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Yizhuo rouses with a headache heavy behind her eyes, and it’s the only indication she has to what had happened the night before.
She’s curled on the small dorm sofa, knees bent near her middle in a way that leaves her sore and uncomfortable. The near silence in the air, save for the faint beeps of the air conditioner, alongside newborn daylight that seeps through the crack in the curtains tell her that it’s early morning, and she must be the only one awake.
Yizhuo rises from her position with a stifled groan, mindful not to make too much sound so the others can remain at peace and asleep. She makes it into a sitting position and straightens her limbs at some attempt of relief, and it’s then that she begins to recall last night’s escapades— many shots thrown back and bruising kisses on different pairs of lips, someone tucking her in on the couch and an odd nightmare about Jimin being a sandwich.
“Morning, sleepy.” Minjeong’s soft voice from the kitchen behind her almost makes Yizhuo fall into the floor with such a violent jump, “You feeling okay?”
She peeks back and of course, she’s met with the serene image she expected. Minjeong resembles the work of the most skilled sculptor’s hands, even barefaced with darkened patches beneath her eyes.
She approaches the couch, her fingertips finding their way into Yizhuo’s scalp, scratching at the skin there. She leans back into the warmth of the touch, closing her eyes. Oddly enough, the throbbing of her head is dulled.
“If feeling like I got ran over qualifies as alright, then yes.”
Minjeong giggles, a sweet sound that sets her insides on a spin cycle. “You should go back to sleep.”
“No. Just wanna stay like this.” Yizhuo mewls when she brushes against the sensitive patch of her head, rolling her shoulders.
“Well, I gotta make breakfast. The unnies are still sleeping and I know they’ll be in far worse shape than us.”
Her assumption is not inaccurate. They both know how Aeri likes to drink, and how Jimin will never back down from a challenge— especially one involving strawberry soju.
“You’re thoughtful, Jeong-ah.”
Minjeong tilts Yizhuo’s head back and plants plush lips between her brows. “Have to take care of my girls. Even if you’re all big babies.”
“Yah! I’m not!”
“You’re right.” Minjeong’s thumb comes up to caress the underside of her chin. “You’re a small baby.”
Yizhuo perches atop the counter as Minjeong cracks an egg into the frying pan, both the aroma and the sound of sizzling beginning to float through the air.
“Ugh,” She groans in time with the rumbling in her stomach, “I don’t know if I want to eat everything in sight or throw up.”
Minjeong’s hand that isn’t occupied with nudging around in the pan finds its way to her thigh, palm running along the smooth expanse of skin. “I can get you something to take in just a minute.”
“You know… they say a kiss is the best medicine.”
“Oh, do they now?”
Yizhuo nods her head dopily, and Minjeong’s fingers pick at the hem of her sleep shorts.
“That means you should kiss me, Minjeongie.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She begins to whine but it just narrowly escapes, because there’s a mouth over top her own that still possesses the lingering taste of liquor. Yizhuo sighs into the kiss and her palms grip the counter to keep herself from toppling over.
When Minjeong begins to retract Yizhuo reaches up to pull her right back in, and the girl squeaks (very cutely, in her opinion) in surprise.
“Zhuo, the–“
But when Yizhuo knows what she wants, she won’t give in until it’s granted. “Shh.”
Much lip locking and burnt eggs later (added: even more kisses as a graciously accepted apology), Minjeong manages to plate four omelets, one without onions or cheese because Aeri is a degenerate, and tasks Yizhuo with waking the two sleeping seniors.
“They’re always sweeter when you do it.” Minjeong protests when Yizhuo shows her a pout, “Aeri nearly kicked me in the face last time.”
For emphasis, she shudders at the memory. Yizhuo gives her lips one more peck and with a sigh of finality, trudges toward the smaller bedroom.
The room is very dim, but she can make out the shapes on the bed just enough to tell who is who and decides Jimin may be easier to tackle first.
“Jiminie.” She hums in the soft, saccharine tone she always uses on the woman, “It’s time to eat.”
Jimin grunts, shifting in her place but not budging. Okay, maybe tougher than previously thought.
Yizhuo reaches blindly until she feels perspiration-slick skin, brushing the awry strands from her face. “Minjeong made omelets.”
“Mmm.” The older groans, grasping to intertwine their fingers. She rests their joint digits against her forehead. “Headache.”
“I know. You drank a lot.”
“Lay with me?”
“Minjeong might beat my ass if I don’t get you two to the table.”
It’s only futile to put up a fight, because Jimin tugs on her limb and she falls into the bed anyway. Preluding much adjustment and accidental tickling, Yizhuo ends up wedged between her two unnies with a hmph . She strokes a snoring Aeri’s hair and Jimin’s chin finds it’s home at the base of her neck from behind.
“Jeong’s gonna be upset that she’s not in on this, you know.”
“She already got her fill of you. I want my share, too.”
Yizhuo can’t argue with that.
Aeri stirs and a whine comes from her lips, nuzzling against Yizhuo’s fingers sleepily. “Morning.”
“Our food’s gonna get cold.”
Jimin’s lips latch to the delicate spot on Yizhuo’s neck in such a way that the girl’s frame arches back into her. “I don’t mind cold eggs.”
She does, in fact, mind cold eggs.
“Jeong-ah.” Jimin whines like a child, poking into the omelet with a fork, “The cheese isn’t warm. That’s criminal!”
Minjeong heaves a heavy sigh, pecks the crown of her hair, and grabs the plate from in front of her.
“If only someone tried to wake you while it was still fresh...” Yizhuo retorts through a full mouth, just as Minjeong starts the microwave with the eldest’s food inside.
Jimin sticks her tongue out at her but it holds no malice, because they’re playing footsie beneath the table and Yizhuo feels like she’s in elementary school all over again.
Aeri takes the opportunity to tease as well. “I can’t with you guys, sometimes.”
“You’re just a hater.” Minjeong all but throws down Jimin’s now hot eggs and settles into the seat next to the pink-haired girl.
Aeri’s head lulls to meet hers, eyes fluttering closed. “In the flesh.”
Jimin’s cheeks are full with a bite and a grin, and the sight makes Yizhuo’s insides fuzzy and lovesick.
They eat their breakfast like that, a familiar combination of bickering and affection balanced to perfection.
The wave of gratitude that comes along with it hits Yizhuo like a ten-ton truck.
She never believed in foolish things like fate, not until she was too small in her sneakers in a training room thousands of miles away from her home. When the professional looking men told her she had made it into their newest girl group, that she would be spending the rest of her career with the three teenagers at her side.
Yizhuo was terrified. Being the only one who spoke elementary Korean, intimidated to near death by the others— she nearly backed out and caught the fastest plane back to Harbin.
She’ll always thank her lucky stars for giving her the bravery to persevere, to build such a strong career and a beautiful home.
Yizhuo will never doubt the existence of fate ever again, for it brought her the women who love her like it’s as simple as breathing, and who she cherishes right back with the entirety of her heart.
They say you only find something so grand once in a lifetime: and yet she was granted not even two, but three. Yizhuo owes the universe everything and then some for that.
“Zhuo?” Jimin’s voice brings her out of the haze she’d fallen into, and when she looks up, all three pairs of eyes are on her in concern.
She didn’t even notice the tears that have been accumulating along her lash line until she wipes them away with a throaty giggle.
“Are you okay?” Minjeong’s palm is hot against her cheek. The girl knows her better than she knows herself, they all do; there’s no point in a lie.
“I’m just grateful. For all three of you. For this.”
Jimin brings her hand to her lips, quirked lips leaving a kiss on the backside of it. “We are pretty damn great.”
“Don’t go all soft, you two.” Aeri jests, but Yizhuo can see the gloss over her irises too.
And when Jimin smacks Aeri’s ass as she’s loading the dishwasher then moseys along to the living room to kiss Minjeong so hard the girl nearly falls over, all before settling into the spot next to their youngest on the couch with a dopey smile— it’s then that Yizhuo prays that they’ll get to share mornings like these until the end of time.