Rhea stepped out, towel clutched around her, hair damp and dripping slightly onto Ling's floor. She glanced around once, then frowned. "Ling… cupboard?"
Ling looked up from leaning against the wall, eyebrow lifting. "Cupboard?"
Rhea gestured vaguely. "Clothes. I'm not walking whole day like this."
Ling stared at her for a second, then laughed under her breath. "Oh. That."
She walked past Rhea and pushed open another door Rhea hadn't even noticed. The lights flicked on automatically.
Rhea stopped dead.
The dressing room stretched out in front of her—rows of organized closets, shelves of folded clothes, jackets hanging by color, watches lined like art, shoes displayed like a showroom.
Rhea's mouth fell open. "Of course," she muttered. "I forgot. You're rich-rich."
Ling smirked. "Welcome to the part of my life that makes people uncomfortable."
Rhea walked in slowly, eyes scanning everything. "This isn't a cupboard. This is a department store."
Ling leaned against one of the cabinets, arms crossed. "Pick any shirt you want."
Rhea turned. "Any?"
Ling nodded casually. "Yeah. Pants won't fit you though."
Rhea narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"
Ling grinned, pointing at herself. "I'm built different."
Rhea scoffed. "You're calling me—"
Ling interrupted smoothly, "—fatty."
Rhea gasped. "I knew it. I knew you were waiting to say that."
Ling laughed openly now. "Relax. Cute-fatty. Very specific category."
Rhea grabbed the nearest hanger and threw it at her. "You're dead."
Ling caught it easily. "See? Even my reflexes are superior."
Rhea moved closer to the shirts, scanning through them. "You wear all this to university?"
Ling shrugged. "Sometimes. Depends on mood."
Rhea pulled out a black oversized shirt, holding it against herself. "This one?"
Ling tilted her head, assessing. "That'll reach mid-thigh on you."
Rhea smirked. "Perfect. Modest by my standards."
Ling stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You realize you're stealing my clothes now."
Rhea looked up at her. "Borrowing. Big difference."
Ling smiled softly. "That's how it starts."
Rhea rolled her eyes but her lips twitched. "Don't get dramatic."
She slipped the shirt on over the towel, tugging it down. It fell exactly as Ling said—loose, comfortable, unmistakably Ling.
Rhea glanced at herself in the mirror. Then paused.
"…It smells like you," she said quietly.
Ling's teasing softened instantly. "Yeah?"
Rhea nodded, almost embarrassed. "Don't make it weird."
Ling didn't joke this time. "I won't."
A small silence settled between them, heavier than before but not uncomfortable.
Rhea broke it first. "So… hiding all day, right?"
Ling nodded. "All day."
Rhea glanced at the door. "Your mom?"
Ling sighed. "She'll survive."
Rhea looked back at her, serious now. "And us?"
Ling met her gaze. "We already are."
Rhea didn't argue. She just turned back to the mirror, smoothing the shirt down again—this time with a small, private smile.
Rhea paused near the doorway, tugging the oversized shirt down and glancing at Ling sideways. "Do you have… anything to wear under this?" she asked casually, then added, softer, "Shorts. Or something. You know."
Ling looked her up and down once, slow and obvious, then laughed. "You're asking like you're borrowing a pen."
Rhea frowned. "I'm serious."
Ling walked back to one of the drawers, crouched, and pulled it open. "Relax. I'm not letting you roam my room unarmed." She took out a neatly folded pair and held it up between two fingers. "This."
Rhea squinted. "That's… tiny."
Ling smirked. "For me, yes. For you? Perfect."
Rhea snatched it from her. "Turn around."
Ling raised both hands. "I'm a gentleman."
"You're a menace," Rhea shot back, already pushing Ling toward the door. "Out. Now."
Ling laughed as she stumbled a step back. "Wow. Kicked out of my own dressing room."
Rhea slammed the door lightly in her face. "Five seconds."
From the other side, Ling leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "If you need help—"
"I don't."
"—I'm right here."
"Go away."
Ling smiled to herself, shaking her head.
A moment later the door opened again.
Rhea stepped out, the shirt falling perfectly on her, confidence back in her posture. "Done."
Ling looked up—and stopped talking.
"…Yeah," Ling said quietly after a beat.
Rhea lifted her chin. "What?"
Ling cleared her throat, forcing her usual grin back. "Nothing. Just—good choice."
Rhea rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Your clothes are comfortable."
Ling nodded. "They behave better on you."
Rhea walked past her toward the bed, casual again. "Don't get ideas."
Ling followed, softer this time. "Too late."
Rhea glanced back. "Still hiding all day, remember?"
Ling nodded. "Still hiding."
They settled into the room again, the teasing easing into something quieter—comfortable, familiar, and unmistakably theirs.
Rhea stood again, then changed her mind and dropped down on the stool in front of the mirror with a soft huff. She looked at her reflection, then at Ling through the glass.
"Dry my hair," she said casually, like it was an order she'd been giving her whole life.
Ling raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Rhea met her eyes in the mirror. "You heard me."
Ling crossed her arms. "And what do I get in return, princess?"
Rhea smirked. "The privilege."
Ling laughed, low and amused, and grabbed the dryer from the shelf anyway. "You're unbelievable."
She plugged it in, standing behind Rhea. As the warm air started, Rhea closed her eyes instinctively. Ling ran her fingers lightly through Rhea's damp hair to separate it, careful, almost gentle in a way she usually wasn't.
Rhea opened one eye. "Why are you being so serious?"
Ling tilted her head. "What, I can't do one thing properly?"
Rhea hummed. "You're usually annoying on purpose."
Ling leaned closer, voice near Rhea's ear but still playful. "Maybe I'm concentrating. Your hair is… stubborn."
Rhea snorted. "My hair is fine. It's you who's aggressive."
Ling deliberately messed it up with her fingers. "See? Stubborn."
Rhea swatted blindly behind her. "Ling!"
Ling laughed, dodging easily. "Sit still or you'll look electrocuted."
Rhea folded her arms. "You'd like that. Ruin my looks."
Ling scoffed. "Please. Even half-dead, you'd still look better than most people alive."
Rhea glanced at her in the mirror, lips twitching. "Flirting?"
Ling shrugged. "Stating facts."
She switched the dryer to a lower setting, fingers slower now, more careful as she gathered sections of hair. Rhea's shoulders relaxed without her realizing it.
"This is nice," Rhea muttered.
Ling smirked. "Admit it. You like being taken care of."
Rhea rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "Don't get used to it."
Ling leaned down slightly. "Too late. I already am."
Rhea met her gaze in the mirror, their eyes locking for a moment—quiet, soft, unguarded.
Then Ling deliberately blew air toward Rhea's face.
Rhea yelped. "Are you insane?"
Ling burst out laughing. "Payback."
Rhea grabbed the edge of the stool and twisted just enough to glare at her. "You're doing this on purpose."
Ling grinned. "Absolutely."
Rhea shook her head, smiling despite herself. "You're impossible."
Ling turned the dryer off, fingers giving Rhea's hair one last gentle fluff. "Done."
Rhea examined herself in the mirror, then nodded once. "Acceptable."
Ling leaned against the counter. "High praise."
Rhea looked at her, softer now. "Thanks."
Ling's smile shifted—less teasing, more real. "Anytime."
The room settled again, warm and quiet, the kind of silence that didn't need filling—just shared.