Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had been an innocuous photo that had started it all. ZoeMira, the world called them, the hashtag blowing up overnight and Huntrix ratings going up more than it had in a long time. The world didn't have a very clear idea of what went down after the Idol Awards, including what had happened to the Saja Boys, only knowing that they had disappeared as quickly as they had come. Rumi was determined to keep it that way. 

Nothing, however, could prepare her for⁠—for this. 

"What am I looking at?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as free of judgement as possible.

Bobby held up a picture of Zoey and Mira, rarely candid as they allowed themselves to be in public. Rumi could even recognise the bench they were sitting on. Zoey was showing Mira something on her phone⁠—probably one of her weird cat memes⁠⁠—and Mira had her head thrown back, her mouth open in that unflattering laugh she only let out when she was truly amused. Bobby swiped through to another photo, and Mira was still laughing. But Zoey had stopped looking at her phone screen, and was instead gazing at Mira with a soft smile on her face, expression completely besotted.  

Something about the sight made a lump gather at the back of Rumi's throat. 

"You two," Bobby pointed at Zoey and Mira in turn. "Have been trending on Twitter for a week. And you're the most popular RPF ship on AO3."

Zoey exhaled a sound that sounded like a cross between a squeak and a scream. 

"What's AO3?" 

"Bobby, don't answer that," Zoey protested, and Bobby for once, actually did close his mouth, a flush rising to his face. Rumi opened her mouth, curious despite herself even though the bigger part of her just wanted to know why they were having a meeting about a ship in the first place. 

Luckily, Bobby decided to get to the point sooner rather than later. 

"This is the highest your ratings have been since that whole fiasco in the Idol Awards. Even better than pre- Soda Pop," Bobby leaned back in his chair. Zoey, Mira and Rumi all exchanged a look, their faces serious. Bobby was building up to something, but none of them quite knew what it was, just yet. "And I just know your relationship is a unique selling point."

Mira was the quickest on the uptake, as she always was. "What." 

"Do you want us to sell our relat⁠io⁠—" 

Bobby threw up his hands, as if in self-defence. "No, nothing like that," he reassured, hasty in the presence of Zoey's widened eyes and the steam billowing out of Mira's ears. Rumi, herself, didn't know what to think. "You're both out, and I just⁠—I just think it'll be nice to get out ratings up. It's been rocky these past few months, and considering your non-existent social media presence, you won't even have to act that much. A few photos, maybeee one interview, and you two can 'break up.'" 

"You want us to fake date," Mira said flatly. Zoey squeaked again, looking like she was one second away from having an aneurysm herself. "Until, what? They decide to find a better couple to fawn over again?" 

Bobby gave them a slow nod, eying them one by one but his eyes lingering particularly on Rumi for some reason. Rumi shrugged, when he caught her eye⁠—but. Zoey's eyes were particularly alight, now, the way it only got when she was scheming something, and Rumi had listened to Zoey's rants about Mira enough to know there was something else going on. 

"I don't think this is a good idea," Rumi settled on, finally. It was none of her business, but this was her group, so it kind of was. Not to mention how it felt like something had crawled into her chest ever since this conversation began, similar to the betrayal she'd felt when they'd abandoned her at their Idol concert, but something uglier. Something green, and with claws. Like she was being left behind all over again. "I mean, I'll support you guys whatever you do, of course⁠—" 

"We should do it," that was Zoey, and Rumi couldn't find it in herself to be surprised. What was surprising was how Mira tilted her head, sounding like she was actually considering it. Well⁠—maybe Rumi shouldn't have been surprised at all, actually. If there's something Mira had always adored, it had been a bit of drama. 

"I take back everything I said," Mira's eyes were shining, and that was the exact second Rumi stopped trying to argue with them any further. It wouldn't have been much use, anyway. "Can you imagine what my family would think? This is a great idea." 

"Incredible," Rumi muttered, and buried her face in her hands. In her periphery, she could see Zoey and Mira's palms meeting in a high five that did nothing to ease Rumi's anxiety.

She didn't want to be a killjoy but, well⁠—this was going to blow up in all their faces. Rumi just didn't know how. 

Or why it suddenly felt too difficult for her to breathe. 

The thing about spending so much time in close proximity with people was that you knew them like the back of your hand⁠—knew exactly how they clicked. Which is why, when Rumi had gotten ready for bed and was idly scrolling through her phone underneath the covers, she wasn't surprised at all to hear a tentative knock at her door. 

(Bobby was right. The social media attention Zoey and Mira had attained still hadn't died down. Looking at those photos⁠—that Rumi had downloaded into her gallery to look at a concerning amount of times⁠—she could understand why.) 

(They were both beautiful in their affection for each other.) 

"Come in," she called out, trying to decide if it was worth it to get off her bed to turn on the lights. Well⁠—Zoey came into her room and immediately turned on the lights, so the decision was made for her. 

"Ow," Rumi hissed, annoyed despite herself at the glare rushing into her eyes. "Give me a bit of warning next time, damn." 

"Sorry!" Zoey looked apologetic enough that Rumi felt her mild annoyance disappear instantly. Zoey had always had that effect on her⁠—she could never stay mad at her for long, which meant that she always got away with entirely too much. If her relationship with Mira felt like walking on eggshells, it was the opposite with Zoey⁠; like they understood each other. Too much, maybe, sometimes. "Can I…?" 

Rumi blinked. "Of course you can," was all she had time to get out, before Zoey was crawling in next to her underneath the covers. Rumi's bed was big enough that they'd done this plenty of times, often with Mira crawling in with them, too. There was nothing like privacy in their world, and it was a miracle she had hidden those demon markings as long as she had done. "What's wrong, Zoey?" 

"Well…" Zoey relaxed against the bedrest, trying to find the words. And Rumi didn't mind making time⁠—she'd never minded making time for any of them⁠—as she gathered her thoughts. Zoey's fingernails were bitten to the quick, she noticed, feeling a pang of concern. Maybe she should have gone looking for Zoey, before she had talked herself into a spiral. "I don't know if this whole fake-dating thing is a good idea anymore." 

The jolt in Rumi's chest was unrelated, something ugly that she needed to push to the recess of her mind. "Is it because you're into her?" she teased, trying to keep her voice as light-hearted as possible. 

Zoey spluttered. "I⁠—No⁠—I mean, yes, but⁠—" 

"How do I know? Please. You're so obvious." Rumi's voice was doing a good job of hiding the emotions roiling at the back of her throat. At the dryness that gathered no matter how hard she tried to swallow. She pitched her voice higher: "ohhhh Mira is so annoyinggg, she neverrrr listens to me⁠—" 

Zoey whacked her with a pillow. "That is not what I sound like!" She protested, and Rumi was relieved to find that Zoey didn't look like she was a second away from bursting into tears, now. 

"It sooo is," Rumi grinned. See, she was so good at sounding normal when she wanted to be. Then, sobering up: "You know Bobby and Mira wouldn't mind if you change your mind, right? Bobby will probably whine a little, but he won't actually be mad. And you know how Mira is." 

Zoey groaned, and buried her face in the pillow she had just whacked Rumi with, rolling around in the bed like a particularly excitable house cat. Rumi giggled and desperately tried to ignore the warmth of the body next to her. "I know," she whined. "Which is exactly why it's so hard saying no." 

Which was when Rumi got an idea. 

She rolled on to her back, unable to look Zoey in the eye. The light bulb stared back at her, spots in her vision that didn't abate when she blinked. It took a lot of effort to say what she said next. "You should see how it goes." 

Zoey stilled, pausing in her valiant effort of strangling herself with Rumi's pillow. "What do you mean?" 

Rumi felt her face heat. "Just… if it sounds like Mira likes you too, why don't you give it a go?" 

Zoey sat up properly this time, intrigued. "Do you know how many fanfics there are with this exact premise?" she asked, and Rumi opened her mouth to question the non-sequester. But Zoey barreled on: "And it ends up with the main characters getting together 90% of the time. I think I can live with those odds, actually. I'll let you sleep now. Thank you Rumi!!" 

With that, Zoey was gone as quickly as she came, shutting the door behind her with a loud thud, not even bothering to hear Rumi's hasty, you know those stats are for fictional relationships, right??? That would have gone straight through her head. Zoey hadn't even turned the lights off on her way out. 

Rumi sighed, the sickening feeling still at the recess of her chest, ever since their plans to fake date had been arranged. She had no right to be this⁠—this possessive of her friends, as if they weren't their own people, because that was the only explanation she could come up with for how it felt like there were a hundred needles stabbing into every millimeter of her exposed skin whenever she thought of them being without her. 

It was only natural, and she was a terrible friend. 

The next few days were relatively normal, all things considered. Bobby hadn't wanted Zoey and Mira to be fully upfront about their relationship from the start⁠—just teasers; Instagram stories of just Zoey and Mira working together on some music; a candid shot Bobby had taken when they had all been watching a movie together. Rumi had to admit⁠, Bobby was good at his job. It wasn't hard to believe they were a couple, looking at the photos he'd taken. 

Bobby said everything was going according to plan, and they didn't have any reason to doubt him. He was a wonderful manager⁠—Rumi had heard horror stories of the mistreatment of other idols, and she was just glad none of that applied to her or her friends⁠—and they had no qualms leaving all their social media presence to him. Besides, they were Demon Hunters first, Singers second, and… whatever they did for promo third. Not that there were many demons to hunt in the first place, now that the Honmoon was mostly sealed.

"My well of inspiration is kinda dry right now," Mira admitted. It was a slow day⁠—a slow few weeks, even. After they'd defeated Gwi-Ma, demon attacks had been few and far between, and had only taken five minutes at most to banish them to the underworld. Admittedly, they were a bit bored. Not doing anything but fighting and working for most of your life would do that to a person, Rumi supposed. "Any ideas what our next song should be?" 

"I was gonna ask you that," Zoey groaned, setting down her notebook and pencil on the table with a thud. "Isn't this supposed to get easier the more we make songs?" 

"We technically don't need to release anything new for at least a few months," Rumi pointed out, not believing her own words. The others didn't either. The main reason the three of them had never had a break for more than a week⁠—it wasn't because their fans had been demanding, or because they felt themselves obliged. They just loved making music. Maybe it was in their blood. 

The pages on Zoey's latest notebook looked barely salvageable⁠, scribbles and scribbles that had been roughly disfigured by the of a blunt pencil. Rumi reached out to take a quick look, but Zoey snatched it away before she could, face flushed crimson. "Don't! It's⁠—they're WIPs. Not fit for public consumption yet," Zoey nodded vigorously, book clutched to her chest. The lie was transparent to the both of them⁠—Rumi caught Mira's eye, and both of them came to a silent agreement not to say anything. Zoey heaved a sigh of relief when it looked like they would not press, and sat herself back on the couch. 

They all lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. The flip in her stomach that she'd been trying to ignore valiantly for the past few weeks was now back with a vengeance, only exacerbated by the close proximity to her best friends. She needed to make this stop, before they caught on. 

"You know," Mira said, breaking their silence. Zoey and Rumi's eyes snapped to her, and Rumi felt her breath catch at the smile on Mira's face. Something she'd been doing more and more lately, too. "I have an idea about what we should write. I don't know if you'll like it, Zo-ey." 

The almost flirtatious tone in Mira's voice made both Zoey and Rumi flush, both for entirely different reasons. "W⁠—what is it?" she stuttered. Cute, Rumi thought, then pushed that thought away. She was getting very good at that. 

"We should write a love song," Mira declared, and it was like time had stopped, both of them staring at Mira with their mouths open. Sure, they've done songs about love, but they've never, truly written about love before. None of them had been particularly experienced in it⁠ to even try. "It's appropriate, don't you think?" 

"I… supposed so," Zoey said, after a long moment while they all tried to gather their thoughts. "I mean⁠—Rumi has to be okay with it too, of course." 

"I'm⁠—I'm fine," Rumi coughed. Ignore the churning in your stomach. You're happy for your friends. Ignore it. Then, grinning: "If this is how you want to come out to the world, I would never stand in your way." 

"Oh, shut up," Mira and Zoey chorused, gazing at each other in surprise then bursting into laughter. Rumi could see why the internet shipped them, she really could⁠—both gorgeous in their own right, fitting together like puzzle pieces whenever they interacted, willing to bring out the best in each other. 

Rumi was just glad to be in their presence. It was selfish of her, to ask anything more of them⁠⁠—to think that she could be a part of this when it was obvious they just wanted to spend more time alone. Rumi wasn't dense. She hadn't noticed it, at first⁠—but the desire was clear in Mira's eyes too. 

(In her best moments, she thought this was the most human emotion she could ever feel⁠—love tempered by scorching hot jealousy that made it difficult to breathe.) 

(In her worst moments, she wondered if it were her demon impulses coming to the forefront, this inability to let anything go.)  

"You okay, Rumi? You're gripping that pencil like, realllyyyy hard, dude."    

"I'm fine," Rumi scrounged up an unconvincing smile. She didn't miss the glance Zoey and Mira exchange⁠—they were too good to her, always⁠— united in their concern. "My stomach hurts a little. Think I ate something bad today, 's all. I'm gonna get some rest, I think."    

They both relaxed, though that didn't stop Zoey from getting out of her seat as if to escort back to her room. "It's okay," Rumi said, leveling a pointed look at Zoey and eyes drifting towards Mira's until she got the hint. Zoey's mouth formed a perfect O, and absurdly, all Rumi could think about was how cute she looked. How cute she always looked. "My room is literally three steps away⁠—I can let myself in, I swear." 

"Well, give us a shout if you need anything," it was Mira, this time. Rumi nodded, then made her escape. Mostly, she hadn't wanted to be in the room with them when they mentioned the word love. For some reason, it just made her sick to her stomach. 

Rumi had never been a jealous person. Sure, she'd always envied it when Zoey and Mira could wear whatever they wanted without a care in the world⁠, but it had never been all-consuming. It had never been overwhelming, enough that she tossed and turned in her bed more and more these days, gripping her bedsheets with an emotion she couldn't quite articulate. 

It felt like she was on the cusp of⁠—of something. Something he couldn't understand. Something she was terrified of discovering. 

It didn't help that Mira and Zoey were everywhere she went⁠—considering that they lived together, it was very hard to avoid them⁠—and almost always conversing with each other, smiles on both their faces as if they wanted to be nowhere else. And Rumi was happy for them⁠—she was happy for them. Of course she was. It was just⁠—

Her heart thumped wildly whenever she glimpsed the two of them together, especially now that it looked like Zoey had actually taken her advice. Rumi wasn't entirely certain if they were genuinely dating, and hadn't mustered up the courage to ask just yet, but she wouldn't be surprised if they were.       

The public was eating up their newfound relationship⁠⁠⁠—as much as Rumi hated to admit it, Bobby had been right. Their fans loved their idols were appearing as human, with their own feelings and their love lives. Suck it, Celine. 

Their new song, however, was not even going half as well. Zoey seemed halfway into a panic attack every new iteration of lyrics she came up with, and Rumi and Mira were the same. There was something missing, not unlike how they had tried to come up with a song for the Idol Awards a few weeks ago and had realised the song they'd been trying to come up with had been completely different from what they were writing. Besides, they had a live performance coming up the next week. None of them were seriously considering debuting a new song for the performance, but it would have been nice if they could. They had never refuted the perfectionist allegations. 

"I can not do this today," Mira sank into the couch. She'd kept up a steady beat while Rumi strummed her guitar, but none of the lyrics were working. 

Rumi nodded, balancing her guitar on the edge of the couch and reaching out to nibble on some crisps their manager had brought them. That wasn't enough to sate her appetite, not this once⁠—working on a new project had always made her hungry. Rumi caught her eye, thinking the same thing. Looking at Zoey almost dozing on the couch: "Tell you what⁠—why don't we go out for some ramen?" 

Zoey perked up at the mere mention of ramen, suddenly wide awake. Cute. Rumi needed to stop thinking that. They shouldn't go out without telling Bobby, but that had never really stopped any of them before. They'd been holed up in their house way too long, besides. 

Zoey and Rumi grinned, sensing the agreement on her face. Rumi laughed⁠ a little, and then they were off, grabbing their coats and heading to their favourite ramen joint. 

Old Lady Mako's ramen place had been a fixture of their lives ever since they had moved in, three of them dropping in once when they'd battled a particularly nasty set of demons and had been too exhausted to make it to their place in time. The small, almost indistinguishable sign at the top labelled Ramen had almost escaped their notice, but the smell of very appetising ramen certainly hadn't. 

And the rest had been history. Mako refused to do delivery⁠—something about the flavour getting ruined if the ramen so much as jostled in uncaring hands⁠—so it was a rare treat when they could take the time out of their busy schedules to make their way to the restaurant. Though " restaurant" might be an exaggeration; it certainly wasn't posh enough for all that. 

The bell tinkled when they made their way inside, and Rumi felt herself relax. The place was the same as when they'd last been here⁠—booths tucked into the corners of the place, tables and chairs at the centre. There were a couple of people already enjoying their ramen, but none of them paid the three any mind. Another thing Rumi liked about the place. She loved being an idol, but sometimes the attention got overwhelming.

They tucked themselves into the booth they always did⁠⁠—the one at the very back, closer to the exit in case they needed to make a hasty retreat. There had been a sudden demon attack once or twice when they were enjoying their ramen, and their fights had always been vicious for it. No one stood between them or their food.   

Mira had always sat next to her when they came to this joint, but today she slid next to Zoey like it was natural. Rumi tried to keep her face straight, but she must have been transparent enough because Mira sent an apologetic look her way. Rumi waved it away⁠—it wasn't like she could object, after all, no matter how much she would want to. Zoey, too enamoured with Mira sitting right next to her, didn't notice. The sting of it was taken away by how besotted Zoey looked, and Rumi could never hold a grudge at Zoey, anyway. 

They were all creatures of habit, so their ramen orders had been the same ever since the first time they'd come here. Enough that Old Lady Mako just brought their orders to their table without even asking what they wanted, now. The plates were big enough that they all had more than enough to share, all of them laughing and joking and taking bites off each other's food. 

Distantly, Rumi wondered if this was where their relationship really changed. Not with anything significant, even noteworthy, but with bites of food they refused to share. Before she could shake herself out of her paranoid thoughts, the sound of Zoey's very loud ringtone interrupted them. 

"Oh my god, keep your phone on silent, heathen," Mira laughed, theoretically covering her ears, Rumi joining her a second later. Zoey stuck her tongue out at them, checking her caller ID and face immediately lighting up. 

"That's my fam⁠—I'll join you guys in ten minutes, okay?" and she was off without waiting for a response. Rumi watched her go, feeling impossibly fond. And maybe not without a small amount of envy. When she locked eyes with Mira, she knew she was thinking the same. 

"Must be nice to have parents who actually give a shit, huh?" Mira asked. Her brown eyes were intense today, a pain Rumi had tried but had never been able to soothe. 

Rumi winced and looked away. The closest she'd had to a parental figure after her mom died had been Celine, and⁠—well. After that whole "revealing to the entire world that I'm half-demon" fiasco had happened, Rumi hadn't bothered to reach out. Celine hadn't, either. It hurt more than she had expected it to. 

"Your family say anything?" Rumi asked, feeling a part of her chest hurt when Mira just shook her head. It was an old pain, by now, but Rumi⁠—maybe more than anyone else⁠—knew how much it still hurt. 

There was a lot Mira's parents hadn't liked about her⁠, a festering wound that never closed. All of that was bullshit to Rumi, of course, and she had always admired Mira for going against the grain regardless, but she knew the rejection still stung. Family did that to you.

"Didn't know what I expected, really," Mira shrugged. "They stopped giving a shit about me after I became an idol⁠—I don't know why I expected anything at all." 

"I get it," Rumi replied, setting a gentle, hesitant hand on Mira's. Mira didn't protest at the contact. Rumi sighed internally past the jack hammering in her chest. This wasn't about her. "Even just a text…" 

Mira laughed, suddenly, and it was bitter. "I would have even preferred them calling me and telling me I'm disowned or something. Anything's better than… this. Grandma told me they moved out of Seoul a few months ago, and I don't even know where they live anymore." 

"I'm sorry," Rumi replied, not knowing what else to say. The words felt inadequate, against the pain Mira was feeling, but words were the only comfort she could offer. 

"Not your fault," Mira wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Then, with a wobbly smile: "But⁠—thanks for listening, Rumi." 

"Always," Rumi gave a warm smile back. Their heavy conversation was broken by Mako coming with their bowls of ramen. They both thanked her, the heady aroma hitting their noses and making them realise how hungry they'd been for the first time. Zoey was still busy with her call⁠—when Rumi craned her neck, she could see her outside the joint, laughing with her family. Rumi caught her eye, gesturing at their food, and Zoey nodded vigorously, gesturing that she would be there in two minutes. 

The food was calling the both of them, but they could wait. They could definitely wait. 

"Soooo," Rumi started, trying not to stare too hard at the ramen right down their noses. Mira had taken out her phone and was scrolling through it furiously, trying to accomplish the same thing. Maybe they really were gluttons. "How's it going with Zoey?" 

She only felt a little sick when she asked that question. That was progress. 

Mira slammed her phone down on the table. What the fuck⁠—  

"Why do you ask?" Mira's eyes were wide. "Did she tell you anything? Does she hate fake dating? She does, doesn't she⁠—" 

"Mira. What." 

"Okay," Mira took a deep breath, her face flushed. "I sounded totally crazy there, didn't I? Okay. Can we pretend that didn't happen?" 

"I think we both know the answer to that," Rumi replied, her heart doing… something, when Mira pouted. Then: "You don't… dislike this thing with Zoey, do you? Because we can all talk to Bobby⁠," Zoey's heart would be broken, and that thought caused a sickening lurch in her chest, "and fake break up or something."  

"What? No. Of course I don't want to do that," Mira's eyes widened. "It's just…" 

Rumi waited her out. She knew, from personal experience, that there was no use pushing Mira when it came to anything like this. 

"I kinda don't want it to end," she blurted out finally, and there it was. "I mean, we haven't gone out publicly or anything, and it's just been a few days, but I keep thinking about it⁠—" 

"You want to date her for real!" Rumi gasped, and Mira immediately leaned forward to slap her hand over her mouth. The table gave a very precarious wriggle, along with their boiling ramen, but all Rumi could really think about was how Mira was way too close to her. Close enough, she could count the freckles on her nose, and could figure out the exact shade of her lipstick. Close but still not close enough. 

"Shut up," Mira hissed, only removing her hand when Rumi gave a nod of acquiescence. "Do you want everyone to hear??" 

Mira had fully settled down in her booth by now, while Rumi tried to ignore the pang of loss she felt. Strangely, a large part of her would have been quite happy if Mira had stayed next to her forever. "Sorry. But I'm right, aren't I?" 

"Unfortunately," Mira said begrudgingly. She crossed her arms together, and Rumi's eyes tracked the movement almost unconsciously. Was it her imagination, or had her biceps never been this… large before? "I know it's just a⁠—a thing, for her, but…" 

Rumi shook her head to clear it of her unwanted thoughts. And, noticing the way Mira was looking at her, despite the curdle in her stomach: "I think you should give it a go." The exact words she'd told Zoey a week ago. 

Mira gave her a smile, and it was soft and vulnerable enough that Rumi wanted to gather her in her arms and never let go. Rumi and Mira had always been the more contentious pair out of the three of them, but they'd always had each other's back. Even when it came to things like⁠—romance. None of them were experts at love, and maybe they were all discovering it as it went. Rumi wanted to protest the fact that it felt like she was right in the middle of it, but the thought of not knowing what was going on at all made her want to throw up.  

"You really think so?" Mira asked, so sincere in her affection. For a wild moment, Rumi wished that same, dreamy smile was directed at her. 

"I absolutely do," Rumi said, smiling at the excitement on Mira's face. "Oh⁠—Zoey's heading our way. But I think you should do it." 

"Do what?" Zoey asked, seating herself next to Mira, not noticing her flushed cheeks as she leaned close to bring her bowl closer. Despite herself, Rumi had to resist the laugh that wanted to burst forth from her lips. 

"Don't worry about it," Rumi grabbed her chopsticks, barely resisting from inhaling the noodles out of sheer willpower. "I'm hungry as shit. Let's eat." 

They all dug in, conversation forgotten for now. 

(Mira's lipstick had been a shade of pastel pink, blush coated high in her cheeks and looking all the prettier for it. Rumi had been unable to think of nothing else but her lipstick and the soft hand that had laid across her face, for a long time afterwards.) 

Rumi posted a picture of Mira and Zoey feeding each other ramen, leaning close and laughing at each other's food-filled chipmunk cheeks, captioning it with a small <3 that couldn't possibly express the depth of affection she felt. 

Their followers almost doubled overnight. 

Rumi couldn't find it in herself to be happy for them. She didn't know what was wrong with her, for feeling this much jealousy over something so innocuous as her friends getting together. 

They had made no progress over their new song, but not for lack of trying. As soon as it felt like they were making headway, either Rumi, Zoey or Mira felt like something was wrong, and into the dustbin the lyrics went. They were stressed enough that even Derpy—who mostly preferred to roam outside the house⁠—had sensed their distress and made himself at home next to where Rumi was sitting down on the floor. She had to admit; he was very comforting. 

In the end, Bobby had to force them all to go to sleep, because their performance and interview was tomorrow, and if they were tired enough, they couldn't concentrate properly on it he would go spare. 

And they had been intending to go to sleep. But⁠ they all felt the familiar shift in the air that meant demons were coming , donning their costumes and leaving as fast as possible to the scene. 

The Honmoon hadn't fully been closed yet, despite their best efforts, and all three of them were uncertain if it could be. Rumi was beginning to not hate the markings on her skin, and there was another part of her that wondered if there were other demons like Jinu, too. Whether they were as trapped as he felt, victim to circumstance and nothing else. She knew Zoey and Mira were thinking the same. Regardless, this was the first time they'd faced against 

Which didn't mean they were any less vicious with the demons they came across⁠—in fact, they got the same thrill as they always did, Rumi slicing through demons with practiced efficiency, Jinu's soul by her side. The attacks were aggressive today, but nothing they couldn't handle. 

Everything was going well, Rumi losing herself in the fight, when⁠— 

"ZOEY WATCH OUT!" 

Rumi wheeled around, right in time to glimpse Zoey's terrified face before a demon swiped at her with its claws, creating a deep gash on her stomach that dyed her costume red. Zoey staggered back, something resigned on her face, looking so⁠—

Rumi had always known she would do anything for Zoey. She just hadn't known the shape of her affection, how it wrapped its vines tight around her until she could barely breathe with it. 

Rumi would do anything for Zoey. Anything for either of them, and it wasn't a revelation as much as it was a realisation. 

Rumi exchanged a look with Mira, and that was all they needed before they lost their shit. 

They were both pissed off, and none of these demons knew exactly how vicious they could be when they were. They killed those demons within a mere minute, both rushing to Zoey's side when they were done.

"Shit, Zoey," Rumi panted, trying to find the words. "Are you okay?" 

"Okay as can be, I figure," Zoey replied, trying to keep the pain out of the edges of her smile. But Rumi had always seen through her. Both of them could. Mira was examining her wound, lifting her shirt and staring clinically at the deep gash that littered her stomach. "Is it gonna scar?"

"Not if I can help it," Mira declared, hauling Zoey into her arms in a bridal carry despite Zoey's protests. Rumi, grappling with her very big realisation and the deep fucking gash on her best friend's stomach, couldn't even find it in herself to smile at the blush grazing Zoey's cheeks, or the panicked gaze she shot Rumi's way. Well, if Zoey had enough time to be flustered, it meant she was in enough shock to forget about the wound or the blood loss had made her loopy. Well. Rumi certainly hoped it was the former. 

Thankfully, she had stopped bleeding even before Mira had carried her, so Rumi, with her very limited medical knowledge, could tell her wound wasn't too deep. They made it home in record time, setting Zoey down on the couch while Rumi hurried to get their First Aid kit. It wasn't the first time they'd been injured during battle, but it never stopped making the anxiety thrumming through their veins any less. 

Zoey hissed as the antiseptic applied to her wounds, Mira's hands impossibly gentle around her dressing. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" she whispered, and Zoey nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping the edge of the couch hard enough Rumi wouldn't be surprised if there were grooves worn into it later. Rumi sat down next to Zoey, watching them both. She extended her hand, not sure what she wanted to do, but Zoey decided for her by grabbing her hand and squeezing it tight. 

Mira continued her work, face scrunched up in concentration, Zoey trying to keep her whimpers to a bare minimum even though she was fooling neither of them. By all rights, this should have felt like a private moment for Mira and Zoey, from their conversation at the ramen joint alone, but she was surprised at how… right, this felt. Rumi continued rubbing circles into her palm, while Mira finished bandaging her wounds and made her drink a painkiller. The wound, thankfully, wasn't deep enough to scar. Zoey's hand went slack in hers, the exhaustion catching up to her as she drifted off to sleep. 

It was almost three a.m. They had to be up at least by seven, but Rumi couldn't find it in herself to slip away. Neither could Mira⁠—she laid a kiss on Zoey's head, impossibly tender, and there it was. 

Rumi didn't belong in this scene, not really. It was only a matter of time until she outstayed her welcome. 

"I should get going," she murmured, making to disentangle her hand. But Zoey gave a small noise of dissatisfaction, and the hand that was slack in hers suddenly became tight. Mira leveled her with a look, and Rumi flushed. 

"Stay," Mira mouthed, drawing her knees up to tuck herself in between Zoey's arm. 

Rumi felt like her heart had risen to her throat. This feeling was familiar, but now it made sense. 

Zoey's hand was tucked tight in hers, Mira's eyes intent on hers, and Rumi was so in love she could barely breathe. 

Oh. Oh. 

That had been the missing piece all along. 

A flick to her forehead. Mira. "Go to sleep, Rumi." 

Obediently, Rumi closed her eyes. Sleep, when it came, surrounded by her friends, was surprisingly easy. 

(Even though her heart felt like it was about to burst.) 

Rumi had always been an early riser, an effect of her upbringing more than anything else. Celine had always wanted her up bright and early to work on her training, and Rumi had never objected. Rumi hadn't objected to a lot of things. 

Which meant that Rumi was always the earliest riser out of all of them. 

It wasn't the first time the three of them had crashed on their couch, and it definitely wouldn't be the last⁠—the sun leaked in through the gap in their curtains, and Rumi had a long, peaceful moment where she just enjoyed being with her girls before the events of the last night came crashing down like an avalanche. 

(Zoey getting injured. She was in love with Rumi and Zoey. Zoey getting injured. She was in love with Rumi and Zoey.) 

(They had a live performance in two hours.) 

Wait. They had a live performance in two hours. 

Rumi scrambled up from her position on the couch, Zoey and Mira almost tumbling down in her haste. That did the job of waking them up, at least. At their surprised faces, she explained, "We're so late, we have a performance in two hours⁠—" 

"Shit," Zoey gasped, trying to sit up then immediately heaving with pain from the wound in her stomach. Rumi and Mira both winced.

"Are you sure…" 

"I will not be the reason we cancel this show," Zoey cut Rumi off, firm in her decision despite it all. Fuck, Rumi wanted to kiss her bad. Rumi was a fool for not realising it sooner. "I can handle a bit of pain." 

"Kinky," Mira snorted, and Zoey burst into shocked laughter, her face growing flushed. Rumi let herself watch, feeling something⁠—something else gather at the bottom of her stomach as Zoey waved her hands, flustered but interestingly enough never denying it. 

(Rumi had never felt desire this intense before, a slow burning flame that couldn't be satisfied until it became an inferno, consuming everything in its path. Zoey's face was sleep rumpled and flushed, and Rumi had never been more in love with her. Mira looked far too amused, and Rumi had never felt the urge to kiss the smugness away from her face as much as she did now.) 

Rumi cleared her throat. Both of them jumped, as if they had forgotten her presence in the living room at all. The thought stung, but Rumi had gotten used to that too, she supposed. She could never be a part of this, but that didn't stop the part of herself that wanted to be, a desperation that ached to the very core of her heart. 

"We need to get ready," was all she said, ignoring the pounding in her chest. "Zoey⁠—are you sure you're okay?" 

"I'm okay," Zoey confirmed, giving a thumbs up and her customary bright smile that alleviated Rumi's concerns. Zoey had always been a bleeding heart⁠—it made it easy to know when she was in pain. If she was lying to them, they would have known. Then, grinning: "I sure am glad to get interrogated about me and Mira's relationship on this fine day." 

Rumi, for lack of a better reaction, threw her head back and laughed. 

The interviewer was someone they had worked with, a few years before⁠—one of the less invasive ones, who took care to actually listen to social cues and leave something the well enough alone if it looks like the questions were going in a direction their interviewees didn't like. Rumi couldn't say the same for a lot of other interviewers⁠. One reason Bobby had went with him for the official "Introduction of ZoeMira to the world" interview. 

The other bonus was that the interview was pre-recorded. Live interviews had never been their preferred mode, the possibility to screw up always being at the forefront of their minds, and Bobby, wisely, had decided it would be infinitely too stressful to make it harder than it already was. They were going to do this interview, and formally announce a two month long hiatus for Huntrix. Rumi didn't know how long it was actually going to last, considering how bad they were about taking breaks, but she could dream. 

And Zoey certainly needed the rest, even though her Hunter aptitudes meant she healed quicker than most. 

Rumi prepared herself for an awkward thirty minutes, regardless. Their performance had gone well⁠—of course it had, it was them; it was Huntrix⁠—but now she was relegated to a chair while Zoey and Mira both gave her apologetic glances from their positions on the love seat they'd been forced to occupy. All three of them were already uncomfortable⁠—Rumi couldn't imagine it getting any better from now, and definitely wasn't expecting questions to come her way to even stave off the boredom. 

This was not what they had been expecting, but Rumi could grit her teeth and bear it. Zoey and Mira were the only thing that mattered today. 

"Let's all welcome the amazing Huntrix to our show! It's been, what? Three years since you've appeared here last. Let me tell you girls, it definitely feels like yesterday to me." 

Rumi laughed, fighting to keep the smile on her face genuine. "Feels like that way for us, too," she agreed, even though she couldn't even remember what they had talked about in that interview. Diplomacy wouldn't hurt, at least. "It's been a very exhilarating three years." 

"Oh, I can imagine," the interviewer said, his eyes immediately zooming in on Zoey and Mira, Rumi immediately forgotten. Truly a great start. Mira opened her mouth to object, but Rumi caught her eye and shook her head. The sooner the interview was over with, the better. Zoey's smile was tight, too⁠—a combination of the pain and the uncomfortable situation they were all in, but she was doing an admirable job of keeping her cool. That didn't help the way her fingers flexed on top of her lap, wanting to draw Zoey closer to ease her pain. "How long have you two been dating?" 

They'd rehearsed this beforehand. 

"Just a few days after our Idol Awards performance, actually!"  Zoey's face dropped a little at the mention of the Awards. Then, quickly regaining herself: "After everything that went down, we realised we need each other more than ever." 

"Is there a specific instant where this started?"

"Not really," it was Mira, this time. She smiled, genuine affection in her face when she looked at Zoey. It made Rumi's breath catch, a sickening combination of too much affection and too much jealousy. "I can't, at least. It just felt… natural. Zoey and I have always been close, and things just progressed from there."

"She's always been family," Zoey smiled, a small smile curving at the corner of her lips, and Rumi wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt to breathe. How had she not noticed this before? How her heart stuttered every time she looked at the both of them, how it felt like the world kept spinning as long as she had them by her side? 

Mira smiled back, and Rumi was overwhelmed with the force of her⁠—the force of her love for the two of them. She was happy for them, truly⁠—in the same way she felt she loved a song that made her feel too many things at once. A love song that hadn't been invented yet. 

(Every second, every minute, every hour / I think of you / Of the contours of your throat / of the shape of your lips / of the quirk of your body / of the kindness of your heart) 

A love song they hadn't written yet. 

A love song that finally felt right⁠— but one she couldn't exhale. There were too many feelings roiling in her body, and she'd just fixed her relationship with her friends. They meant more to her than anything else in the world. If they were forced to choose⁠—she couldn't. 

She wouldn't be able to bear it. 

"And what do you think of this recent development, Rumi?" the interviewer asked, sensing blood in the water. He'd definitely changed from how laid back he'd been in their last interview, but Rumi guessed popularity made demons of them all. Heh. Demons. As much as the public loved a good romance, they were probably wondering about how Zoey and Mira dating had affected Rumi, as well. 

And, after everything, even though every time she looked at them it hurt to breathe, even though all she wanted to do was bury her face in the crook of Mira's neck and hold Zoey's hand and never let go, the only thing she wanted to say was⁠— 

"I'm happy for them, of course I am," and she truly was. The smile she mustered up was even genuine. 

(She was happy for them, but her stomach was tied in knots. Loving someone was supposed to be easy. It had never been this way with Jinu⁠—a paltry comparison to the affection she felt now, all-consuming enough it threatened to swallow her whole.) 

The interviewer sat back, disappointed in being unable to find some thing to poke at. Their allotted time was over, at least⁠—Rumi saw Bobby gesture something to the stage director, tone bordering on a threat, from what she could see, and soon enough, they were saying their goodbyes to the interviewer and making their way backstage. Wow, she loved that guy. 

"I'm so sorry, girls," Bobby hissed, as soon as they were backstage and out of earshot. "His interviews had always been far more normal than this, if I'd seen he'd changed this much I never would have⁠—" 

"It's okay Bobby," Rumi said, patting him on the back. He looked one second away from having a nervous breakdown, and Rumi couldn't help but feel bad for him. "I don't think any of us could have predicted that." 

At that, all three of them looked at her. "What?" 

"The way he treated you," Zoey sounded livid. Mira looked little better. Neither did Bobby, for that matter. "Putting you in another chair???? Asking you those questions??" 

"I mean, I'm sure he was just curious…" 

"He was nosy, you mean," Mira's voice was frosty. "Bobby, we are never doing another interview with him again. And we're gonna need an apology for this whole shitshow." 

"On it," Bobby said, thumbing through his phone. "I would ask to revoke the interview altogether, but it's unfortunately going live in the evening." 

Rumi waved her hands, trying to get their attention. "Guys, it's fine. You two were really cute together, and the interview itself went fine! You don't need to bother about me…" 

Mira flicked her on the forehead. Mira gave her a deadpan stare at the small ow she let out, looking like she was one second away from shaking her until she saw sense. Which wasn't actually too uncommon of a look, but still. Rumi genuinely didn't know what she'd done to deserve it, this time. 

"Rumi," Mira just looked at her. "We would literally burn the world down for you." 

Rumi spluttered, not knowing what to say. Well, at least her friends knew that too⁠—Zoey just laughed at her, and tugged her toward the exit, where their ride back home was waiting. 

(The affection made it hurt to breathe, like a high note that wouldn't make it past her throat.) 

Zoey excused herself the moment they made it back home, going straight to her room and collapsing into her bed. Good. She deserved every bit of rest she could get. Normally, either Rumi or Mira would have joined her, but Mira and Rumi knew when she wanted to be alone, and when to leave her alone. As a result, she wouldn't be able to glimpse the interview going live, or the fans' reactions to it, but Rumi wasn't sure if Zoey actually wanted to see that. Or if Rumi and Mira wanted to see it, either. 

It was purely morbid fascination that made them load up their arms with snacks and drag themselves to their living room, settling themselves down on the couch and wrestling each other until they were a tangle of limbs. It almost, almost felt like they were back to normal again, before the whole fake-dating fiasco happened. 

Rumi would never get used to seeing herself on a TV screen, no matter how many times she had been interviewed. It had always felt like every moment of her⁠—more than fabricated⁠—life had been broadcasted on screen, and this time felt no different. It was… strange, seeing a version of herself she didn't recognise on the screen. 

"You look more uncomfortable than usual," Mira said, flopping down onto the couch and narrowly avoiding hitting Rumi on the head with her bag of chips. "Say the word, and I will kill that interviewer." 

"He's not a demon," Rumi replied, then paused. Okay, maybe not her best argument for why Mira shouldn't kill a human being, but Mira was sitting incredibly close to her, her arm slung over the back of the couch and thigh pressed against hers. This wasn't anything new⁠—Zoey and Mira had always been touchy and Rumi had never minded⁠—but the pounding in her chest was. The flutter in her heart was. 

Mira snorted. "Incredibly convincing argument," she teased, settling herself even closer to Rumi. It took all of Rumi's self control not to do⁠— something. Something that would destroy their friendship forever, maybe. 

She summoned a strained laugh that Mira, thankfully, didn't notice. 

"He really was grilling us, huh?" 

"I'm surprised with how much he got away with asking, honestly."

"Duuuude. I overheard some of Bobby's call with that guy," Mira stopped to drop a chip in her mouth, waving the packet vaguely in Rumi's direction until she took a few for herself. The packet was rapidly getting emptied⁠⁠—at least Mira had brought enough snacks to last them for the next few hours. "It doesn't sound like he approved any of those questions. Like, at all."

"And what do you think of this recent development, Rumi?" the interviewer asked, his face set in a smile that could only be described as predatory. Rumi hadn't noticed, when the light had been burning too bright into her eyes. She looked entirely too small in that moment⁠—her smile strained tight around the edges, not even her friends to keep her company. 

(Rumi prayed no one noticed the slight tremble in her hands.)

"I'm happy for them," the Rumi on the TV replied, and she was happy to notice the conflict in her mind wasn't reflected in her face. Rumi had gotten better at opening up, recently, but maybe this was a secret she was better off carrying to her grave. Nothing good could come from getting between her friends. 

"What a dickhead," Mira's voice was edging into the murderous. 

"Oh, this is a good part!" Rumi exclaimed, partly to get Mira's thoughts out of murdering their interviewer. Rumi wasn't exactly successful, from the flat look Mira aimed at her, but she did shrug and go back to properly watching the interview, so Rumi couldn't really complain. Besides, it was a good part. 

"What would you describe as your girlfriend's best quality?" 

Both Miras were blushing, an ugly, blotchy red that Rumi couldn't help but think was too cute. Zoey was, too, fiddling with her hands like crazy like she only did when she was nervous. 

"Cute," Rumi whispered aloud, unable to help herself. Her mouth was a traitor. 

"Shut up," Mira whacked her with a chip packet. Ow. Well. Rumi supposed she deserved it. 

"I really like how she's… never afraid to say what she's thinking. Mira is⁠—she's brilliant."

Mira's face was flaming red. Rumi had to resist laughing amidst the clog in her throat. It was funny, how love came close to feeling more like heartbreak, sometimes.

"I'll never tire of Zoey's encyclopedic knowledge of anything she gets interested in. No one gives her as much credit as she deserves." 

That was true. People didn't appreciate Zoey nearly as much, no matter how much of a presence she was on stage. Her intuition with lyrics had never failed to make Rumi and Mira amazed⁠—it came more naturally to her than anyone else⁠—and she was the smartest out of all of them. 

The interview was winding down on the screen, the interviewer giving his viewers a quick farewell before the credits started playing. Rumi had a feeling she had taken great pains to memorise the interviewer's name a day ago, but now she didn't care. She was about to turn the TV off and head off to take a nap herself, when⁠— 

Mira's voice, soft and uncertain: 

"Do you think she meant it?" 

Rumi turned around in her seat, rearranging their tangle of limbs until she could glimpse Mira's face. Mira refused to look at her⁠, only looking at the credits rolling on the screen, a blooper of Zoey's face reflected on the glasses on her face. Rumi wanted to kiss her so much it hurt to breathe. 

"Meant what?" Rumi managed, seizing the only appropriate thought out of the moment, clutching it tight to her chest and trying hard not to tuck away the stray curl lying in front of Mira's face. The evening sun leaked in through the curtains, illuminating the uncertainty in her smile, and Mira was beautiful. The knowledge that she loved the person in front of her as starkly as it did now⁠—how Mira could ask anything of her, and she would say yes.  

Mira licked her lips, and Rumi's eyes tracked the line of its movement, utterly fascinated despite herself. "When she said I was brilliant," Mira said, finally, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her body. This wasn't her story. It had never been her story. "Do you think⁠—" 

"Of course she meant it," Rumi cut her off, vehemence leaking through every syllable of her words. Mira, if she was taken aback, didn't show it, still not looking at her. Then, even though it hurt to say: "Zoey's never said anything she doesn't mean. You two are alike that way." 

Mira did turn around, at that. "I've been… thinking." 

"Shocking." 

"Stop," Mira laughed, voice losing most of the uncertain edge it had gathered from before. Rumi was glad. "She doesn't seem disgusted with the idea of fake-dating me or wha⁠—" 

"I told you, Zoey would ne⁠—" 

"And," Mira ploughed on, ignoring the glare Rumi leveled her way. "I think I'm going to ask her out."

Rumi wished she could say she was surprised. The worst⁠—best, middling⁠—thing about being best friends with both the people she was in love with, was that she knew them better than anyone else. She had seen them dancing around each other for a long time, and maybe even more than they'd been aware of it themselves. That didn't stop it from hurting, or made Rumi want to get rid of the inadequacy clawing at her throat any less. 

(i love you / and maybe it isn't enough / maybe i'm not enough / maybe it was never meant to be) 

(maybe you were meant / for someone else / for a dozen different conversations / a dozen different words / a dozen different people) 

"You should go for it," Rumi managed, despite how the words felt like ash at the back of her throat. If she coughed too hard, she would suffocate. If she breathed too hard, she would die.    

Mira smiled, and it was like looking directly at the sun.  

"I'm going to do it." 

It was funny, how love felt exactly like heartbreak. 

Mira and Rumi had stayed until midnight, talking and laughing with each other like Rumi's world hadn't shifted in its axis more times than she could count this week alone, occasionally dropping by Zoey's room to check if she wanted some company. Zoey had been fast asleep every time they'd checked, so they finally left her alone even though Rumi could see the same twitchiness she felt reflected in Mira's face. Neither of them could help it⁠—it had been a long time any of them had gotten injured, and even though it was in no way serious, compared to some other injuries they’d received, Zoey was family. 

Family that Rumi had realised she felt more than a bit deeply for, but she digressed. She hadn't told either of her friends the amount of realisations she'd come into this day⁠—didn't know how to tell them. Didn't know how to articulate her feelings when she wasn't so sure of them herself. Didn't want to disturb the beginning of Zoey and Mira's relationship with her insignificant feelings. 

They both only went to sleep when they were both yawning too hard to justify staying up late, Rumi sprawled in a truly uncomfortable position on the couch that made her neck ache when Mira gently shook her awake. The touch felt like a jolt to her chest, waking her up more than a cup of coffee ever could. 

"We should sleep," she whispered, and Rumi only nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They'd both forgotten to turn on the lights, the illumination coming from the night light affixed to the kitchen countertop for when one of them inevitably got hungry in the night and came to get something to eat. Mira was⁠—Mira was⁠—

Everything. 

Rumi reached out a hand, aching to do some thing, aching to touch⁠—

And Mira obliged, hoisting her up to her feet and pushing her towards the direction of the hallway. The touch was brief, but Rumi felt the electricity of it all the same. "Go on, sleepyhead. Get some sleep." 

Rumi muttered something under her breath⁠—something neither of them could catch⁠—before heading off with Mira in tow. Rumi's room was the closest to the kitchen, and the girls had complained about it more than once, enough that it had become a routine. They both came to a stop outside Rumi's door, and it was like they had just met all over again, with no words to bridge the gap between the two of them no matter how hard they tried. 

Words had never come easy for either of them, no matter how hard they tried. 

"Thank you, Rumi," Mira said, finally, her tone so sincere her heart ached with it. It was a constant burn⁠—maybe it was time Rumi got used to it. She didn't have to say for what, because they both knew. They always did. Before she could say anything in return⁠—an insincere-sincere litany of there's nothing to thank me for, I'm happy for you, anytime⁠— Mira had already headed away. 

It was only when Mira was safely out of sight, that Rumi let herself into her room. It was only when she was sure she couldn't be overheard, that she cried herself to sleep. 

She woke up to a ball of fur snuggled directly in front of her face, Derpy having crept into her bed when she had been asleep. Derpy and the crow had mostly kept to themselves after Jinu had died⁠—and that still hurt to think about⁠—and the rare times when they'd appeared were always a treat. They always seemed to know when she needed them the most.   

"Derpyyy," she groaned into his fur, contemplating getting up but not really with any motivation to do so. Derpy only purred. She blinked an eye open, squinting at the sunlight peaking in through her bedroom curtains, trying to get a sense of the time. Then, she just disentangled herself from Derpy long enough to fish out her phone, remembering that it had a perfectly functioning clock. Thank god for modern technology. 

She unlocked her phone, then immediately regretted it. It was barely 9am, and their schedule wasn't as packed as it usually was, so she didn't care about the late hour⁠—but the amount of notifications she had received overnight threatened to claw right through her skull into a massive headache.  

Fuck. The day had started off well enough she'd almost forgotten what had preceded it. Namely, the interview and the earth shattering revelation that had Rumi almost unable to function altogether. 

"We're really in it, now, huh Derpy?" She groaned, carding her hand through Derpy's rough fur, feeling suddenly wide awake. The notifications were endless⁠—she liked the non-invasive tweets, ignored the demanding questions, and tried, very hard, to get her breathing back under control. Derpy, by her side, was comforting, nudging his head against her chest in his own imitation of a hug. 

The pit in her stomach was back, more intense than ever. None of this should have concerned her. None of this should matter to her. None of the comments she'd seen⁠—even the positive ones, where they'd called her so supportive, the best of friends⁠— should have the capacity to make the panic rise at the back of her throat, feeling like she was a failure unable to keep a secret all over again. 

Hiding her feelings had always been hard, but she'd managed for 24 years, keeping her half-demon side close to her side until the reveal had sunk her to her knees. She still wanted to hide those marks, sometimes, when the self-loathing became intense enough she couldn't help but wonder if she was meant to be a Hunter at all. Zoey and Mira always seemed to know what to do in those moments⁠—cuddling next to her in their couch, never pressing until Rumi's shoulders stopped shaking, until Rumi felt like she could breathe again. It happened more often than she would like. 

Rumi should have been used to hiding by now. But the thing was⁠—the thing was, now that she knew what it was like to be free, she didn't want to go back. Her music had never felt as precious when she was losing her ability to sing. Like a starving man yearning for water in the middle of a desert, like a prisoner being dragged back from the prospect of freedom to the shackles wound tight in their hands. 

Rumi didn't want to hide. 

She felt a sob break out of her throat, choked up and lost, tear tracks leaking into her pillows and Derpy's fur. 

Suddenly, she missed Jinu so badly that it ached. Maybe it was Derpy's presence, and maybe it was this confusing rush of feelings that refused to abate. Things with her and Jinu had been nothing but complicated, but there had always been a certain understanding between them, too. She still mourned him⁠, the boy just like her who had deserved more.  

He would have listened. He'd done nothing else but listen, no matter how hard they'd tried to push each other away. A kindred spirit, of sorts⁠—someone whom Rumi had loved deeply but never enough to be anything more than what they were. Someone whom Rumi would have liked to know more. 

Maybe it was inevitable that everyone Rumi loved left. This was part of growing up⁠— apart⁠— wasn't it? That the only people you have would leave you behind when they found someone better than you? When they realised their feelings for you and decided they wanted nothing to do with you? 

Rumi had always felt broken her entire life. Not a proper Hunter, not a proper demon, not a proper human⁠—

Rumi took a deep breath, and tried to calm the beating of her heart. Rubbed the tear tracks beading at the corners of her eyes and forced herself to make it to her bathroom. 

Hiding had always been hard, but it never came easier to her than in these moments⁠—when the panic hit and she wanted to scrub every evidence away. She was supposed to be the strongest. The most resilient. The leader, even if it felt like she was anything but. 

She couldn't let her relationship with Zoey and Mira be another one of her regrets. A casualty of her traitorous heart. 

(When she looked at herself in the mirror, hair mussed and eyes red-rimmed, iridescent marks littering her body, all she could think of was that she had never grown up at all.) 

(The same kid who looked at her friends and wanted to belong, shaped into someone else.) 

(The makeup had always felt at home in her face.) 

when i think of you / about you / beside you / beneath you / it keeps me up at night

Zoey (1pm): RUMI RUMI RUMI

WHERE ARE YOU??? 

YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED

well

actually 

you would 

MIRA ASKED ME OUT 

YOU WERE RIGHT 

Rumi (2:15pm): sorry I went out for a jog 

I told you!!! I'm SOOOO happy for you

Zoey is typing… 

The next few days felt like a fever dream. Zoey's injury had gotten marginally better⁠—injuries never really stuck, with Hunters, unless it was particularly life-threatening⁠—but both Mira and Rumi were both very firmly opposed to her going to any more interviews or photo shoots, at least for the week. Surprisingly, Bobby had agreed, probably relieved that they weren't making more fuss about the disaster of that interview. 

She was just glad they were on a break now. 

But Zoey had never been the type to be housebound. At least, not without making a big stink about it. 

"Guyssss," she whined, thirty minutes into their Monopoly game. Okay, they'd run out of ideas to entertain themselves, too. They had tried to write another song, for the last few days, and that had proven even less fruitful⁠—Zoey had burst into tears of rage at one point, and that wasn't an experience Rumi wanted to relive again. 

(There were too many lyrics lurking at the back of Rumi's brain, maybeee something she could work with. But she was afraid they would hear her unsaid words. Love had never felt like something she should hide this much.) 

"What?" 

"I'm bored," Zoey said, putting her cards down and star fishing on the floor. "It's been so long since we've done literally anything fun. We should go out." 

Rumi and Mira exchanged a look. "Uh, Zoey," Mira tried, trying to articulate her words as delicately as possible. "I don't really think that's⁠ a goo—" 

Zoey's words were teaming with irritation when she snapped an, "I'm fine," that made Rumi feel like the worst person in the world. Demon attacks were few these days, and they had no reason to believe someone would magically come out of nowhere and attack them, but still. Zoey was Zoey, and Rumi felt more protective of her than she wanted to admit. Mira was the same, if the look she was leveling Rumi's way was any sign. 

"Oh, I know!" Zoey exclaimed, her face brightening. "I'll prove it." 

Before either of them could ask exactly what she meant or put a stop to it, Zoey jumped to her feet, suddenly very animated. "I'm fine, you see," she repeated, tugging her very tight tank top off her chest. For a moment, Rumi forgot to breathe, her mouth running extremely dry. 

Fuck. 

To Zoey's credit, she was right⁠—the wounds around her stomach had all closed up, thin, silvery scars in place that would disappear soon enough. Zoey wasn't self-conscious in the least, entirely unaware of the fact that she was rewiring Rumi⁠'s—and hello, Mira's face was flushed, unable to take her eyes off her chest⁠—brain chemistry as she spoke. Rumi couldn't blame her. Zoey was all lean muscles, gorgeous without even trying. She'd opted for one of her rattier bras, today, well-worn enough that she could see the nipples peaking out through the thin lining of the fabric, and the tease made her teeth hurt. The urge to touch was overwhelming, making Rumi chew on the inside of her cheek lest she do something rash. 

"It doesn't even hurt when I poke them! Not that I've poked to check, haha, I would never do that…" 

Rumi was the first one to find her voice. She cleared her throat, feeling her fingernails digging into her skin from the force of her clenched hands. "You didn't poke them, huh?" She asked, wanting to slap herself for how nonsensical she sounded. Mira, too busy still staring at the sliver of skin, missed the slight rasp in her voice.  

Zoey took Rumi's comment in stride, waving her arms wildly back and forth. "Yeah! Okay, whatever. The point is⁠— we should go out. I know neither of you have gone out either, but I'm fine. I promise."

"Well…" Mira worried her bottom lip, her gaze still blatantly on Zoey's skin. "I suppose there's no harm in it… What do you think, Rumi?"

Both of their eyes were on hers, now. Rumi had a hard time looking away. "You guys go ahead," she said, ignoring the widening of their eyes. Suddenly, she felt out of place, noticing how Mira and Zoey had slowly drawn closer to each other, as if they couldn't help it. How Mira could reach out and actually touch that sliver of skin. She searched her mind for an excuse, then gave up. She must actually be really exhausted today. "I'm gonna go take a nap. You two have fun." 

"It's been ages, Rumi⁠—" 

"Besides," Rumi mustered up a bright smile, not letting Zoey continue. "You guys should enjoy yourselves. Together." Rumi couldn't begrudge them the time alone. 

Zoey and Mira both flushed. 

"I mean⁠—I didn't⁠—" Zoey spluttered. Cute.

"What Zoey means, is that she doesn't want to make you feel left out," Mira finished for her, recovering incredibly fast for someone who looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown a few seconds ago.

Besides—

"I'll be fine," Rumi waved them away. "I went out for a jog this morning, and safe to say I would really rather spend today napping than third-wheeling." At the look on Zoey and Mira's faces, "Shit—that's not what I meant. You two should go out. Really. I'll be fine."

Mira raised an eyebrow. Her posture had stiffened at Rumi's words, a contrast to Zoey's confusion, but it slowly eased when she saw how hard Rumi winced at her own words. Mira had never been one to hold too much of a grudge if the other party was suitably apologetic.

"Whatever that means," Mira muttered, reaching out to flick Rumi on the forehead, ignoring her indignant ow. Zoey, still looking confused, followed her to the door. "Get out of your head, stupid."

"I'm fine," Rumi repeated. She wondered how they had become side-tracked so quickly, but that's how it always went, really. Then, seeing her friends still hovering at the door: "Go enjoy your date!"

Mira gave a frustrated sigh, as if she knew exactly what Rumi was doing, but finally stepped outside, muttering something about changing into something appropriate before leaving. Rumi didn't have time to heave a sigh of relief before she felt Zoey's astute eyes on her face.

"What?" And— ugh. Why couldn't she keep the defensiveness out of her voice?

Zoey just smiled sadly at her. "There's something bothering you," she said, straight and to the point. She'd put her top back on, but that vision of her in her bra wasn't one that was going to leave her anytime soon. Zoey rarely, if ever, came to her like this—pursed lips and unhappy eyes that made Rumi want to cry. "I know you aren't ready to talk about whatever that is, and I'm not gonna ask—but you know I'm here for you, right? We both are."

"And you're welcome to join us anytime."

It was Rumi who broke away from her earnest eyes, a coward as she always was. "I know," she replied, and Zoey at least had the decency to ignore how the words sounded like a lie to both their ears. She just shook her head, closing the door behind with a soft thud.

To Rumi's credit, she had attempted to take a nap, tossing and turning in her bed until she had fallen into a restless sleep that made her feel even worse when she'd woken up. And the thing was—she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Zoey, and that sliver of skin that had poked out. She'd been to a bathhouse with Zoey, with Mira, and this shouldn't be anything new.

But the arousal that gripped her when she thought about them was new. Something that had always been there but which had taken a more pronounced edge when she had realised her true feelings. That made anything her friends—her friends— did seem attractive, how a cocky wink from Mira made the arousal build, and even a flicker of skin from Zoey made her wanting to grip her bedsheets tight. How she had fallen into a restless sleep, but remembered the bits and pieces she could never find in herself to forget—Mira nestled between her thighs, licking her pussy lips and savouring it like a full course meal. Zoey dragging her into a heated kiss, tongue dropping from her face to her chin to suck a bruise into her neck.

Rumi couldn't help the groan she let out, her hand drifting to her panties despite herself. She was wet, wetter than she'd been in a while, her clit throbbing with the need for any kind of friction.

"Fuck," she gasped, bidding good bye to any sense of shame and humping against pillow, edging two fingers inside herself and twisted them just the way she liked. She wondered how Zoey would look like—would she be shy, or confident? Would she slap her hand away and decide to do all the work herself? And Mira— would she watch, tell her what to do when she was rubbing herself off?

The image was too much. One rub to her sensitive clit, two, and she was out like a light, feeling the world edge to a standstill as she came with a muffled shout, flushed and burying her face in her pillow.

Usually, orgasms just made her want to fall back to sleep. Now, all she felt was wide awake, realising that she'd just gotten off to the thought of her two best friends. Maybe a hole could open up in the Earth and swallow her whole. Where was Gwi-Ma now, anyway? Maybe he wanted some company. Ugh.

Rumi resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands, shifting so she was groaning into her pillows, instead. Her feelings were getting out of control, and the proximity to her bandmates didn't help. She loved them with her entire heart—but. But.

Somehow, it was easier to come to terms with being attracted to women than it was to being attracted to her friends. At least she knew she shouldn't feel guilty for the former. The jury was still out for the latter.

Your mother was the same, you know, Celine had said to her once, when she was eight and had come to her with a scraped knee and an injured cat in her hands. Always giving your heart away to anything that moved. Rumi hadn't caught the bitterness in her voice until much later. Rumi hadn't noticed a lot of things, until it was too late.

Giving your heart away to anything that moved.

That was what happened with Jinu, wasn't it? And maybe she was broken, in some fundamental way, because she could never imagine doing anything else. The demon marks bloomed across her skin every day, and the public still speculated over exactly what they were, but she could never hide them. Jinu's sacrifice for her had been too great.

She closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the sudden pang in her stomach, the certainty that she was hurtling towards something and was certain she would never be the same ever again. Certain that nothing could cushion that fall.

She had to be happy, or at least had to pretend to be. For her friends' sakes, if nothing else.

(are you happy, with someone else? / does it make you ache, to think of me? / do you think of me / or not at all?)

And life went on, as it always did. Zoey and Mira's relationship flourished in front of Rumi's eyes, both of them becoming closer every time Rumi saw them. Which wasn't much— after the disaster of a conversation before their first date, Rumi had decided it was best to keep her distance. It was the coward's way out, but Rumi had never pretended otherwise. 

("A new boba place opened downtown," Zoey called out, once, in one of the rare times when all three of them were in the same room. Not for lack of trying on Zoey and Mira's parts⁠—Rumi just snuck away when she had the chance. "We should go check it out."

Rumi stiffened.

"That sounds great," Mira agreed, sitting up and dislodging Derpy gently on the couch. Derpy didn't take any offence—he just crawled over to receive head pats from Rumi instead. "Fuck it—we can even go now."

"You guys go ahead," Rumi waved them away. "I gotta answer some emails."

"On our break?"

"Isn't that what Bobby's for?"

Rumi would have agreed with them if she wasn't making up a blatantly transparent excuse. She had a few emails to answer, but none of them were urgent.

Mira, at least, seemed to know—it was hard to ignore the hurt in her eyes when Rumi turned away to look at her laptop screen. 

I'll make it up to you guys eventually, she promised herself. When my feelings aren't so transparent.

It had been weeks since then.)

Zoey and Mira knew something was up. Rumi could see they got more and more annoyed every time she made a half-hearted excuse not to hang out with them, but it couldn't be helped. As long as she kept her feelings in check—the slow burning coil of jealousy that made her want to do something rash, tempered with the desire thrumming through her veins—she wouldn't be an inconvenience.

After a while, Zoey and Mira stopped asking her to come with them altogether, plainly deciding it was better to leave her alone for the time being. At least their foresight to take a break had paid off—Rumi had been certain it would have been cut short like all their other breaks, and she was sure the fans had been too, but all of them were just… tired. At least, Rumi was.

The fans, predictably, were beside themselves at every single time Zoey and Mira were seen together, which was more often than not. Only Zoey had been brave enough to check their social media, and had promptly closed Twitter after the app had crashed with the sheer volume of notifications they received. After that, they'd all stayed off social media. At least it looked like the bigots were being thoroughly shut down by their fans.

The break was supposed to make them feel more well-rested, more in tune with each other. And it would have had the intended effect, if Rumi's feelings hadn't gotten in the way. As it was, every timid ask from Zoey if she wanted to meet them in their living room to watch a movie went unanswered, while the guilt clawing at the back of Rumi's throat made her want to die.

This was worse than keeping a secret about her demon heritage. This was so much worse.

And the clock was ticking. They were supposed to be making new music, now. They were supposed to announce a new single in a month. They were supposed to get ready for a fresh round of interviews in two weeks. A recording in three.

But all Rumi could do was lie in her bed and feel sorry for herself. Derpy visited her, once or twice, and sometimes she heard the delighted exclamations of the others and knew he'd visited them too, but he wasn't here today.

The house was quiet. Usually, she would at least hear the shuffling of footsteps, either Zoey or Mira or Bobby or one of their housekeepers out and about, but she was alone. Bobby had taken a well-deserved vacation a few days ago, and his parting smile and thumbs up made it feel as if he had taken all their cheer with him.

Her phone pinged.

Zoey (1pm): we're having ramen

[attached picture of their usual booth, Mira smiling softly at the camera.]

Zoey (1pm): the kids miss you

Rumi felt her heart pound with the sudden onslaught of affection in her chest, almost unbearable in its intensity. And it was unbearable⁠—it was the coward's way out, but Rumi left her on delivered, glad she'd had the foresight to turn her read receipts off a while ago.

Then:

Mira (2pm): we're going to make some new music at 4pm. recording room 

It wasn't a question.

The air was tense in the studio. Rumi, aware that she was in deep shit, had arrived half an hour early to take a seat at the far end of their couch, laptop balanced on her lap and FL Studio open. She wasn't as good at words as Zoey was, and half her attempts at music production had ended up scrapped anyway, but there was something soothing about messing around with synths, pressing a key until she got the beat just right. Not enough to get rid of the anxious thrumming in her veins, but enough to soothe the edge.

"Look who it is," Mira shut the door behind her with a loud thud, jerking Rumi out of her musing. From the self-satisfied look on her face, that had been intentional. Zoey followed behind, levelling an apologetic smile at Rumi that only made her feel even worse.

"Hiii," Rumi smiled, and it looked awkward enough that Zoey winced. Mira didn't react except to take a seat at the loveseat just across from hers, tugging Zoey next to her. Zoey's face flushed, and Rumi tried very hard to keep the confusing mix of envy-misery-desire out of her face. They'd both come dressed casually, all oversized hoodies and gym shorts, and Rumi ached.

Mira cleared her throat. Rumi looked away, the blush high on her cheekbones as she realised she'd been caught staring. "Right. Do we have any concrete ideas for our next song?"

Zoey perked up, materialising with ten notebooks out of nowhere. "I got ten notebooks!" Phew. At least Zoey was easy to please. "I know we wanted to go for a love song this time, but nothing's really come to mind just yet. But we could go for the self-love angle? Well. More self-worth, less masturbatory—"

Rumi choked on air. Is that even a word??? a hysterical part of herself wanted to ask. The part that wasn't freaking out over hearing Zoey talking about masturbation.

"Inside thoughts, babe," Mira drawled, nosing along Zoey's neck, laying a kiss to the side of her face that made her shiver. Rumi had a hard time looking away.

"Anyway," Rumi said, as their eyes flickered across to hers. "What were you saying, Zoey?"

Zoey hesitated. She got like this, sometimes, when she felt uncertain of herself, thoughts running too fast through her brain. "I rewrote the lyrics multiple times, but I did come up with something serviceable, I think." 

"I have no doubt," Rumi replied, and Zoey beamed. The tension in the room eased a little. Mira even cracked a smile.

The next hour passed… not exactly comfortably, but was less tense than Rumi had frankly expected. Mira and Zoey were better at the lyrics part than she was⁠, working through Zoey's lyrics to make the song theirs, Rumi interjecting occasionally with her comments. Half her mind was on catching up with the emails she didn't have the motivation to check before, while the other was on listening to Zoey's lyrics.  

"That doesn't work," Rumi said now, her voice abrupt enough it stopped Zoey and Mira's conversation short.

"Sorry?"

"I'm just saying, don't you think the chorus sounds a little cliche?" Rumi bit her lip. Bobby was asking her about the potential for a signing the week after—she clicked through to her email, and didn't notice the shift in Mira's expression. "Don't be afraid to show your real self— honestly, I would expect that from like, a seventh grade band."

"And now you speak up." Mira's voice was frosty enough that Rumi finally looked up. Rumi had never been gentle in her criticism, but from the stricken look in Zoey's face—she fucked up. "You can't even look at us anymore?"

"It's not—"

"Well, don't tell me you didn't mean it, Rumi," Mira said, her voice dropping the only way it got when she was beyond angry. When she was furious. "All you've been doing is ignoring us this entire fucking month, and the only time you want to talk to us is when we force you to?"

"It's not like that," Rumi tried, horrified to find herself close to crying. She thought this was going well. She chanced a glance at Zoey's face, but she looked away, and not before she could see the telltale shimmer in her eyes.

But this time, it's really hard seeing your side.

"I was answering Bobby's em—"

"I don't give a shit," Mira looked like she was one second away from standing up from her loveseat, but Zoey's grip on her thigh kept her still. Zoey was still silent, beyond words. The guilt felt like a rupture in her throat, something all-consuming that refused to leave her alone. She'd done this all to herself, but that didn't make her feel any better.

"Ever since we decided to date—" Rumi couldn't prevent herself from wincing slightly, at that, and she wasn't fast enough hiding it that both of them noticed, "you've been doing that. You told us you're fine. Is there anything wrong, Rumi?"

Is there anything wrong, Rumi? If only there was. If only she wasn't as broken as she was. If only the sincerity in Mira's voice didn't take her breath away. 

Even so, she could manage a small, quiet, "nothing's wrong, Mira," in return.

"There has to be something," Zoey piped up, finally meeting her eyes. There shouldn't be this much concern in her eyes. They shouldn't care this much. "Is it Gwi-Ma? Jinu?"

Rumi shook her head, resisting the urge to release a hysterical laugh. "Nothing, I'm just—"

"Are you jealous?" Mira cut her off, and it felt like the world stopped spinning on its axis. Rumi felt her expression draw tight, too much too much too much on her face, and Mira's triumphant face meant she saw it too. "Listen, I know you've been feeling… alone, without Jinu, but that's not really a reason to take it out on us. We've been asking you to come with us…"

This time, Rumi couldn't restrain the hysterical laugh, making Mira jerked back as if she was slapped. "This has nothing to do with Jinu," she said, feeling crazy. Her knuckles dug into her thigh, her body, at least, trying to restrain herself from doing something rash. It wasn't worth it, she thought, trying to ignore the furious swell of anger that rose at the mere mention of him. "Don't bring him into this."

"Really? Because I could swear—"

"I said, don't bring him into this," Rumi snapped, not even aware of herself standing until she was, her laptop slamming into the ground with a loud thud. She was going to regret that later, but for now, the anger was hot enough she couldn't even care. Mira had stood up, too, somewhere along the way.

"When that's the only way to get you to talk to us? Properly? Fat chance, dude. I've tried being patient," Mira was close enough that their breaths mingled. Rumi hated she could still think about that in a time like this. "We've both tried being patient," she gestured towards Zoey, who looked like she wanted to desperately escape from the conversation they were having. Rumi could relate. "But you never talk to us. Does our friendship mean so little to you?"

Record scratch. Stabbed straight in the heart enough she felt herself physically recoil. Does our friendship mean so little to you? She choked on a sob, heart wrenching enough that Mira stopped straight in her tirade, a puppet cut off her strings.

Anything—anything should be better than this. Anything should be better than making her friends think she didn't care, when they meant more to her than anything else in the world.

She could see the rest of their days in crystal clarity. A few sad attempts at another album that never came into fruition. A friendship they could never preserve. All of them parting their ways a few months later, never to talk to each other again unless they needed something from each other. The Honmoon was mostly sealed, the demons largely destroyed. There was nothing tethering them to each other.

There was nothing tethering them to each other.

Rumi felt something in her break. A tide of emotion that released like a troublesome high note, cracking and fraying at the edges but too quick to escape her throat. 

"I'm in love with you," she whispered, but from the shock in their expressions, it could have been a shout. She stepped back, feeling the tears slide down her face. She couldn't remember the last day she hadn't cried. "Both of you."

"Oh, Rumi…" Zoey was the one who reacted first, making it halfway out of her chair until something in her expression made her pause. Her eyes were—Rumi couldn't make out her expression. Maybe she didn't know how to react, but it was only a matter of time until the disgust set in.

She didn't even want to look at Mira. She took a deep breath, choked down yet another sob, and turned around.

"Rumi—" A hand came to grasp her wrist. Zoey.

"You got your answer, didn't you?" Rumi asked, her voice quiet. Furious and sad enough she was shocked at herself. Mira's grip slackened, and Rumi wrenched herself free. "Now feel free to leave me alone."

With that, she was off.

Away, away, away.

The truly depressing thing, despite the circumstances—Rumi losing two of her friends, her only friends, in one fell swoop—was that she realised she really had nowhere to go. She could go to where she used to live with Celine, but. Well. It had been months since they'd closed off the Honmoon, and they still hadn't talked. Rumi wasn't keen on rectifying that now.

Not when she felt as empty as she did, the winter chill setting into the air and rushing past her ears. She had only worn a sweater and jeans today, and they did little against the cold. The tears were still slipping past her eyes, and didn't seem like they were going to leave her soon. She felt— weird, like a dish towel that had been wrung out and left outside to dry. Raw enough that when she scrubbed at her eyes, she wouldn't be surprised if she bled.

Then, if the day couldn't get any worse—it started raining. A small drizzle, but Rumi knew enough to know that it would become something more when she wasn't looking.

She hadn't even grabbed her phone when she left, nor her wallet. She really didn't want to go back into her penthouse, but there was a bus stop she could hurry to in five minutes, and she could—

"What are you doing outside, my dear?"

Rumi startled, recognising the voice just in time before she did anything rash. It had never been a reflex of hers to go straight to fighting when someone else was calling for her, but this was an extenuating circumstance. Old Lady Mako's face was kind, when she turned around, gaze softening when she looked at her red eyes and the tear tracks drying on her face. Thankfully, she didn't call her out on it.

"It's far too late for you to be outside, love," she said, and the unexpected kindness made Rumi want to cry all over again. "How about I fix you up some ramen? I just went to grab some groceries—we'll be opening soon. And don't worry about money⁠—it's on the house."

Rumi bit her lip, only noticing the heavy shopping bags on her hands just now. She must be more out of it than she thought. "Are you sure?" she asked, but already knew the answer. There was no chance of her taking back her words, now. Nor, with the glare levelled at her face, any chance of Rumi refusing.

"Of course," Old Lady Mako replied, hurrying to her store, not even giving Rumi enough time to offer to carry her groceries. Rumi shook her head fondly and hurried after her, not feeling better but more… settled. Mako always had that effect on her.

The rain was rapidly becoming a shower, and Rumi was very glad she had found shelter as soon as she had done, pelting down on the ground the moment the door shut behind them. Mako saw her to her usual seat—Rumi refused to think about how empty it looked, without Mira and Zoey—and promised to be back with her food, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Rumi sniffled, the day's events hitting her all at once. The recording had been going well until she had to open her big fucking mouth and ruin everything she held dear. Rationally, she knew Zoey and Mira weren't the kind of people who would despise her for having a crush⁠— I told them I loved them; she thought hysterically⁠—thinking and knowing were two different things.  

She buried her face in her hands. Even in the best-case scenario where they let it go, Rumi knew herself well enough to know they wouldn't be able to go back anywhere close to their usual banter. The reason she hadn't told either of them wasn't only because she was afraid⁠—she just didn't want their relationship to change. 

It was out of her hands now. The tears fell down her face, panic rearing its ugly head along with the wetness gathering at the bottom of her chin, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. 

She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't even notice Mako coming with her food until it was laid down in front of her, mustering up a watery smile in response to her sympathy. Mako hovered, for a second, clearly trying to decide whether to press. To Rumi's relief, she just told her to enjoy your food, and left to the till. The customers were already pouring in, some regulars and some to take shelter from the rain. 

She wasn't even hungry, but forced herself to dig in, not one to waste food, especially when it had been offered so freely. The food went down easily, comforting after the long day she just had. Rumi was surprised to find that she really had been hungry⁠, her stomach grumbling for more after just a few bites—crying was hungry work, apparently. 

"Rumi," an all-too-familiar voice called out, and Rumi stilled. Her seat wasn't facing the door⁠—she mentally kicked herself for that, really great decision there, Rumi⁠— but she could recognise Zoey's voice anywhere. Zoey and Mira were both at the front, soaked to the bone but unable to look at anything except Rumi. She didn't have any time to react, to say something, maybeee run away with her food, before Zoey was sitting down beside her, Mira taking a seat across from her. 

She was trapped. "You guys really want to talk to me, huh?" Rumi managed weakly. Zoey and Mira exchanged a look that she couldn't parse. They've been doing that a lot recently. Rumi needed to stop wanting to cry. 

Mira opened her mouth, and closed it, trying to find the words. The awkward silence. 

"I'm sorry," Rumi whispered, finally, into her noodles, unable to find it in herself to meet their eyes. She felt Zoey still from beside her.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Mira replied, and the vehemence in her words was what made Rumi finally look up. Mira's eyes bored into her for a second, a minute, an hour, but Rumi still couldn't figure out her expression for the life of her. Or maybe she just didn't want to. "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

Rumi looked away. She smiled, a bitter thing that curled at the edges of her face and made something roar inside of her chest. "I wouldn't have said anything, if you hadn't."

She could feel Zoey hesitate, grappling with her feelings for a moment then threading her fingers through hers. Rumi looked at her in surprise, but Zoey's gaze on hers was steady. Zoey always looked beautiful, but when she reached out to tuck a stray curl from her braid into her ear, Rumi felt her breath catch. Heart beating loud enough she was surprised Zoey couldn't hear the sound herself.

"I've adored you for years, you know," Zoey said, softly. Her eyes were earnest, warm brown and alight with affection and something Rumi was still too afraid to name. Rumi's mouth opened, a surprised oh that made a soft laugh burst out of Zoey's mouth. Soft.

"There's a reason we kept inviting you to things," Mira continued, finding Rumi's gaze and holding her still. "I'd like to say it wasn't all for entirely selfish reasons, but—well. Nothing felt right without you."

Oh.

"Oh," Rumi exhaled, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes anew. Then, apropos of nothing: "I wrote you two a song."

I was too afraid to say it. 

Zoey's eyes softened, hand slipping down until she was cupping Rumi's cheek. Rumi blinked, unable to believe the last few minutes were real. Unable to believe the people in front of her were real. 

"I really want to kiss you right now," Zoey confessed, and Rumi felt the breath punch out of her chest. Heart filled with so much love it threatened to overflow. 

Rumi was a fool, because looking at Zoey⁠—looking at Mira, and their gentle smiles⁠—loving had never felt so easy. 

"Let's get out of here," Mira said, smiling, and Rumi was more than happy to oblige. 

Rumi had never finished her ramen so quickly in her life, almost tripping over her own feet in her hurry to get back to their place. Zoey and Mira laughed at her, but she could see the same wonderment reflected in their faces⁠—the fact that this moment was real. That they wanted to hold it still in their hands and never let it go. 

Oh, how it felt to be loved. 

The rain had largely edged away when they made it back, running fast against the drizzle that made their lips cold but their hearts warm. The puddles lapped at their legs, a splash that only made the three of them laugh, too on top of the world to care. 

They needed to talk more, Rumi knew. There would be a time to explain, a time for Rumi to tell them how this really had begun, but this wasn't the moment for it. They made their way inside to their house, giggling as Rumi almost forgot the combination for their lock in her eagerness. 

"Shut up," she said, flushing despite herself. Zoey and Mira were uncomfortably-comfortably close to her, and Rumi suddenly had difficulty forming words. "I dare you⁠—" 

And the next thing Rumi knew was that she was being pulled into a kiss, Zoey's body pressed flush against hers, Mira coming up to bracket her from behind. Zoey kissed her slowly, like she had all the time in the world. She was surprised by how… natural it felt, to have Zoey tilting her head back and lick inside her mouth, like there was nothing else she wanted to do in the world. 

Then Mira kissed her neck, sucking a bruise into the crook of neck that made desire hit her like a punch to the throat, enough that she threw her head back into Mira's chest and moaned. 

Rumi's eyes widened, breaking the kiss in her own surprise, rushing to cover her mouth out of embarrassment. But Zoey was really too quick on the uptake⁠—her arms reached out to stop her before she could even try, Mira maneuvering her so they were facing each other instead. The affection in Mira's eyes would never fail to take her breath away. 

"You're so pretty," Mira breathed, and hello? Have she looked in a mirror before, before her lips came crashing down on hers. While Zoey's kiss had been slow, almost an introduction, Mira's felt all-consuming, like she wanted to devour her whole. Rumi loved her so much it hurt to breathe. 

It was Rumi who broke the kiss first, panting harshly against Zoey's mouth, trying not to flush even more at Zoey's hand that had wandered into her sweater, scorching hot against the wetness of her clothes. "M-maybe we should get out of the hallway," she managed, breath hitching as a talented finger flicked at her nipple. 

"Boo," Mira said, but they both obediently moved away from her, giving Rumi a moment to breathe even though a part of her grieved the loss. Her room was the closest⁠—she took both of their hands, refusing to blush, she would not blush, and tugged them in. She finally, finally had the chance to run her hands underneath Zoey's shirt, to tug her shirt away to reveal the expanse of skin beneath, finally able to touch. She pressed a kiss over Zoey's scar, and she shivered. 

The next few minutes were a tangle of limbs, Rumi flopping down onto her bed as Mira kissed down her breasts, down her stomach, clever tongue teasing with the seat of her panties until she snapped at her to get on with it, already. And that seemed like the only encouragement Mira needed, Mira removing her panties and exposing her to the open air, to two hungry gazes that made her feel shy. 

"What do you say, Zoey?" Mira asked, and the lust dripping from her lips made Rumi's mouth run dry. Mira looked⁠—looked glorious like this, knelt down in front of Rumi, a hickey sucked into her shoulder by Rumi's overeager mouth, a few scratches left on her back by Zoey's nails. Rumi felt overwhelmed, but it felt good⁠. Like she was swimming in deep water but there was someone to pull her back if she wandered too far. Soaked to the bone, but so happy she could die. 

"Beautiful," Zoey agreed, and before Rumi could refute it, they were both on her, like a tag team made in hell. Mira ate her out like she was starved, Zoey licking and biting at her nipples until Rumi could do nothing but spew out a string of words that even she didn't know the meaning of. Mira's mouth sucked on her clit, crooking her fingers inside of her, and⁠—that was it. 

Rumi bid goodbye to all the brain function she had, as she came with a shout, shuddering against the two of them as she did. She hadn't realised how loud they'd been until they all settled down, the sudden silence stealing the breath from her lungs. Then, as if they knew⁠— Zoey and Mira's arms came and wrapped around her, sandwiching her in-between them like she was there. 

Rumi was⁠—Rumi was home. 

.

"Rumi?" 

"Hmm?" 

"How was it like? Having lesbian sex for the first time?" 

Rumi shrieked, and grabbed a pillow to hit Zoey with, ignoring her plaintive protests and why do you guys keep doing this, I thought you'd be better than Mira, while all Mira did was laugh and laugh and laugh. 

(i think of you / every day / every night / there's no place i'd rather be)