Huntr/x 👠💅🏽⚔️
Zoey:
I swear, I triple-checked my passport, my charger, and my sanity.
Is there anything I forgot???
Mira:
You forgot to breathe.
Rumi:
And possibly your dignity.
Zoey:
Thanks, ladies. That’s reassuring. 😐
But seriously. I didn't forget anything?
Rumi:
Z, you pretty much packed your entire bedroom, and you’re only going to be there for a month 😐😐😐
You could have gone the week of the wedding.
Zoey:
But I’m the maid of honour. That means I’m in charge of everything from planning and making sure everything is not on fire.
Literally and figuratively.
I HAVE to be there before the wedding.
Is there really anything I left out before I suddenly remember it and have a full-blown panic attack on the plane?
Mira:
Maybe double-check if Abby packed his common sense. Last time he travelled alone, he forgot his passport at the vending machine area because he “set it down to buy a protein bar.”
Rumi:
Somehow that surprises me and doesn’t surprise me at the same time 😶😶😶
Zoey:
Well, if it makes you feel better, I made sure he left the disco ball he packed in his suitcase 🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️
Mira:
…..
Rumi:
…..
Mira:
HOW?! 💀💀💀
Rumi:
WHY?! 👁️👄👁️
Zoey:
He said it was for “emotional support”
Rumi:
….
Are we sure this isn’t just an elaborate way to get deported so you don’t have to face your parents?
Zoey:
He’d be doing me a favour if I weren’t making this trip for Gigi’s wedding.
Mira:
So you want me to get you a lawyer just in case? My brother knows a guy
Rumi:
Not helping, Mira.
Also, Zoey - breathe. You got this.
Mira:
Too bad we can't come with you.
Rumi:
Gigi didn't invite us, Mira.
Mira:
I can understand why she didn’t invite me.
But not invite YOU?
Especially when she was dead set on being besties with you?
I would have expected her to ask you to sing at her wedding, seeing that you're her favourite pop star.
Rumi:
She was doing too much. So I put a boundary
And she took it personally
Zoey:
Okay, I know Gigi can be a little much
Rumi:
A little? 🤨🤨🤨
Mira:
That’s an understatement.
Zoey:
She means well. She’s just rough around the edges.
Rumi:
Delete whatever you’re about to send, Mira 😑😑😑
Mira:
I wasn’t going to say anything too mean 🙂🙂🙂
Rumi:
Bitch I’m literally right next to you 😐😐😐
Delete it.
Mira:
You’re no fun 😒😒😒
Rumi:
And Zoey? Take care of yourself.
Zoey:
I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.
Plus, I have Abby with me
Rumi:
I know…. but we worry about you, you know?
You haven’t really been the same since The Shutdown.
Zoey stared at the message a little longer than she meant to. The airport noise faded into a dull hum, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. That one word — Shutdown — twisted somewhere deep inside her chest. She took a slow breath, forcing her shoulders to relax before typing back something that sounded steadier than she felt.
Zoey: ...right. I’ll be fine. Promise 😊😊
Suddenly, Zoey’s phone was plucked from her hands before she could react.
“Whatcha doing?” Abby asked.
“H-hey! Give me back my phone!” Zoey quickly bolted up and tried to snatch her phone back, but Abby held it too high up for her to reach.
Note to self: Next friend must be under five-foot-five.
“Why? Were you watching porn?” he asked.
Zoey choked on air. "Wha— NO! You menace, give it back before I bite your ankles!" She jumped, but Abby just spun away like some infuriating pink-haired basketball player dodging a tackle. "And even if I were—which I wasn't—I'd watch it at home. Not in public!"
"Oh? So, you were reading smut?"
“NO!” Zoey’s cheeks flared red. She tried to bodycheck him, which worked exactly 0% because Abby sidestepped gracefully, using his dancer reflexes, while keeping his eyes on her phone screen. "I was just chatting with Rumi and Mira! Nothing more!"
"Texting our mutual besties without me? Rude." He dramatically huffed as he scrolled through her phone before freezing mid-motion. "...Hold up. Disco ball slander in my group chat?"
"YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE GROUP CHAT!" She exclaimed.
"Woooow! So this is what we’re doing, huh? After all we've been through. The dance battles? The late-night snack raids? Third wheeling Mira and Roobin? That one time I let you stab me with a bobby pin for your hair emergencies?" He dramatically wiped an imaginary tear. "And this is how you repay me..."
“GIMME MY PHONE, YOU MUSCLE PIG!” She jumped, hoping to snatch her phone from him, but to no avail.
Then, suddenly, his expression flipped to devious as he started rapidly typing on her phone.
Zoey's eyes widened in horror. "Wait—WHAT ARE YOU TYPING—"
“Relax, Zo. I’m doing this because I love you.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Doing what exactly?”
His grin was devilish. “Committing social suicide in your honour.”
Before he could react or even make sense of what was happening, Zoey’s legs hooked around his neck, and in one swift motion, she hoisted herself up—somehow managing to sit on his shoulders, face-to-face like it was the most chaotic balancing act ever.
“Hand over my mobile talking device before your face turns into a before-and-after photo.” Zoey threatened, raising her fist, ready to punch him.
“Okay! Okay! Here’s your phone,” Abby said, handing her back her phone. “But you know…. You should come up here more often.” He smirked, his voice dropping slightly as he stared up at her between her thighs. "The view's pretty great from down here."
For a split second, her brain short-circuited, still processing Abby’s words until she realised their position. Then, just as her face turned a brilliant crimson, she let out a screech so loud it managed to catch the attention of most of the people in the airport and startled Abby, causing him to stumble. Zoey instinctively reached for his hair to steady herself. He let out a pained 'YOWTCH!' that echoed through the room.
"YAH! PUT ME DOWN YOU PERVERTED GIRAFFE!" She scrambled off his shoulders so fast she nearly toppled them over.
Abby caught her by the waist at the last second, laughing. “Whoa there, killer! Let me put you down first,” he said, moving his hand under her arms and lifting her off his shoulders. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Zoey wasted no time and started whacking him with her passport.
“You’re. The. Absolute. Worst!” she said, punctuating each whack.
“Ow! Hey! You’re the one who ninja-flipped onto me like we’re in some Karate Kid fight scene.” He said, shielding himself.
Zoey huffed, before kicking his ass—literally—for good measure, causing Abby to let out an ‘oof’ before falling on his knees dramatically.
Abby clutched his backside with exaggerated agony. "I think you just assassinated my left cheek! That's an assault on a national treasure!" He peeked up at her through dramatically squinted eyes. "Also—ow."
“Tough cookies, country boy.”
“Double ow.”
Just then, the airport intercom crackled to life—
"Final boarding call for Flight 271 to Los Angeles. Please proceed immediately to Gate B7."
Zoey's irritation evaporated instantly as her stomach dropped. "...Oh god, we're gonna be late." She grabbed Abby's arm and yanked him up with surprising strength for someone who'd just been perched on his shoulders like a disgruntled parrot. "Get up and put that pretty ass into gear and stepping. You’ve caused enough trouble today.”
Abby grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Ohhh! So, you do admit I have a pretty a—OH, OKAY! Message received!” he quickly scrambled away, shielding his assets right when Zoey was about to kick him again.
The two of them sprinted through the terminal like characters in a rom-com montage—Zoey shoving people aside with frantic "excuse me’s” while Abby followed closely behind her. They skidded to a halt at Gate B7 just as the attendant was about to close the door.
"WAIT! We're here!" Zoey gasped, shoving their tickets forward with shaking hands.
The attendant gave them an unimpressed once-over before sighing. "Last ones aboard."
As they stumbled down the jet bridge, Abby bumped Zoey's shoulder and whispered, "...So we're definitely pretending that delay wasn't 100% my fault when we tell this story later, right?"
Zoey's eye twitched as she shot him a withering glare. "If you think I'm going to take the fall for this, you. Are. Wrong."
Abby clutched his chest in mock offence. "Wow, throwing your fake boyfriend under the bus already? And we haven't even boarded yet." He slung an arm around her shoulders with a dramatic sigh. "This relationship is doomed."
Zoey rolled her eyes. "Fine, we can just say we lost track of our boarding gate number. But you owe me so many in-flight snacks for this."
"Name your price, madam. I will personally steal every pretzel from this plane for you." He paused, then brightened. "Or we could start a fake fight mid-flight so the attendants give us free stuff to calm us down—ow!" Zoey elbowed him lightly as they stepped onto the plane.
"Or," Zoey said through gritted teeth as they shuffled down the aisle, "we could not get blacklisted by every airline forever." She found their seats—luckily together—and immediately tried to shove her carry-on into the overhead bin.
Abby swooped in before she could strain herself, effortlessly hoisting her bag up with one hand while dramatically flexing the other. "And that's why you keep me around, Zobug-i," he said with a wink, dropping into the window seat like he owned it.
Zoey huffed but couldn't suppress a tiny smile as she buckled in. "Asshole."
"Only for you~" he cooed, booping her nose.
She playfully swatted his hand away. "Save the act for when we get to Burbank, please?
The plane engines roared to life as Abby suddenly grabbed Zoey's hand with slight panic.
“Uh… you okay, dude?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, but concern laced in her tone.
His hand stayed on top of hers longer than necessary.
"I'm scared of turbulence," he admitted quietly.
Zoey blinked once. Twice. “What?”
“It’s a legitimate fear!” he retorted.
"You literally choreographed aerial silks routines last month."
"That's different! That was controlled chaos!" Abby protested, clinging to the armrests as the plane taxied. "This is just... chaos-chaos! For all we know, we could be in a Final Destination movie!"
"That movie franchise really traumatised you, huh?" Zoey commented.
"I will never look at tanning beds, rollercoasters, highways or log trucks the same again," he said, shuddering.
Zoey couldn't help but laugh at his genuine distress. "You know, for someone who’s done a lot of daredevil adjacent choreo, you're kind of a wimp."
Abby shot her an indignant look. "Danger I choose is art! Danger that chooses me is horror movie fodder!" The plane jolted slightly as it accelerated down the runway, and Abby let out a very undignified squeak before burying his face in Zoey's shoulder.
She patted his head mockingly. "There, there, big scaredy himbo."
Lifting his head just enough to glare, while still gripping her sleeve, Abby muttered, "...I hate that you're enjoying this."
Zoey's mocking pats softened into a genuine, steadying rhythm. "Tough cookies, bitch."
☾︎✿︎☽︎
The sun was setting, casting the sky in soft shades of violet, while the clouds glowed in rich hues of gold, crimson, and indigo. The cabin lights had been dimmed to a warm amber, creating a cosy atmosphere. Passengers and cabin crew chatted quietly among themselves.
Zoey had her earbuds in and her eyes glued to her tablet while a gentle, feminine British voice narrated the journey of sea turtles migrating across the Pacific. She was deeply engaged, pressing her cheek against Abby’s arm as she watched the little shelled creatures waddle toward the ocean.
That was until she felt a nudge against her cheek, shaking her out of her focused daze. She lifted her head and pulled out one of her earbuds, frowning at Abby, who stared back at her with amusement.
“Are you seriously watching a turtle documentary right now?” he asked, his grin never leaving his lips.
“You watch Rotten Mango videos and Am I The Asshole videos all the time. Your point?” she arched an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah. Those have high stakes and suspense. All you’re watching is turtles existing,” he countered.
“Well, some of us actually enjoy watching turtles exist,” she pressed her cheek back on his arm and went back to watching her documentary.
“You always watch turtle docs when you’re overthinking.”
“It’s calming. Turtles mind their business, go where they want, and don’t owe anyone an explanation. Basically, they’re living my dream life.”
“Except for the part where seagulls try to eat them the moment they’re born.”
“Seagulls are gluttonous assholes. Not to forget noisy and aggressive. Turtles, on the other hand, are just chill and steady. No drama. Just vibes.”
He tilted his head. “So… you’re telling me you relate to an emotionally repressed turtle?”
“Shut up,” she muttered, elbowing him lightly. “And it’s called relatability, thank you very much.”
“More like an introvert’s wet dream.”
“Ya nasty.”
The documentary showed a tiny turtle getting flipped onto its back by a wave. "Aww, look at that little dude—stuck upside down. Just like you after two sojus."
Zoey smacked his thigh without looking away from the tablet. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second, that was one time."
"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that, geobug-i," Abby grinned, poking her cheek where it squished against his arm. "But I have photographic evidence of you dramatically sprawled on Rumi's bathroom floor wailing about how—and I quote—'the ceiling is judging meeeee!'" he said, impersonating her whiney voice.
Zoey finally tore her eyes away from her tablet to glare at him properly. "Delete those."
"Hell no. This is a blackmail goldmine." He replied with a mischievous grin.
Zoey’s eyes narrowed. She slowly reached over and pinched the soft spot just above his knee—his infamous ticklish weak point.
Abby immediately yelped, jerking away so violently he bonked his head on the overhead compartment. "Traitor!" he hissed, rubbing his skull while a nearby passenger shushed them aggressively.
Zoey smirked, popping her earbud back in. "Zoey 1, Abby 0." She patted his thigh condescendingly before refocusing on her documentary—where the baby turtle had righted itself and was now bravely paddling toward open water.
Her laughter lingered in the air for a moment, then faded with the documentary’s soft ocean sounds. When she finally relaxed, her mind began to wander. As the documentary faded into the soothing sounds of the ocean, Zoey absently rested her chin on her hand, her gaze distant. The warmth radiating from Abby’s arm lingered against her cheek like an ember, but her thoughts drifted far away—past the turtles, past the waves.
“You okay, Zo?” Abby asked, lowering his voice.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Just thinking. About Gigi.”
“Are you nervous seeing her again?” he asked gently.
Zoey exhaled through her nose. "Yeah. A little." She fidgeted with her earbud cord, winding it around her fingers before confessing quietly: "We haven’t talked in a while. Well… not since the Shutdown.”
The words landed between them, quiet and heavy. Abby’s teasing posture straightened, his usual grin softening into something more solid and present. “Can’t say I blame you. I remember it was a pretty dark time for you. It was a very dark time for you. Honestly, it was a miracle that I managed to get you to leave your room back then since you had shut pretty much everyone out.”
Zoey's face dimmed slightly, but she quickly shifted to a more playful demeanour. “And I remember you threatened to do the ‘Gangnam Style’ choreo in your boxers outside my window if I didn’t."
Abby grinned unrepentantly. "And it worked, didn’t it? You know my choreo slaps."
Their laughter faded into the hum of the plane, and after a beat, Abby gently bumped her shoulder. "For real though... are you really okay? I mean, this is your first homecoming in four years.”
Zoey’s fingers stilled on the tablet. She let out a slow breath, staring at the tiny turtle now disappearing into vast blue waves onscreen.
"...I have to be. For Gigi’s sake," she said finally, meeting his gaze. “I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.
Abby studied her face—the way her jaw clenched just slightly, how she blinked too fast—before casually putting his chin on top of her head. "Well, good news: you’ve got Seoul’s most devastatingly handsome fake boyfriend as backup." He wiggled his eyebrows as he mock-whispered: "And I know how to hide bodies if your ex-crush ‘accidentally’ falls into the cake."
Zoey elbowed him again, but this time there was no force behind it—just a shaky exhale that might’ve been half a laugh. "Oh my god. You’re the worst.”
“At least I’m not boring.” He grinned cheekily.
“You’re right. You’re an unavoidable irritation.”
Just as Abby was about to make a cheeky remark, the plane hit a patch of turbulence, making the overhead compartments rattle. Abby seized Zoey's hand once again with dramatic flair. "See! I told you we were in a Final Destination movie!”
“For the love of—it’s just turbulence. A normal thing that happens when you’re travelling by air.”
“That’s how it always starts, and next thing we know, the engine exploded and we get cooked alive.”
Zoey pinched his side, causing him to jump and yelp in pain.
“What was that for?” he whined.
“To check if you’re having a dream,” she replied. “And it seems like you’re wide awake. Now shut up and let me enjoy the rest of my turtle documentary.”
She pressed her cheek back on his arm once again, but as the plane steadied, she didn't pull her hand away from his.
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