Chapter Text
Miu adjusts her tie, fingers smoothing it out like she can straighten the rest of the day with it. Just a few minutes, she tells herself—eyes closed, head resting back against the chair—before she gets back to the stacks of paper waiting across her desk, each one demanding a version of her that doesn’t get tired.
Her firm is quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that still feels expensive. Too many files. Too many names that need arguing over.
She lets her eyes fall shut anyway.
Just a minute. Maybe two.
Then a knock came on the door.
“Boss,” her assistant said, stepping in carefully, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to interrupt the stillness. “Someone sent this for you.”
Before Miu can even respond, a bouquet of flowers appears first—then a small box tied neatly with ribbon. Her favorite pastry. The kind she only ever orders when she forgets to pretend she has no preferences.
Miu catches Lena’s tiny handwriting on the card.
“don’t stress too much, you’ll catch wrinkles. love u xoxo”
She exhales through her nose. “What could she want this time…”
Still, she nods at her assistant. “Thanks.”
The door closes.
Silence settles back in, but it doesn’t feel clean anymore.
The flowers sit too bright against the desk. The pastry box feels too warm, too deliberate. Like someone knew exactly how to interrupt her without ever stepping inside the room.
Miu stares at the note again.
“love u xoxo”
“…Ridiculous,” she mutters, but her mouth betrays her before her thoughts can correct it.
The smile comes quietly—small, reluctant, almost annoyed at its own existence. Like it slipped through without permission.
Miu tries to suppress it.
Fails.
Her eyes linger on the note a second too long, as if that alone is an argument she’s losing.
She clicks her tongue softly, like the sound might reset her expression.
It doesn’t.
She hasn’t even opened the box when her phone starts ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Of course.
She answers. “You’re interrupting my work.”
A soft laugh on the other end. “Hi to you too.”
Miu leans back in her chair, eyes flicking to the flowers like they’re personally responsible for her lack of productivity.
“You sent an entire delivery to my office.”
“I sent you my love, dear Miu,” Lena says easily.
“Your ass is so corny, it makes me want to gag.”
Another small laugh.
“But it made you smile, yeah?”
Miu pauses. “…Unfortunately.”
“Good.”
—
The city was almost asleep by the time Miu finally stepped out of her office.
Cool air hit her face the moment she exited—sharp enough to wake her up a little after hours of sitting behind glass and paper and expectations. The street outside was still active, but not chaotic.
Across the road, a sleek black jeep was parked neatly by the curb. Lena was leaning against it. Brown sweater, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly undone in that effortless way that always looked like she hadn’t tried—but somehow still did.
She saw Miu immediately. Straightened.
Then waved.
“Hey,” Lena called.
Miu slowed for half a second, like her brain needed to confirm what her eyes were seeing. Then she crossed anyway.
Before she could even speak, Lena stepped forward and pulled her into a quick hug—casual, practiced, like it belonged in their routine. One arm around her shoulders, a brief pat at the back.
Then pushed her lightly away. “Don’t do that in public.”
Lena’s expression didn’t change much. “Are you afraid they might see their boss show emotions for once?”
“I didn’t say that.” Miu adjusted her coat, regaining composure. “Just don’t ambush people at their workplace.”
“You were done anyway,” Lena said simply.
Miu gave her a look. “Why are you here?”
Lena didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for the passenger door.
Miu noticed. “I’m not getting in your car.”
Lena opened it anyway. “You are.”
Miu scoffed softly. “Not today.”
Lena finally looked at her properly. “I already told your driver to go home.”
Miu exhaled through her nose, “You're so annoying.”
Lena tapped the open passenger door once. “Are you getting in or are you planning to argue with me on the sidewalk?”
Miu looked at her for a long moment. Then at the car. Then back at Lena.
“…This is kidnapping with extra steps,” she muttered.
Lena hummed. “Technically, you’re still free to walk away.”
Miu glanced at the street, then at Lena again.
“…Annoying,” she said.
“You love me though,” Lena replied.
Miu rolled her eyes—but she walked to the car anyway.
—
The car ride was smooth—too smooth. Not just because of the car, but because Lena had that habit of making everything feel… handled.
Soft ambient lights glowed along the interior, the city outside slipping by in quiet streaks of gold and glass.
Miu sat beside her, watching it all without really seeing it.
Then, without turning, she reached over.
Her fingers found Lena’s hand easily—like muscle memory—and took it. No hesitation, no question.
She started pressing lightly into her palm. Slow, steady. Familiar.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Miu asked, her voice calm, thumb tracing over Lena’s knuckles.
Lena didn’t pull away. She never did. Her hand just relaxed in Miu’s grip, like it knew exactly what this was.
“Meh,” she said. “Work can wait.”
Miu pressed a little deeper into her palm.
Lena sighed, dramatic as always, leaning back into her seat. “Besides, I don’t want to be alone tonight with my tears and bleeding heart.”
Miu blinked once.
“…You’re being dramatic again.”
“I’m being honest,” Lena murmured.
Miu squeezed her hand. “You said that exact line last month.”
Lena turned her head slightly, just enough to look at her. “Trauma is cyclical.”
“That’s not how trauma works.”
“It is for me.”
Miu shook her head—but her hand never stopped moving. The pressure stayed consistent, grounding, like she was keeping Lena tethered without making a big deal out of it.
A quiet moment passed between them.
Then Miu asked, softer this time, “You still not over her?”
Lena didn’t answer right away.
The city lights flickered across her face, catching something quieter in her expression.
“…Not really,” she admitted. “But it’s fine.”
Miu finally looked at her. “That doesn’t sound fine.”
Lena hummed, thinking about it. Then she tilted her head a little toward her. “It’s not… painful anymore,” she said. “But it’s there.”
Miu’s grip softened—but she didn’t let go.
“That’s still not fine.”
Lena smiled faintly. “You’re very judgmental for someone massaging my hand right now.”
“I’m evaluating your emotional stability.”
“Unpaid therapist behavior.”
“I should charge you.”
“You’d overbill.”
“I’d give you a discount,” Miu replied.
Lena let out a small laugh at that, quieter, easier. “Wow. I feel special.”
“You should.”
—
By the time they reached Miu’s penthouse, the night had settled into something softer.
Miu stepped inside first, already slipping off her shoes with practiced ease. “Shoes,” she said, glancing back briefly.
Lena kicked hers off beside hers. “Yes, mom.”
Miu ignored that, already heading down the hall. “I’m showering.”
“Of course you are.”
“Don’t touch anything without washing your hands.”
Lena snorted. “I literally cook for you.”
“Hygiene is not negotiable,” Miu called back.
Then she was gone, the sound of the shower starting almost immediately.
Lena stood there for a second, listening.
Then she smiled a little to herself. “Hopeless,” she muttered—but there was no bite to it.
She moved into the kitchen like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Lights came on softly as she stepped in. Everything pristine, everything in its place—but Lena never treated it like something fragile.
She rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
It wasn’t complicated. It didn’t need to be.
She picked ingredients she knew Miu liked without thinking twice, moving through the space with confidence. The rhythm came naturally—chopping, stirring, tasting.
Something warm. Something familiar.
At some point, she grabbed a bottle of wine, glancing at it briefly before opening it.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “She’ll like this.”
The soft clink of glass, the low simmer of food—it filled the penthouse in a way that made it feel less empty.
By the time the shower turned off, the space felt lived in.
Miu came back a few minutes later, hair still slightly damp, dressed in her usual clean, silk pajamas.
She paused at the kitchen entrance.
Her eyes moved over everything—quick, assessing—but softer than before.
“Wow. I’ve been craving that.”
Lena glanced over her shoulder, a small smirk already forming. “Yeah? Aren’t I the best?”
Miu stepped further into the kitchen, slower now, eyes lingering on the food, then the wine, then back to Lena.
“…Did you at least not burn anything?” she asked.
Lena turned slowly, offended. “You wound me.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“I am an excellent cook.”
Miu gave her a look. “You set off the smoke alarm twice.”
“Okay, but one of those was emotional circumstances.”
Miu blinked. “…You burned garlic.”
“I was going through something.”
Miu rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile there as she pushed herself off the counter, grabbing plates and setting them down with quiet efficiency.
“…Go shower,” she said after a moment, not looking at Lena. “You smell like the sun.”
Lena scoffed. “Rude.”
“It’s accurate.”
Lena pointed at her. “Don’t eat without me.”
Miu didn’t even hesitate. “I won’t.”
“You will.”
“…I might.”
—
Steam still clung faintly to Lena’s skin by the time she stepped out of the bathroom.
She’d changed into one of Miu's sleepwear nighties—soft, loose, the fabric falling just above her knees. The thin straps left her shoulders bare, hair still damp and clinging slightly to her neck.
In the living room, Miu sat curled into the corner of the sofa, one leg tucked under her, a book open in her hands. A lamp cast soft light over her, catching the ends of her still-damp hair.
She didn’t look up.
“Don’t drip on the floor,” she said, turning a page.
“Control freak,” Lena muttered under her breath as she walked over.
Lena leaned down and slipped her arms around Miu’s shoulders, pressing close as she nuzzled into the crook of her neck, damp hair brushing against warm skin.
Miu went still.
“Lena—”
“You’re warm,” Lena murmured, like she was just stating a fact.
“You’re wet.”
“I am,” Lena said softly, smiling against her skin, “and you love me.”
Miu let out a quiet breath, the kind she tried to hide but never quite could.
“I tolerate you,” she corrected, but her voice had already lost its edge.
Lena hummed, unconvinced, settling in more comfortably.
Miu didn’t push her away.
Instead, her hand shifted—book lowering slightly—until her fingers found Lena’s arm resting around her.
“You know,” Miu said, voice calm but edged with quiet suspicion, “with how clingy you’ve been today… I’m starting to think you want something from me.”
Lena stilled for half a second.
Then she let out a soft laugh against Miu’s neck, breath warm. “Wow,” she murmured. “Can’t I just be affectionate without being accused of ulterior motives?”
“No,” Miu replied immediately.
That earned a quiet huff of amusement from Lena, her grip tightening just a little—not enough to trap, just enough to stay.
“You’re impossible,” Lena said.
“You’re deflecting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Lena pulled back just enough to look at her, chin still hovering near Miu’s shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted, not even trying very hard to deny it.
Miu raised an eyebrow. “So you do want something.”
Lena studied her for a second, expression softer now—less teasing, more honest.
“…Yeah,” she said quietly.
Miu didn’t react right away. Her fingers remained loosely curled around Lena’s arm, thumb brushing once without thinking.
Lena shifted, then let herself be gently nudged off when Miu took her arms away.
“Sit,” Miu said.
Lena sat close.
Miu adjusted slightly, setting her book aside and picking up her phone instead.
“Talk,” she said.
Lena leaned back into the sofa, suddenly a little less confident. “There’s this out-of-town work trip we have, and I was thinking of asking you to come.”
Miu opened the calendar without looking at her yet. “Okay. When is it?”
“…In a week.”
Miu finally glanced at her, then tapped the date in.
January 24. Sunday.
She hummed quietly. “Okay. That should be fine. It’s the weekend.”
Lena’s face brightened a little. “So you can come?”
Miu hummed. “Probably. I can move things aro—”
“It’s for two weeks.”
Miu stopped mid-scroll.
Slowly looked up.
“…Two weeks?”
Lena nodded, a little smaller now. “Yeah.”
Silence.
Miu leaned back.
“I run a law firm, Lena,” she said quietly, already thinking out loud. “I can’t just disappear for two weeks.”
“I know,” Lena said quickly. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Miu exhaled through her nose, staring at the ceiling for a second like she was already mentally rearranging hearings, clients, deadlines.
“…That’s a long time,” she murmured.
Lena scooted a little closer, careful now. “But it’s not like you have to stop working. You’ll just be there with me.”
Miu looked at her.
Lena tried again.
“Bubbie,” she said softly.
Miu closed her eyes for a second. “Don’t start.”
Lena didn’t falter.
Instead, she leaned her head lightly against Miu’s shoulder.
“…Please?” she tried again, quieter. “Come with me.”
Miu stayed silent.
Lena shifted slightly, fingers carefully finding Miu’s sleeve and holding on—just enough to be felt, not enough to force.
“I’ll be good,” she added quickly, almost earnestly now. “I won’t bother you when you’re busy. I’ll eat on time. I’ll behave.”
Miu let out a small breath, still not looking at her.
Lena hesitated, then went softer.
“…I just want you there,” she admitted.
Still, Miu didn’t say yes.
“Please,” she said again, voice smaller now. “Bubbie… please come with me.”
“…You’re really doing this,” she murmured.
Lena nodded faintly against her shoulder.
“Yes,” she said simply. “Please.”
Lena hesitated, then went softer.
“I'd be so lonely without you,” she said, pouting her lips.
Miu looked at her again.
Still hesitant.
Miu exhaled through her nose, like she was surrendering to something she’d been losing since the start of the conversation.
“…Two weeks,” she repeated.
Lena nodded quickly. “I’ll make it easy for you. I promise.”
Miu gave her a look. “You always say that.”
“I always mean it,” Lena said immediately.
That earned a small, reluctant shake of Miu’s head.
“…Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll come.”
The words barely settled before Lena froze.
Just for a second.
Like she was making sure she heard it correctly.
Then her expression softened all at once—relief slipping in so gently it didn’t even look like excitement at first, just something warm loosening in her chest.
“Really?” she asked quietly.
Miu clicked her tongue. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Lena shook her head fast. “I won’t. I won’t.”
And then, softer—almost shy:
“Thank you, Bubbie.”
Miu sighed, but there was no real complaint in it anymore.
She reached up, smoothing Lena’s hair back once, absentminded.
“Don’t start clinging to me for the next fourteen days just because I said yes,” she warned.
Lena smiled.
Small. Bright. Unfairly soft.
“I won’t,” she lied easily.
Miu gave her a look.
Lena didn’t even try to defend it this time.
Instead, she leaned in—lightly resting her forehead against Miu’s shoulder, like the answer had finally let her relax.