Mina remembers the day her mom greets her with a bubbly blonde in tow. The girl was beaming so bright, Mina’s eyes almost hurt from the glare. Before she knew it, she was tackled with a “Hey Mina!” and a bone-crushing hug, freezing her in place as she was certainly not used to skin ship from acquaintances. This certain blonde was none other that Minatozaki Sana, the daughter of her mom’s best friend. The two girls had gone to the same middle school and Mina knew of Sana. Who wouldn’t? Queen bee of the school and the kindest, clumsiest soul around.

Their school prided itself on being home to many prodigal geniuses and their motto: Experiment, Enhance, Excel. Somehow, the young Sana might have interpreted it as, Explode, Enrage, Expel. The curious ten-year-old was unable to accept that fire only burns in oxygen; and wanted to see if fire could burn in perhaps, something simpler, like hydrogen. What ended up being an innocent feat to live up to the school’s motto turned into an absolute disaster. And Mina was right at the centre of it when that happened, resulting in a half-burnt school bag and debris all over the laboratory.

“I told you that it was explosive!” Mina cried in dismay as all her books started falling to the floor due to the gaping, and very burnt hole in her leather satchel. Poor Sana didn’t know what to do, the charred smell of laboratory equipment reminding her how her teacher was probably going to be furious and she was probably going to be expelled this time (she had been late to school too many times as well.) Hot tears rimmed and threatened to fall, but Mina was there to catch them. The explosion was somehow credited to the lack of proper storage of chemicals, with no further investigations needed. (Mina had been complaining that the chemicals were too easily accessible, would be potentially dangerous.) Ever since that incident, Sana decided that Mina was better than all the teachers combined and she was never letting this one go.

//

Fast forward a decade, they have become grown women with their respective careers. Sana was a team-leader at a reputable advertising firm and it was no surprise how she was the rising star of the human resources department (Somehow, she manages to get everyone easily wrapped around her little finger.) Mina herself went on to finish an incredible feat, finishing with first class honours in Law, but only to find herself leaning more towards Literature. Being a freelance legal advisor and writer has allowed her great freedom in choosing a work space, at the same time, also granting her the homebody lifestyle she has always wanted.

Thing were peaceful, until Sana has decided to bring home her best friend (who happens to be stunning as hell), who also coincidently becomes their new housemate.

Here lies the problem. In Mina’s books, the new girl went from beautifully unbearable to surprisingly tolerable to plain adorable. And this was making Mina frustrated beyond measure.

//

Mina was civil. Mina was kind. Mina could tolerate Momo.

The woman was beautiful, clearly intelligent, and nice enough. Mina thought she had heard that she worked as a doctor of some kind – a resident surgeon perhaps? - and that was admirable.

But Momo was also: crass, loud, worked strange hours, and when she smiled she never held anything back so it was like Mina was constantly staring into another sun (like a certain Miss Minatozaki).

She didn't like it.

It wasn't fair for Momo to be dazzling even when she was wearing pyjamas and smelling faintly like a three-day shift, hair a mess. It wasn't like Momo was even the first attractive, brunette, bright-eyed woman that Mina had come across (but she was the first one to leave Mina feeling speechless).

It also wasn't fair that she had smiled brightly and happily when Mina was working on finding the words to tell her that she was possibly the worst housemate that Mina could have been given. Mina was a light sleeper.

Momo was unfathomably loud and arrived home at unreasonable hours, leaving Mina to wake up each night Momo had a late shift because the brunette would stamp her way up the stairs and mumble to herself as she fumbled with her keys or, sometimes, sing along to her i-pod. Momo might have had a lovely voice but Mina was fond of her sleep - very fond in fact too fond - and Momo closed her door like she had taken a frickin precision course on it, on being able to close it at a volume that was barely, barely acceptable. And on the wrong extremities of barely acceptable.

It was unfair. Mina couldn't tell her not to slam the door because she wasn't exactly slamming the door. And that was unfair. If she was going to wake her up every night, she could at least have the decency to do it properly. On purpose. With no shame about the volume of her actions.

It was like she was trying to be decent and just failing miserably.

But Mina could play nice. Perhaps work into the conversation about some medical breakthrough that she read online, and smoothly slide in that she was completely and totally sick of being woken up. She hadn't expected Momo's dazzling smile and the easy way about her, so any thought of slipping an "I am very displeased about the volume of your comings and goings at three am" escaped her.

But no matter.

She could do it the next day, hearing Momo leave, probably to talk to Sana, from downstairs. She stepped into the hall.

She could do it.

She could, before Momo appeared in front of her clean and dressed and smelling lovely and still smiling that stupidly stunning smile and before she took Mina's hand in hers and Momo's hands, Momo's hands were cool and faintly calloused, which Mina had not expected. Calloused hands are the testament of hard work and Mina had always admired and loved such beautiful hands. But she also couldn't help the white hot thought of what they might feel like skipping over her hips and up the sides of her ribs and Momo was a doctor, right, so she was probably very good at being precise and Mina really had to not think about that.

She lost the ability completely to tell Momo to stop being so bloody loud at night because Momo took her hand and said her name not once, not twice, but three times and she said it like it was cigarette smoke all addiction and husk. “Mitang, can you cook spaghetti tonight? I’ll be home for dinner and I’m craving for it so bad.”

Mina was so sure she was almost getting an aneurysm from how endearing it was and dumbly nodded, all thoughts of complaints going out of the window.

//

"You know what your problem is," Jihyo said after Mina told her everything that happened and everything that had gone wrong.

"Enlighten me."

"You are so damn gay, you ought to have it written on your forehead," was her helpful answer.

Mina scowled down into her pan and scooped the kimchi stir fry into her bowl. "Thank you," she said. The remainder she had ladled into a small box, which she neatly labelled WEDNESDAY (Mina style), and placed in the freezer. The phone she kept pressed against her ear with her shoulder as she rummaged for a fork and made her way over to her coffee table.

"You are so incredibly helpful, all the time God Jihyo, what would I do without you."

"I know. But you know, hey, I'm just saying. Woman up. Go bash down her damn door and tell her she's being selfish. She may be attractive and all, but you have a job too and just because you like her knockers doesn't mean you like it when she goes knocking into everything."

"You're proud of yourself for that, aren't you?"

"For knockers and knocking?" Jihyo asked. "A little. Not my best, but it was okay."

"It was good." Mina faintly chuckles.

"Thanks."

"Can I use it?"

"No. Screw off, Myoui. Come up with your own for your next book why don't you. Author to Author integrity."

Mina laughed. They both knew that everything they said to each other was probably going to end up in something they wrote, one way or another. That was how it went with them. They turned over everything they heard or saw or read and it came out, sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident, but it always found its way onto paper.

That's why they were friends, really. (They sniped and fought hard. They also edited ruthlessly, chucking endless drafts and were both better for it.)

"Mine," Jihyo repeated, more sternly, and Mina let her have it. She didn't know how she would use it anyway. Too flippant for dark romance, anyway. The grit of pencil on paper came through the phone and she knew Jihyo was jotting it down. "Nayeon is home," Jihyo muttered, distracted by her writing.

Mina shifted, crossed her legs underneath herself. Barrelled noodles into and spoke around them (the usual elegant poise completely chucked to a corner), "Tell him I say hi." She smiled into the quiet of her apartment. Jihyo hated it when she ate and talked at the same time, but Mina does it anyway just to annoy her best friend.

"Gross, Mina." And then, "Nabongs! Mina says hi," she bellowed, making Mina switch her phone to her other ear. She rubbed at the ringing one, probably permanently damaged now, she thought dramatically. "Nabongs says hi back and she might visit you soon."

"Gee. Thanks."

"Welcome. So lunch tomorrow?"

"Got a deadline coming up." Mina groaned as she forced herself to her feet. Padded over to her wall calendar. She slurped the end of a noodle into and hummed a thoughtful hum, trying not to be too pleased by Jihyo's disgusted noise. Ah, revenge. "Monday?"

"Client." Her fingers made a neat dragging sound over the pages of her diary, flicking through it as the crinkling of paper signalled usage. "Friday? I have the afternoon free."

"Mm." Not ideal, given the ton of deadlines. But she was Myoui Mina, she could make it work. "Done deal."

"Done. Alright, see you then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have wild night with Nabongs now. Tell your house she should be quiet so you can work on the final draft of that storm you've been writing for forever - seriously, Mina, finish that already."

Jihyo hung up before Mina could tell her she never, never, ever, never needed to hear that about her best friends. Not that she wasn't pleased they still loved each other, she was, they both deserved it. But she didn't need to hear the details. Ever. She also didn't need Jihyo telling her for the three hundredth time that she should finish her book but that was what Jihyo did. (An excellent editor. Terrible friend, sometimes. She wasn't inclined towards sympathy, but then again neither was Mina, so they made a good team.)

She settled by her coffee table again and tucked her feet underneath her.

A blank document blinked on the screen of her computer and she wilfully ignored it, thinking instead on what Jihyo had said about Momo. It wasn't that she didn't want Momo to be quiet. Mina loved sleep. She wanted to sleep. But she couldn't agree that Momo was a , even if she were a detriment to her carefully planned sleep schedule.

She was just settling in still. It was only the third time Momo had woken her up.

She could let it slide. She even let it slide the fourth time as well.

But the fifth time. The fifth time, though. She hadn't even been living in the same apartment for two weeks and she'd woken Mina up five times. The short story she'd been commissioned to write was sitting, half finished and fully dreadful, on her screen and the time to finish it was ticking away.

She had until 5pm - was it too much to hope that she could be well rested when she sat down to finish it? It was important. She had a reputation to maintain, dammit, and so when she heard the shufflings of Momo at noon, she pushed up off her couch and away from her document.

She knocked hard on Momo's room door and repeated her points over and over in her head so that Momo's stupid smile wouldn't dazzle them away.

She was in luck.

Momo was definitely not smiling when she opened the door.

She yawned instead. Dragged a hand over her bare face. Slumped against the door and cracked her eyes open the tiniest bit - correction, just one eye. "What."

But.

She was wearing a tank top and boxers, her pyjamas clearly, and the shirt had ridden up. There was an inch, maybe more, of pale skin on view above the waist of her shorts with outlines of a really toned stomach. Mina swallowed thickly. Reminded herself that she was angry - she had work to do, damn it - and she didn't think again about skin or chocolate eyes blinking at her or pale pink lips that still managed to look appealing even when they were tilted down into a frown.

"You are loud," Mina whisper snarled. "You stomp on the stairs and you knock into everything. You close the door like it's midday when you come home at two in the morning and you wake. Me. Up," she said through gritted teeth. She ignored the slightest prickle of guilt, seeing the bags under Momo's eyes, because she had woken her up five times and it was going to be the last. "You're distracting and annoying and I swear to god if you wake me up again, I'm going to make you pay to soundproof my apartment. Got it?"

Momo yawned again. "I'm distracting?" she asked, a lazy grin growing and she waggled her eyebrows.

“You distract me as well, cutie.”

Mina growled, her heel. She tried to ignore the light laughter that followed her, before the soft closing of a door.

But the sound repeated over and over again in her mind and she scowled down at her keyboard, racing against the deadline. For the next few nights, Mina observed that the noise level had significantly decreased and that she has been able to get her beauty rest.

//

It wasn’t that Mina didn’t like the new housemate. It was more of how fast she blended in into her life. Like how it seemed as though, she had always been there. Breakfasts which were usually one sided conversations of Sana bubbling about this certain porcelain skinned intern, while Mina quietly listened as she munches on toast.

Then came Momo who was apparently a terrible chef; cracking eggs out of the bowl, forgetting to add milk into the pancake batter. As usual, Mina was there to save the day with her expertise in the kitchen. Mornings became chirpier and more lively, with the constant bantering between the Osaka and Kyoto natives regarding totally random topics. Momo blended in perfectly, like cookies with milk on a cold night, easily being able to catch up on their conversations and sliding in random puns as and when. Mina finds herself staring too much at the newcomer’s silly antics as she gestures how huge the new medical equipment was compared to her own small frame.

Too much, Mina, stop staring. Why are you even staring that much.

Mina knows the answer too very well: she most definitely likes the newcomer’s presence in the household.

//

“You’re a doctor, but you don’t seem too good with your hands.” Mina casually comments as she pours the new made batter into the pan and swirls it gently.

“Well, you’ve not seen what I can do with my hands yet. I’ve actually got pretty nimble fingers.” Momo mumbles, currently perched at the kitchen island nursing her flat white.

Mina almost drops the pan at that unintentional insinuation and burns a finger. She hisses in pain as Momo rushes over to inspect the injury. Before Mina could protest, Momo puts said girl’s finger in causing the younger girl to gawk wide-eyed at the gesture. Mina knows she shouldn’t feel the butterflies in her stomach but with Momo’s puppy-like soft eyes staring at her, she couldn’t help but get lost in them. It was definitely an odd gesture and Mina was not used to having her finger in someone’s mouth, and the feeling of a soft muscle swirling around the injured digit. Well, who would be?

“Eh?” Mina stared dumbly at an amused Momo, who was currently waving a hand in front of her and removing her finger from .

“I said, you weren’t listening to me you pabo. Histatin, is a small protein in saliva aids in the healing of trauma-induced wounds such as burns and non-healing wounds, such as diabetic ulcers. That’s why I put your finger in my mouth. Stop looking at me like I don’t know my medical stuff.” Momo explains coolly, making Mina nod in understanding.

Breakfast that day consisted of quiet munching and occasional quips regarding Momo’s shift in the hospital since Sana had an early meeting to rush off to. Momo rambles about how a grumpy old grandma complained how the surgery was much quicker than usual, and was concerned if Momo did a good job sewing her up. Fortunately, Momo was a stellar student back in medical school, acing practical exams with ease.

“For the record, I have the quickest record in switching scapels. Told you I had nimble fingers. Thanks for breakfast anyway, Mitang. I’ll be home for dinner!” Momo leans in and pecks Mina on her cheek before scurrying out of the door. She most certainly didn’t hear the soft reply of “Have a good day at work, Momoring ”.

From that day on, Mina was sure Momo was good with , and it was not just in terms of speech and eating. It felt oddly domestic, having breakfast with her and then hearing her promise of coming home for dinner. Mina shrugs it off as a habit that she got used to, the routine of a certain brunette coming home to her.

//

Tuesday nights were strictly reserved for movies; the two original housemates ordering take out and lounging on the couch whilst watching a rented film. For the umpteenth time, Sana decided to pick “The Notebook” and Mina was trying so hard to keep awake. Between a sobbing Sana and drowsy Mina, laid a sleeping Momo. With her legs on Sana’s lap and head in the crook of Mina’s shoulder, Mina found herself stilling with every gentle exhale from Momo.

Just when Mina thought she was about to combust from nerves, Sana let out a loud squeal (She always does at the part where Noah asks Allie to dance on the street.), triggering Momo to shift in her sleep. Mina finds Momo’s arms looping around hers and it wasn’t long before Momo started encroaching into Mina’s personal space, breaths hitting her collarbones and nose tickling Mina’s neck.

On the exterior, everything seemed calm; but inside, Mina’s mind was in a turmoil. Should she move before she gets a heart attack from the proximity or should she remain still so that the tired doctor can finally catch her forty winks? She eventually decides on the latter, and finds herself drifting to the sound of soft music from the movie, dotted with sniffles from Sana.

//

Momo finds herself feeling incredibly rested and comfortable. It has been a long time since she’d been able to sleep for more than 2 hours at a go and it was not on a uncomfortable bunk bed with Chaeyoung’s voice as a ringing alarm. Rubbing her cheek on the fabric of her source of comfort, Momo realises that her pillow smells too much like jasmine. Peeking an eye open, she was greeted with the sight of a sleeping Mina, looking as regal as she always was.

Ever since the first night when she arrived, she knew Mina was different. Momo knows of her bad habit to mumble incoherently in her sleep, and she must have said something that resulted in waking up to a sleeping Mina right beside her. For a good 15 minutes, Momo found herself staring at Mina’s face, elegant locks framing the pale complexion dotted with tiny moles. It was almost like looking at the galaxy, decorated with constellations.

Momo had observed Mina as she headed out to work one evening. The latter was beautiful. And well-accomplished - she could hold all her things, newspaper, laptop, wallet and sunglasses, easily held against her body with one arm. And graceful - bent slightly just to lock the door and she tossed her head neatly to shift away a little slip of hair that had fallen onto her face and just. Yeah. She could totally handle anything that came her way, Momo was certain of it.

A woman to admire, at the very least. An extremely gorgeous one that shone with confidence and elegance.

This version of her though, looked incredibly small and fragile. Clad in a grey hoodie and the Christmas boxer shorts Sana got both of them for Christmas (Sana insisted that the 3 should get matching ones), Mina looked years younger, endearing and soft. It was almost 2am and Momo realises they had spent most of the night on the couch. She attempts to move Mina into a more comfortable position when Mina stirred awake.

“Momo? What time is it?” Mina groggily asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“It’s 2.09. Sorry for falling asleep on you. The bed is definitely more comfortable than the couch.” Momo sheepishly mumbled.

Unable to fall asleep, the pair found themselves huddled on the same couch with cups of hot chocolate. Falling into conversation without Sana became easy for them over time, talking about the most common of topics such of work, to deeper and difficult questions. Intellectual debate had always appealed to Mina; but with Momo, it was usually on a whole new more enjoyable level. Momo always seemed to have a sassy rebut to whatever Mina had to say, or an immensely thoughtful answer, either way, it appealed to Mina just as much.

This time, Momo was the one who pipes up.

“Say Mina. What is more difficult for you, looking into someone’s eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone’s eyes when they are telling you how they feel?”

Mina was a reserved child since young, and telling someone how she felt had never been an easy task. More so looking into someone’s eyes. Mina pursed her lip in thought, such a question does not have a simple straightforward answer. Before she could answer, Momo continued.

“Personally, I think looking into someone’s eyes when you are receiving someone’s feelings is a lot harder. You don’t have a clue what feelings you’re receiving; you can never be sure how you would be after that because it depends on what you feel as well. Imagine. If you were receiving a confession. What if the confession was not what you expected? Instead of an “I like you”, it might be “I’m sorry”. And there’s endless multitudes to what I’m sorry might mean. It could be “I’m sorry, I wished I liked you back.” It could be “I’m sorry, I can’t like you.” Same for yourself. It takes two to clap, especially for feelings. The worst thing that someone can do, is not properly handling affairs of the heart. It takes courage to express your feelings; but I think it takes more than just courage to receive feelings, it takes sensitivity and ...” Momo trails off, the lack of words taking over in the quiet of the night.

Mina personally feels a lot less eloquent at this point. She’s received her fair share of confessions in high school, and she realised that she’d never actually looked into the eyes of all these confessors to truly understand how difficult it was. Unable to respond, she leans simply on Momo’s shoulder, to show understanding without verbal means. But if there was one thing she knew now, was that if she was going to look into Momo’s eyes, she’d probably drown in those pools before she could properly process anything that the girl was saying. Frankly, she was glad they were not facing each other. She doesn’t even realise that at some point Momo had the stereos softly when she often notices everything Momo does.

But she’s certain she’d heard Momo’s voice loud and clear when she said, “I’ll leave the harder option to you.”

“Eh?” Mina was not sure if her ears were playing tricks on her, or whether the late night shenanigans taking a toll on her sanity.

Shuffling of footsteps were heard as Momo got up to put her emptied mug on the nearby coffee table. When she finally turned back to face Mina, the latter had a vice like grip on the mug, her own knuckles turning white from the force. Gently prying Mina’s fingers (god Momo’s hands were so warm) away from the poor object, Momo takes Mina’s mug and places it gently beside her own, it was as if whatever she was about to say would probably cause the mug to break.

Well if the physical force doesn’t break the mug, the tension in the room probably would have. Mina was smart, her snarky mouth could have easily come up with an excuse to leave the said tension in the room and allow her great escape to the confines of her own bedroom. However, when Momo gently holds her hand and runs those delicate fingers over the veins between her knuckles, she finds herself becoming incredibly incoherent, jumbled thoughts flooding her mind. It wasn’t helping that the pads of Momo’s thumb felt awfully soothing but strangely comfortable as they rubbed circles on the crook of her thumb.

“I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, Mitang.” Momo pauses and lifts her head up to meet Mina’s eyes. For a millisecond, Momo’s thumb stopped moving and Mina was pretty sure she had halted breathing altogether.

"Momo," her name was a warning. It was a ‘are you sure and it was I don't want to make this worse’ - this being whatever it was that made Momo look like she was a thunderstorm instead of the sun. This being, whatever made Momo's eyes glassy and her arms wrap tight around her waist.

"Mina," she returned and that was ‘I'm fine and I need to tell you something’. “I’ve always felt like my mind was constantly in a whirl. Needing to get things done, needing a challenge. I felt the persistent need to feel busy. But then you came and, you made me feel something else. You got me to stop thinking. To allow me to stop remembering there was any kind of world that I was constantly in a mad rush to finish shifts. You make me feel safe and secure. Everyone needs someone. For the first time in my life, I’m so sure of it, and it’s most definitely you.”

It was just words but at the same time it wasn't; because it was also all the ways they had looked at each other and it was the way the air was starting to feel like too much space between them - Mina didn't want to stop. She wanted Momo's hands on her. She wanted to bury herself in Momo and she wanted feel Momo’s body pressed against hers and her breath lost on someone her skin. "You are the someone I need.”

Mina could be someone. She could be her someone, for Momo.

Momo looked small, wearing a cute totoro hoodie, hair tousled with sleep, but eyes brighter than ever as she look at Mina with those expectant eyes and bated breaths. Mina sat carefully on the couch, her cheeks starting to turn a deep crimson, heat radiating to the back of her ears. Gently letting go of Momo’s hands, Mina moved to meet her and straddled her lap. Her fingertips felt like they were sparking when they met Momo's cheeks.

“When you came, you made me lose sleep. How are you even making me lose sleep right now?”

It was a hushed affair, slow and careful. Mina let Momo trail her fingers down her neck, letting her explore till her heart’s content. It was only then that Mina notices the faint silhouette of her face being reflected in Momo’s dark brown orbs, as she gently nudges her nose against Momo’s.

"This isn’t a dream right?" Momo asked, fingers coming to a rest at her nape.

Mina nodded, eyes fixated on Momo's lips. “But it could as well be a dream.”

Momo chuckles as she traces the contours on Mina’s nose with hers before gently rubbing them together. “Can I tell you a secret?” Mina could feel a pair of lips ghosting over hers.

“That was much harder than I thought.” Momo chuckles in earlier reference to their conversation, eliciting light giggles from the younger girl. "If you want me to stop, tell me now," she whispered. When Mina kept mum, she brushed against the tip of her nose. "Or now." As she traced the line of her cheekbone with her eyes. "Or now."

"Or—"

But Mina had reached up and pulled her down, and the rest of her words were lost against that snarky little mouth. Dragging her hand through the length of it Mina’s hair, Momo almost verbally sighs at how soft it was. Mina moved slowly, sinking further into Momo's lap, and she let her free hand explore Momo's shoulders, tracing the muscle of her arm before moving on to her beautiful collarbones. She sank further into the dip on her thighs until a groan escaped Momo’s mouth and Mina's too-pleased grin earned her a sharp nip on her lip.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself."

"If I do, will you bite me again?" Mina asked, shifting her lips down to kiss softly the curve of Momo's neck, to the dip below the line of her shirt. Truthfully, the temptation to mark the young doctor was sending Mina’s mind into overdrive, but seeing how Momo was looking at her like that, Mina opted for another chaste kiss instead.

With a Cheshire grin, Momo asks breathily, “Am I allowed to be noisy if you’re not getting any sleep tonight?”

//

The next morning, Sana finds two unwashed mugs on the coffee table. She also finds a dishevelled Mina stumbling out from Momo’s room.

“Sorry I overslept. Today’s my turn to make breakfast.” Mina stretches, shirt riding up and Sana’s eating grin says it all.

“Wow, I never knew Momo was a biter.”

All she got was a slap from Mina on the arm and Sana was relieved that there wasn’t any more in the house.

Also, Mina had to soundproof their apartment (particularly their bedrooms) from that day on, but at least no one is complaining about noise anymore (nor were they getting much sleep).

fin.

Thank you all for reading. :)