They talked and ate and Miku was taken aback by the deliciousness of everything she put in her mouth – Luka was a famed chef for a reason, and she eagerly devoured her meal, taking sips of her wine as she went along.
Luka usually worked with octopus, hence the name of her restaurant, and Miku found that it paired well with the wine. The wine's flavour was light and mellow, just like its appearance, but because it was so gentle she didn't notice that she was beginning to get tipsy, her laughter becoming louder and slightly more erratic.
Gumo seemed concerned, but Luka and Gumi were simply amused, egging her on as they continued to pour wine into her glass. Miku scooped up some of her tomato sauce – this was so good, it obviously wasn't just tomato, what else did Luka put in it? – and licked it off her spoon, washing the sauce down with another gulp of wine.
"Miku, you need to slow down on the drinking." Gumo caught her hand, preventing her from lifting her glass again, and she narrowed her eyes at him, pouting. "Don't look at me like that. I'm surprised you haven't turned red yet."
"Right, because I'm not drunk or anything like that." Her speech was perfectly fine. It was just her head that was kind of woozy, but beyond that she was good. No, great. "Ugh, Luka, this is amazing. I don't know how you do it. I want to cook like you."
"Well, you can come to TAKO on weekends to help out in the kitchen, if you'd like." Luka giggled. "But I must say I'm pretty tough on our kitchen staff. Are you sure?"
"Yes! Absolutely!" she declared, dropping her spoon on her plate, and Gumi burst out laughing at this point, shaking her head. Miku frowned at her. "What's so funny?"
"You know what? I think I'll take her home after dessert." Gumo sighed. "I've forgotten just how lousy her tolerance is. I'm surprised she's not unconscious yet."
"Oh, speaking of dessert! Let me check on the kitchen – it should be ready by now." Luka got up, and Miku watched as her idol walked off, her heart gripped by despair.
"No, Luka, don't go," she cried, or rather moaned – wow, her head was heavy. Did she drink that much wine? This was her second glass at most. Gumo definitely had more than she did. "Is it because I was too, um, too excited to see you? Come back…"
"Oh, man. Please take good care of Miku later, Gumo." Though Gumi's lips twitched. "The sweet innocence of youth! I miss those days," she added, sounding dreamy.
"Ugh, you're making yourself sound like an old hag," Gumo mumbled, placing a hand on Miku's shoulder. "And you don't need to worry, I won't let her out of my sight until she's back in her room. Miku is an absolute terror when she's drunk."
"Am not drunk," she retorted, lucid enough to understand the conversation. "Um, just a bit tipsy. But not drunk!" she emphasised, holding up a finger. "See? One finger."
Gumo rolled his eyes. "Yes, sweetheart. You're not drunk. I trust you. But no more wine, all right? I'm banning it." He shifted her drink away, and without preamble she snatched his glass and downed the remainder, ignoring his shout of disbelief.
Gumi was cackling. "I love her! She's so fun!"
"And you're so unhelpful," Gumo retorted, removing the glass from her hand. "Come to think of it, you're probably the reason I grew up the way I did. A scatter-brained mess, or so you like to call me. You just enjoyed watching me fall flat on my face."
"Hey, don't say that. Failure is the mother of success." Gumi pushed her cup towards him, the clear drink sloshing around. "Here, some water. Might help her sober up."
Gumo picked up the cup, but he also knew perfectly well what his sister was like and he paused, sniffing at the liquid. Then he glared at her. "This is vodka."
"Aw, you noticed." She laughed, smacking away the toothpick he threw at her. "You're genuinely concerned for her, aren't you? It's the first time I've seen you this uptight."
He thought about it. "She's my friend. Obviously I'm worried. You're not the one who has to put up with her hangover tomorrow," he pointed out, and she grinned.
"Seems like my little brother is in love," she whispered, wiggling her eyebrows. Gumo rolled his eyes, brushing her words away, though he did glance at Miku – she was in the process of dissecting her garlic bread and didn't appear to be listening to them.
"Feel free to think whatever you want, Gumi. Though I wish you and Luka would stop trying to get all my friends drunk. You're both adults, you should act like one."
Gumi groaned. "Sweetie, I work in a major accounting firm. The fact that I managed to take leave during this period at all is a miracle in itself. Cut me some slack, okay?"
His lips twitched. "Fine," he said, narrowing his eyes at his sister. "But please. Enough with the pet names. It's embarrassing. I'm not eight years old anymore."
"But you truly remind me of a little fox –" She saw the look on his face and she sighed, taking a sip of her vodka. "All right, all right. You're so picky."
"Thanks." He glanced at Miku again, wondering how much she would remember after she inevitably passed out tonight. Hopefully, she'd forget most of what happened.
Miku could feel warm hands supporting her as she stumbled into her room, her whole world spinning. She was still lucid. Probably. But she couldn't quite walk straight.
Gumo exhaled, depositing her onto her mattress, and she groaned as she kicked off her heels, instinctively recoiling at the thought of wearing her shoes to bed. "Where's your cup? Ah," he muttered to himself, and she watched idly as he poured some water for her, emptying the glass pitcher she kept on her desk.
"Here, drink this. If not you'll have a nasty hangover tomorrow morning, and I'm the one who'll get blamed for it," he said, shoving her cup beneath her nose. She groaned again, not wanting to take it – the thought of drinking anything right now made her stomach churn – but Gumo was insistent, and finally she wrapped her fingers around the drink, taking a tentative sip. The water was lukewarm, and she resisted the urge to spit.
"Mm, thank you." Her head was rather heavy, but it wasn't as bad as when they were on the cab. She had definitely passed out then. "Um…are you, um, where are you…?"
"I'm heading back to my room." He sounded like he was trying not to laugh, glancing over his shoulder as he turned away. "You'll be fine now, and I don't think I should linger here. If not you'll have to deal with a whole bunch of rumours tomorrow."
"No. Stay." She woozily grabbed his sleeve, and he sighed, meeting her gaze. "I don't care about the rumours. I want you to stay." Her water sloshed about as she moved.
He appraised her, looking thoughtful. "That's not a good idea…" He was cut off by a whimper, and he exhaled, his expression turning resigned. "Okay, okay. I'll go down to shower and come back up once I'm done, all right? As for you, you should at least brush your teeth and freshen up. Can you do that while I'm away, Miku?"
She nodded, smiling now that he'd promised not to ditch her, and he shook his head. "You're just like a child when you're drunk," he said. "It's kind of scary."
"Go shower," she demanded, ignoring his comment. "Then come back. Quick."
"Demanding," he muttered, gently prying her fingers off his wrist. "Fifteen minutes. Try not to get into any trouble until I'm back."
"I won't," she said, waving her hand about, and he just shook his head, heading out of her room. The moment the door closed behind him, she felt a strange emptiness sweep through her, clearing her head a little and making her chest feel hollow – she pressed a hand over her heart, felt it beating underneath her palm.
It was so hot. She should go freshen up. Though her bed looked very welcoming right now…no, she had to brush her teeth first. She jammed her feet into her slippers and grabbed her toiletries, shuffling over to the common toilet.
The first thing she did was splash cold water on her face, and it felt good against her flushed skin. She lathered up her cleanser, staring at herself in the mirror – she wasn't that red, possibly her only advantage when it came to drinking. Most people couldn't tell when she was drunk since she didn't turn pink very easily.
Her head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and she didn't want to stay outside her room for long, so she quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, blinking at the mirror as she studied her eyes. Huh. Were they always this shade of blue-green? She didn't even notice. What was that word Gumi and Luka used…yes, aquamarine?
Whatever. It was too much effort to think right now. She took her pouch and headed back to her room, happily throwing herself onto her bed once she closed the door. A part of her mind said that maybe she ought to change out of her dress before she fell asleep, but moving felt like an impossible task at this stage. Her bed enveloped her, her blanket soft and fluffy as a cloud, and she sighed happily, resting on her pillow.
She could pass out right now. It was tempting to close her eyes. But she gritted her teeth, raising her head just a tiny bit – she wanted to wait for Gumo. She wasn't sure why, but it felt important to make sure he was around before she went to bed.
Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long. She was fiddling with her phone, squinting at her Vocagram feed when she heard someone knock on her door. "Uh, come in, it's not locked," she called, voice slurring a little, and Gumo entered her room, wearing nothing but a black sleeping tank and cotton shorts. She couldn't help but stare.
"What? You've seen me in my pyjamas before," he said. He wasn't wrong, but still – it felt like seeing a new side of him, for some reason. It was rare to see him wearing so little, but he looked good. Good in a different way from his usual outfits.
How could someone who spent most of his time focused on his art look so attractive? It wasn't fair. "Do you even exercise?" she blurted out, unable to stop herself.
"Huh?" Gumo blinked. "Sometimes, I guess. It's good for your health, you know. That plus eating more vegetables, which you really need to start doing. You can't avoid your greens forever." She was barely paying attention to the words leaving his mouth.
"I do eat my vegetables," she mumbled. "I eat green stuff all the time." Gumo's hair was green. She wondered if it'd taste good.
He snorted. "No, you don't. I can see you actively avoiding the salad every time we eat together. You're going to regret that when you end up with constipation."
"I eat lots of fruit." Gumo's lips were pouty, a soft shade of pink, almost like cherries. "Fruits have fibre too." It would be nice to kiss him now, but he was too far away.
"It's not enough. Have you heard of a balanced diet?" he asked, and she didn't want him to lecture her about her meal choices so she sat up in bed and waved at him to come over. He did so, though he looked cautious, and she stretched towards him as he approached, her hands seeking his. "Come here," she commanded.
His eyes widened, and he froze for a moment, looking unsure of what to do next. She beckoned again. "Come here," she whined, and he finally moved, his hands reaching towards hers. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and yanked him down, their lips meeting – he tasted like mint, and she clung onto him, trying to keep him close.
Gumo withdrew after a few seconds. "Hm, you're still tipsy. We'd better not," he said, his green eyes searching her face. She pouted, her tongue flicking out to moisten her bottom lip – his gaze landed on her mouth and flitted away. "Another time, Miku."
"Now," she said, narrowing her eyes. He hesitated, but she didn't give him a chance to slip away, this time getting up from the bed to slide her arms around his waist. He let out a quiet yelp, almost stumbling as she swayed on her feet. "You smell nice…"
He did. He smelled like whatever shampoo and body wash he used; there was a hint of flowers in there, and it smelled fresh and clean. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling, and slowly she felt his hand lower onto the back of her head, running through her hair. His tank top was warm. Like it'd just been taken out of the dryer.
"And you smell like wine and cherry blossoms," he murmured, leaning his chin on her head. "You know, if you weren't so tipsy then maybe I – maybe I would…"
He didn't finish his sentence, and she didn't press him to continue, too distracted by how pleasant it felt to have his arms wrapped around her. Was she stupid to have ignored all his hints, all the times he tried to flirt with her? Maybe. She had her reasons for that, but at this moment it was nice to pretend there was nothing to worry about.
"I think I like you," she whispered, and his fingers stilled, halfway down her hair. "You know, if I'd met you earlier…if we became friends a long, long time ago –"
"Don't say anything more." He pressed a finger against her lips, his voice soft. "There are too many what-ifs. All that would do is make us both unhappy."
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice hitching. "I really am."
"I know, sweetheart." He went back to stroking her hair, and she tightened her grip on him, unwilling to let go. "I know."
When Miku woke up the first thing she felt was the nasty throb in her head. It wasn't the worst headache she ever had, but no hangover was enjoyable and she groaned, reaching up to press her hand against her forehead. Never again.
The next thing she felt was an arm draped loosely across her waist, and she slowly forced herself to look around, wondering who was sharing her bed – her gaze landed on a familiar head of green hair, and she exhaled. Gumo. He was still sound asleep.
Suddenly panicking, she peeked down at herself and noticed she was still in her little black dress from last night. Gumo was fully-clothed too, and she relaxed, glad that nothing had happened while she was drunk. She wasn't sure how she'd react if they did sleep together – it would feel too much like cheating on Len.
Even though well, they technically weren't together. But was it weird to sleep with two people at the same time? It was embarrassing to even consider the thought, but she couldn't help it, looking at Gumo's peaceful face – she was taken by an overwhelming surge of want, and she exhaled, turning away from him. Now was not a good time.
It was difficult to clamber up from her bed, but she managed it anyway, reaching for her cup on the desk. It was still half-full, thank god, though she noticed her pitcher was empty. She'd have to fill it up later. Gumo shifted in bed as she shuffled around her room, but she paid him no heed – he was a notoriously heavy sleeper, after all.
Gumo could probably sleep right through an earthquake. Or a fire. Or anything, really. He'd missed one of their finals once because he overslept. Thankfully their professor was understanding enough to let him retake the exam.
Miku felt along her top shelf, managing to retrieve her jar of coffee powder. Time to make some coffee, and hopefully it'd help to relieve her headache. She downed the rest of the water in her cup, dumped in a few scoops of instant coffee, then tried to work up the will to leave her room. She needed hot water, and the cooler was right there…
It was too hard. She slid her feet into her bedroom slippers, her cup trembling in her grip. The cooler was right down the hall but it felt so far away. She stumbled over to the door, her hand reaching towards the knob, but she couldn't bring herself to turn it. "I am never drinking again," she muttered, loathing her past self's decisions.
"Miku?" She heard Gumo mumble and looked back to see his eyes slowly fluttering open. She didn't know how to feel about the fact that her name was the first thing he said when he woke up. "Where are you…oh." His bleary gaze landed on her, standing right beside her door. "What are you doing?"
"I want to make coffee." Her tongue felt like sandpaper. "But it's hard to walk around."
He sat up, stretching, and under any other circumstances she would have averted her gaze, but she was too out of it to do anything besides stare at him. His tank rose a little, baring just the tiniest sliver of skin, and she zeroed in on his stomach, unable to tear her eyes away. Gumo noticed her looking. "Like what you see, darling?"
He was so annoying. But she wasn't able to say that out loud, so she just cleared her throat and held out her cup. "Could you help me get some hot water, please?"
"Since you asked so nicely." Gumo yawned, running a hand through his tousled hair. He had a bad case of bed-head but he managed to make it look intentional, somehow. It was so unfair. She hadn't looked in the mirror yet and frankly, she didn't want to. He got off her bed, reaching out to take the cup from her, and their fingers brushed – her skin tingled, and she whipped her hand back once the cup was firmly in his grasp.
He gave her a curious look but didn't say anything. "I'm surprised you were able to wake up at all," she said, trying to calm her racing heart. Her headache wasn't helping. "I mean, you're always…um, asleep. I've never seen you waking up before noon."
"To be fair, it's almost noon," he pointed out, and she glanced at her clock, noticing with a jolt that it was much later than she thought it was. She rarely slept in like this. "And I've been awake for a while, actually. I was waiting for you to get up."
She frowned. "Huh, so you were awake this whole time? And you didn't offer to help me get my coffee jar?" He would have had no problem reaching her top shelf, and now she felt a little disgruntled. Gumo grinned, his eyes filled with mirth.
"It was fun watching you struggle." He patted her head, and she glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. I'm helping you make your coffee now, right?"
She relaxed. He was right. "You're forgiven," she said, twisting the doorknob. "Please get going now. My head feels like it's about to drop off."
"You're so bossy in the morning. Sometimes I wonder why I like you," he mumbled. She blinked, staring open-mouthed at him, but he just winked and stepped out into the hallway without saying another word.
It was weird to hear him acknowledge his crush so openly, and she reached up to her cheeks, feeling them warm beneath her fingers. What should she do? What could she do? She didn't recall much of what happened last night, but she had vague memories of his arms wrapped around her, his slender fingers trailing through her hair, his lips at her ear, whispering, whispering – her face was becoming uncomfortably hot.
Oh, no. What had she done? Hopefully nothing too improper. She'd never be able to live it down, otherwise. She walked over to her cupboard, staring at the in-built mirror – her hair was kind of tangled, and she could see dark circles beneath her eyes, but thankfully drunk Miku had washed off her makeup, which was already far better than what she would normally expect.
She reached for her brush on the shelf nearby, running it through her hair. With some patience and tugging, she managed to work out all the knots just in time to hear the door open – Gumo returned with her steaming cup in hand, holding a paper plate with two sandwiches in the other. "Thought you might be hungry."
"Wow. Thanks!" She was touched, and she put her brush back on the shelf, cautiously taking the coffee from him. He placed the sandwiches on her desk, and she sipped at her coffee, the creamy drink warming her from the inside out. The caffeine kicked in quickly, and though it did little to relieve her headache, she did begin to feel more awake. Gumo leant against her cupboard, watching her. "Want some?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Think you need it more than I do. I'll make another cup if I want coffee." She nodded, feeling self-conscious under his intent gaze – his eyes were such a gorgeous shade of green. She remembered staring into them last night…
"Um, did I do anything to you? When I was drunk?" she asked, thinking it was best to get that out of the way. The sooner they got over this weird awkwardness, the better.
His lips tilted up. "Hm. Where should I even begin?"
She froze, her hand halfway reaching towards the sandwiches. "Wait, what?"
"I'm kidding." He laughed, and she exhaled, setting the cup down on her desk before she accidentally dropped it. "Ha. You should have seen the look on your face."
"Don't joke around like that! It's terrifying!" she scolded, biting into the first sandwich. Peanut butter, one of her favourite spreads. Gumo knew exactly what she liked, and she couldn't help the warm affection that flooded her as she savoured her meal.
"We didn't do anything, honestly. You kissed me, but that's about it." He sounded so matter-of-fact that she didn't register what he said at first; then the words sank in and she stiffened, her gaze fixed on her bread. "Not gonna lie, it felt pretty good."
"Oh," she squeaked, her hand quivering. "Okay. I kissed you." She did recall his lips pressed against hers, the distinct taste of mint filling her mouth. Her heart thudded. "But nothing else happened, right?" she asked, beseeching. Did she want to know?
He stared at her, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. Nothing important, anyway." He tilted his head towards the sandwich in her hand. "I couldn't find the hazelnut spread so you'll have to settle for second-best."
"Peanut butter is fine. You didn't have to, Gumo." She finished the first sandwich and went for the second – he'd spread butter on it and placed a slice of cheese between the two halves, and it was delicious. "You're truly a wonderful friend, you know."
He chuckled. "I don't do this for my friends." His gaze lingered on her and she hastily looked away, gulping down a hot mouthful of coffee to avoid meeting his stare – she almost burnt her tongue, but it served as a decent distraction.
"Do you have any plans today? It's the weekend, after all. Oh!" She suddenly cried out, remembering. "I was supposed to meet Rin for lunch! Where's my phone?"
She found the stupid thing, which she'd tossed onto the floor beneath her bed last night. The battery was almost dead, and she saw she had a few messages from Rin. The latest one was ten minutes ago, asking if she had woken up yet.
Miku called Rin, nibbling on her thumbnail; she picked up after two rings, sounding relieved. "Oh my god, I thought you died or something. Gumo wasn't picking up my calls either so I was wondering if you two had been kidnapped on the way home –"
"Sorry, sorry. I got kind of tipsy last night so I crashed," she explained. "I'm good for lunch but I have a nasty headache right now, so I'd rather not go too far."
"Not a problem! I didn't intend to leave the campus, anyway. Why don't we meet at the nice café near the library? I have some credits that I need to use up." Rin paused. "Is Gumo there? I knocked on his door earlier but he didn't seem to be in."
"Yeah. Why? You want to speak to him?" She glanced at Gumo, who frantically shook his head, looking nervous. Rin let out an annoyed sigh.
"No. I was just curious. Does this mean he slept in your room last night?"
"Um…" She wasn't sure if she wanted to answer that, at least not with Gumo standing right there. "How about I tell you more over lunch?"
"Fine. You better be prepared for all my questions, Miku!" Rin warned. "I'm going to take a shower now, so I'll see you in thirty minutes downstairs, all right?"
"Sure, thirty minutes." That would give her time to wash up as well. They ended the call and she sighed, heading towards her desk and plugging in her dying phone. The screen lit up, her battery now charging, and she wondered why she didn't do this last night. Drunk her was stupid. "I need to go take a shower," she told Gumo.
"I figured." His green eyes danced with amusement, and she paused, mesmerised by how lively he looked. He definitely didn't seem like someone who had gone drinking last night. "I have plans for today as well, so I won't hold you up."
"Your aquascaping?" she guessed, and he nodded, looking pleased.
"Yeah, you remembered." He cocked his head. "You know, since you agreed to attend Gumi's wedding, maybe we should show up in matching outfits. That'd be pretty cool, right? I could put together something for you if I have enough time…"
"Hang on. You can design clothes?" she asked, incredulous. He raised an eyebrow.
"Why not? I can knit blankets and sweaters and crochet toys and help you fix holes in your cardigans, but somehow I can't design my own clothes?"
When he put it that way… "Gumo, you're crazy talented. I don't know how you do it."
He shrugged. "Art and design are the only things I'm good at, so." He met her gaze. "I'm sure Len is far more accomplished than I am. He's on the Dean's List, you know."
"Yeah, I know," she mumbled, a little uncomfortable about Gumo mentioning Len. It didn't feel right, for some reason. "But you're plenty smart too. You just don't –"
"I just don't apply myself, yes," he sighed, cutting her off. "I'm aware. Gumi has said the same thing one too many times." He fiddled with his tank top, staring at a loose thread. "Frankly, I was never cut out for academia. It's much too stifling for me."
"But you do it for your sister," she said, and he nodded, twirling the thread around his finger. "Did you ever imagine a life without art?"
"Nope. Can't imagine it. I love art and the arts. Music, theatre, graphic design, fashion, drawing – everything. Life would be so dull without all these in my life." He grinned.
"Yeah, don't think you'd be the same without it." He met her gaze, his eyes soft, and she swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say. "You know that sketchbook you like to carry around? I've always wondered what you have inside it."
He paused, blinking, and she waited with bated breath, wondering what he might say. Gumo scratched the back of his neck, his expression turning awkward. "You want to know?" he asked, and she nodded, popping the last bit of sandwich inside her mouth.
"Well." He hesitated. "Um. No point in hiding it anymore I guess. Since we've already reached this point." He exhaled. "A few sketches of you. You're kind of my – okay, this is embarrassing, but you're like…my muse, almost. It's easier for me to think of things when I imagine you doing them. Or wearing them. But I promise I'm not weird."
She laughed. "No, I don't think you're weird." She contemplated for a while. "A muse, huh? I've never been someone's muse before. Would it help if I posed for you or something? Like, um…if you have a project you need help on, I mean."
His eyes widened. "You sure? I do have a life-drawing class that's pissing the hell out of me. I hate drawing realistically, but if you're my model, I wouldn't mind so much." He hesitated. "But being a model is super uncomfortable. You can't move for ages."
"That's fine. You know I'm good at zoning out." And anyway, if she was sitting still for long periods she would probably be forced to think about that essay she had been putting off for weeks now. Gumo made a face, but nodded anyway, looking relieved.
"I'll let you know when I need your help, then." He reached out, patting her shoulder, and she felt a small thrill run through her at his touch. "You should get going. If not the gorilla girl will blame me for making you late, and I'd rather not deal with her this early in the day."
"Firstly, it's not early anymore. It's already noon." Her lips twitched. "And secondly, stop calling her that! She's not a gorilla!"
"Really? I couldn't tell the difference," he mumbled, and she poked his chest, a silent rebuke. "Fine, I'll stop, but only because you won't stop getting on my case about it."
"Thank you very much." She held his gaze, and neither of them spoke for a moment – when he cleared his throat and glanced away, it felt like she had been dragged out from underneath still waters, and she took a deep breath, fiddling with her fingers.
"See you later, maybe." Gumo was the first to find his voice, and the smile on his face was so gentle that she almost couldn't believe it came from him. "Have fun with Rin."
She still couldn't speak, so she just nodded, and he waved goodbye as he walked out. She heard someone say hello to him a little distance outside her room, and she knew that suggestive looks and knowing giggles would follow her the entire week, but she didn't…she didn't mind. Not really. It didn't matter what people thought, right?
Miku knew that nothing was going on between her and Gumo. Not yet, anyway. He promised he'd give her as long as she needed to think over things and she was grateful for his consideration. Maybe it would be easier to stay with him than Len…
But she thought about Len's ocean eyes and the way he murmured her name every time they got together, enveloped by the velvet darkness of midnight, and she knew it wasn't as simple as just letting go. She had wedged herself into a tight corner and if she had to be honest, it was mostly her fault.
Thinking about this would get her nowhere though. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was not thinking, so she forced her mind to settle and picked up her towel and a fresh set of clothes. She had twenty minutes to get ready for lunch.