Rolled nat 1s on everything.

She tried not to let it get to her, but over the next few years, she found more accounts like it. People who had once stolen her notebooks and publicly ridiculed her lyrics now boasting that they'd gotten to hear some of her most popular songs years early, which wasn't even true, as all of Huntr/x's discography had been written after her permanent move to South Korea. People who had found her obsession with turtles weird and annoying and destroyed her keychains just to see how it made her cry now sporting all the turtle merchandise they could get because it was finally cool to share in her interests. People who had told her to go back to her own country talking about how proud they were that she was representing good old Burbank.

For a while, it made her blood boil, but she managed to talk herself down eventually. Of course they had changed. All that unpleasantness had been years ago, when they were all still kids. Zoey was the weird one, really, for still being hung up on it.

What did she have to be upset about, after all? She had everything she could ever want. A successful music career, the adoration of millions, the satisfaction of a greater purpose through her maintenance of the Honmoon, and two amazing women who loved every inch of her to share it all with. So what if some people had been mean to her a while ago? Clearly, they liked her now. She should be grateful.

That line of reasoning worked for her all the way up until one of them showed up to a signing.

Zoey didn't even recognize her at first, with her sharper features, shorter hair, and more mature style of dress. In a sea of people, the face simply didn't stand out to her. Nor did the voice, though she would realize after the fact that it hadn't changed at all.

For a few seconds, it was just another fan coming up to Huntr/x's table for an autograph. One of hundreds she would meet today. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

"Zoey!" the young woman squealed in much the same manner as the several fans before her. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

Zoey blinked at her, hand frozen above the poster she'd been given to sign. This happened from time to time, but she always felt terrible about it. Fans would speak to her briefly during events and then come back later expecting her to remember, even though it would be impossible for her to recognize every face she saw at these things. It generally took a particularly notable interaction or frequent repeated encounters for her to actually start remembering people.

Still, she would hate to disappoint anyone.

"You too!" she said brightly. Her marker glided over the bottom of the poster, leaving behind her name and the little cartoon turtle that had become a part of her idol signature.

The woman must have seen something in her face. A lack of recognition or an insufficiently excited response.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me." She took on a playful pout.

Zoey stared at her, caught out and on the spot. Should she remember this person?

"Zoey..." she went on with a good-natured whine. "Come on, it's Ava!"

Zoey dropped her marker. Only years of training and experience allowed her to play off the jolt that shot through her as a burst of excitement.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, sweet and happy even as several things hit her at once. The echo of jeering voices. The phantom sensation of hands gripping her shoulders. The faint memory of alcohol burning her tongue.

Ava didn't seem to notice. She smiled, big and bright like she had that day in junior year when she'd approached Zoey in the library and kindly asked what she was writing. Like she would at lunch, for those sweet few months Zoey had thought she'd found a friend.

"I've been trying to get out here to see you for forever." Ava leaned in close over the table. "I caught your show the other day. Hearing you live was crazy!"

"Did you... come all this way just to see me?" Zoey asked in a small voice. The very idea made her skin crawl.

"Of course!" Ava beamed at her, oblivious to the way she squirmed. "I was your first fan, girl. Just wish you'd gotten famous back in the States so I wouldn't have to come so far."

First fan.

Did she not fucking remember?

"It was so sweet of you to make the trip," Zoey said instead of any of the more pointed things running through her mind. "I'm glad you liked the show."

"Oh, it was great. Would've been cool if there was a meet and greet then, but now's good too." Ava reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. "Do you think I could get a quick selfie? Everyone back home would lose their minds."

Zoey had to try very hard to resist the urge to start yanking her own hair out. She should have seen that one coming, really. It had always been about what the others thought with Ava. That was the only reason she'd ever cared about Zoey's lyrics. To bring them back to her real friends and simply roll with what was cool at the moment. They were all the rage now, but back then, the trend had skewed toward making stupid parodies that mocked every bit of emotion poured out onto the pages of those notebooks Zoey had been stupid enough to share.

It didn't matter the topic. Something light and fun, made purely for the joy of creation? An outlet for her feelings toward her crumbling home life? An attempt to make sense of suddenly having two homes and feeling like an outcast in both? All prime teasing material.

"I'm sorry..." She put on her best apologetic face. "There's still the line, and if I give one person a selfie, I have to give everyone a selfie, and well... y'know."

Rather than disappointed, Ava just looked surprised. Like she couldn't believe Zoey would tell her no.

"No exceptions for your friends?" she asked.

Please go away, Zoey thought desperately.

"I'm really sorry."

"Zoey-"

But the line was beginning to push now, and the fan that had lingered several minutes too long had drawn Bobby's attention. He motioned to another member of the staff, who started forward. Ava finally seemed to take the hint.

Expression thoroughly soured, she stepped away from the table and made way for the next fan in line, leaving Zoey with sweat on her brow and a foul taste in her mouth that reminded her of sitting on the floor of stranger's bathroom, fumbling for her phone.

She didn't have much time to linger on it. The fans behind Ava had already been waiting too long. She had to shelve however she felt about that interaction for later, plaster on her sweet smile, and keep going. After all, she would hate to disappoint anyone.

But she couldn't get it out of her head. The kind eyes that had turned sharp and cruel without warning. The encouragement, the praise that had made her think she'd found a place, only to be met with the reality that she was a joke to everyone. Bile crept slowly up her throat.

Despite her best efforts to welcome each fan with warmth and enthusiasm, part of her wasn't here anymore. She was 17 again, curled up on tiles that weren't hers while her head spun, her only friend laughed at her humiliation, and her father made his way over to add "cries to daddy and ruins parties" to the list of hits her reputation had taken over the years.

When she looked up to hand over the poster she'd just signed, she didn't see the adoring, awestruck faces of her fans. She saw the attendees of a party she hadn't even want to go to watching gleefully as she made a fool of herself, egged on by alcohol she hadn't wanted to drink and a friend who had promised to look after her.

She stood up suddenly, her chair screeching loudly against the floor. If anyone looked, she didn't notice. Didn't care. She just needed to get out of this room.

Faster than she could process, she was running. Down a side hall, toward the room that had been supplied for Huntr/x to prep and rest before the event.

Distantly, she heard Rumi's voice.

"Just a few minutes, everyone! We're just taking a short break."

Her ears rang. Her head throbbed. By the time she'd stumbled her way into the room, it was all she could do to reach a nearby plush chair and flop down, dead weight and nauseous. Moments later, the door opened again, followed by two sets of footsteps.

"Zoey?" Mira asked, her voice low and urgent.

"What's going on?" Rumi approached quickly and dropped to her knees in front of the chair, eyes frantically searching Zoey's face. "Are you okay?"

Fuck. What was she supposed to say?

Yeah, I'm good, just freaking out because I'm not over someone being a bitch to me five years ago.

Why couldn't she just get over it? It didn't matter anymore.

"Zo?" Mira prompted with a gentle hand on Zoey's shoulder. "Baby, talk to us."

With what little air she could get, Zoey swallowed and said, "I'm just... I feel really sick..."

Not a total lie.

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance.

"Sick how?" Mira pressed. "Are you hot? Were you drinking enough?"

Rumi pressed the back of her hand to Zoey's forehead.

"It's my stomach," Zoey murmured. "I kinda thought I was about to throw up. Didn't want to do it in front of the fans, y'know?"

Rumi made a soft, sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. "You're clammy. Maybe we should end the signing early."

Zoey shook her head. "I don't want to disappoint the fans."

"I don't want you collapsing out there. You don't look right." Mira's brow furrowed slightly, and she leaned in as if trying to catch Zoey's attention. "You're not focusing on me."

Zoey realized belatedly that she'd been sort of staring past both of them at a nondescript spot on the wall, part of her mind still elsewhere. Her eyes snapped to Mira's face.

"Sorry," she said. "You guys can go back out. I'll just wait here."

"It's okay, Zoey," Rumi replied. "We can take you home."

"I don't want to move right now," Zoey insisted, a bit firmer. "I just need a few minutes. Go finish the signing."

"Bobby can sit with you," Mira decided.

"Don't bother him."

"You're not a bother." Both of Rumi's hands cupped her face. "We're your girlfriends and he's our manager. Making sure you're okay is literally our job."

Zoey looked away, her chest tight. "I just want to take a nap."

"And Bobby can sit with you while you do," Rumi said.

"It won't be much longer," Mira promised. "Just another thirty minutes. We won't extend it at all."

Rumi pressed a light kiss to Zoey's damp forehead. "Call us if you need us."

The moment they left the room, Zoey curled up and laid down as best she could, back to the door so she would be facing away from Bobby when he arrived. Not that she wouldn't appreciate him being there for her, but she just didn't want anyone talking to her right now. 

When the door opened again, she pretended to already be asleep. Bobby made no attempt to wake her, instead walking quietly over to another chair in the corner. Once he sat down, his quiet presence easily faded into the background. Arms over her head, face hidden against the back of the chair, Zoey hardly noticed him. Couldn't really notice him, when everything else was so loud. 

A soft, sweet voice inviting her to share what she wrote. Singing along with her at times as she tried to find beats and melodies to match her words. Inviting her out on Friday night even though she would really rather just stay in, because there were some people dying to hear that new song she'd just finished. Yes, there would be alcohol, but that was okay. She didn't have to drink. 

Then when she got there, that same voice insisting she try some anyway. It wasn't very strong. She could even mix it with soda and make it sweeter if she wanted. It was just liquid courage, preparing her to impress everyone who wanted to hear her sing. 

Multiple voices now, coaxing more drinks into her, until finally she began to flip through her notebook for the song she'd been invited to share. 

She slurred her way through about half of it before she realized everyone was singing along. But... that couldn't be right. No one else knew the song. No one but Ava. Had she shared it early?

But the lyrics were wrong. Full of jabs and insults she had never written. It took a nasty, violent slur replacing one of her favorite lines for reality to catch up. 

They had planned this. Ava had shared her song, and they had changed it, and they were mocking her. 

They had changed her lyrics. 

They had ruined her song. 

They had invited her here just for this. 

She burst into tears, and the crowd burst into laughter. Someone ripped the notebook out of her hand, demanding that she keep going, prompting her to start again with those awful, changed, wrong lyrics. Her stomach began to churn with distress and too much alcohol. 

The howls of amusement only got louder when she vomited onto the notebook shoved beneath her nose, ruining it and everything she'd written in it over the past several weeks. No one helped her when she rolled off the couch, clutching her middle. She looked around desperately for her friend. For the person who had promised to stay close to her tonight. 

Ava was off to the side, doubled over laughing. 

Zoey crawled to the bathroom alone. She spent half an hour emptying her stomach, tears pouring down her face, until she managed to call her dad to come get her. For once, she was actually grateful that her mother was back in Korea these days. That woman would have never tolerated underage drinking, or a party for that matter. Her father, at least, would unground her sometime this decade. 

Still, part of her wished she hadn't called. The party was ruined the moment an adult knocked on the door, and none of the other kids would let her forget it anytime soon. She received the scolding of a lifetime on the way home. Her phone was taken away for two weeks, given back only for minutes at a time when she had scheduled calls with her mother. She couldn't go out to the store and buy a new notebook to replace the one she'd lost at the party. She couldn't go anywhere but school for the rest of the month. 

No skateboarding. No trips to the park. No turtle videos. No notebooks to write in other than the ones she needed for school, which her father made clear he would also not let her replace if she filled them up "just to spite her punishment". 

It was a miserable grounding, and in the face of her parents' disappointment, she never worked up the nerve to tell them what had been done to her. That she'd felt forced to drink. That she'd been humiliated by more than just her own irresponsibility. That the kids her father said she could get her notebook back from at school if she wanted it so badly were shoving her down flights of stairs and into lockers every chance they got. 

She came away from the experience beaten. No longer willing to try her luck with new friends. Quiet and alone most of the time. Thinking that maybe Korea wasn't so bad after all, because maybe not knowing anyone was a blessing. Maybe she would just stay there with her mother after graduation. 

Had she not eventually felt the deep, spiritual tug of the Honmoon and followed it to Celine and her girls, she wasn't sure she would have ever made another meaningful connection. 

In the present, Zoey bit down on her lip, wishing it could just cease to matter. She was sure no one but her cared about that night anymore. Possibly, no one else even remembered. She was making such a huge deal out of it, disappointing her fans and leaving her girls hanging over it, and it was all just high school bullshit she should have left in the past ages ago. 

Why was she like this? 

When the door finally opened again, she remained still, continuing to feign sleep.  

"How is she?" Mira asked in a whisper. 

"She really conked out," Bobby replied. "Hasn't moved the whole time."

A soft touch ghosted across Zoey's back. She twisted to find Rumi beside her once more, eyes gentle and loving. 

"Hi, darling," she murmured. "Any better?"

"Sleepy," Zoey said thickly, partially to get out of talking and partially because the ordeal had genuinely exhausted her. 

"Let's get you home, then." Mira walked over, turned her back, and crouched. "Hop on, Zo."

Too much, Zoey thought even as she climbed on automatically. You can walk. You're taking too much. You're being too much. 

Mira stood easily as if Zoey didn't weigh a thing. Zoey clung to her like a needy koala, her face pressed firmly against her lover's neck. Rumi kept a hand on Zoey's spine as if she meant to add support, though Mira clearly didn't need it. 

They carried her through the back halls of the building and out to the car waiting for them. Mira lowered Zoey into Rumi's arms, and Rumi gently situated her into an upright enough position to get her seatbelt on. Zoey didn't know why she let them do everything for her, handling her mostly limp body like a doll, but she did, even as her brain screamed at her that she was making unnecessary work for them. 

Mira walked around the other side of the car so they could get in on either side of her. Bobby sat up front with the driver. 

Zoey rested on Rumi's shoulder as they began the drive home, Mira's hand gently rubbing the back of her neck. She hated herself for taking when she didn't need to, but she felt so safe anyway that she couldn't get herself to reject their care. She was so comfortable and warm. They were so soft and loving. 

She was asleep before they hit the first intersection. 

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