him on a three week vacation.

They dig into the box and work peacefully together, occasionally humming along to Christmas carol playing from one of their phones.

"Meli keuliseumaseu," the DJ greets. "Eum, keuliseumaseu ibeuneyo."

Zoey pauses at that, confused. She checks her phone, then checks it again. There's the date, right there.

24/12.

It's Christmas Eve.

Zoey meets Derpy's blank, questioning gaze in the mirror as she puts on her lip gloss. Well...at least as much as she can, since he also seems to be staring at opposite walls.

"I don't get it either, dude. I must have dreamed yesterday." Derpy chuffs, shaking his head a little. "So…tonight." Sussie swoops down from somewhere in her room and lands on her vanity, a dramatic sigh escaping from his beak. "Seriously! This night doesn't end until I tell them and we're kissing under the mistletoe!" Zoey has never seen a bird roll its eyes before, but Sussie definitely does. All six of them.

The words feel vaguely familiar in the way they fall from her mouth.

"Zoey!" Mira's voice echoes to her from somewhere in the penthouse. "You ready?"

"For you? Always," she breathes before she actually answers. "Just a sec! Grabbing my sweater!"

"Not the Le Tits Now! one!" Rumi calls and Zoey snorts. That was exactly the sweater she would have worn if they hadn't planned to wear sweaters that somewhat matched. The trees stitched along the front of Zoey's sweater fit with the bows she had tied around her buns. Rumi planned to wear reindeer antlers with her snowflake sweater, and Mira was going to wear a Santa hat. Something about matching the "Ho, Ho, Ho!" on hers.

Zoey makes a quick adjustment and glances back at Sussie perched on her mirror, Derpy stretching out and laying his gigantic head on his equally gigantic paws. "I'm telling them."

"We kill it, like really. You want it? OK," Zoey sings, stepping out of her room to head to the living room.

Mira's door slams open and Zoey jumps. "That's my line!" Mira's cackle is mirthful when she catches Zoey's startled expression, but she apologizes anyway.

Rumi's door swings open then, pout on her face. "I had the best joke planned, but Zoey beat me to it."

Zoey can't help but wiggle her eyebrows at the two of them. "Was it gonna be, gonna be golden," she teases and Rumi's mouth drops open in shock. "That's how it's done, done, done!"

"Yo!" Mira hides her smile behind one hand, the other punching the air. "Look out, ladies and gentlemen! Our maknae is cute and savage!" Zoey's dimples begin to ache as the three of them giggle, walking arm and down the hallway.

"Zoey!"

Zoey startles, sits bolt upright, tangling herself in her sheets and falling face-first onto the floor in the process.

"Zoey?"

"Really? Again? GoddamAAAYYAAGGGHHH!!!" In her haste to stand, the sheets tangle tighter around her legs and send her sprawling once more. "FUCK!"

The door flies off its hinges, Mira and Rumi charging in with weapons drawn. Zoey holds one hand up to stop them while the other rubs at her forehead that kissed her floor for the second time in as many minutes.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry to scare you." Their weapons dissipate back into the Honmoon, the two of them crouching down to help Zoey to her feet. "Thanks. Ready for presents?"

Mira and Rumi share a glance over Zoey's shoulder before looking down at her. "No babo ya? Or did you knock yourself into tomorrow?" Mira's voice is teasing but Zoey can hear the concern underneath.

Zoey feels her face do something without her permission and Rumi doesn't even bother to hide her worry when she sees it.

"I think she might have concussed herself," Rumi is muttering, pulling Zoey closer to check her eyes. Mira nods silently next to her, fingers moving gently over her head to feel for bumps. Zoey fights the urge to let her eyes flutter but finds herself leaning into the touch anyway.

They've definitely got to be fucking with her this time.

"Meli keuliseumaseu," the DJ greets. "Eum, keuliseumaseu ibeuneyo."

Zoey pauses, cup halfway to her lips, looks around. No tree. No lights. No mistletoe.

She checks her phone, then checks it again. There's the date, right in front of her.

24/12.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Do you ever have deja vu?" The guests have all left and the three of them are sprawled on the couch, drinking champagne.

"I don't think so," Mira starts, "but I could ask the chef."

Rumi snorts next to her and Zoey allows herself to smile. "I love that you're making Groundhog Day jokes, but can I be serious with you for a minute?"

"I don't know…can you be?" Zoey loves when Mira teases her but she's feeling a little vulnerable at the moment.

"I mean it," she whispers. "This deja vu is making me crazy."

Gentle fingers trace the lines of her palm, a soothing touch from Rumi. "I'm sure everything will look better tomorrow."

Something in Zoey snaps at that. "What if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't one today!" Rumi and Mira try to say something, anything, but Zoey doesn't give them the chance. She storms out onto the balcony instead, slamming the doors shut behind her.

Arms folded across the railing, Zoey looks over the edge of the balcony and debates, well, everything: her shortcomings, her failures, her tendency to be too much. If tonight had proven anything, it was that she was too much. She's not sure how long she's been out here, but the cold is starting to get to her. Snow on Christmas in Seoul is rare but Zoey watches as fat flakes flutter down to blanket the city below.

The sound of the door opening behind her hits her ears a second before Mira quietly clears her throat.

"Did you two play gawi, bawi, bo to decide who has to deal with me?" Zoey's tone is bitter but Mira doesn't call her on it. She hears the spark of a lighter and the smell of smoke reaches her nose. She turns her face slightly and catches Mira's profile, cigarette in her mouth.

It might not necessarily surprise the fans to know that Mira smokes. On occasion. It's actually pretty infrequent these days. It also helps that every time Zoey or Rumi finds her secret pack, they throw it out.

Actually, what would surprise the fans is the fact that Zoey smokes. Or did. Young, cute, innocent maknae Zoey. Growing up in California can do weird things to a person.

Zoey reaches out, removing the cigarette from Mira's lips with delicate fingers and pulling in a drag of her own. The smoke is blown out in a slow, steady stream under the careful gaze of Mira before Zoey flicks the cigarette out and over the railing. Together they watch it sail away into the night air, its orange ember fading away with gravity. Zoey leans her arms over the rail again and makes a mental note to find and dispose of Mira's pack tomorrow. Today? Whatever.

"You know I love you, right?" Mira asks, her eyebrows slightly furrowed upward as she studies Zoey.

Obviously Zoey knows that, of course she does. She knows that just as surely as she knows she loves Mira with her whole being. So she says so, turning away to head inside.

"But…?" Mira prompts, voice uncharacteristically fragile.

Hand on the doorknob, Zoey feels her shoulders creep up to meet her ears and tries to play it off as a shrug. If Mira notices, she's polite enough not to say anything. Zoey sighs—she can't help it—her eyes cast down, avoiding the questioning gaze of Mira's reflection.

"But you mean it different than I do," she says, is proud when her voice doesn't shake. She doesn't wait for an answer, instead, carrying herself inside and away from the hurt unfurling in her chest. If Zoey had looked up, had been listening, she might have heard the way Mira's breath catches, might have noticed the longing stare from Mira's reflection as it follows Zoey's movements, might have seen the slump to Mira's shoulders as she watches her walk away.

But Zoey doesn't notice any of that, too caught up in her own her head as she carries herself to bed—cold, dejected, and alone.

Zoey meets Derpy's blank, questioning gaze in the mirror, at least as much as she can, given the way his eyes stare at opposite facing walls.

She checks her phone, checks it again. There's the date, right at the top.

24/12.

It's Christmas Eve.

Again.

Rumi holds her hands up, eyes wide. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean you're 'stuck in a loop'?"

"I don't know!" It comes out more whiny than Zoey means, but she's already been through this eight times and she's tired of explaining it. "Maybe I pissed off Krampus or something. Quick! Mira! Tell me everything you know about Krampus!"

"What? Why would I know anything about Krampus?" Her tone is equal parts confusion and irritation, eyes squinting at Zoey as she stares her down.

"Well, I mean…you're Russian, right? Isn't Krampus a Russian thing?"

"How should I know! I'm not Russian…that was a rumor made up by one of our fans!"

"Oh," Zoey's shoulders slump. "Yeah, I remember that now."

"Also, he's Eastern European," Rumi throws out a casual shrug when Mira and Zoey turn to stare at her. She taps her finger to her chin in thought. "Maybe it's a Christmas Carol thing?"

"No," Mira's interruption is sharp, but her tone isn't. "Zoey's like the most selfless person, ever. What? You are!"

Zoey can feel the incredulity on her face but chooses not to argue. "I haven't had any ghost of Christmas past mother fuckers show up in any of my loops, so I don't think that's it…"

"Maybe we should consider it's something to do with Gwi-ma?" Rumi might have a point, but Mira is quick to shut that down.

"With what power? We basically made that guy explode after you sliced him in half. I doubt if there's any flame left of him large enough to warm the balls on a cricket, much less pull off something like this."

"Crickets don't have balls," the correction is instinctual while Zoey paces in thought.

Mira scoffs, though not unkindly. "You know what I mean, Zoey."

"Wait," Rumi snaps her head up in horror, a sharp gasp escaping her. "How many times have you told us this?"

Zoey waves her off, "I lost count."

"You lost—you lost count!?" Zoey was unaware Mira's voice could even reach that register. She's slightly afraid for the champagne flutes lining the counter top.

"Zoey," Rumi's voice is hesitant but curious. Zoey ticks an eyebrow, signaling Rumi to continue. "Why is there a bow on your middle and ring fingers?"

"Oh," Zoey looks down at her own fingers and a mischievous smile touches her lips. "That's your and Mira's Christmas present this year."

Rumi makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

Mira spits champagne across the living room.

Zoey mentally high-fives herself.

"Zoey?" Gentle fingers run through her hair and Rumi whispers into the darkness. "You ready?"

God, she was tired. So, so tired. Zoey pulls her pillow over her face and screams.

"Zoey!"

Zoey startles, flying upwards and tangling herself in her sheets, causing her to fall face-first onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Zoey?"

"I'm fine, I'm fi—FUCK!" She was not fine. In her haste to stand, the sheets tangled tighter around her legs, sending her sprawling once more. "Ugh…" Zoey doesn't even try to move from her pile of shame, forehead thudding against the floor in a rhythm she's pretty sure is morse code for fuck my life. God, this was getting old.

Mira lets herself in silently, pulls her from the floor and rubs her back, taking her into the kitchen where she'd already made very, very strong coffee.

Zoey takes a grateful sip and sighs happily into the cup. At least Mira's barista skills were consistent.

"Meli keuliseumaseu," the DJ greets. "Eum, keuliseumaseu ibeuneyo."

"Hey," it was whispered, hesitant, as if Mira were afraid of waking her if she were already asleep. "We need to get ready soon." The low tones that reach Zoey's ears have the opposite effect, causing her to cuddle closer into the softness of Mira's hoodie.

"Mmm…no." There's a soft chuckle from above while fingers gently twist into her hair. "Too comfy."

"Don't you dare go to sleep," Rumi warns, voice echoing from the kitchen. Zoey can practically hear Mira's eye roll when her fingers pause their ministrations.

"Jus' a little nappy nap," she pleads. "A snappetizer, if you will." Mira snorts and Zoey grins, still refusing to open her eyes.

"No," Rumi is also laughing, but she flops down on the couch beside them, arm coming to rest behind Mira and fingers tangling with Zoey's.

It's snowing. Zoey knows it's snowing because Rumi grabs her by the wrist and pulls her up the stairs to the rooftop so they can catch snowflakes on their tongues.

It's silly and wonderful and so perfectly Rumi that Zoey might weep from happiness.

This version of Rumi belongs only to Mira and Zoey. The shy, playful person who steals away from parties to dance in the dark among swirling snowflakes.

It would be so easy to fall in love with Rumi's Idol persona. It was so much easier to fall in love with this Rumi, her Rumi.

And Zoey does, every day just a little bit more.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas, this is all I'm asking for!" Zoey's voice rings out, carrying throughout the penthouse as she descends down the stairs.

Mira's jaw drops open and Rumi's eyes bug.

"Are you drunk?" Rumi gasps.

Zoey winks at her. "On the spirit of Christmas!"

"On the spirit of soju," Mira stage whispers, her eyes following Zoey who has continued her journey, singing once more into the bottle she holds in one hand.

"I just wanna see my babies, standing right outside my door!" Zoey has made it to the coffee table now, wobbling slightly as she steps up on it. "I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know" she continues, gaining momentum. "Make my wish come true! Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is YOU!" Zoey spins on the table, points at Rumi and Mira before her balance fails her and she falls, shattering the glass table beneath her.

Rumi and Mira are at her side in an instant, Rumi covering her naked form with a blanket and Mira gathering her into her arms. Zoey is already fast asleep, the copious amount of alcohol having knocked her out.

Round three thousand four hundred and thirty seven. Or something. Zoey isn't sure what iteration she's on. She's not really sure of anything, actually, but she does know at least two things:

1. her head is throbbing and there doesn't seem to be any goddamn Tylenol in this entire fucking penthouse;

and 2. Rumi and Mira are gorgeous. She needs to kiss them. Like, yesterday. Needs it like she needs air.

Zoey has only just managed to pull her head from the toilet, her slow and humiliating progress to the day wilting under the watchful gaze of Sir Pickles Von Shellington III, her most trusted advisor and plush turtle companion. Her thoughts stray to the events of yesterday…today…whatever…and her stomach curls in disgust. What was the point of reliving a day over and over again if there were such things as hangovers? Everything else got erased, so why was this a thing? That was some fine fucking print bullshit if Zoey's ever heard of any.

Zoey can feel her spine curling forward as she slinks down the hall, turtle plush dragging along behind her. She's not sure what time it is. She doesn't give a flying fuck, to be honest.

Rumi's door flies open, light flooding the hallway and piercing directly into Zoey's skull.

"Heels! Nails! Bla—whaaaa??" Zoey reaches up and presses her hand to Rumi's forehead, shoving her back into her room.

Mira's door slams open next, "Fit check for my napalm—ahh, tha fmphh!?"

When she reaches up this time, Zoey's hand falls short of Mira's forehead and covers her mouth instead, effectively muffling the sounds coming from her. Zoey continues down the hallway to her own room, Rumi and Mira staring after her confused.

"Oh, come on, that joke was—"

"Golden. Gonna be, gonna be golden. I know." Zoey slams her door behind her and flops face first onto her bed, grumbling into her pillow and allowing sleep to once again take her.

Mira paces around, her feet practically wearing a pathway in their carpet. She snaps her fingers, turning to Zoey with excitement.

"What if you stayed up all night? See if the next day starts? That might beat the loop."

It wasn't something Zoey had thought of yet. And who knows? It could work. Maybe.

"I haven't tried that yet," she admits. Mira gives a small fist pump and Zoey tries to hide her smile. It doesn't work if Rumi's laughter is any indication. "But what if I fall asleep? What if I don't realize I'm asleep? What if I'm dreaming this? Right now?"

Rumi reaches out, taking one of her hands in her own. Zoey admires the patterns, the way they sparkle and shine like Christmas lights. She'd made that joke several times at this point already, but it was true. And they were beautiful.

Mira reaches out and takes her other hand, her face impossibly soft as she catches Zoey's eye. "We'll stay with you."

There's a lump lodged somewhere in her throat Zoey has to work around before she can squeak out a quiet "really?"

Rumi squeezes her hand, gaze just as soft as Mira's when she says "always."

That night, Zoey dreams in reverse.

When Zoey wakes up, the first thing she registers is that she's significantly more comfortable than she should be. They'd all been pounding energy drinks, gathered together on the couch. The coffee table would surely be littered with empty cans, snack wrappers, and board game paraphernalia. Actually, Zoey should go clean up. Mira would shit a brick if there's as much of a mess as Zoey remembers. Knowing Mira, though, she spent hours cleaning before putting herself to bed.

But if she's in bed, that means one of them must have carried her to her room and tucked her in. Zoey's heart kicks harder in her chest and she feels warm at the thought. She loves them so much sometimes it physically hurts.

The second thing Zoey realizes is that she fucking fell asleep. She wasn't supposed to fall asleep! And if she fell asleep and they put her to bed, that means those fuckers let her!

Her heart hammers in her chest for a completely different reason now. She really fucking hates them sometimes.

"And yeah, that's pretty much it," she finishes lamely. Zoey stares at the coffee table, fidgeting with her fingers and waiting for this round's Rumi and Mira to digest the information she's just given them.

Rumi's mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but she's not sure what, exactly. Mira stares toward the balcony doors, lips pressed thing and her eyes squinting like she's thinking, annoyed, or both.

Experience has taught Zoey that this conversation can go any number of ways: sometimes it's met with laughter, other times the two of them are concerned she has a concussion. It's disarming when Mira focuses her sharp gaze on her and Rumi rests a hand on her knee.

"What do you think set this off?" There's no patronizing tone, no judgment, just genuine curiosity when Mira poses the question.

"I don't…I don't know," her shoulders slump. Zoey has some idea by now, but so far it's just a theory and she feels a little crazy for it.

"Guess," Rumi shrugs. "If you're stuck in a loop, you'll get to try again tomorrow. Today?"

Zoey laughs because she'd been trying to figure out for ages what to call this day and it relieving to know that Rumi is struggling with it, too. She takes a deep breath and blows it out, staring at the ceiling as she thinks.

"I was getting ready. Derpy was in my room and I told him…" Shit. Shit.

Mira and Rumi lean in, patient.

"This is so embarrassing," Zoey whispers. The hand on her knee squeezes and suddenly Mira is there, arm wrapping around her shoulders. "I told Derpy tonight couldn't end until I kissed—"

Mira exhales loudly through her nose. Rumi chokes on a strangled noise. Together, they exclaim "Kissed..???"

Zoey continues, ignoring the interruption. "—someone under the mistletoe."

Zoey has kissed so many people under the mistletoe her lips are chapped. She's kissed just about everyone at this damn party except who she really wants to. She's also definitely caused some type of scandal, given the expectations put on Idols, but no one but her is going to remember this anyway.

It's equal parts epiphany and slap in the face.

No one but her will remember this.

She finds Rumi and Mira, both in different conversations in different areas of the room, and drags them away from prying eyes to the sprig of mistletoe hanging in her doorway.

Rumi only looks slightly alarmed at being dragged away from the party but her curiosity seems to win out. Mira somehow looks expectant.

"Took you long enough," Mira whispers, eyes flicking down to Zoey's lips.

"You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid." Mira doesn't say anything to that, just waits patiently for her turn while she watches Zoey fist the fabric of Rumi's sweater, pulling her in for a not-so-PG kiss.

"Meli keuliseumaseu," the DJ sounds tinny coming distantly from somewhere in the penthouse on the speaker of someone's phone. "Eum, keuliseumaseu ibeuneyo."

"Zoey?" Mira's voice is hesitant on the other side of her door. Zoey ignores her, turns over onto her side and pulls her blankets up over her head. Her door creaks open quietly and closes just a quickly, Mira blissfully taking the hint.

It didn't seem to matter how many times Zoey relived this day, something was always new, always different. Last night—yesterday, today? Whatever, she'd figure that out later—was no exception.

She'd finally gotten to kiss Rumi and Mira. She'd kissed them under the mistletoe.

And yet…

She checks her phone. Checks it again.

The date is there, right at the top.

24/12 glows from the screen, mocking her.

It's fucking Christmas Eve.

Again.

Zoey screams, hurling her phone across the room and taking immense pleasure in the crunch that can be heard as it collides with the wall.

She doesn't know how many times she's gone through this same conversation with them. It feels like it's been at least a dozen. And she doesn't really mean to be short with them, not really, but she can only answer the same questions so many times. Perhaps the time-loop is meant to be a test of her patience.

Rumi looks at her, incredulous.

"We've repeated the day that many times." It's not a question, it's a statement. Mira never minced words and Zoey was never more thankful for it than she was in this moment.

"Yes," she nods, looking back and forth between the two.

Rumi finally seems to have found her voice. "But I—"

"No. No. Yes. No. I tried that. Yes, both ways. No. I don't know. No again. Are there any more questions? Good!"

Zoey meets Derpy's blank, questioning gaze in the mirror. Sussie is once again perched on top, one eye cracked open and glaring at Zoey for existing.

"I don't know, dude. I just—," Zoey slumps forward, eyes darting back to herself as she sighs.

Zoey meets Rumi and Mira in the hallway again, each decked out in their seasonal sweater and holiday headgear. At least if Zoey has to repeat this day for the rest of her life, she gets to do it with the two of them.

She grabs their hands, smiles at each of them, and they head into the penthouse together.

"Meet on the roof in 5?" Mira tilts her head in her direction and Rumi gives them a small smile.

"Let's do this!"

Zoey watches as Mira surreptitiously steals a bottle of champagne from the table—is it stealing if they paid for it?—and Rumi meander down the hallway to snag a comforter from one of their beds, shaking her head at Mira's antics. Zoey doesn't miss the fond smile Rumi thinks is subtle (it's not), nor the way Mira winks at her before politely excusing herself.

Meanwhile, Zoey makes her way to the rooftop to fire up their outdoor heater. She's already seated with her feet dangling over the edge, head tilted to admire the night sky. Mira flops down next to her with a chuckle and manages to make it look graceful, an ability Zoey will never understand but will forever be envious of. A weight settles over her shoulders and a warmth tucks into her other side, Rumi pressing against her to shield her from the cold.

They sit in silence for a while, watching flakes flutter from the sky to settle over Seoul like a promise. A light streaks across the skyline, catching their attention.

Rumi is the first to notice, pointing with a gasp. "Look! A shooting star!"

"I'm pretty sure that's a helicopter," Mira's voice sounds flat to anyone who doesn't know her, but Zoey can hear the fondness under the teasing lilt.

Rumi grumbles something about you're a helicopter, making both of them laugh before Zoey snatches the hand she'd just been pointing with, tangling their fingers together.

"Don't listen to her Rumi, Mira's just jealous of your whimsy." Zoey bumps Mira playfully with her shoulder, and drops her hand over Mira's that's resting on her knee. Neither of them think much of it before their fingers lace, sharing a gentle squeeze. "It can be a shooting star if you want it to be."

"Well, as the leader of Huntr/x," Rumi squares her shoulders, affecting a commanding tone, "I'm making the executive decision that it is, in fact, a shooting star. So there." The last is aimed at Mira, Rumi sticking her tongue out at her for good measure. "Everyone make a wish!"

There's a breathless moment where they each close their eyes and whisper something into the night. It's silly and wonderful and so perfectly them Zoey takes a second to just enjoy it.

"What did you wish for?" The gentle weight of Rumi's head resting on her shoulder is welcome against the chill of the night.

"We can't say it, or it won't come true!" She can't tell if Mira is being serious or not, but she giggles anyway.

"I'm pretty sure that only counts for birthday wishes."

Zoey can practically hear Mira's eyebrow arch. "Oh yeah? Then what'd you wish for, then?"

She hums, continues to admire the lights of the city, the comforting blanket of darkness, the way the stars seem to shine just for them. Zoey could lie, but there wasn't really a reason to. Only she'd remember this tomorrow—today…whatever. Besides, she wasn't in the practice of lying to Rumi and Mira anyway.

"I wish that you two get everything you want for Christmas."

Mira turns to her, expression full and soft. She looks absolutely beautiful in the moonlight and Zoey is so thankful she gets to keep this moment.

Rumi, voice warm but quiet, like she's afraid she'll disturb the night, asks the question Zoey knew she would. "But what about you? Don't you want anything?"

She presses a tender kiss to the flesh of Mira's palm and brushes her lips over the back of Rumi's knuckles. "I already have you two," it's a truth she'll allow to exist between them. "What more could I possibly want?"

"The feeling's mutual." Maybe it's the vulnerability in Mira's voice, maybe it's the way Rumi squeezes her hand and cuddles closer, maybe it's the magic of a helicopter they chose to believe was a shooting star. Zoey doesn't know, doesn't care, but she allows herself to believe it means something other than it does.

For now, that's enough.

Mira pulls Zoey's wrist to her face and squints at the watch that rests there. The scrunch between her brows while she tries to focus on the tiny hands in the dark makes Zoey bold and she presses her lips there to smooth it away. A strangled noise comes from the back of Mira's throat before she exaggeratedly wipes her face, making a gagging sound that causes Rumi and Zoey both to giggle. Mira's lips twitch and she kisses the back Zoey's hand before meeting Rumi's gaze, some unspoken conversation occurring over her shoulder.

"It's after midnight," she says, moving the champagne to Zoey's lap. Neither of them let go of Zoey's hands, but somehow between the two manage to free the cork from the confines of the bottle with a satisfying pop! Zoey watches it shoot off into the night on a spray of bubbles.

Lips land on her cheeks from both sides, "merry Christmas," breathed into the constellation of her freckles. Zoey's dimples ache from the smile she never fails to wear around her girls. They pass the bottle between each other, sharing sips and warmth in the peace of a Seoul night.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Arms snake around Zoey's waist, holding fast like they have a vendetta against movement. Mira had fallen asleep, head resting on Zoey's thigh and the fingers of one hand tangled in the fabric of Rumi's shirt. Rumi, who had tucked herself under Zoey's arm and fallen asleep on her chest, one hand resting on Mira's forearm, the other splayed underneath Zoey's top, fingers pressed into her skin.

An overwhelming surge of love bursts behind Zoey's ribs, her fingers absentmindedly carding through Mira's hair. Rumi makes a contented sound and nuzzles closer when Zoey's nails swirl a randomly over one of her patterns.

"I love you," she whispers, closing her eyes and pulling them in closer. Rumi murmurs something unintelligible and Mira's fingers tighten their hold on her shirt.

Zoey drifts to sleep, held tight in the comfort of their arms.

The light is slanted differently when Zoey cracks open her eyes. She's comfortable and warm, her bed sinking beneath her weight and holding her hostage in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

Something about that last thought doesn't sit properly. Zoey's eyes fly wide as she tries to sit up. There's a groan from beside her and an arm pushing against her chest back down into the mattress. Another arm tightens around her waist and a puff of air warms the side of her neck.

Pink hair tickles at her nose and there's a faint pulsing glow coming from under the sheets of her bed.

Zoey startles and sits upright so quickly Mira thuds to the floor.

A sleepy chuckle comes from Rumi when Mira swears in Korean. She pops up, folding her arms over the edge of the bed and resting her cheek against them.

"Good morning to you, too," she grumbles and Zoey has to pinch herself to make sure she isn't dreaming.

"You're…you're here!"

Rumi fiddles with the end of one of Zoey's braids that had come loose from her bun in the night, a shy smile touching her face. "You asked us to stay." It's a simple answer to a question Zoey didn't even have to ask.

"You told us you love us," Mira's voice is soft, heavy with sleep.

Zoey remembers. Fifteen words, strung together to form one sentence, thrown in some particular order and said with the utmost thought and absolute care. Fifteen words Zoey could never regret. Later, she'll pinpoint them as the words that mark the beginning of it all.

"I love you," Zoey whispers, "and I want to be with you. Kiss me goodnight and stay."