her quiet place

"Alright girls, tonight is all mine! The whole night, completely and utterly!" Mira practically flew out of the bathroom, her choker swinging around her neck and mischievous sparks dancing in her eyes. "It's our first day of vacation, by the way, and I'm definitely not going to mope on the couch with chamomile tea, listening to you snore! I need some action! Serious action, you know?" "My new dress has probably been bored in the closet for a whole week, patiently waiting," Rumi scoffed, twirling in front of the mirror and adjusting its folds. She winked at her reflection. "I have a feeling we're finally going to give it a proper outing tonight. Let's tear this club apart! Ready to party till dawn? This is our chance!" Zoe sat on the edge of the sofa, slowly picking at the buckles of her heavy, black stage boots that felt like they weighed a ton. She was smiling, tired but genuinely. Of course, after five concerts in a week! Her body ached from her fingertips to the top of her head. "Are you coming with us?" Mira asked, finally managing her unruly earring and stepping closer. She squinted, looking intently at Zoe. "You look a bit pale. Like you've seen a ghost. Come on, Zoe! We'll light it up so much everyone will be buzzing! We have to celebrate! It's a special occasion, after all." Zoe shook her head slightly, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm out, girls. The sweet maknae is tired of everything. Really. My head is splitting, and my knees have been begging for rest for ages. I feel like a squeezed lemon. And honestly, today I just want peace and quiet. You'll bring down the house without me. You're like that, you know how to party hard." Rumi walked over and lightly patted her on the shoulder. "Well, Zoe, get some rest," she sighed, but without resentment. "You're the most responsible one among us. Alright then. Sleep well." "If anything happens, call us," Mira added from the hallway, pulling on her jacket. Her voice was slightly muffled. "We won't be long. Or maybe we will. Whatever happens. Just don't get too bored there!" She ran back, leaned down, and quickly pecked Zoe on the top of her head before heading for the door. Rumi, passing by, also blew her a kiss. The door slammed shut behind them. Loudly, deafeningly in the sudden silence. Their ringing laughter hung in the air for a couple of seconds, then dissolved somewhere in the stairwell. And then silence fell. So profound that her ears rang. Zoe slowly returned to the room. In the corner, on the nightstand, a small lamp glowed, casting a soft, warm light. She pulled off all her stage finery—leather pants, corset, heavy bracelets—then shed the rest of her clothes until she was just in her underwear. Then she wiped the remnants of her bright makeup from her face, revealing pale, freckled skin. And simply collapsed onto the bed, hugging a pillow that felt so soft and familiar. At first, it was... nothing unusual. There was even a certain lightness. But the longer the silence pressed down on the apartment, the more something in her chest began to tighten. Thoughts, like annoying flies, immediately began to buzz under her skin, growing louder and louder. "You're just tired, that's all. Nothing special." "Just your nerves are a bit frayed from overwork." "You just didn't want to go to the club. You have every right." No, not "just." She knew it wasn't. Loneliness doesn't arrive all at once. It creeps up, slowly, following closely, enveloping you. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in the pillow, trying to escape these thoughts. She didn't want to cry—but her eyes still stung, and a lump formed in her throat. And then— He appeared. "Strange to see you like this," a quiet voice, so unexpected and calm, came from the doorway. Mystery. He stood there, watching. His silhouette was barely visible in the soft lamp light. Zoe didn't move. She just turned her head, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. "You... how do you even get in here?" her voice was hoarse and tired. "I don't 'get in.' I just... appear nearby when you're feeling down," he answered softly, his voice like a whisper of wind. She chuckled through her exhaustion. Bitterly, but without any malice. "And you came to watch my show: 'Zoe Backstage'? This pathetic spectacle?" "No," he stepped closer, and something warm appeared in his eyes. "I came so you wouldn't have to go through this alone." He carefully sat on the very edge of the bed, right beside her. He reached out a hand—slowly, very slowly, without the slightest pressure, offering support. Zoe didn't even flinch. He removed the pillow and lay down beside her, facing her, and their eyes met. And then, leaning in, he gently kissed her lips. In that moment, when his lips touched hers, Zoe literally burst into tears in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. All the suppressed tears, all the exhaustion and pain that had accumulated inside, poured out. She clung to his T-shirt, not able to stop. Mystery waited patiently, holding her and letting her cry it out. Only when her breathing became steadier and the last sniffling sobs quieted did Zoe lift her head, her reddened eyes meeting his gaze. "Will you stay the night?" Zoe whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her voice slightly hoarse from tears. She threw one leg over his hip and pressed herself closer to him, feeling warmth and safety. Not a word. Only his steady breathing. His warm palm, slowly tracing patterns on her ribs. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo—fresh, apple, such a familiar and comforting aroma. She—his strange, almost imperceptible scent. Not human. But so calm. And thrillingly familiar. They just lay in silence. And for the first time in a long time, Zoe didn't feel like she had to be strong.