Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all honesty, Zoey is slacking off on the job and scrolling through her phone right now. But give her a break, rush hour just passed and she’s positively drained. No one’s in the store. For now. If someone waltzes in and asks her to make another caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle she might just lose it. She shivers thinking back on the Drizzle Bottle Incident™. Her hands still feel sticky and smell faintly of caramel. 

Her thoughts are interrupted as someone clears their throat above her. Zoey flings her phone out of sight. Her turtle keychain flies along with it. She winces as a resounding thump rings off the floor behind her. 

“Sorry, uh, how can I help you?” She stands up straight and flashes her best welcoming smile. She looks up despite the embarrassment creeping up her neck. 

What she doesn’t expect is for the most drop-dead gorgeous woman to be standing in front of her. And not to be weird, but Zoey kind of wants to take a picture of her to show her girlfriend. Why’d she have to take the day off , Zoey pitifully thinks. 

“Hi. Um, is your phone okay?” The absolute goddess of a woman casts a worried glance to the discarded item behind Zoey. And, dear lord , her voice is unbelievably clear and melodic. Zoey fully believes she could shout a string of curses at her and Zoey would still say ‘thank you.’ 

Although, the poor woman does sound a bit frightened by Zoey, so maybe not today. 

“It’ll be fine. Sorry about that, I didn’t notice you were here. Don’t tell my manager,” she half-jokes. 

“Don’t worry, I get it. I work at a cafe too. The one across the street.” She points out the window to the shop. Strangely, Zoey can see a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her if she squints hard enough. Then it clicks.

“Oh, the cat cafe! Oh my god, I love visiting the cute kitties during breaks. What’s your name? I’ve never seen you there before,” she notes. Zoey would’ve certainly remembered the woman if they'd met before.

“Rumi. I usually work in the back, but I do serve as a waitress from time to time. Against my will,” she trails off quietly into a mutter.

Zoey laughs lightly. “Not a huge fan of people?”

Rumi vehemently shakes her head. “Cats are better. Um, no offense,” she adds hastily, waving her hands wildly in front of her. She relaxes as Zoey grins back, not off-put in the slightest. She offers the shorter girl a timid smile.

God, she’s cute , Zoey thinks giddily. 

“None taken. Anyways, what can I get for you?” She asks, readying her hand over the cash register. 

“Oh, um.” Rumi scans the multitude of choices in front of her. To be honest, her eyes are reading but her mind isn’t. The letters are going in and out her brain without it processing anything. It doesn’t help that the cute barista’s blatantly staring at her.

Rumi shifts on one foot to the other, tugging at her collar awkwardly as she grapples for anything on the menu to order. By the tenth second, she gives up. 

“What do you recommend?” She asks defeatedly. 

Zoey smiles knowingly. “Our most popular order is the caramel macchiato.” An involuntary twitch tugs at her smile. “But! I also make a killer lavender frappe,” she adds quickly with a wink. It’s more of a reflex than anything. Hey, she’s gotta make tips somehow. 

Rumi blinks a few times before dropping her gaze to the floor, a light blush tinging her cheeks. “Sure, I’ll have that,” she manages to say, albeit much quieter than intended. 

Zoey, being the kind soul she is, doesn’t comment on it. Though, a little devil on her shoulder whispers in her ear to take Rumi’s reaction as a green light. Stop it , she shushes as she taps on the cash register a little rougher than necessary. For god’s sake, she just met this woman. She could be some secret assassin, for all Zoey knows. Or worse, a litterer.

“Do you litter?” Zoey asks seriously, looking at the other girl dead in the eyes.

Rumi startles at the sudden question. “Uh, no ma’aam?” She straightens her spine under Zoey’s searching gaze. Her nerves are practically jumping out her skin at this point.

“Cool. That’ll be $7.35.” Zoey beams at her as if she didn’t just hold her at gunpoint. Figuratively. Maybe. Rumi doesn't want to find out what the five foot woman has in store under the countertop.

She wordlessly hands over a ten dollar bill by the edges, careful not to make unnecessary contact and bother Zoey any further. She’s not taking the risk. 

Zoey hums for a second before working up the courage to ask, “Are you gonna swing by often?”

Rumi tilts her head questioningly. Is she… getting hit on? She asks herself dazedly. She stamps that thought down not even a second later. There’s no way , she inwardly scoffs at her own thoughts. She really has to go outside more often for exposure therapy or something before she makes a fool out of herself.

“Maybe? I don’t know. Why?” She eventually asks shakily.

“Want a free tumbler? Less plastic waste and you get these cool rewards for bringing your own cup each time,” Zoey explains quickly. And no, she did not chicken out. She’s just… reevaluating her approach. Yeah, that.

“Oh, sure. Thanks,” Rumi says. Maybe Zoey’s hearing things, but for some reason the other girl sounds disappointed in a way. She shakes her head to clear her delusional mind before grabbing a tumbler behind her and getting to work. 

And maybe she fumbles a bit here and there with the coffee machines she’s been using for years, but the tingling sensation of someone watching doesn’t help at all. Much less it being a pretty girl staring at her. Though, Zoey can’t say she isn’t flattered.

A few minutes later, after her blush has calmed down, she presents Rumi with her drink. Her palms are still a bit sweaty, but so what? 

“Enjoy!” Zoey says cheerfully, brushing her fingers over the taller girl’s in a friendly manner. It’s honestly adorable how Rumi sputters at the tiniest of contacts, looking everywhere but at the shorter girl as she fumbles for words.

“Thank you. For the drink and the cup,” Rumi clarifies with a light blush painting her cheeks. 

“No problem! My girlfriend’s the manager, so…” She playfully wiggles her eyebrows up and down. 

Rumi nods her head in understanding. “Can you tell her thanks?”

“Of course. Or you could tell her yourself tomorrow if you’d like. She’ll be here the entire day,” Zoey says hopefully, playing matchmaker with a poorly concealed smirk on her lips. 

Rumi’s hesitation must show on her face, because the next second Zoey sighs sadly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she starts woefully.

“No, no. I mean- Yes, I’ll come back tomorrow,” Rumi cuts in. She swallows any inhibitions of having to go outside again and talk to someone—practically a stranger—in lieu of making the shorter girl happy. She has a strange feeling this’ll become a habit. Potentially a bad one, but it's quite impossible to say no to that face.

Her uneasiness melts away as Zoey all but beams at her. She does regret not wearing some sunglasses though. Instead, she averts her eyes before quickly stuttering out a goodbye.

“Catch you later, Rumi!” She waves animatedly as the purple-haired woman opens the door to leave.

“Bye, Zoey,” she calls back, giving a small wave of her own before walking away.

Zoey freezes for a good second at the sound of her name flowing out the woman’s mouth. “When…?” She mutters to herself confusedly before making eye-contact with her nametag. 

“Oh. Obviously.” She drops her face into her palms, slumping over. 

The sweet lilt of Rumi’s voice echoes in her ears like a song stuck in her head, refusing to leave. Not that she wants it to . Her cheeks tinge pink at the sudden thought.

She’s so cooked .

Chapter Text

The sun’s slowly making its descent to dip beneath the horizon, signaling the near end of Mira’s shift. She’s been dealing with customers all day, waiting for the famed ‘literal purple-haired goddess’ to show up. After Zoey spent an entire night spewing dreamy nonsense, Mira can’t not have high expectations.

She absentmindedly toys with the turtle-shaped pin on her apron. A gift from Zoey, of course. Her lips tug into a small smile. 

“What time is it?” She mutters to herself before reaching for her phone. 5:40. Twenty more minutes. She sighs listlessly, resting her cheek on a hand to stare at the ceiling.

By the time she counts the sixth stain, the door opens. She shifts her eyes without moving an inch. And- damn, okay . Getting blinded in her own store was not on Mira’s bucket list, but she’s not complaining. 

Rumi’s tall . Not Mira-tall, but still. Her spine’s pin-straight, which would be a bit intimidating if the most nervous looking face Mira’s ever seen wasn’t plastered on her features. An amused smile works its way onto her mouth as the woman inches closer, step by step.

“Hey. Welcome,” she greets when Rumi doesn’t look like she’s coming any closer. They’re honestly a bit far from each other, but Mira’s fine with whatever makes her comfortable. So, she doesn’t bat an eye.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?” Rumi– yes, Rumi –asks. And admittedly, Mira does bat an eye at that. Maybe even both eyes. 

“Excuse me?” She pinches her forearm lightly to make sure Zoey’s not infecting her dreams with odd purple-haired women.

“I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean- I meant,” Rumi pauses to breathe, “good afternoon.”

Mira raises an eyebrow. “So you can’t get me anything? Not even some pancakes?”

“Um, probably not? I mean, maybe. I could grab some across the street for you. It’ll just take a few minutes,” she replies sincerely. 

Mira huffs a laugh at that. “I’m just kidding, but thanks for the offer. How about I get you something this time and you’ll get me some pancakes the next?” 

She gives Rumi her best charming smile, aiming for a blush at least. She shoots and… misses , Mira thinks as the shorter girl only nods her head solemnly as if they’ve just made some life binding contract. 

“Yeah, of course. And for my order…” Rumi trails off, giving the menu a once-over. Yup , no luck this time either. Nothing’s processing. At all. 

She purses her lips before shifting her gaze back to Mira. Which, in hindsight, is a horrible decision on her part because now she’s forgotten her ABC’s. All she knows is that the taller girl’s even prettier up close. 

It’s devastating, honestly. Her lashes curl perfectly over her eyelids, sharp eyeliner accentuating their shape. And it should be illegal how someone can look so good at six P.M. under shitty store lighting.

And Mira? She slowly begins to smirk as the seconds tick by. 

Heat spreads across Rumi’s face like a wildfire. She fakes a cough to salvage any scraps of dignity she has left. Though, it ends up sounding more like a strangled goose than anything.

“Um, surprise me?” She borderline begs. 

Mira nods, schooling her expression back to neutrality. “Sure. Any preferences?”

“Anything’s fine.” Rumi slides over the tumbler Zoey gifted her yesterday. Her fingers tap lightly over the surface of the counter, as if she’s trying to stall the inevitable.

The corners of Mira’s mouth curl the tiniest fraction upwards. “I see Zoey got you in on her propaganda,” she says amusedly, grabbing the cup and turning to the espresso machine.

Rumi flushes at being caught. “She told you?”

Mira hums her confirmation as she works. “Believe me, Rumi, she would not stop talking about you,” she says with a low chuckle. 

“Oh. What’d she say?” Rumi asks curiously, confused on why Zoey would mention her. 

Mira smirks openly. “Do you really wanna know?” She asks, temporarily setting her work aside to move back and face Rumi. 

Rumi falters under the other woman’s close attention before folding. “Tell me? Please,” she adds, not wanting to sound entitled. Her body seems to have a mind of its own because soon enough, she’s leaning closer to Mira until her fingers are practically touching the other girl’s. 

And it’s virtually impossible for Mira to act normal after that . So, she swallows roughly before turning back to continue assembling Rumi’s drink. 

“You have a nice voice, you know?” She comments offhandedly. Well, at least she hopes it comes off as casual and not creepy. God , Rumi definitely thinks she’s some weirdo now.

“Are you gatekeeping me from what Zoey said? Was it that bad?” Rumi asks straightforwardly, a frown on her face. 

Mira snorts at the accusation. All her previous doubts slowly melt away as she sees the shorter girl’s grumpy expression. 

“I swear I’m not. She said all good things. Mostly,” Mira purposefully mutters the last word under her breath. A cheeky smile twitches at her lips, thankfully hidden with her back facing Rumi. 

“Mostly? What’s that supposed to mean?” Rumi asks indignantly. Mira only shrugs, swishing the tumbler around to mix everything. 

“Mira,” Rumi half-grumbles. She’s too dignified to fully grumble and kick rocks around like a tantrum throwing kid. Maybe.

“Well…” Mira starts off. 

“Yeah?” Rumi urges her to continue. She braces her hands against the countertop, leaning slightly forward in anticipation. 

“She told me a cute girl came into the shop today and that you were easy to guilt-trip into coming in today. I can see it,” Mira deadpans.

A part of Rumi preens at the new information, while the other wants to crawl into a hole and never show her face again. Zoey thinks she’s cute?   She screams internally. Her ears heat up at the compliment. 

“Guilt-trip?” Rumi echoes mindlessly. 

Mira snorts. That’s what she chooses to focus on? She thinks good-humoredly. “Yeah, I could totally imagine you bringing me free waffles if I told you I haven’t eaten all day.”

Rumi freezes. “No, I wouldn’t,” she lies.

“Uh huh,” Mira drawls with a knowing look. 

Rumi pauses before asking, “You did eat today though, right?”

“Called it,” Mira says triumphantly, handing the finished latte to the shorter girl.  

“Forgive me for having some basic human decency,” Rumi mutters before sipping the drink to hide her blush. Mira only hums in response, following the way her expression changes pleasantly when sweet coffee hits her tastebuds. 

“No, you’re just, like, weirdly nice,” she comments as an afterthought.

Rumi blinks a few times before tilting her head away slightly, a light flush tinting her cheeks. “Uh, thank you? I think.”

“You're welcome.” Mira shrugs, refusing to clarify any further. 

“You’re the weird one. But, thanks for the drink.” Rumi smiles warmly as she taps the lid in thought. “Oh, and I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to give you your pancakes?” She offers timidly.

Mira nods with a smile of her own. A thought strikes her mind. She extends her hand over the counter and sticks her pinky out. “Pinky promise?”

Rumi huffs an airy laugh through her nose. “Sure.”

Mira grins as Rumi wraps her pinky around her own. Smooth skin presses lightly against hers, leaving Mira in awe at how someone can get their hands to be so soft .

Rumi seems to be in the same boat as her, because her hand still lingers even after the socially acceptable time to hold a pinky promise has passed. 

“I think you’re supposed to let go,” Mira teases as if she doesn’t have a chance to pull away herself. 

Rumi squawks in embarrassment and yanks her hand away immediately. “Uh- I’m gonna go now! Bye, Mira,” she says all in one breath before rushing out the establishment. 

Mira’s left there blinking at the empty space in front of her dazedly. “Weird,” she mutters to herself before grabbing a broom and starting to sweep absentminded circles over pristine floors.

And if she gets home a few minutes late, lost in her own thoughts, Zoey’s definitely asking.

Chapter Text

Rumi doesn’t know what came over her, but now there’s three takeout boxes, stacked in a bag and enough to feed two, on the counter. She stares at the bag as though it personally offends her to look at her own doing. Or undoing, now that she’s thinking about it. 

She sighs before resigning to her fate and pushes the kitchen door open. A small crowd of cats greet her immediately. She’s definitely going to have to use a lint roller on her pants with all the furry heads nudging at her ankles.

“Lemme squeeze through,” she murmurs to them in a baby voice. When the feat seems to become impossible, she grabs her phone to activate the automatic treat dispenser. Expectedly, almost all of them scatter at the telltale noise of food dropping into their bowls. 

Though, Derpy’s still on the ground, blinking slowly at Rumi. She acquiesces to petting him a few times before standing. At least the ground’s not screaming ‘tripping hazard’ now.

It’s quiet beside the sounds of munching coming from the cats. They haven’t opened yet, so the tables are thankfully peopleless. All except for one. Because Rumi can never have some peace and quiet in any world where Jinu exists.

“Ooo. Is that for me?” He bounds over to where she is, greedy hands blindly grabbing for the bag. 

“Go away. They’re not yours,” she grunts as she wrestles those hands away. It takes a swat or two, but she eventually breaks free. 

“Ouch. Rude,” he mutters, cradling his freshly smacked hand. He points a betrayed finger at her. “This is what I get for helping you open at the ass crack of dawn?” 

“Deserved,” Rumi comments before turning away with a huff. Jinu trails behind her, following her out the door without a word. He whistles beside her with both hands behind his head.

“So… You’re a hundred percent certain that’s not for me,” ADD

“Is that so hard to believe?” She raises an eyebrow at him as they reach a crosswalk. Jinu shrugs, annoyingly pressing the ‘ wait ’ button a million times as if it’d make the red light turn any greener.

“I mean you literally never put any effort into your own meals. Remember that time you sent me a picture of your plain oatmeal and yogurt as your birthday breakfast,” he points out with a shiver. The oatmeal was watery and grey . He notes to himself to never ask Rumi to make him some oatmeal. Ever.

“Shut up and scram,” she mutters, knowing exactly which picture he was talking about. Listen, it wasn’t her best moment, okay?

“Also, where are we going?” He asks, ignoring her previous request.

“None of your business.” She tugs on her sweater’s drawstrings, already knowing what’s to come. 

“Unless…”

Rumi stays silent.

Jinu gasps dramatically, gears finally turning. “Oh my god, you made friends?”

“Wow. Thanks, Jinu. You’re so kind and supportive,” she says sarcastically, emphasizing every other word. She speedwalks across the street the second the light flashes green.

“Wait up! This is actually momentous. I’m writing today’s date down.” True to his word, he pulls out his phone to record the date in his notes app. He switches to his camera. “Let me get a photo of you with them too.”

“You’re not following me in,” she warns, jabbing a finger into his side. He jumps away immediately.

“Ow, oh my god. I’m in an abusive relationship,” he mutters pitifully, holding his side in case Rumi decides to strike again. She abruptly freezes in place and turns to face him.

“Go back. I’m going in alone. And I better not catch you watching in some bush,” she adds threateningly. 

“Fine,” he groans, “but you’re telling me everything the second you get back.” He points two fingers to his eyes and then hers before frolicking away. 

“So annoying,” she mutters with a small smile. His steadying presence slowly fades away, replacing her calmness with sudden anxiousness. She shifts the bag to her left hand and breathes in deep to settle her buzzing nerves. 

Relax, Rumi. It’s just dropping off some food , she scolds herself. To very pretty people , she screams. She just so happened to make friends who just so happened to be the nicest, most beautiful people she’s ever met. 

It’s fine, really. 

“Rumi?”

Scratch that, her whole heart’s threatening to explode into bits and pieces if she doesn’t bolt and magically zap herself with a memory erasing raygun the next second. 

She doesn’t, though. Instead, she slowly turns to a very happy looking Zoey peeking out the door. 

“Hi,” she eloquently replies. Honestly, just bury her alive at this point.

Zoey hesitates for a second. Her eyes drift to Rumi’s lips. She hurriedly clears her throat before asking, “Are you okay?”

Rumi doesn’t need a mirror to know her smile’s looking a little rough. “Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t know you’d be here today.” 

“I didn’t know you were stopping by either.” Zoey smiles before walking up to her. “Come in,” she ushers, pulling Rumi by the hand. 

And such a simple touch shouldn’t have Rumi’s palms feeling all clammy, but it does. She digs herself a deeper hole by rearranging their fingers to lace with one another. Her ears flush as Zoey glances at her before slowly smiling as if reading right through Rumi. She squeezes Rumi’s hand as she pushes the door open, holding it for her. 

“Thanks,” Rumi mumbles quietly, cheeks still an unnatural shade of red. 

“Of course,” Zoey replies simply. Then, louder and full of cheerfulness, “Look who I kidnapped off the street!” 

Mira pops out behind the counter with an incredulous eyebrow raised. “Oh. It’s you,” she says weirdly, almost sounding bewildered. Like Rumi’s some elusive ghost she stumbled upon.

“Um. Maybe?” Rumi responds shakily, not knowing what to say to that. She hears Zoey snicker beside her. Her face heats even further. 

“Don’t laugh,” she protests weakly, dropping the shorter girl’s hand and slightly turning away. 

“I wasn’t! I swear,” Zoey assures, nudging her shoulder comfortingly. Given the hand she has covering her mouth, it turns out to be quite unconvincing to Rumi.

“She so was,” Mira whispers conspiratorially, adding fuel to the growing fire. 

“Mira!” Zoey chides, shaking her head disapprovingly at the pink-haired woman. Rumi can only stay silent, reining all her willpower to not take off running. 

“Here,” she eventually mutters, placing her bag on top of the counter. Now , she can skedaddle. A hand settles over her shoulder. Nevermind , she thinks in despair.

“What’s this?” Zoey gasps in excitement as she spots the pancakes and waffles filling the boxes alike. 

“Hands off. They’re mine,” Mira says before grabbing the bag and walking towards a table. The younger girl makes an indignant sound, turning to Rumi as if to say, ‘Are you seeing this too?’ A small huff of laughter leaves her lips. At Zoey’s absolutely scandalized expression, she’s soon left bracing her arm on the counter in fear of toppling over from wheezing. 

“I leave you two alone for one day and you guys have already formed a pact? I see how it is.” Zoey clicks her tongue judgementally. Though, her eyes follow every heave of breath Rumi huffs out. An easy smile worms its way onto her lips.

“I’m sorry. It’s just- Your face,” Rumi rasps out, still recovering from laughter. She dissolves into another fit of giggles. 

Mira snorts behind her. “She just called you weird-looking.”

Rumi gasps, swinging her head to face the taller girl. “Did not!” She asserts, appalled. 

Zoey fakes a sniffle to catch her attention. Rumi whips around with a horrified look on her face. 

“Zoey. Wait. I don’t think you’re weird-looking. Please believe me. I think you're very pretty, I promise,” she rambles anxiously, gently grabbing Zoey by the shoulders. 

Zoey does a mental fist pump. To be honest, if she were in the comfort of her apartment right now, she might’ve just started clawing at the floor the second Rumi called her pretty. She settles on placing her hands on Rumi’s forearms and gripping lightly. 

“Really?” Zoey asks, teary-eyed. Mira looks on with amusement as she chews on a strawberry. Seriously, someone give her an Oscar. 

“Mhm. Gorgeous, even.” Rumi frantically nods. Mira promptly chokes on her strawberry. She thumps on her chest repeatedly until it slides down her throat. 

“Do you need mouth-to-mouth?” Zoey suggests innocently. Those hands tighten over her shoulders. 

Mira waves her hand in a shooing motion, coughing heavily. “I’m fine,” she gruffs out. 

“Offer stays open,” Zoey notes, shrugging. Rumi looks away with a heavy blush and drops her hands back to her sides. 

“Come sit,” Mira calls, patting the seats around her.

“Waffles!” Zoey merrily cheers, clapping her hands together. She’s midway to the table before realizing Rumi’s not beside her. She frowns and turns to see Rumi standing awkwardly by herself. 

“I’ll, uh, get going then,” she mumbles before moving to the door. 

“Nuh uh.” Zoey snatches her by the wrist and drags her to sit. 

“I meant you too, you know?” Mira comments as Rumi’s borderline wrestled into her chair. Rumi only nods, fidgeting with her fingers under the table. She eyes her own food warily, as if they could jump at her at any second. 

Mira shifts her leg until her knee brushes against Rumi’s. Rumi almost jolts at the unexpected contact. Mira meets her gaze across the table. Full of gentle warmth.

“Eat,” she prompts, nudging her leg again. 

“M’kay,” Rumi mumbles, picking up a fork. An approving nod gets sent her way. Her chest blooms with a fuzzy feeling she can’t quite name. 

“Did you make this?” Zoey asks, half her waffles already devoured. Rumi nods bashfully, quietly pleased the younger girl enjoys them. 

“This is fire.” Zoey nods her head appreciatively. 

Rumi pauses. “Fire? Is it too hot?” She asks, confused. Hers were at a normal temperature, though. 

“Don’t mind her. She’s too Americanized,” Mira says, pointing a pancake-skewered fork at the younger girl. Zoey bites the piece off before her hand can retract. She smiles victoriously as Mira mock-glares at her.

“Fire means great. Technically,” Zoey explains without explaining anything.

Rumi blinks a few times. “...Okay?” 

Just as she’s about to relax and take another bite, a suspicious looking bush has her freezing. She squints to get a better look. And there it is. Black hair and silver earrings. Jinu.

She drops her fork immediately and pushes herself up to stand. Mira and Zoey look at her questioningly. 

“Sorry, I have to go. Something came up,” is all she says before practically teleporting out the door. They stare at the slowly closing door in confusion.

“Did we just get rejected?” Zoey asks quietly. 

“Maybe.” Mira sighs, placing her head in her hands.

Then, a loud groan of pain rings outside the store. Not even a second later, Rumi peeks back in with a self-satisfied look on her face.

“Sorry, you two. I’ll be back tomorrow with breakfast again if you’d like,” she offers apologetically, slightly out of breath. The small grin she sports doesn’t waver though. And Mira can’t find it within herself to be concerned for whoever’s poor soul was crying in pain. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Zoey chirps happily, her mood turning a whole three sixty. 

“Okay! I, um, look forward to seeing you?” Rumi half-says half-asks. God, why’s she so horrible at this friend stuff.

“Me too! Bye, Rumi.” Zoey waves enthusiastically. She grabs Mira’s hand to make her wave along.

“Later,” Mira calls, snapping out of her stupor. Rumi gives them a tiny wave back before dashing out of sight to take care of unfinished business. 

“Rumi, stop. Please. Rumi, no.” Jinu backs away on all fours as she advances closer and closer. Yeah, no . He turns and scrambles off the ground to absolutely book it. He giggles manically as he runs before looking over his shoulder. 

“Mind the face!” He screams as Rumi slowly but surely closes in on him. 

“It’s already ugly!” She yells back.

“Excuse you?” He pauses in his motions. Bad decision . 

.

Later, when he’s all wrapped up in bandages, he thinks, Yup, definitely a bad decision.

Chapter Text

The sun’s barely peeking over the horizon. And don’t ask Zoey how, but she magically got her hands on limited edition pictures. Of Rumi. Kid Rumi, to be specific. 

Okay, maybe a certain someone showed up on the store’s doorstep at five in the morning and began pounding on their glass door. Thankfully, it wasn’t a mugger, but still. What a way to start her morning. 

In her defense, she was going to tell him to piss off, but then he flashed her his phone with a very tempting picture on it. So what was she supposed to do? Turn him away? 

Though, that might’ve been the better option, because now she’s being interrogated in the safety of her own girlfriend’s shop.

“There’s no way I’m not in some nightmare, right?” Rumi asks, directed more towards herself than anyone, really. Her head hangs low, buried between her arms. She looks positively distraught. Zoey pats her on the back consolingly. 

“Well… Can dream Zoey have some of those imaginary French toast slices?” She prompts hopefully. 

“No,” Rumi deadpans, bundling the takeout box into her arms defensively. Her face twists into a grumpy frown. “You aren’t innocent either.”

Zoey averts her eyes to the ceiling and starts whistling. Curse Jinu and his camera roll , she laments. Though, she can’t say she regrets anything one bit. He had a photo of Rumi smiling with a missing tooth, goddammit. 

“-oey? Zoey, are you even listening to me?” Rumi huffs. 

“I am, I am! Rumi, listen. Everything’s okay. You looked cute in those photos!” She assures, pulling out her phone to show the cute photos in question. In hindsight, she probably should’ve known it was a bad idea, but she’s also really hungry, so.

“Agh!” Rumi flinches as if she’s been blinded. She covers her eyes with a hand before waving the other at the screen. “Don’t remind me,” she groans in utter despair.

Zoey can’t help but laugh. She grabs ahold of Rumi’s hand and worms her own into it. A steadying weight. 

Rumi turns her head to face the shorter girl. An adorably silly smile greets her. She stares at the curve of mirth playing softly on Zoey’s lips. Soothing warmth fills her chest like a hearth. It’s overwhelming. But not unwanted. She quickly looks away, ears ablaze.

“Hey, I can block him if you’d like,” Zoey suggests softly. She leans closer until their shoulders rest against each other. Rumi’s fingers twitch in hers. Ah, too much . Zoey pulls away, a cold numbness settling in her bones. 

Before Zoey can mull over her life’s tragedies in the shower at three A.M., a hand slots itself into hers. The numbness melts away as Rumi shifts her stool closer until they’re practically squished together. 

“It’s okay. It’d be nice for you two to be friends,” she mutters begrudgingly. Then, quieter, “I just can't believe Jinu got your number before I did.” 

Zoey chokes on thin air. Is she the one dreaming?

“Zoey?!” Rumi scrambles to do something, anything, to help the hacking and heaving girl in front of her. She ends up just rubbing her back concernedly. 

“I’m alive. I think,” Zoey eventually wheezes out. She looks up to see furrowed eyebrows and worried eyes searching for any semblance of pain on her face. Her heart warms at the gesture. She offers a timid smile.

Rumi sighs in relief. “Don’t scare me like that,” she murmurs, squeezing Zoey’s hand for reassurance. Zoey squeezes back just as tight. 

“Sorry. But that was totally your fault,” she accuses playfully. Rumi blinks confusedly, tilting her head to the side. It’s lethally cute. Zoey kind of wants to boop her on the nose. Hey, she’s weak to cute things, okay?

“How was that my fault?” Rumi asks, taken aback. Zoey only shakes her head in disbelief. This girl , she sighs internally. 

She outstretches her hand and makes grabby motions. “Phone,” she practically demands.

Rumi passes her phone over to Zoey without a second word. She peeks over her shoulder to see what the younger girl’s doing. 

Phone. Contacts. Rumi pauses. Is Zoey about to curse Jinu out on her phone? A small smile cracks across her face. Well, she’s not averse to that idea. Except the next second, Zoey moves to add a new contact, naming it- 

“Turtlenator?” Rumi asks in bewilderment. 

“Yup. That’s my name,” Zoey says proudly as she taps away to add at least three different emojis to the contact.

“Doesn’t that mean you kill turtles?” Rumi wonders out loud. 

The clacking abruptly stops. Zoey slowly turns to her. “What do you mean,” she says rather than asks. 

Rumi clears her suddenly scratchy throat. A bead of sweat or two travels down her forehead. “Because, you know, the word terminate means you’re ending the term. So doesn’t turtlenator also mean you’re ending the turtles?” She hurriedly squeaks out. 

Zoey doesn’t speak for a long time. Rumi’s just about ready to dive for cover. 

“I don’t like how that makes sense,” Zoey mutters before the sound of rapid backspacing fills the empty room. 

“Sorry.” Rumi feels oddly guilty. It’s quickly erased when a brush of lips press against her cheek. A small spark jolts down her spine.

“Don’t be,” is all Zoey says before hastily turning back to the screen. Rumi only stares as the other girl’s face becomes increasingly red, still not processing what just happened. 

Then, the internal screaming begins. Zoey just kissed- Rumi grips the edge of the table with all her might to calm herself. It was only a friendly kind of kiss on the cheek, right? Right?  

“Here,” Zoey mumbles as she hands her phone back. Her cheeks are still colored in a pretty pink hue. Rumi has the strangest urge to squish them. Nope. Stay away, demon thoughts , she fends off.  

“Oh- Uh- Thanks.” She fumbles with her phone, palms unusually sweaty. She stares at the new name added to her sad, barren list of contacts. Turtlenatornator . Rumi purses her lips to contain her laughter.

“Very creative,” she applauds mirthfully. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Zoey fakes a bow with a proud grin. Rumi hums and leans her head onto Zoey’s shoulder without much thought. Her eyes are glued to her phone, still staring at the new addition. 

“Are you that enamored with my genius?” Zoey pokes humoredly. Rumi only taps the back of her phone slowly in response as if lost in thought. 

“I think this is actually the first time I got a friend’s number in like years,” she muses in awe. Zoey chokes on air for the second time that day. 

“That’s actually kind of depre-” she cuts herself off mid sentence. Did she just say friend? She clamps her eyes shut to rack her mind for the exact words Rumi just used. Not even a second later, she drops her head onto the table like dead weight. 

Rumi startles. She slowly moves to poke her arm, as though she’s trying to wake a sleeping dragon. “Zoey?”

She meant it platonically , Zoey ruminates internally on the cold metaphorical floor. 

She’s never telling Mira about this. Like, never ever ever. She’ll never live it down.

It’s so over.

Chapter Text

Mira doesn’t know who started it, but it’s driving her insane. Because Rumi’s not acting like her usual tucked-tail self since she stepped in this morning. No, she’s been abnormally bold. Flirty almost. And it’s certain to be the death of Mira’s poor, weak heart. 

“Mira?” Rumi taps her on the shoulder lightly, concern etched on her face. Mira jolts at the touch, muscles tensing a fraction. 

“Yeah?” She mumbles back a beat too late. Her voice is uncharacteristically strained, lacking its usual firmness. 

Rumi doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, instead taking the time to observe the taller girl closely. She hums wordlessly and rests a hand over Mira’s on the table. Mira does her best to come off as unfazed. Though, Rumi notices the way her eyes can’t quite seem to meet her own. 

Huh , she notes with a small smile. She never thought Mira would be the shy type. Considering how affectionate Zoey was with Rumi yesterday, she can only imagine how touchy the younger girl is with Mira. You know, her actual girlfriend. 

Yet, Mira remains strangely sensitive to a stray brush or two of hands whenever Rumi reaches over. Sometimes accidental, other times not. 

(What? Mira’s cute when she’s all flustered, okay? Rumi takes pride in knowing she’s the one who caused that pretty, warm blush.)

Mira looks just about ready to crawl out her own skin. Her face is set in a blank expression, but Rumi sees through her guise at the tight purse of her lips. 

“You haven’t touched your food that much. Do you not like it?” She points at the barely eaten waffles. 

“No, it’s great! I just, uh…” Mira trails off. Her fingers curl inwards on themselves under Rumi’s palm. Rumi smiles quietly, mulling over whether or not to poke some fun. 

“What?” She prompts with faux innocence, mischief underlying in her tone. Unfortunately for Mira, her brain’s already working overtime to come up with an explanation and doesn't notice it.

“I’m not that hungry right now-” Mira’s voice ends a pitch higher as a certain someone snakes their arm around her elbow and presses close. Her entire arm’s practically wrapped into a snug half-hug. 

“Really? You haven’t eaten all day though,” Rumi comments indifferently. And then? She leans her head onto Mira’s shoulder. Mira's arm stiffens for a second before slowly relaxing like coils finally snapping. 

Soft purple hair tickles lightly at the crook of her neck, smelling faintly of lavender stalks after a rainy day. She rests her head against Rumi’s before breathing deep and sighing softly in contentment. 

“You’re really warm,” she observes purely objectively. Rumi laughs softly, the sound warming her even further. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, shifting her head to look up with a tender smile. Her cheek presses softly against Mira’s collarbone. And it’s downright sinful how the sun’s grace shines through the blinds to cast a warm halo over Rumi’s figure.

Mira can only stare dumbly, committing the sight to memory, before glancing away. She fixates on the wall opposite of Rumi. Her heart beats erratically in her ears; the ones that almost match the color of her hair with how hard she’s straining to keep it together.

“Mira,” Rumi singsongs mirthfully. “Your food’s getting cold.”

Mira stiffly nods in acknowledgement. One… Two… Three… She slowly turns around. Her eyes stay glued to her already cold waffles, careful not to make eye contact with the older girl. She knows she won’t last even for a second.

“Mira,” Rumi whispers playfully into her ear. Warm air puffs over sensitive skin, eliciting a small gasp from Mira. She twitches back, but Rumi cements her in place. She turns to see a fox-like grin shining back. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Mira huffs, wrestling her arm out of the other girl’s vice grip.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Rumi replies cheekily. She relents her hold absentmindedly and instead shifts her attention back to the forgotten breakfast sandwich pitifully drooping in front of her. She happily bites into it with a self-satisfied expression. 

Mira, on the other hand, stabs at her waffles moodily. She shoves a piece into her mouth and watches as Rumi cheerily chews on her food. As if she didn’t almost tip Mira off a very dangerous ledge. This girl , she grumps. 

Then, like a prayer answered, a stray dash of sauce catches her eye. Right on the corner of Rumi’s lip. Inspiration strikes her immediately. A sly smirk plays upon her lips as she quickly strategizes a plan.

“Rumi,” she murmurs with deceitful softness. The shorter girl turns to look at her, not suspecting anything. She has no clue , Mira cackles inwardly. She stamps down the maniacal grin threatening to emerge.

She moves to cup Rumi’s cheek unassumingly yet intimate at the same time. Rumi freezes, pulse stuttering. Her face slowly but surely reddens at the gentle touch. There we go , Mira thinks, pleased with her reaction.

Then, she leisurely brushes her thumb over Rumi’s lips to wipe them clean. Rumi’s lips part slightly. Tantalisingly. 

Focus , Mira scolds herself. 

Rumi’s pupils are blown wide as she watches her slowly bring that thumb to her mouth, rendered speechless. Mira goes in for the kill, maintaining eye contact as her tongue darts out to lick her finger clean. She purposefully makes a show out of it. 

Ew, mayo , Mira cringes. What’s with mayo lovers taking over the world? She swallows quickly before the taste can linger in her mouth. Thankfully, her calm facade stays put. 

Okay, maybe her eye twitches a little, but that’s not the point.

Rumi openly gapes at her, jaw slack. A violent blush spreads across her face uncontrollably. What. The actual hell. Just happened. She stares at Mira for any possible explanation, because there’s no way she imagined all that. 

(Because Mira stared at her like she wanted her. And Rumi doesn’t know what to do with that.)

“You had a little something there. Mira shrugs half-heartedly. She flashes Rumi a crooked smile, teeth threatening to show. Rumi swallows harshly, half-chewn food inching down her throat painfully. She garbles uselessly before ducking her head into her arms for cover.

“Want me to whip up a drink for you?” Mira offers placatingly. She places a hand on top of Rumi’s shoulder and squeezes comfortingly. Rumi buries her head deeper at the contact.

“Sure,” she rasps out shakily without lifting her head an inch. Mira nods before moving behind the counter. A tiny smile filled to the brim with smugness forms with no restraint as she turns away from Rumi. 

She hums as she works and casts a glance or two at Rumi periodically. The poor girl still lies there unmoving. Except her hood’s now over her head, obscuring even more of her face. Mira almost feels bad. Just a little though.

She pours the drink into Rumi’s designated tumbler. As she screws the cap on, the nagging feeling of something missing prickles at her mind uncomfortably. The same feeling she gets whenever she accidentally leaves her phone behind. While she’s already pulling into the store’s parking lot.

She frowns and steps back to stare at the offending drink. Did she forget to add ice or something? A quick swish of the cup disproves her theory as ice chunks clatter against steel. 

Mira eyes the tumbler judgementally as though having a whole standoff with it. An imaginary tumbleweed rolls by. 

It looks… plain , she concludes. As if something else should be on it. The drink’s not the problem, the tumbler is. 

She finds a quick remedy to that. She yanks open a cabinet and hastily scrawls on a post-it. Her hands move before her mind can really prepare any damage control if things backfire. Except she can’t really slow down or she’ll lose her nerve. 

Her fingers tremble slightly with adrenaline as she sticks the post-it onto the tumbler. This is so dumb , she hesitates doubtfully. 

“Mira?” Rumi calls out. Mira freezes like a toddler caught stealing from a cookie jar. She tentatively turns to see Rumi looking straight at her. She hurriedly snatches the cup behind her back to hide it from the older girl’s sight. 

“What’s up?” Mira attempts to steady her voice. She slowly makes her way towards Rumi’s table. 

“What’re you hiding?” Rumi accuses, pointing at the very suspicious looking hands behind her back. 

“Nothing,” she lies. Her throat constricts tighter with every step she takes. Rumi raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. 

“Oh yeah? Then show me your hands,” she challenges with a sharp smile. Mira’s breath stutters in her chest. 

“Your smile’s really pretty,” she blurts out before she can stop herself. Her face heats instantly as if she’s the one who’s been complimented. Though, Rumi’s blood also seems to get the memo, because the next second it's rushing up to her cheeks. 

“I- Um- Thank you,” she sputters eloquently. Then, she breathes in sharply. She levels Mira with a look. “You’re not changing the topic again, are you?”

“O- of course not. Why would I ever do that?” Mira deflects very skillfully in her opinion. She slowly settles back in her seat beside Rumi. Her heart’s springing out her chest at this point. She breathes in deep before handing Rumi her drink, embarrassedly looking the other way. 

A knot in her chest untangles as Rumi gently takes the tumbler. Her hands are all sweaty and clammy with anticipation. Mira wipes them on her thighs before risking a glance. Rumi’s lips are parted and frozen with surprise as she stares at the note. 

Did it smudge? Mira frets worriedly. She peeks to make sure it didn’t. 

“Is this…?” Rumi trails off, glancing at Mira shyly. Mira swallows the lump in her throat. 

“Yeah. You don’t have to take it,” she mutters, ears burning. Rumi casts a gentle smile towards her before pulling her phone out, settling those jittering nerves. They only buzz under her skin now. Her airway unclogs, finally allowing her to breathe.

“Wanna name your own contact?” Rumi offers, nudging her side. Mira blinks before accepting the outstretched phone. Her fingers hover over the keyboard in thought. 

“Can I just write ‘Mira’?” She asks at a loss. Rumi huffs a laugh and nods. 

“You know, Zoey named herself ‘Turtlenatornator,’” she comments offhandedly. Mira pauses. 

“Zoey gave you her number?” She asks disbelievingly. Zoey never told her about this , she thinks confusedly. 

“Yeah, yesterday! She’s the first friend to do that in a while. You’re my second!” Rumi explains excitedly, swaying her phone side to side with barely contained joy. 

Oh, that’s why , Mira thinks dejectedly. Her shoulders slump a fraction. At least she and Zoey can trauma bond now. 

“I was going to ask her to type in yours too, but I didn’t want to overstep or anything,” Rumi says shyly with doe eyes. Mira’s heart positively clenches at the information. She’s too cute , she screams silently. 

“Well, you have it now,” she mumbles back.

“Yeah, I do,” Rumi repeats as if she can’t believe it herself. She flashes Mira a wide smile before seeming to think something over. Her eyes dart back and forth between Mira’s eyes and then lower. 

Before Mira can ask what’s gotten into her, Rumi swiftly leans closer to place a brief kiss to her cheek. The soft press of lips gently brushes against her cheek, setting the skin there alight. Mira short-circuits immediately, eyes widening fractions larger. Holy shit.  

By the time she regains her senses, Rumi’s already half-out the door. “I really have to go and make sure Jinu didn’t burn the shop down,” Rumi borderline raps out. She waits a few seconds to give Mira a chance to reply.

And Mira tries. Really, she does. But when she opens her mouth, no sound comes out. So Rumi’s left there awkwardly waiting by the door for a reply that won’t come. At least not verbally. Mira waves her goodbye as a last resort, a giddy smile slowly forming on her face. Sure, she feels like she’s about to combust spontaneously, but at least she died happy. 

Rumi brightens instantly, waving back immediately before bounding away. Mira’s eyes follow, even after she disappears across the street. 

She drops her head into her palms after a few minutes of staring at nothing in particular. What just happened?  

She breathes in deep. 

Rumi kissed her.  

A squeaky, garbled sound leaves her mouth as she slams her hand repeatedly on the unlucky table she’s chosen.

She doesn’t know how much longer she can take this.

Chapter Text

Rumi stares at her phone for the umpteenth time. It’s not her fault her friends sent the most ominous messages ever this morning.

Mira : Stop by after closing for free food.

Turtlenatornator : don’t be late! 😽 <3 

Just that. No context whatsoever. And yes, she tried asking but to no avail. So forgive Rumi if she’s not her most focused self today. 

“Rumi? Are you okay?” Bobby asks while wiping down a table. It’s finally closing time, with everyone but them out the door. 

Rumi hesitates, debating whether or not to tell her manager everything. She absentmindedly runs her hand across Derpy’s fuzzy fur. He kind of looks like a victim of some electricity accident, but at least his tail’s all fluffy from it. His tail brushes against her calf like a tangible cloud. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just that I’m a little nervous,” she eventually mutters.

“Why?” Bobby sets his rag down to face her, giving her his full attention. A wave of appreciation for her manager washes over Rumi. 

Good question , she sighs to herself. She doesn’t really know why she’s on edge. It’s not like it’s her first time hanging out in their store. Furthermore, they’re her friends for heaven’s sake. 

Though, maybe that’s the reason. She hasn’t made new friends in a long time. Well, except the regulars who frequent the cafe. But it feels different when she’s with Mira and Zoey compared to others. Not as easy. Fitting.

“I got invited to meet up with some friends later,” she starts neutrally as if testing the waters. Invited is a bit of an euphemism for ordered. But, she wouldn’t miss out on visiting them anyway. 

“That’s nice! With Jinu?” Bobby guesses innocently. Rumi still twitches at that. Does she really only hang out with that loser? A disgusted frown makes its way to her face. She mentally notes to meet up with that troll less often. 

“No, it’s with these two new girls that work across the street.” She points at their shop through the window.

His eyes light up. “Oh! The pink-haired one and the really sweet one?” 

Rumi blinks in surprise. “You know them?”

He nods excitedly. “Yeah, I went there once or twice and met them. They seem like nice people.”

“They are,” she agrees without hesitation. Her heart does giddy flips at the mere thought of them. 

(And it’s strange. Because even with Jinu, her best friend for years, she’s never felt like this before. Never felt her stomach flutter with butterflies like those silly romcoms. Never felt so excited yet nervous to see somebody. Never felt this much for anybody really. Let alone two people at once.)

“So what’s the problem?” Bobby sits across from Rumi, folding his hands on the table. 

“I don’t know. It’s just…” She blindly grapples for the right words. It’s hard putting all her feelings into words alone. It doesn’t convey what she’s feeling nearly enough. “Everything feels so different with them.”

Bobby hums in acknowledgement. He taps his fingers on the table in thought. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“It’s, like, overwhelming, but in a good way,” she says. God , she’s horrible at articulating her thoughts. He seems to somehow understand her mess though. 

From the look on her face, he already knows the answer to his next question, but he asks anyway, “You enjoy their company, correct?”

Rumi pauses. Color rises to her cheeks. “A little too much,” she admits bashfully. Bobby gives her a knowing smile. 

“Well, if they were the ones to invite you over, I think it’s safe to say the feeling’s mutual,” he reassures, outstretching his hand to pat her shoulder comfortingly. Rumi’s nerves calm a fraction. 

“How about you go upstairs and relax a little? I’ll close the rest of the store up. We’re almost done anyways,” he offers thoughtfully. Rumi would protest if she didn’t know it’ll be a losing battle. Like always.

“Thanks, Bobby,” she says with a warm smile. He gives her a thumbs up as she gets up to leave. 

She’s halfway up the stairs when she hears something she’s ninety nine percent sure she wasn’t supposed to. 

“Young love these days,” Bobby mutters with a fond sigh. 

Curse her good hearing.

Rumi stands in the middle of the stairwell for a good thirty seconds before racing up the rest of the way. She skids to a stop at her door and restrains herself from slamming the door shut in her embarrassment. Instead, she gently clicks the door closed with a single finger before throwing herself onto her bed. 

She screams the most gut-wrenching scream of her entire career into her pillow. Genuinely, what the actual hell. Bobby must’ve misinterpreted something. Right? Another scream. 

Rumi’s not in love with her two very beautiful and endlessly kind friends. She’s not! It’s practically impossible. She starts bashing her pillow, painting a nightmarish domestic violence case. Well, good thing pillows can’t really talk.

After a few minutes of maniacally strangling her pillow, she flops onto her backside and stares at the ceiling blankly. All the energy saps from her muscles as she goes slack. 

“It can’t be,” she rasps, her throat giving up on her. A sound akin to a bleating goat leaves her mouth. Except the goat’s probably on its deathbed because it comes out all wrong. She might have lost her voice after all that screaming. It’s going to be difficult to explain to-.

Her eyes widen into saucers. Oh no. It’s not too late to cancel, is it? But then she’ll feel guilty about it for days. But also-. 

Rumi groans into her palms. She’s going nowhere with this. 

A bright ding brings her out of her thoughts. She blindly pats for her phone. She threw it somewhere on her bed during her hysteria. After a few seconds of groping to no avail, she exasperatedly sits up and snatches her phone by the now deformed pillow.

Turtlenatornator : on ur way yet? i miss you ;)

Rumi’s breath catches in her throat. A flush of color rises up her neck. Poor Zoey probably doesn’t even know how suggestive that sounds. How it’s making Rumi almost relapse back to pillow assault pt.2. 

Rumi : I’m getting ready. Be there in ten?

Mira : alright. see you later cutie 

Rumi promptly throws her phone at the wall. 

—

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” Zoey teases, poking at Mira’s side. 

“As if you’re any better,” she accuses, rolling her eyes playfully at the younger girl. Zoey giggles before leaning into her side. 

Mira hums, eyeing the store to make sure nothing’s out of place. A few of the shades are drawn, enough to light the room without being too bright. Zoey’s doing, because she insisted on ‘setting the mood.’ Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

She catches Zoey fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She karate chops between them to get her hair back. 

“I’m too young to go bald.” She sighs wistfully with a shake of her head. 

“Drama queen. I wasn’t even pulling that hard,” Zoey quips, an amused smile worming its way onto her lips. She gently resumes combing the edges of her hair. 

“Play with your own hair,” Mira grumbles but doesn’t move away. Softie , Zoey thinks mirthfully.

“They’re up.” She points to her space buns. Mira only shrugs. 

Comfortable silence settles between them. The one that comes naturally without awkwardness or a need to fill in the silence. 

Mira closes her eyes, basking in Zoey’s warm presence. She yawns, stretching her arms overhead before choosing to rest one over Zoey’s shoulder.

Zoey snorts. She turns to Mira with a shit-eating grin. “That was smooth. You gonna use that on Rumi?”

Mira shoves her away immediately, face burning. Zoey almost falls off her chair from laughing. She slaps her hand over her knee repeatedly as peels of laughter ring from her mouth. 

“You’re terrible, you know that?” Mira mutters with faux indignation. She sighs audibly.

“What? Don’t act like you didn’t do that on purpose,” Zoey says once she’s done rolling over the floor. Figuratively, of course. Though, she wasn’t far from collapsing and doing just that.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t aiming to be-” Mira sputters.

Zoey grins toothily. “So you’re just a womanizer at heart, huh?”

Before Mira can pounce on the shorter girl, someone clears their throat. 

“Who’s a womanizer?” Rumi asks, completely lost. They slowly turn their head to the door.

“Rumi! When’d you get here?” Zoey scurries to her side for protection. She loops an arm around Rumi’s and leads her to the table. Rumi stumbles along, skin burning at the contact. Be normal, be normal , she repeats like a mantra. 

Scattered over the table lies a variety of Chinese takeout boxes. Some are suspiciously half-empty. 

“Zoey stole your food,” Mira explains as if reading her mind. Zoey whips her head at the pink-haired girl in betrayal.

“You took a few bites too!” She accuses, pointing at the clearly half-bitten orange chicken on her plate. Mira avoids their eyes and coughs into her fist.

“I don’t mind. You guys bought them in the first place,” Rumi says quietly. Her voice’s all scratchy and weak, noticeably different from her usual timid tone. They catch on immediately.

“Are you feeling alright?” Mira questions, studying her complexion. She grabs Rumi’s hand and pulls her to sit. Zoey settles down on her other side, trapping her in the middle. 

And try as she might, but she’s not making it out of this alive. Not when their bodies are so close, she can practically feel the heat radiating off of them. Not when those eyes, so attentive and caring, linger on her own. And definitely not when they make it so easy to believe there’s something between them. 

Because Mira’s hand wraps around hers and Zoey latches onto her other. And it feels strangely like a promise. Like a possibility Rumi never knew was there. Though, now that she sees it, or at least imagines it, she can’t go back to normality. Whatever that implies.

So, she squeezes their hands back and smiles her best placating smile. 

“I, um- I may have lost my voice from screaming a little too much,” she explains with eight different voice cracks. They pause to stare at her.

“Oh. Why?” Zoey asks curiously after handing her some warm tea. 

Rumi gulps it down quickly before answering, “No reason.” It’s a horrible lie. She already knows from the look on Mira’s face that she doesn’t believe her in the slightest. 

“Sure,” Mira says, dragging out the ‘u’. She smirks at her knowingly. 

Just throw Rumi into a box and ship her to Antarctica at this point. At least the penguins won’t call her out. Maybe. She hopes.

“Don’t be mean, Mira,” Zoey scolds. A faint humorish lilt carries in her tone. She excitedly glances at Mira behind the blushing girl’s head. Mira grins back with a slight nod.

Rumi, oblivious to the scheming behind her back, wiggles her hands out their hold and twirls some noodles onto her plate. She bites into them happily, the flavors dancing on her tongue pleasantly. 

“Is it good?” Zoey nudges her shoulder and presses close against her side. The younger girl then rests her hand on top of Rumi’s thigh. A small shudder runs down Rumi’s spine. It takes all her willpower not to choke on her noodles. She chews slowly to buy herself some time and not make some embarrassing noise she’ll definitely never live down. 

“Yeah. They’re ‘fire,’” she quotes with a small, cheeky grin. Mira snorts beside her as Zoey stares at her proudly. 

“I’ve taught you well.” She sniffles dramatically, brushing her thumb across Rumi’s leg. Goosebumps rise all over her skin as Zoey rubs her thumb back and forth. And Rumi knew the younger girl was touchy, but not this touchy. 

Still, she can’t bring herself to pull away. Even though the touch’s maddening.

Rumi promptly stuffs her mouth with another scoop of food. Then, Mira yawns beside her. Which is weird, because it’s only six, but Rumi’s not judging. Maybe she had a rough day. Rumi’s about to ask before the words die in her throat as an arm settles across her shoulders. 

She glances to her side to see Mira’s hand dangling off one shoulder. Okay, so Mira’s arm is draped over her. No big deal, right? 

Well, her heart says otherwise. It’s running marathons in her chest like it’s got places to be and people to see. She would for certain be screaming her lungs out by now if she hasn’t already lost her voice. Instead, a pathetic little wheeze leaves her throat. 

“Did you say something?” Mira asks and leans closer to her to get a better listen. Rumi furiously shakes her head, almost bumping into the taller girl’s in her haste. She goes back to wordlessly munching on her dinner. At least she can blame her throat for not talking. Lest she dies of embarrassment tonight.

Mira, on the other hand, casts a smug grin to Zoey. The younger girl sticks her tongue out and mouths ‘womanizer.’ Mira pinches her arm across Rumi’s shoulder. 

“Ow,” Zoey gasps theatrically as if Mira put any pressure at all into that pinch. Rumi turns to look at her questioningly. Her gentle eyes scan Zoey’s figure for any culprit. 

“She hit me,” Zoey whines, snitching on Mira. 

“Wha- I didn’t even pinch you that hard!” She defends as Rumi raises an eyebrow at her. She feels oddly ashamed as Rumi shakes her head disapprovingly. It’s not like she did anything wrong though. She huffs and turns the other way, looking like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

Rumi turns back to Zoey and tilts her head to ask where. The shorter girl points at her arm after wiping off some fake tears. 

“It hurts,” she complains. It’s a total lie, but Rumi doesn’t have to know that.

(She already does.)

A devilish thought pops up in Zoey’s mind. She puts on her best kicked puppy expression. 

“Kiss it better, please?” She asks pitifully. And really, she’s not expecting Rumi to go through with it at all. A light blush and some adorable stammering will satisfy Zoey easily.

But then, Rumi brings her hand to Zoey’s arm and lifts it slightly. She hesitates for a fleeting second before pressing a chaste kiss there. Her hand drifts to run down Zoey’s arm as she pulls away. And it feels like a path of fire ignites in its wake.

She looks up with slightly hooded eyes to see the younger girl staring down at her with wide eyes. 

“I- Um-,” Zoey stammers uselessly, a heavy blush forming across her face. Rumi blinks at her confusedly. Didn’t she ask for it?  

A hand comes to guide her chin the other way. Mira stares at her with a heady gaze. Her eyes dart to Rumi’s lips before looking back up. And as much as Rumi wants to blame the lighting and her deluded mind for that, she can’t. Because the next second, a finger brushes over her lips.

“I burned my tongue. You know what to do,” Mira murmurs into her ear. She pulls back to face Rumi with a daring edge to her smirk. Rumi’s brain positively stops working. 

So instead, she moves without thinking. Like second nature almost. Her hand slips behind Mira’s neck and pulls . Soft lips come crashing over hers in a hot mess of want and desire. Mira’s fingers bunch at the fabric at Rumi’s shoulder. Her other hand moves to cup Rumi’s cheek like an anchor.

Much too soon, they pull away. Rumi’s left panting with the air stolen from her lungs. Her cheeks are burning red. Though, Mira’s not faring much better. She looks disheveled in the best way possible. They only stare at each other with nothing but their heavy breaths mixing, as if still processing reality.

“That’s so not fair,” Zoey states with a cross look. They snap their heads towards the younger girl. Mira resists the urge to laugh at her robbed expression. 

“Um- I’m, uh- Sorry?” Rumi stammers breathlessly for reasons that have nothing to do with her previous screaming session. 

“Redeem yourself,” Mira whispers in her ear like a little demon. Rumi flushes from head to toe. She breathes in deep to gather enough courage to- Nope. She can’t do it. Believe her, she wants to, but she’s simply lost all that rash boldness from before. 

(She’s not even sure where it came from.)

Thankfully, Zoey seems to get tired of waiting and yanks her forward by the collar. Rumi squeaks in surprise, her hand fumbling to steady herself on Zoey’s shoulder. Zoey swallows the sound greedily and tilts her head slightly to press deeper. It’s downright sinful the way she unravels so easily. 

Rumi gasps before pushing lightly on the younger girl’s shoulders. Zoey takes the hint and backs off. Despite the growing heat building. 

“Too much?” She asks softly, prioritizing the taller girl’s comfortableness. She nuzzles into her neck and kisses the stretch of skin there.

“Perfect,” Rumi mutters, a pitch too high yet no less sincere. Zoey beams up at her. She pecks her on the lips before giving her some space. 

“Can we eat now?” Mira asks jokingly. 

“Don’t need to be told twice,” Zoey chirps, grabbing her chopsticks back up. She places pieces of orange chicken on both of their plates before turning to pile food on her own.

“Thanks, Zo,” Mira says and returns the favor. Rumi’s plate is practically filled to the brim at this point. Strands of noodles half-dangle off the sides, but she can’t find it within herself to care. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles, warmth spilling over her. Mira presses a soft kiss to her temple and gives her a fond smile before tending to her own plate.

(And Rumi doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to this, but something tells her everything will turn out fine.)