Work Text:
Zoey's third yawn in a row signals to Rumi just how long they've been talking and how late the hour is for her childhood friend living and attending college on the other side of the world.
Rumi is usually pretty good at keeping track of the time, but it had been two weeks since they're last call, and with Zoey it had always been so easy for Rumi to be so enraptured with her that everything else takes a back seat in her mind.
"Zoey, you should go sleep," Rumi mutters. There's a part of her that aches to reach through the video call and brush away some of the loose strands falling over Zoey's face. "You have class in a few hours, don't you?"
Zoey whines in protest. Rumi can see her rub at her eyes, as if trying to physically bat away the exhaustion with her fists. "But I want to keep talking to you, Ru. I missed you. Show me how the garden is coming along, and then I promise I'll head to bed."
Rumi clicks her tongue. She never tires of hearing Zoey talk, but Rumi also knows that her sleep schedule is not the best, especially juggling her classes and her part time work. "I miss you too, Zo, but—"
Her rebuttal is cut short when Zoey pulls out her most devious weapon, her big brown puppy eyes. Rumi's resolute will crumbles into ash. She sputters a little and tries to chalk up the warming of her cheeks to the physical exertion of having done yard work and nothing else.
She swears Zoey gets a kick out of it, if that mischievous twinkle in her eye is anything to go by. "Please Rumi? I want to see how all your hard work is coming along! And then I promise, I'll go sleep, won't even skip class to catch a few zzz's."
Rumi huffs, but amusement colors her expression. "Okay, Zoey. But only because you promised."
And the bright, winning smile Zoey gifts Rumi settles that ache of longing itching at her heart. She had always been in awe of Zoey, with her warm smiles and honest enthusiasm. Zoey, who had never been afraid to offer a hug or hold her hand. Zoey who looked at her and called her pretty, with eyes that watched Rumi like she had hung the stars.
How could she not have fallen for the sun offering her warmth so freely?
To have been separated by spans of ocean and timezones had not dulled that love at all, if anything it made Rumi greedy to hold what moments they could together even more.
So Rumi proceeds to lose herself in her own ramblings and explanations of her family's gardens, and going over their batches for the season, how she and Celine spent some time this week fighting the annoying festival committee over orders and that her other mom, Miyeong had to drag both of them by the ear out of those meetings.
Zoey's little giggles and occasional commentary over Rumi's anecdotes spur her on. She shows off the buckwheat blossoms and trumpet creepers, and can't help the bit of pride in her voice at how much they've come along.
It's when she's going over the new pink hydrangeas for the upcoming spring festival, that Rumi realizes it been a few minutes since Zoey has said anything. When she turns her attention back to video call on her phone, Rumi stills.
Zoey, cheek squished into her favorite turtle plush, a little bit of drool at the edges of her mouth. Her long dark hair sticks to half her face. Her phone slants at an odd angle, from where she's still holding it loosely in her hands. But what Rumi can see of Zoey's face is completely at ease, the ghost of a satisfied smile slipping into the softness of sleep.
So sue her if she happens to take a screenshot. The soft click sound does little to disturb the sight on her phone.
The cuteness aggression wins out more often than not when it came to Zoey and Rumi isn't one to pass up the chance to capture it all for herself. It's selfish and weird but when it came to Zoey, Rumi throws all her reservations out the window. She wants to preserve everything she could, the soft quiet moments as much as the silly, loud and fun ones.
She indulges in watching Zoey's chest rise and fall for a little while more. Longing burns at Rumi's insides so fierce that the grip on her old phone borders on concerning. Her breathing stutters. A close held secret tumbling from her lips before she can't stop the words from escaping.
"I love you, Zo. Sweet dreams," her voice low, barely above a whisper. She presses the end call with a shaky finger and clutches her phone to her wildly beating heart. She palms at the pink hydrangeas and lets their floral scent ground her.
One day soon, Rumi will get to hold Zoey in her arms again, and maybe this time she'll have the courage to say the words to her face to face, with not a single screen between them.