Chapter Text
I guess I’ve always been the type to smile through the storm. Even when everything inside me feels like it’s breaking apart, I put on my brightest grin and keep going — because who wants to be the sad girl everyone tiptoes around? Not me.
Most days, I’m just Zoey. The girl who laughs too loud, dances when no one’s watching, and throws out cheesy jokes that make my best friends roll their eyes but secretly smile. Rumi and Mira have been my anchors, my little lifeboats in this sea of chaos. Without them, I don’t know how I’d even begin to hold it together.
Cancer’s this ugly word that lives in the back of my mind, but I try not to give it too much space. It sneaks in sometimes, when the pain gets worse or the hospital visits pile up, but I shove it back down and focus on the good. Like Rumi’s endless supply of ridiculous memes or Mira’s obsession with midnight snacks. Or the way the sun feels warm on my skin when I sneak outside.
People say I’m brave. I’m not sure about that. I’m just stubborn, I think. Stubborn enough to refuse to let this thing steal my light. Some days, that light flickers. Other days, it feels like it’s barely there. But I keep reaching for it, even if my hands shake.
Today was one of those days — the kind where the pain was sharper, the fatigue heavier, but I still dragged myself out of bed because I promised Rumi I’d meet her and Mira at our favorite café. I didn’t want to be the friend who cancels all the time. Even if my body wanted to betray me.
They were waiting when I arrived, their faces lighting up like they’d been holding a secret just for me. And maybe they were. Because even when I feel lost in the darkness, there’s always a little spark — a promise that maybe, just maybe, someone will come along to light the way.
I didn’t know then that the spark was closer than I thought. And that it had blue hair.
The café was buzzing with the usual hum of chatter and clinking cups, but to me, it felt like a cozy bubble — a little refuge from the cold world outside. Rumi was already at our usual corner table, tapping away on her phone with that fierce concentration she always got when she was plotting something — probably a prank or some grand plan to cheer me up. Mira sat beside her, her bright eyes full of warmth as she absentmindedly doodled hearts on a napkin.
“Zoey!” Rumi’s voice cut through the noise like sunshine breaking through clouds. She looked up with that fierce grin, the kind that made you feel like nothing could ever hurt you when she was around. “I was starting to think you’d never show.”
I slid into the seat between them, smiling despite the dull ache curling inside my chest. “Sorry, I had a rough morning. But I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Mira reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her touch soft but steady. “We’ve been worried, Zo. You’re not invincible, you know.”
I laughed, though my voice cracked a little. “I’m stubborn, that’s my superpower.”
Rumi scoffed playfully. “Superpower or not, you need to let us help sometimes.”
“We’re your cheer squad,” Mira added, eyes shining. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
The three of us fell into our usual rhythm, talking about everything and nothing — Rumi’s ridiculous plans to sneak into an idol concert, Mira’s obsession with late-night baking, and the silly dramas we loved to dissect. Their energy was infectious, a balm to my tired spirit. Even when my body screamed for rest, their presence made me feel alive.
Rumi’s laughter was loud and genuine, the kind that made the world seem a little less scary. She was fierce and loyal — the kind of friend who’d drag me out of bed on my darkest days, even if it meant dragging me kicking and screaming.
Mira, on the other hand, was the heart of our trio. She had this gentle way of seeing right through my brave face and offering comfort without words. Just being near her made the weight a little lighter.
I treasured them both more than I could say.
But beneath the laughter, beneath the jokes and chatter, the shadows were always there. A dull, persistent ache I tried to ignore. I felt like I was holding a candle in the wind — flickering, fragile, but refusing to go out.
When I glanced out the window, I noticed a sudden flash of color — a shock of electric blue hair weaving through the crowd outside.
Curious, I watched him move with an effortless rhythm, headphones on, nodding to a beat I couldn’t hear. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled my gaze again and again.
Rumi followed my eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s that?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. But… I think I want to find out.”
The blue-haired boy didn’t disappear from my thoughts as the afternoon drifted on. Every now and then, my eyes flicked to the window, half-expecting to see him again.
And then, almost like fate decided to play a hand, he appeared right outside the café, standing by the door as if waiting for something—or someone.
I felt a sudden flutter in my chest. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but my heart thumped louder than it should have.
Before I could second-guess myself, I found my feet moving, pushing open the door despite the weakness weighing on my legs.
“Hey,” I called out, voice a little breathless.
He turned—eyes bright, framed by those striking blue locks. His smile was warm but shy, like he wasn’t used to being noticed.
“Hey,” he replied softly, the music fading from his ears as he pulled out his earbuds.
I swallowed hard, suddenly self-conscious. “I—I saw you from inside. Your hair… it’s really cool.”
He chuckled, a sound that made the tightness in my chest loosen just a bit.
“Thanks,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m Baby.”
“Zoey,” I said, offering my hand, which he shook gently.
There was a kindness in his gaze that felt like a balm on my tired soul. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t dared to wish for: hope.
“Do you want to… maybe hang out sometime? I mean, only if you’re up for it,” he added quickly, as if afraid I’d say no.
I smiled, the first real, honest smile in a while. “I’d like that.”
As we stood there, the noise of the world seemed to fade, and for a moment, just a moment, the darkness inside me felt a little less heavy.