Chapter Text
When Kira wakes up, Yumeko’s already beaten her to it. Her lithe fingers squeeze at Kira’s chin, pulling her into a morning kiss before she can even devolve into worry about last night. Whether it’s intentional or just Yumeko being Yumeko, Kira can’t confirm.
She focuses her energy instead on pushing Yumeko deeper into the pillows, straddling her to take even more control. Kira’s in her true element: a beautiful girl underneath her, calling out her name, asking for more, more, more. She’d hidden this part of her for so long, too long; kept it locked away until the tabloids had forgotten it was a thing about her at all.
Maybe this was some kind of self destruction, risking the Timurov heir her father so desperately wanted as her final redemption. But Kira had made up her mind; she would cease to exist if she could not have this girl all to herself for the rest of forever.
She could do without the morning breath, but that was a conversation for later.
--
They spend the rest of the morning in bed, taking turns making each other cum and only getting up for room service.
Yumeko never fails to surprise Kira, opening the door naked “as a treat ” for the room service guy who’d been ogling them since they got to the hotel yesterday. Kira had let the food go cold, pulling Yumeko right back into the sheets, fueled by her irrational jealousy.
--
Yumeko’s activated by the sun setting, up and out of bed, dressed to the nines and coaxing Kira into her own skimpy outfit. Her hands never leave Kira’s body for a second. Yumeko already cared so little about respecting Kira’s personal space before, it’s only intensified now post their kiss. And really, Kira isn’t stopping her.
Blonde wigs fasten into place, and they disappear into the night crowd of lovers in Paris. Yumeko pushes her out of clubs and into alleyways, lit only by the small bulbs of Parisian street lamps.
Yumeko kisses her like Kira could leave at any second. Compliments are non-stop from her too, delivered against her blue mouth like a prayer. Kira refuses to speak affirmations in return, but hopes to convey how much she wants to be here through actions. She cups Yumeko’s face, leaving faint imprints of red on her jawline from where she’s gripping her during the kiss.
--
They end up back under the Eiffel tower, in a section of the park that’s mostly empty. Kira’s slipped a teenage couple a few thousand dollars to steal their picnic set up, speaking in fluent French and surprising Yumeko in the process.
“I thought the French started drinking at 11 years old. They really had no alcohol? Do you think we could Postmates something here—”
Yumeko isn’t listening, that much is apparent to Kira now who looks to her side to Yumeko leaning her whole body against her. Her fingernails scratch patterns up and down Kira’s arm, voice melodic when she whispers against Kira’s exposed shoulder, “Do you like it when I touch you now?”
Kira feels her body go up in flames, ignited from where Yumeko’s lips are closest to her skin. This really was not the same Kira from weeks ago, flinching away instinctively from physical touch. She tries not to focus on her giant misstep: assuming Yumeko had been ignorant to it all. Had she lost her touch in reading people? Was Yumeko clouding her senses with some type of compulsive manipulation?
She isn’t given much time to focus on the downfall, Yumeko appeasing her touch starved skin with the body heat she so desperately needed to get out of this stupor. It’s as though Kira’s face was made specifically for Yumeko to cradle, her gentle hands finding themselves pinching Kira’s chin tenderly.
Time seems to move slowly around them, the noises of Paris drowning out behind them, curtained in their makeshift world behind two blonde wigs. Kira finally musters the courage to nod, giving Yumeko the closest thing to an approval she has.
Fame really isn’t all it’s caked out to be — even her PR relationship couldn’t be broadcast like this. The industry had changed, rambunctious newcomers and influencers rewarded for their messiness, but Kira wasn’t afforded those luxuries. The Timurov name was up in the ranks with the most famous of Hollywood elites, good and bad. They were known for their serious demeanor, their billion dollar box office runs, and for carrying a posh demeanor only the original Coppolas or Royal family could compare. They didn’t party, they weren’t swept up in scandals, and they were always fashionable.
“I wish America had more strict paparazzi laws,” Yumeko sighed, cuddling more into Kira. They end up on their backs, looking up at the night sky polluted with light from the city. Yumeko had an arm extended over Kira’s stomach possessively. “They’d be blocking my view of the Eiffel tower right now.”
Kira hums in agreement, dread of returning to set and real life dawning upon her. “What I’d give to never have to deal with paparazzi or Jimmy Kimmel ever again.”
Yumeko’s body vibrates with her laugh, nose scrunching in a way Kira hadn’t noticed before. It makes her heart flutter, and she keeps at the joke in hopes of eliciting the same reaction. “You haven’t been on his show yet, right? I can already see him doing a silly martial arts segment for you.”
Yumeko shakes her head, laughing as she says, “Note to self: don’t book Jimmy Kimmel. I’d love to do The Drew Barrymore Show though.”
Kira had quickly corrected herself. “No, no… you definitely have to do Jimmy Kimmel once. Especially when this film flops — we’ll need all the publicity we can get.”
“So quick to negativity,” Yumeko challenges, fixing herself now so that she’s on her stomach, holding her head in her hands, upheld by her elbows. Her feet kick behind her childishly, she sounds eager when she compliments Kira. “You are the publicity, Kira-san — everything you touch turns into a billion dollars.”
If only that were true; she’d heard that exact opposite statement from her father too often. And even when her movies did hit that threshold, the goal post was moved: It only hit a billion dollars in America — what about China & the U.K?
“Were you just born nice?” Kira says, backhandedly complimenting as a trauma response. “Or is that just your way to get roles?”
Yumeko frowns at that, moving back an inch that Kira instantly notices. “Do you think I’m acting now?”
Kira can’t help that her walls threaten to go up. “I think everyone in Hollywood is always acting. Why would you be any different?”
Maybe someone else would see this as a huge red flag, something to fight back about. But Yumeko wasn’t that type of person. She was light personified, bringing clarity to everyone around her. “This isn’t an act, Kira.” Their eyes lock. “I don’t think you’re acting right now either.”
It’s something Kira didn’t know she needed to hear, but she’s incapable of stopping the word vomit. “Maybe you just don’t know me at all.”
“Do you even know yourself?” Yumeko bites back in her own special way, diving Kira into manic introspection.
“You’re clinically insane if you think you can talk to me like that.” The wig falls off her head from the intensity of her movements. She gets up, scrunching the picnic blanket and knocking over the sparkling cider the teens had bought.
She doesn’t expect Yumeko to grip her forearm, halting her in place. Kira’s breathing heavily now, etchings of a panic attack threatening to swell forward. She can’t tell if the flash of lights is from a camera or the gimmick that is the Eiffel tower behind them.
“Kira — don’t go.” Yumeko’s voice is breathy; desperate in a way Kira has only ever heard from Sayaka before. It halts Kira immediately. “I don’t want to do this Hollywood thing without you.”
Kira’s as soft as she can be in tense situations.
“Partners?” Yumeko says.
Kira doesn’t know what that entails, but she’s so in.
--
The ride back to the hotel is comfortable, giggles breaking through the silence when Yumeko sneaks her hand up Kira’s skirt, losing all their innocence in the backseat.
--
The next morning, Yumeko showers her with kisses to wake her up, squealing about the good news Kira’s undoubtedly had a hand in.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you—” Yumeko repeats over and over, celebrating, then squealing, “—I’m going to be on The Drew Barrymore Show!”
Getting straight to business, Kira follows up, “Remind me to get you in touch with Suki before the appearance. He’ll let you know exactly what you can and can’t say.”
--
Yumeko catches a first class, commercial flight back to set since she’s scheduled to start filming earlier, while Kira decides to stay an extra day in Paris to network with Vogue. It’s a day filled with meetings, filming content for Vogue’s TikTok, and Zooming with Suki and Mary about proposed marketing strategies for when the movie releases.
In between this, she’s also rang Riri to discuss the disposal of last night’s driver, ensuring their privacy. Riri never asks why, just delivers.
Kira’s ready to indulge in a hot bath at the end of the night when she’s shocked by the presence of her mother in the hotel suite’s living room. She’s much frailer than she remembers, sporting concealer that can’t hide bruises at this shade in the healing process. Kira already knows in the pit of her stomach why her mother’s here. She just didn’t expect to get caught this quickly.
“Did your father’s bastard set you up with her?” The words are cold, accusatory. Kira’s bothered by the disgust that drips from her mother’s mouth about Riri more than the jab at her sexuality. She’s come so far since being that young, scared girl standing behind Sayaka as S came to their defense. “We thought this was fixed years ago.”
“There’s nothing to fix, mother.” A beat, Kira holds her ground standing directly across from the woman. “Show your step-daughter some respect. She runs the business that pays for all this now.” She throws her hands in the air to indicate the grandeur of the hotel before pointing at the large, smarmy jewelry smothering her mother’s neck.
“And you’re okay with her just taking everything that you worked for, just like that?”
“No,” she says honestly, vulnerable in a way a child naturally becomes in the presence of their mother. Her mother shows no intent to comfort Kira. Rather than cry about it, she threatens, “Tell your private investigators to fuck off, or I’ll let father know why you’re always in Spain.”
“You wouldn’t dare. You know what your father does to me!”
“And you think fucking his business partner is the solve to that?”
Kira knows she’s overstepped; the slap that follows echoes off the tile floor. A dot of blood drips next to her eyelid.
“Language, Kira. I didn’t raise you to be vulgar,” her mother says to have some semblance of control over the situation.
“You didn’t raise me at all—” She faces her mother, owning her anger and rage like a badge of honor. “—Get the fuck out.”
--
Yumeko’s there to greet her the moment she enters her hotel back at the filming location. Kira’s sporting oversized glasses, strutting with a cold aura around her that frightens everyone, but Yumeko, out of the way. The bellhop is quick to leave, dropping all her bags in a haphazard pile near the door at her request.
“Hi partner,” Yumeko floats to Kira’s side, arms snaking around her waist to bring her into a hug. Kira, more sensitive than usual, pushes Yumeko—albeit gently—away.
“Not in the mood,” Kira grumbles, attempting to make herself busy by grabbing a suitcase and throwing it on her bed, starting to unpack.
“What’s wrong?” Yumeko questions, concerned. She doesn't move from standing directly next to Kira.
“It’s been, like, 5 minutes and you’re hovering over me.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” Yumeko replies, perma-smirk glued to her features; she never seems bothered by Kira’s attitude. It almost seems to entice her more. “I missed you.”
“It’s been, like, a day. I’m sure Michael kept you company.” Once she starts, she can’t stop the onslaught. “Probably fucked him too, right?”
Yumeko frowns, but doesn’t take the bait. She’s reassuring, like always. “The only person I want to fuck is you. Right now, later, tomorrow. Genuinely any time, whenever.”
Kira snorts, the tension she’s been holding from her talk with her mother slowly dissipating. She pulls her glasses off to reveal the smallest inkling of a cut. Her mother’s strength wasn’t comparable to her father’s, but the solid rock her mother wore on her ring finger left a different type of damage.
“Baby,” Yumeko immediately springs to action, the term of endearment slipping from her so naturally it makes Kira’s heart rapidly thump. “Your eye.”
“Stabbed myself with my nail,” she pouts, putting on a real Oscar-worthy performance. Kira’s so exhausted, reeling from her mother’s neglect yesterday, that she lets herself be cared for by Yumeko, accepting the kisses sprawled on her cheeks, eyelids, nose, and everywhere else on her body.
--
Kira’s quick to manipulate the situation. They’re in the middle of rehearsing lines that same night when Kira starts to cite her contract to Yumeko, outlining why she has to remain publicly single and hide the relationship.
Yumeko doesn’t contest the situation, simply shrugging and pulling Kira on top of her, letting them both know they’re done with practicing lines for the night. “I like being your dirty little secret.” She flirtatiously loosens the buttons on Kira’s shirt, but with some seriousness to her tone adds, “What other secrets are you hiding then, Ms. Timurov?”
Kira plays back with a smirk, “Not any more secrets than you, I’m sure.”
Yumeko's the one who snorts this time, but there’s a tension that ravishes her body that makes Kira raise an eyebrow.
--
Filming the movie is fun. The vibe on set is much different than Kira’s A24 and Wes Anderson filmography. There’s lots of TikToks being filmed, and pranks that are never aimed at her, but somehow still include her. The cast’s most viral TikTok is of course one of Kira speaking in Russian, her fans completely taking over the comments.
It blows up even more when Yumeko comments My wife on the video.
--
“What is wrong with you?” Kira barges into Yumeko’s hotel room, utilizing the skeleton key Riri had provided her for all the rooms in the hotel if she needed it.
“Breaking and entering? I don’t remember giving you a key, but I gladly would have,” Yumeko’s reading a book in the corner of the living room; her eyebrow perks up inquisitively from behind the dark green cover in acknowledgement of Kira's presence.
“Cut the shit, Yumeko. Can you keep a secret or not!?”
“Believe me, Kira-san, I hold many people’s secrets.” Yumeko has a fire in her eyes that petrifies Kira for the first time in a long time. Things between them had been bliss, so much Kira had begun to forget she had any suspicions about the girl at all. “It’s just a little PR. Trying to prevent it from flopping, duh.”
Kira doesn’t have the patience for games. “Listen, Yumeko. You’re fresh blood. People don’t give a fuck or have opinions about you made yet, but I’ve got a brand that needs to be protected, and all that’s happened since you’ve come to the scene is ruin everything I’ve built up.”
Yumeko’s eyes are watery as she replies back. “Is that how you really feel?”
Kira lies through her teeth, “Yes. We should probably take a break from—” She clears her throat, unsure of what to call them. “—This partnership. Keep things professional.”
Yumeko doesn’t stop Kira as she stomps out of the room; Kira’s devastated by the sudden realization.
--
The last week of filming is hell. Kira and Yumeko have stayed away from each other, only interacting on set or during cast meetings. Kira had selfishly thought Yumeko would break through her boundary, resolving this that same day. Without Yumeko to take up her time, Kira’s made it her mission to make everyone’s life around her miserable.
She occupies her nights chatting Riri’s ear off, and Mary by association, on everything that went down in Paris and on set. She saves face about her mother, excluding that part of the story for Riri’s sake. She does mention the spying though, alerting Riri that even after this silly CEO competition between them had ended, they were still being watched and tested. It was really starting to feel like there was no escape to this family’s prison of expectations.
“There’s no Yumeko Kawamoto records found anywhere on the internet,” Kira brings up at some point in the conversation. It’s a delightful change for Riri and Mary that have revisited and psychoanalyzed their Paris picnic top to bottom. “No news clippings, or public records in Japan on her parent’s car crash. No death certificates. Nothing. Nada.” Mary and Riri can see the light bulb going off in Kira’s head. As though she’s cracked the case, she loudly says, “She’s a fucking industry plant! I knew the Oscar was bought.”
Kira digs herself into a spiral, catapulting Riri with a hundred and one more theories. Mary isn’t scared to speak the raunchy truth on FaceTime, hundreds of miles away from Kira’s physical assault. “You’re suffering from orgasm withdrawals. Yumeko is sexy, and every second you’re not with her is a second you’re interrupting your sister and I from very important quality time.” It turns into a rant that Kira’s already bored of. “I don’t get to see this one much anymore now that she’s in Forbes 30 under 30, and when I do — she’s freaking busy worrying about you. So, please, do us all a favor and get a damn girlfriend already.”
“I’m hanging up now.” Her features warp into disgust, and she gives Riri a look to handle it. “Fix whatever your marital problems are before the next time I call. I don’t want to hear it again.”
--
Filming wraps up, and Michael’s booked a local venue for a mini cast wrap party, inviting the leads, crew, and background actors portraying the other camp counselors. She’d thought against going, pretending to be sick, but Kira had begun a new plot: uncovering Yumeko Kawamoto's secret, whatever it was. She’d need to be there for recon.
Yumeko’s already at the bar when Kira gets there, fashionably late and making an entrance. There’s a silence when she walks in, all eyes on her and the navy blue gown that hugs at all her features. Kira’s eyes instantly lock with Yumeko; icy blues don’t miss the way the other girl’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, sizing her up like a predator.
“Mother cuntress has arrived, ladies and gents. The party has officially started,” Suki, who doubles as a DJ for parties like this, welcomes her in and shifts the music to something much more upbeat and loud.
Spotting her at the bar, Kira sidles next to Yumeko, pulling the drink right out of her hand to take a sip. She’s feeling emboldened by her quest for answers, hoping to one-up Yumeko and catch her off guard. Yumeko squeals at the quick moments, breaking into a laughter and proclaiming, “Michael! What are you doing?”
Kira’s face immediately drops into a comical frown; the gesture’s matched by Yumeko.
“Kira…” she says cautiously. “Didn’t expect you to hang out with the flops tonight.”
“I’m networking,” Kira answers curtly, placing the now finished drink on the bar next to the other girl. “Would look pretty bad for optics if the two leads didn’t share a few pictures together at the wrap party on Instagram, right?”
Yumeko’s smiles don’t really reach her eyes, but she nods in agreement. “Come here then,” she instructs, pulling out her iPhone and snapping a picture of them shoulder to shoulder. It’s like electricity when their bare skin makes contact, electrifying Yumeko right back into her old self. “I miss you, Kira. Every day.”
“Then why didn’t you follow after me?” Kira says in an attempt to be snarky, but it comes out sounding dejected.
Yumeko’s eyes are soft, but holding that intensity that always made Kira feel tiny. “Maybe I want to be chased too."
And with that, Yumeko exits the conversation, calling out, “Hey, Michael! Great party…” Their arms loop together, disappearing into the crowd and leaving a fuming, jealous Kira with much to think about.
--
Later in the night, Kira’s phone vibrates with a notification saying she’s been tagged in an Instagram post.
It’s the picture Yumeko took of them earlier, the caption is filled with butterfly, heart, and flower emojis: Love this girl.