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Rumi, Jinu, Mira, and Zoey are having a movie night in the living room together. Zoey desperately wants some popcorn but Jinu's hogging the bowl and feeding Rumi's some like it's his job.
The living room had been transformed into peak movie-night perfection. The overhead lights were off, replaced by the soft glow of a floor lamp in the corner and the flickering light of the television screen. Blankets were layered across the couch and spilling onto the floor in a messy but intentional arrangement. The coffee table had been pushed aside to make room for legs to stretch and pillows to migrate freely. Outside, the night pressed dark against the windows, making the inside feel even cozier by contrast.
Rumi was curled into Jinu’s side like she’d been magnetically attached to him, her legs tucked under a thick fleece blanket while his arm rested securely around her shoulders. The large metal bowl of popcorn sat in his lap strategically, intentionally—angled just out of reach of anyone else. Mira occupied the far end of the couch with a cushion barrier between her and the chaos, while Zoey sprawled dramatically on the floor with her chin propped up on her hands, staring at the bowl like it had personally betrayed her.
On screen, the movie’s opening credits rolled with dramatic orchestral music. In real life, the only drama unfolding was significantly more domestic.
Jinu picked up a piece of popcorn and held it delicately in front of Rumi’s lips. “Open,” he murmured.
Rumi giggled. “I can feed myself.”
“I know,” he replied smoothly. “But I want to.”
She raised an eyebrow playfully. “You’re very committed to this role.”
“I take my responsibilities seriously.”
She leaned forward obediently and let him feed her the popcorn, her lips brushing his fingers just enough to make him smirk.
Zoey’s eye twitched.
Mira noticed.
Jinu grabbed another piece and held it out again. “You missed one.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Rumi shook her head, laughing softly, but she leaned in again anyway. This time, after she bit the popcorn, Jinu leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth like he’d caught something there.
Zoey made a strangled sound.
Mira glanced sideways. “Are you okay?”
Zoey nodded stiffly. “Fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
On the screen, a character was delivering an emotional monologue. In the living room, Jinu was adjusting the blanket around Rumi’s shoulders like she might catch a chill from dramatic tension alone.
“Comfortable?” he asked softly.
“Very,” she replied, snuggling closer.
“Good. You deserve optimal movie conditions.”
Zoey cleared her throat loudly.
No one responded.
She shifted positions on the floor, inching closer to the couch. “Wow,” she said vaguely. “Popcorn smells… buttery.”
Rumi blinked at her. “It is buttery.”
“Very buttery,” Zoey repeated meaningfully.
Jinu nodded thoughtfully. “That’s because it has butter.”
Mira pressed her lips together to avoid laughing.
Zoey tried again. “You know, sometimes sharing snacks enhances the cinematic experience.”
Rumi tilted her head. “Does it?”
“Scientifically,” Zoey insisted.
Jinu hummed. “Interesting. I haven’t read that study.”
Mira buried her face in her hand.
On screen, the music swelled. In the corner of her eye, Mira watched Zoey attempt increasingly abstract gestures. She pointed subtly at the bowl. She mimed eating. She tapped her stomach. She even whispered, “Carbs,” under her breath like it was a password.
Rumi squinted at her. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
Zoey froze. “I—”
“She’s clearly fine,” Jinu interrupted casually, lifting another piece of popcorn to Rumi’s lips. “Right?”
Zoey stared at him in disbelief as he fed Rumi again.
The way he did it was almost theatrical—like it was a sacred ritual. He didn’t just hand her the popcorn. He held it carefully. He waited for her to lean in. He smiled like he’d just accomplished something heroic.
Mira leaned closer to Zoey and whispered, “Just ask.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” Zoey whispered back dramatically. “He should sense it.”
“He’s busy,” Mira muttered.
Jinu kissed Rumi again—this time slow and absentminded, like it was just a natural extension of breathing. Rumi smiled into it, her hand resting lightly against his chest.
Zoey stared longingly at the popcorn.
On screen, something exploded.
In real life, Mira’s patience did.
She stood abruptly. “I’m making more.”
Rumi blinked. “More what?”
“Popcorn,” Mira said flatly, heading toward the kitchen.
Zoey’s eyes widened with hope. “You are?”
“Yes.”
“Because you want some?” Zoey asked carefully.
“No,” Mira replied. “Because you’re incapable of forming a coherent sentence.”
Jinu laughed.
Rumi looked between them. “Was she asking for popcorn?”
Zoey threw her hands up. “I was trying!”
“You were blinking aggressively,” Mira called from the kitchen.
“That’s body language!”
The microwave beeped as Mira shoved the bag inside and pressed start. The familiar whirring sound filled the room. Back in the living area, Jinu leaned down to kiss Rumi again.
“You look cute when you’re confused,” he murmured.
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I was trying to decode her.”
“She needs subtitles.”
Rumi giggled, swatting his arm lightly. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He fed her another piece of popcorn and then stole a kiss immediately after, like he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re very clingy tonight,” she teased.
“It’s movie night. Romance thrives in cinematic environments.”
She laughed, leaning up to kiss him again before he could continue.
In the kitchen, the popcorn began popping aggressively, each sharp crack echoing like punctuation to Mira’s growing irritation.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered affectionately under her breath.
When the microwave finally beeped, she grabbed the bag and shook it gently before bringing it back into the living room. The smell of fresh popcorn filled the space immediately.
Zoey practically levitated.
“Mira,” she breathed reverently. “You’re a hero.”
“I know,” Mira said dryly, handing her the bag.
Zoey took it with both hands like it was sacred treasure. “Thank you. Truly.”
She scooted closer to Mira on the couch and, without warning, wrapped her arms around her in a tight side hug.
Mira stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Appreciating you,” Zoey declared, cuddling closer.
“I just made popcorn.”
“And that’s love.”
Rumi smiled softly at the sight. “See? Sharing enhances the experience.”
Jinu leaned down and whispered against Rumi’s ear, “I still prefer feeding you.”
She blushed immediately. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned and kissed her temple.
Zoey happily dug into her fresh popcorn, finally content. Mira tried—finally—to focus on the movie, but Zoey leaned her head against Mira’s shoulder.
“You’re very warm,” Zoey murmured.
“I’m not your blanket.”
“You kind of are.”
Mira sighed but didn’t move.
On screen, the main characters shared a dramatic confession. In the living room, Jinu and Rumi were whispering their own quiet commentary.
“If that were us,” Jinu murmured, “I’d definitely be the one making the speech.”
Rumi smiled. “You already make speeches.”
“True.”
He kissed her again.
Zoey made a noise of mock disgust but didn’t look away from her popcorn.
Eventually, everyone settled into a rhythm. The movie played. The popcorn disappeared at a reasonable rate. Mira relaxed slightly now that Zoey had stopped communicating exclusively in riddles.
Rumi rested her head against Jinu’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat under the movie’s soundtrack. He traced idle patterns along her arm, occasionally pressing small kisses into her hair just because he could.
Zoey shifted closer to Mira again. “You’re the best,” she murmured.
Mira rolled her eyes but softened. “I know.”
And for a brief, peaceful stretch of time, the only sounds in the room were the movie’s dialogue, the soft crunch of popcorn, and the quiet, affectionate laughter of four people perfectly content exactly where they were.