Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’re put on unboxing duty after breakfast. Rumi warned them about more or less being put to work if they didn’t immediately shut it down, as if Mira was planning on doing anything better. Zoey instantly jumped on it, citing the tree and breakfast, and that was pretty much that.

Unboxing duty is mostly because of Zoey and Kimmy, who already got most of the boxes out—which Mira could very plainly see, given how the living room is full of them—which means the job needs to be finished. It’s something Mira can agree with, and it’s a monotonous task that lets her breathe a little: take out everything in each box, set it off to the side, check and relabel as needed, put the contents back into the box or into a more appropriate one, move it to the completed pile, rinse and repeat.

It’s meant to just be Zoey, Rumi, and her. Rumi’s parents clean up breakfast and linger in the living room, helping out on the occasion, though all four of them mostly work on separate tasks, like putting up stockings or Christmas lights inside or adding more to the tree. Or...pretty much anything else, because Miyeong is insistent on having the house be completely decorated, and that includes every single possible shelf and surface that has any kind of opening at all, and so there’s not really any time spent away from them.

Mira doesn’t...mind. She doesn’t. It’s Rumi’s house, her parents literally live here, and it’s fine. It’s what she expected. 

It’s just weird. The holidays have always been used as networking opportunities, business ventures, connections, galas, going out to events to establish a name, whatever else. Mira has never stayed inside around this time of year, not for very long, at least. 

She definitely has not stayed inside with the intention of working on something that doesn’t benefit her at all, like the mountain of boxes she’s currently unloading.

Mira is on her fifth box—more Christmas lights, because they apparently have a massive hoard—when she watches Celine back away from the fireplace, eyeing whatever she puts up on the shelf above it. Riwoo migrates over to her side, tilting his head as he studies the same spot. 

That lasts all of two seconds before he’s saying, “Celine, it—”

“Don’t say my name,” Celine mutters, turning on her heel and stalking toward the kitchen.

“I was—”

“Don’t speak to me.” Celine’s tone is sharp, obviously cut and dry. Mira genuinely doesn’t think there’s another way to interpret how she’s speaking other than irritated, and she can’t help the way she sits a little straighter, watching both of them carefully. 

None of Rumi’s parents have fought at all. Mira guesses it sort of makes sense; they all have a ridiculous dynamic, and it’s definitely the least traditional dynamic she’s ever seen, so they have to be doing something right to be making it work, or for it to have even lasted as long as it has. Still, that doesn’t mean that they don’t fight, or argue, or yell, or whatever. Her parents have been together for nearly three decades now, and Mira still can’t help but roll her eyes over the fact that they’re both so stupidly insistent on living in the same house even though it’s obvious they hate each other.

It isn’t as if Mira thinks that’s what Rumi’s parents are doing. She’s old enough to grasp the idea that maybe, just maybe, some people have families that don’t outright hate each other. A shocking concept, she knows, and Mira is mostly sure that Rumi’s family falls into that category of not hating each other; there’s just the quiet, nagging voice in the very back of her mind that questions if she’s managed to jump from one boiling pot right into another.

Rumi suddenly snickers from beside her, hands stilling, hidden in the box she had been going through. Mira’s eyes flit over to her, watching a little more intently now, just to see. Rumi isn’t exactly all that subtle about pretty much anything, especially not when it comes to her parents.

“Papa, just fix it,” Rumi says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything to you, promise.”

Riwoo laughs, throwing his head back before he turns, grinning wildly right at Rumi. “I think she could take both of us, tiger.”

Rumi waves a hand, beaming back at him. “Nah. Not in front of Zoey and Mira.”

Celine scoffs from the kitchen, and Mira turns just in time to catch the way her gaze falls solidly on Rumi. “Try me.”

Rumi blinks a few dozen times. Mira thinks that there’s a moment that she can just barely pinpoint where Rumi is considering it, and then that confidence instantly wears off once Rumi rapidly shakes her head, looking firmly back down into her box. She’s still grinning, though.

“Um, no thank you. Love you, Dad!” Rumi rushes out, head tilting back up to shoot that same grin in Celine’s direction, chin tilted up a little. She holds a handful of ornaments close to her chest, and Mira can make out the way Rumi keeps repeatedly looking down at them, then over to Celine.

Celine must notice, too, because she rolls her eyes and huffs. “Those are glass, Rumi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rumi says with ease, twisting her head to the side, beaming right at Zoey. Mira can’t help but smile when she watches Zoey wiggle her eyebrows up and down, outright laughing when she realises that Zoey’s entire left arm is currently wrapped in silver and gold tinsel garlands.

That, unfortunately, draws almost all the attention over to her. Zoey grins at her, head tipped to the side, cheek resting against her hand. She holds up a neon orange bauble a second later, waggling it back and forth.

“What’s up, babe?” Zoey asks, eyes crinkling at the sides when she smiles even harder. “Not enjoying the...Christmas spirit?”

Mira ducks her head, fighting back her own smile that threatens to surface. “I’m enjoying it from over here, yeah.”

“Which means you’re actually not enjoying,” Zoey helpfully tells her. “C’mere, let me cover you in Christmas lights. You could be the tree. Oh my god!” Zoey suddenly says, lighting up brighter than any of the Christmas lights Mira has seen thus far. “You can be the tree in Rumi’s room!”

“Giant,” Rumi mutters under her breath.

“That’s—” Mira starts, but she bites down on her tongue, opting to roll her eyes instead. “I fixed your bear, I think I should get, like, a little more gratitude.”

Rumi gives her a look, but it only lasts for half a second before she seems to relent. Mira almost feels bad, and she’s tempted to backtrack and mutter something about how she was just joking and how Rumi doesn’t need to look all downtrodden and like a kicked dog, but then Rumi is—she’s throwing a tinsel garland right at Mira’s face, and clearly she’s not upset at all, actually.

“Merry Christmas!” Rumi announces, giggling a few seconds later. “You know, I really like that look on you.”

“Gold’s your colour!” Zoey agrees, sounding just as breathless with laughter as Rumi does. “Well, okay. And pink. And like, everything else. It’s kinda crazy how good you look in everything.”

Mira has to take a second, feeling like she’s been punched from a few different angles. She quickly compartmentalises everything, pushing them into their own neat little boxes: Rumi isn’t actually upset, Mira didn’t fuck that up; she’s currently covered in tinsel, and it happens to be gold, apparently; Zoey just directly said she looks good in everything, and she sounded way too serious about it.

It’s not like Mira doesn’t know that. It’s just different hearing it said so casually, said by Zoey.

It shouldn't be different at all.

“That’s great,” Mira says, tugging the tinsel out of her face and into her hands. When Zoey pouts at her—actually pouts, lower lip trembling and all—Mira quickly fixes her mistake and loops it around her shoulders. “We have to put this back in the—in a box at some point, remember?” Mira presses.

Zoey waves her hand that’s still holding the bauble, which coincides with her tossing it expertly into Rumi’s box. “Yeah, but who knows when that’ll be? You’re rockin’ it right now, babe.”

“Really killing it,” Rumi adds, snickering under her breath. “Goes well with your glasses.”

“Gold on gold!” Zoey grins, elbowing Rumi a second later. “I’m tinseling you, just by the way.”

Rumi pretty much preens. She sits straight up, chin tilted upward by half an inch, eyes closing almost delicately. Mira feels herself smile, rolling her eyes at the display. It only gets more ridiculous when Zoey wraps around at least five garlands around Rumi’s shoulders, expertly looping a green one over her face.

Rumi cracks an eye open. “Done?”

Zoey hums as if she’s considering. Mira watches how she leans back on her haunches, hands on her hips, twisting and turning her head from side to side as she clearly studies her work. Then, after a few more seconds of this, Zoey makes a pleased noise, her face breaking out into a grin.

“Done,” Zoey agrees, nodding rapidly. “You look great. Festive as ever.” 

“As ever?” Rumi asks with her own matching grin. “Do I usually look like this?”

“You seemed pretty festive at the diner earlier,” Mira interjects, looking back down at her box. “All red and green.”

Rumi makes a noise. “People aren’t usually red and green.”

“You know what else people don’t usually do?” Mira asks, grinning now that Rumi has walked directly into her trap.

It’s a little funny how Rumi instantly sits straight up, snapping her head back and forth as she hisses under her breath, “You cannot bring that up right now.”

“Oh, I cannot, huh?” Mira laughs, peering up at the horrified, miserable look all across Rumi’s face. “I mean, I could. I could bring up a lot of things. There’s just...one specific thing on my mind lately. It’s all I can think about, actually.”

Zoey snorts. “You know? Honesty, me too. It’s kinda been, like, lurking. Can I also not mention that, or...?”

“You cannot,” Rumi presses, pointing one finger at Mira, one at Zoey. “Neither of you are holding Bear! I don’t even know why we’re talking! Shut up! Quiet game! We’re playing the quiet game! Forever!”

Mira laughs so hard the noise eventually gets caught in her throat and she nearly chokes. She can’t help the way her head tips back when she laughs or how her chest hurts or the way she starts to grin until her cheeks ache. All of it is a weird, unfamiliar pain that she’s not used to; she’s equally not used to the way Rumi and Zoey look at her, how all of Rumi’s misery has been wiped from her face and replaced with that stupid, crooked grin, or how Zoey is openly staring at her with both hands folded under her chin, beaming just as hard.

It’s so weird.

They’re so...weird.

Mira nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears Miyeong clear her throat from behind her. Mira snaps her head to the side, blinking up at her as she straightens up, hands immediately going to the garland wrapped around her shoulders.

Miyeong just beams at her, making a show of holding up the glass of water in her hands. “For all your hard work. I know we have...” Miyeong trails off, setting the glass down on a coaster, pushing it in Mira’s direction once it’s settled on the coffee table. “A collection.”

Mira’s about to deny it and mention how it’s not a big deal, because it isn’t, but Rumi laughs from beside her, and Mira hesitates just long enough to be beat to speaking.

“A small army,” Rumi says, grinning. “Enough to build our own tree. Maybe we can do that next year, Mama? So Dad doesn’t keep complaining?”

Miyeong scoffs, planting both hands on her hips. “If your father knows what’s good for her, she’ll quit bringing up the tree.”

“Maybe I’d do that once you stop making me bring it in,” Celine shoots back, voice echoing out from the kitchen. “If you’re picking it out, you can carry it in.”

Mira watches carefully again, looking back and forth between Miyeong and the kitchen, where Celine remains just out of sight. Miyeong just grins, seeming unbothered as she calls back, “Well, if you loved me, you’d do it without complaint. And you love me, don’t you, Cece?”

Quiet.

Miyeong’s smile doesn’t waver for even a second. If anything, she only looks more and more pleased the longer the silence stretches on. 

Eventually, there’s a sigh out in the kitchen. A muttered, half-sighed, “You know that’s not fair.”

It’s not really said with exasperation or irritation or anything like that. Mira watches the way Miyeong beams, bounding off into the kitchen, catches snippets of the muffled conversation after:

“You could just say it out loud.”

“Or you could stop bringing back giant trees.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?”

“And where’s your love for me?”

“You could find it in the tree. If you weren’t so miserable and grouchy.”

“I’m only those things because of your awful, terrible tree that you insist on bringing back.”

“You could just tell me if you hated me. I’ll sell the house and live alone, on the streets, desolate and cold. I’d get murdered my first night out there and I wouldn’t even fight back because I’d be so sick with heartache.”

The conversation is cut short by Kimmy, suddenly appearing on the stairs, calling out, “It’s my house! I own it! What do you mean you’re selling it?”

Miyeong cackles; Celine heaves another sigh. 

Mira twists back to look over at Zoey and Rumi, watching the way Rumi methodically sorts through her boxes. Zoey is busy haphazardly placing little glass baubles everywhere, lining them up in a style that Mira has no idea how to figure out. Rumi doesn’t even look up once during the entire exchange between her parents, doesn’t seem to notice that they’ve even been talking at all. Zoey doesn’t look bothered, either.

Mira watches the way Riwoo adjusts the ornament Celine put up, and she watches how Celine and Miyeong come out of the kitchen a few minutes later, how Celine stares at the ornament but doesn’t say anything. The most she does is roll her eyes when Riwoo grins at her again. 

“We should, like, probably be bubble wrapping this, right?” Zoey asks, breaking the silence. 

Rumi gives a thoughtful hum. “Yeah, probably. Mama, do you...”

Mira runs the tinsel between her fingers. She looks back to the box in front of her, breathing a little easier as she listens to Rumi and Zoey's soft voices.

They get bubble wrap.

At some point, Zoey comes over and rests her chin on Mira’s shoulder from behind, laughing at the way she’s organising her boxes. It—shockingly—doesn’t take a lot of effort for Mira to sit there and take it. It’s not even ‘taking it’, really, because Mira can’t help herself from grinning and rolling her eyes and muttering something about how Zoey’s boxes are barely even started, which gets Zoey to back off and go to the aforementioned boxes.

Mira still watches.

Mostly Rumi and Zoey now, because Kimmy dragged off the other three to start on everything upstairs.

It’s the same monotony that she likes falling into without the additional people she has to talk to, and it helps that Rumi and Zoey are so...easy to be around. Mira hasn’t completely figured out why—thus, the watching. It usually doesn’t take her very long to get a read on people, to work them out in her head and go from there. There’s just...something about Rumi and Zoey that she hasn’t managed to work out yet, even after the last day or so spent with both of them.

“So,” Rumi suddenly starts, still covered in the tinsel garlands Zoey slung across her shoulders and face. “You didn’t tell me that you modeled.”

Mira blinks. She can’t help but grin, ducking her head as she beams down into one of her boxes. “You didn’t ask.”

“Is that—are you serious? Why would that be one of my, like, leading questions?” Rumi demands. “You don’t usually ask people that! Ever! Zoey.” Mira watches the way Rumi instantly hones in on Zoey as soon as the words are out of her mouth, “Are you a model?”

Zoey giggles, folding her hands under her chin. “You think I’m pretty enough to be a model?” she teases, a sly grin stretched out across her face.

Rumi doesn’t even miss a beat when she says, “Yes. So are you?”

It’s funny how Rumi doesn’t even notice that she’s said it, and it’s sweet how Zoey instantly breaks out into a genuine smile, her eyes practically sparkling. Mira watches the two of them go back and forth for a while, with Zoey promising that she’s not a model, while Rumi stares at her with no small amount of disbelief in her eyes. Mira isn’t removed from the conversation, but the two of them talk enough for her, and she’s more than content to just...watch.

She doesn’t even really need to be active, anyway, because Zoey has her phone out in less than two seconds, waving it in Rumi’s face, and Mira catches sight of her handle and a dozen or so photos of herself. She’s looped right back into the conversation after that, with Zoey asking a barrage of questions—how did she start, when she did start, does she like to model, what’s her favourite photoshoot, does she know that she’s ‘super insanely mega hot’, or is that news to her?

Rumi asks a few questions, mostly on the background of it all. Logistics, if she runs her own accounts, how the industry is—because apparently Rumi has done research on this kind of thing, and she almost sounds worried—and if Mira’s agency is handling things well, or if she’s independent, or how any of it works. 

Despite the entire conversation being oriented toward her work, Mira still finds herself laughing and grinning at every ridiculous question Zoey asks, or at all of the faces Rumi pulls whenever Mira gives her an answer she clearly doesn’t like. It doesn’t feel like she’s talking about work; it doesn’t feel like she’s networking, it feels like they’re just—interested in her. In what she does. 

It’s nice. Unexpected, maybe. Mira likes what she does, likes modeling, likes being able to do it on an entirely personal level rather than monetary. She’s not used to getting to talk about it like that, though, as if it’s just something she ‘likes’ instead of something she’s only doing because it pays. 

It helps that both of them are being genuine about asking, or they’re doing a convincing job of it, at least. Zoey won’t tear her eyes off of her for even a second, and Mira has noticed the way that Rumi politely sits with her hands in her lap and nods, head tilted a little to the side, humming along after every answer Mira gives her. 

Mira is used to the questions, though definitely not all of the ones from Rumi and Zoey, but it’s still different. Zoey’s constant giggling and compliments are also nothing out of the ordinary, not really, but it’s just different. All of it is different.

The conversation spills over into Rumi’s music, which she’s still wildly cagey about. Mira swears that she actually sees her flinch at least three or four times, visibly wincing every other second. Zoey has to notice, too, but it’s pretty obvious that she doesn’t care in the slightest. It seems to kind of help, at least, because by the time Mira is on her tenth completely resorted box, Rumi looks a little less terrified at the prospect of letting the two of them listen to whatever it is she’s so horribly embarrassed about writing. 

“Oh, you know what we totally need to do?” Zoey asks, quickly filling the lull in the conversation. She wiggles her phone from side to side, grinning wildly. “Need your contact information. Imminently.” 

“Imminently, huh?” Mira asks, smiling back at her. “What happens if—”

She doesn’t get to find out, apparently, because Zoey’s phone is tossed right into her lap along with Zoey helpfully letting her know, “I wasn’t asking.”

Mira snickers, smile breaking into a grin as she ducks her head. She complies, though, picking up Zoey’s phone and quickly putting in her number. Mira stares at the contact name for a second, chewing on her bottom lip before she types out ur fav kidnapping victim and passes the phone back to Zoey.

“Oh my god,” Zoey giggles, eyes instantly flitting up to meet Mira’s. “Don’t tell Rumi.”

“Don’t—don’t tell Rumi what?” Rumi, expectedly, demands. “What? What are you hiding from me?”

Mira laughs, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re being a controlling girlfriend right now, Rumi. Fucked up.”

“Gotta work on that,” Zoey says, not even looking up. “Give me your information.”

Rumi scoffs, but she takes the phone without a second of hesitation. “My information? Do you want my actual home address? My place of residency? My email address? My passwords?”

Zoey grins. “Uh, yeah, duh. If you could, like, maybe get on that, that’d be great. You can open my notes app! Put it all in there! Thanks so much, babe.”

Mira watches Rumi crinkle her nose, but she’s immediately typing, so clearly she’s been won over. Not like it’s hard, given how it’s Zoey, and everything Zoey has done has been oddly charming and convincing. 

“Wait,” Mira says, giving Rumi a look. “Is your home address not the same as your place of residency? Where are we living?”

“Not with me, that’s for sure,” Rumi huffs under her breath, eyes narrowing a little as she continues to type. “More counter space at your place, remember?” And then, so quietly Mira almost doesn’t catch it, Rumi bitterly mutters, “Liar.”

“You’re not being serious,” Mira says, unable to help herself when she starts laughing again. “There’s no way you’re still upset about that. Zoey took my thirty seconds from me!”

Rumi waves her hand. “Don’t care.”

Zoey just beams, swishing a garland over her shoulders. Mira smiles as she watches Zoey tie the garland into a little bowtie, adjusting it for a few seconds after that. Her eyes end up moving back to Rumi, catching sight of her just in time to watch Rumi hand Zoey her phone back. Her own tinsel garlands rustle together every time she moves, and Mira notes that she hasn’t even bothered to adjust the one still hanging over her face, in front of her eyes.

Mira doesn’t mean to speak, really. It sort of just happens, her mouth opening without her permission, when she says, “You didn’t tinsel me.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she snaps her jaw shut. Mira screws up her face and looks right back at the box in her hands, feeling near-shameful. She scowls a little at the cardboard, as if that’s going to fix anything, and briefly wonders if it’s too late to back out and go back down to the diner.

Really, she thinks, Rumi would probably love that. Mira’s starting to see the appeal. She hadn’t before, but now it’s kind of calling to her. Like, a lot. More than anything has ever called to her in her entire life.

“Well, you were kinda on a mission, babe,” Zoey says. Mira looks up, blinking at her; she hadn’t expected that. She doesn’t know what she had expected, but it hadn't been that. “You’re literally winning at reboxing stuff.”

“We’re going to have to lie about that,” Rumi interjects, wincing after she speaks. “Like, really badly. My mom won’t let it go, and she’s going to, like, call me a thousand times and ask where you are next Christmas. She’s serious about this kind of thing, she will put you to work if you let her.”

Mira blinks again.

Zoey doesn’t even seem to notice, or maybe she just doesn’t care, because she’s laughing, flexing her arm that’s still covered in tinsel. “Dude, you’re saying that as if I don’t already know. As if I’m not already living it. Kimmy tried to kill me! Mae Kimmy! Tried to kill me!”

“You left my room!” Rumi shoots back. “If you hadn’t—”

“Victim blaming is so not cool,” Zoey interrupts. Mira watches the way her lips twitch up into something that isn’t quite a smile, but borders very closely to being one; it’s like she’s just waiting for Rumi to push back before she caves.

Rumi scowls. “I don’t think either of you are victims, actually. You know what? I’m a victim. Me! I’m the victim here!”

“Gaslighting, too?” Zoey giggles, openly beaming now. “I didn’t know this relationship was supposed to be abusive.”

“It’s not!” Rumi hisses out, her jaw dropping as she waves her hands around wildly. “It isn’t! Don’t say that! They’ll—they’ll hear!”

“Totally not ominous and horrifying at all,” Zoey muses. “They? They’ll? Haunted house?”

“I’m going to go down to the diner,” Rumi starts, one finger jabbed right at Zoey’s chest. Mira wonders how she’s managing to be serious when all she can focus on is the garland hanging in front of Rumi’s right eye. “And I’m abandoning you both up here. Forever. I am never coming back.”

Zoey outright grins. “Never ever?”

“Never ever,” Rumi agrees. “You’re going in the attic until next year.”

“That’s fucking crazy, babe,” Zoey says, arching one eyebrow as high as it’ll go. “How do you know that I wouldn’t like that? You have a Sunlight Sisters shrine in your house—because three out of four of your parents are Sunlight Sisters, by the way—which is, like, super sick. And really well-insulated, probably. I’d bet it’s well-insulated. I could check the insulation. I know how to do that.”

Rumi sputters over her words, burying her face in her hands. The silence doesn’t last long before Rumi mutters, “Why do you know how to do that?”

“My dad was a really awful engineer!” Zoey chirps. “Worse to ever do it! Really, really bad. He tried to, like, renovate our entire house? Did not go well, just, like, by the way. Like even a little. Wait, you—you got me distracted!” Zoey whines, head snapping over toward...

Mira shifts as soon as Zoey’s gaze lands firmly onto her. She doesn’t have time to do much of anything before Zoey is pulling out at least four garlands from one of her several boxes. Zoey covers the distance between them, standing with her hands on her hips, tinsel pooling out from her fingers and ghosting across the carpet.

Zoey beams at her. “Okay. Sit still.”

“I’ve been sitting still,” Mira mutters, embarrassment creeping up the back of her neck again. “Blame Rumi.”

“Oh, I am,” Zoey quickly assures her. “I’m also blaming you.”

“I literally haven’t even done anything,” Mira mumbles, rolling her eyes. She’s about to make some kind of jab at Rumi, but her words get caught in her throat when Zoey decides to precariously balance her knees on Mira’s thigh. It’s hardly comfortable—for either of them, Mira would assume—but it puts them infinitely too close together.

Zoey just laughs at her, and immediately almost tumbles off the edge of Mira’s thigh and onto the ground.

Mira scoffs. “Shouldn’t you—shouldn’t you have, like...better balance? What happens if you fall into a shark tank, or something? Or in the ocean?”

Zoey beams at her, which is all the warning Mira gets before Zoey reaches out, pushes up her glasses, and goes, “Um, actually—”

“There is no fucking way you just did that to me,” Mira interrupts, a breathless bout of laughter being torn from her throat. “You can’t...no. You’re not being serious right now. You didn’t just do that.”

Zoey throws her head back when she cackles. She very nearly goes tumbling again, but then her hands are looped over Mira’s shoulders, and it has Mira’s head spinning a little. None of this should be happening at all. Is this—do people usually get this close this quickly, or is this a Zoey-exclusive sort of thing? Rumi-exclusive, too, really, because Mira hasn’t playfully bickered with anyone like how she does with Rumi in...months. Years, maybe. She’s not all that close to that many people, and she wouldn’t even consider most of them, like, close-close. 

Not close enough to do this. Not close enough for her to let them get away with doing something like this. She doesn’t think any of them would ever want to in the first place, but it’s still different. Zoey and Rumi are still different. They shouldn’t be, Mira knows that.

Doesn’t seem to stop it from happening.

“Too late, babe,” Zoey says with a grin. “Okay, okay! Sit still. You’re still moving.”

Mira almost wants to protest again, but she opts to just roll her eyes. She sits a little straighter, shoulders rolled back, hands settled on the carpet at either side of her. She doesn’t move at all, even if she’s tempted to smile when Zoey makes a surprised, half-pleased noise.

“Oh, wow,” Rumi hums, just out of Mira’s line of sight. “That’s...really still.”

“Dude, I know, right?” Zoey shoots back, head twisted to the side for a second before she turns back to face Mira. “A dancer thing, I guess.”

Mira doesn’t know if that’s true. Maybe it is; she’s definitely gained a certain kind of stillness from dance, largely ballet. This doesn’t entirely feel the same. She’s always been good at being still, a learned habit from when she was younger.

Rumi makes a noise. “Maybe. Kimmy taught me how to dance.”

“Really?” Zoey asks, looping a green garland around Mira’s shoulders. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Didn’t think about it,” Rumi sheepishly admits. “I was listening to Mira.”

“Mm,” Zoey hums back, sounding like she’s agreeing. “Do you also want a bow?” she suddenly asks, hands moving from Mira’s shoulders to her own little bowtie around her throat. “I could totally do something, um, y’know, a little more...digified, or whatever.”

Mira snorts, letting her head drop to the side, grinning up at her. “Yeah? Dignified?”

“Well,” Zoey starts, grinning right back. “You’re, like, elegant. I don’t know if ‘bowtie’ fits your vibes.”

Elegant?

“You could do the bows where the center knot is a flower,” Rumi suggests. “Or a star. I’ve seen those before.”

Zoey thinks she's elegant?

Zoey grimaces. “Yeah, I have no idea how to do that. Also, can you even—can you even do that with, like...tinsel? I don’t think you can. I feel like that’s probably not something you can actually do.”

Mira swallows around the lump in her throat, soft laughter spilling from her lips. “You might be able to,” she offers, reaching up to take the green garland out of Zoey’s hands. “Here, move back.”

When Zoey does, Mira follows, shifting to kneel as she hooks the garland around Zoey’s neck. She pauses, tilting her head to the side as she considers. Mira draws the garland down toward Zoey’s chest, letting the other half of it hang down toward the carpet. She tries to pinch the tinsel the same way she would with actual fabric, but it becomes apparent very quickly that that’s not going to work.

Regardless, Mira is nothing if not stubborn, and so she tries again. And again. And a few more times before she can effectively mimic what she should be doing, and it’s close enough, anyway, so she moves on. She loops the garland around itself, tugging it through the little hole in the middle of her loop, and then tugs it up and over the hole again. She’s half-convinced she’s not even holding onto the right part anymore, but she presses on.

Loops it around the front. Pulls it under the hole, then back over. She manages to get it back through the new front, pausing once she realises that it looks...awful. Mira winces, pulling back for half a second to try and figure out where to go from that.

“You got it?” Zoey asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mira mutters, squinting. “Just let me...” she trails off, reaching back out to grab one end of the garland, trying to fold it over itself. 

Notably, the tinsel is not fabric, and is missing the very obvious quality that fabric has, namely being able to fold. Mira grits her teeth through it, ignoring that very obvious fact in favour of just going for it. She loops the garland over itself and the base of the knot she’s made, attempting to have it curve and form a little rosebud spiral. 

It does not go over very well.

Mira tries to hide the excess garland into the back of the—quite frankly—awful attempt at a rosebud, which also doesn’t go over well. She mostly just bunches it up and shoves it to the side as best as she can manage, pulling back with her hands up in the air as she mumbles, “It’s not good.”

Rumi is the first to come over, head tilted to the side as she starts to grin all crookedly. “Hm. I don’t think that’s a flower.”

“Not really,” Mira mutters, wincing. “If I had an actual tie, I could do it. It’s just...it doesn’t fold. I need to be able to fold it to make it look good, that’s, like, the whole point of the tie. I tried.”

Zoey laughs, shooting Mira a wide smile. “I’m kinda just surprised you even tried at all. And managed to make it look pretty good! You—hey, guess who isn't holding still right now?”

Mira smiles, ducking her head. “You wanted a flower tie.”

“Okay, and now I want you to stay still,” Zoey helpfully tells her. “Keep up, babe.”

“Right,” Mira agrees, unable to bite back her grin. “My bad.”

She sits still. Zoey is particular and methodical about the garlands, which is oddly sweet. Rumi joins in at some point, casually taking over Mira’s boxes while making one-off comments about how they kind of match with their respective garlands. Rumi even offers up a garland of her own, which Zoey dutifully accepts, happily adding that to the layers upon layers of tinsel currently wrapped over Mira’s shoulders.

The tie—though that’s a generous word for what it is—around Zoey’s neck ends up practically dissolving, unwinding itself the more she moves. Mira watches it happen, and when Zoey catches her gaze, she lets out a pained, miserable groan that makes it sound like she’s actually dying. She makes Mira promise to show her how to make an actual flower knot at some point, and Mira is mostly surprised by how quickly she agrees rather than that she does it at all (that comes later, though, and she dutifully ignores the irritating feeling of embarrassment at the back of her neck). 

It doesn’t take long for Zoey to finish covering her in tinsel. Zoey’s practically across the living room in less than thirty seconds, going back through her boxes as if it never happened. Rumi does the same thing, easily responding to anything and everything Zoey asks.

Mira finds herself paying more attention to the two of them than the boxes she’s meant to be working on.

“Well, no, the fire scandal—that was me, by the way—came a little after. That was..a month or two out from Rumi, I think?”

“Month and a half, about.”

“Right. It was mostly an accident.”

“It was not an accident.”

“You made it seem like an accident!”

“Uh, yeah, obviously?”

Mira is only half-listening, but she’s fully paying attention to the way Zoey looks beyond giddy, her eyes huge, a wide grin stretched across her face the longer Riwoo and Kimmy talk back and forth. 

Riwoo waves his hands as he speaks, continuing, “Well, it’s not like it was even that big of a deal, anyway, so it’s fine!”

“It actually wasn’t fine at all,” Kimmy shoots back without missing a beat. “I spent an entire week dealing with that.”

Riwoo has the decency to look sheepish. “Miyeong thought it was funny?”

“Miyeong is hardly a good basis of what’s funny,” Kimmy mutters, but she’s beaming. “Come on, stop distracting them. You can tell Zoey all about your scandals later. Celine’s already mad at you enough today.”

“Celine’s always mad at me,” Riwoo says with a heavy sigh, dragging both hands through his hair. “Good luck with those boxes! Tiger, you know you don’t have to make them—?”

Rumi waves him off, shrugging. “They offered. It’s just boxes, Papa. Kimmy literally tried to kill Zoey earlier, this is, like, nothing.”

“Kimmy did try to kill me earlier,” Zoey happily chirps, still wearing that wild grin. Mira swears that Zoey is almost fully to blame for the way her own face aches, as if she’s forced to return to the gesture. It just sort of feels wrong not to smile at her.

“See?” Rumi presses, making a vague motion over toward Zoey, one eyebrow arching up. “Proof. Living proof right there.”

Mira watches the way Kimmy rolls her eyes, how she starts making her way back toward the stairs again after Riwoo has already bound up them. “I didn’t do any of that, thank you. Feel free to stop whenever you’d like, Zoey, Mira. Rumi. Finish the boxes.”

Rumi rolls her eyes in the exact same way that Kimmy does, but she has the good sense to not look at Kimmy when she does it. “Yes, Eomma. Whatever you say, Eomma.”

“Watch yourself, Ru,” Kimmy warns, but she’s gone half a second later, so it hardly seems to matter.

Mira doesn’t really understand them. Rumi’s entire family is confusing and weird, but she guesses it makes sense, given Rumi. Or Rumi makes sense, given her family. Regardless, Mira is having no issue in understanding where Rumi got her kidnapping tendencies from.

Zoey wastes no time in grabbing Rumi by the shoulders, leaning in far too close when she excitedly rushes out, “Did your papa, like, actually burn a building down?”

“Yes,” Rumi admits, grimacing. “Well, okay, it wasn’t—it wasn’t the whole building! It was just...some of it. A little bit, maybe.”

“Sick,” Mira murmurs, smiling at the way Zoey’s grin gets even bigger. “So, what, crime just...runs in the family, huh?”

Rumi glowers at her, sticking out her tongue. “Work on your stupid boxes.”

Mira ducks her head, snickering under her breath. “I think Zoey was onto something with this actually being an abusive relationship.”

“We’re all working on boxes!” Rumi protests. “What’s—what are you even saying to me? You could leave! Oh no! Surprise breakup! I guess we just have to go back down to the diner,” she grumbles, screwing up her face. “The horrors. What a terrible travesty. Whatever.”

Zoey giggles, shooting Mira another wide grin. “I kinda think she might be into us, babe.”

“You might be right about that,” Mira teases back, ignoring both the way Rumi throws her head back and groans and how the words leave her feeling a little off. “I mean, do you usually just kidnap people you’re not—”

“Stop saying that!” Rumi hisses, jabbing a finger right at Mira’s chest. “You know what? I should, like, exile you.”

Mira can’t help the way her jaw drops, how her eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. There’s no fucking way.

“You...exile me?” she demands, an incredulous grin breaking out across her face. “You’re gonna exile me? You wanna say that again, Rumi?”

“I’m going to exile you,” Rumi repeats without a single second of hesitation. “I don’t know where yet, but yeah. I’ve decided. You’re getting exiled.”

Zoey bursts out laughing, her own jaw dropping as she gives Mira a disbelieving look. “Well, fuck, babe. I guess she’s decided. I guess you’re getting exiled.”

Mira laughs without really meaning to, feeling her cheeks ache. “I guess so, huh?”

“I guess so,” Zoey agrees, still giggling, sounding a little breathless. “In the cold, Rumi? That’s, like, super, mega fucked up. You can’t just throw her out in the cold.”

“I didn’t say I was doing that!”

“Uh, was it not, like, insanely implied? With, y’know, the whole exiling thing? I mean, shocker, babe, but someone might—rightfully—assume that would mean that you’re going to exile Mira into the cold. It’s literally the middle of winter. Dude, oh my god!” Zoey suddenly holds both hands up, looking gravely serious. “You’re doing this to her on Christmas?”

Rumi blinks. Mira also blinks, but she’s quick to get herself together, solemnly nodding as she sniffles. “On Christmas?” she asks, as pathetically as she can. It’s difficult to keep the teary note to her voice when all she wants to do is start laughing again, especially now that Rumi looks like she’s been dunked in cold water.

“What are you even saying to me right now?” Rumi demands. “Christmas isn’t—that’s not true! What? It’s the—it’s the 22nd! Christmas is in three days!”

“I can’t believe you’d do this to Mira,” Zoey miserably continues, heaving a sigh. Mira has to drop her head and grin at the floor so she doesn’t completely lose the act, and that only gets worse when Zoey scoots over on her knees, looping around behind her. Mira isn’t entirely surprised when Zoey’s arms come up to hold her from behind, and she’s even less surprised when Zoey’s head drops down to her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mira. I’ll save you. I’ll protect you.”

Mira bites down on her lower lip, trying to keep herself from completely losing it. She tentatively reaches up, awkwardly patting Zoey’s arm before she manages to get out, “Yeah...yup. Uh-huh. Sure. My hero.”

Zoey doesn’t even try to hide her cackling, though she buries it in the side of Mira’s neck, which leaves her a little more dazed than she’d care to admit. “Could you, like, try to sound any less unhappy about that?”

“I’m being exiled on Christmas,” Mira says, tipping her head back so she can look at Zoey properly. “I think that’s a pretty reasonable thing to be unhappy about.”

“By your girlfriend, at that,” Zoey agrees with a click of her tongue. “Well, one of them.”

“One of them,” Mira echoes, feeling oddly warm. 

Rumi groans, waving her hands around before she seems to settle on grabbing a handful of lights, tossing them into Mira’s lap. “Oh my god, you’re not even being exiled on Christmas! You know what? Actually? I should exile you on Christmas!”

Zoey giggles, clicking her tongue. “That’s a fucked up thing to do, Rumi.”

“Well, maybe if someone,” Rumi hisses, eyes narrowing as she directs her gaze directly at Mira, “Stopped bringing the—it, up, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Mira doesn’t waste a single second before she says, “It’s always victim blaming with you, huh?”

“You—” Rumi makes the most frustrated noise Mira thinks she’s ever heard. “I should have made you eat cardboard. I should have made you eat cardboard! You know what? You know what? When we have lunch, I’m so making you eat cardboard! We’ve got a feast, right here! All around us!”

Mira grins, snapping her teeth playfully in Rumi’s direction. “Yeah, you better watch out.”

Rumi’s faux-irritated look drops immediately, replaced with a crooked grin she can’t quite hide in time. Mira snorts at the way Rumi reaches out, planting her hand against Mira’s chest, shoving her back into Zoey. Zoey doesn’t seem remotely jostled, just beaming right down at Mira, batting her eyelashes.

“Don’t even worry, babe,” Zoey starts, her eyes crinkling at the sides, “I would never make you eat cardboard. Or exile you. Or kidnap you. Or really do any of the things Rumi’s done. Or will do.”

“I haven’t done literally any of those!” Rumi whines, but it’s hard to take her seriously when she starts laughing half a second later. “Where’s the equality in this relationship?”

Mira beams a little harder, ignoring how Zoey’s supporting all of her weight now. “I just think Zoey likes me more.”

Rumi scoffs, looking entirely affronted. “That’s not true.”

“I like both of you an equal amount,” Zoey quickly rushes out. “We have matching tinsel necklaces! And—uh, whatever else! Like...shawls, I guess? Kinda?”

Mira laughs, ducking her head for a second. That does still ring true—Rumi has her garlands, including the one hung over her face; Zoey still has the ones wrapped around her shoulders, the terrible attempt at a tie draped over Mira’s shoulder; she still has her own handful or so carefully and expertly tucked over her shoulders.

It’s quiet for a second. Mira shifts a little, still pressed to Zoey’s front. She catches sight of Rumi’s stupid looking grin, decidedly ignoring the weird—almost soft?—look in her eyes. It takes her another moment or two before she shifts again and wriggles her way back into a sitting position. Zoey doesn’t complain at the adjustment, only humming and moving back to where she had been with her own pile of boxes.

Rumi snickers under her breath; Mira’s eyes immediately flit up to meet hers. Rumi just beams at her, head tilting to the side when she says, “So...lunch break soon? I can start cutting up that cardboard for you, if you want. You know, like a real gentleman.”

Mira doesn’t even hesitate to throw her—mostly empty and full of tinsel, nothing glass—box right at Rumi’s face. The immediate giddy laughter from Zoey, quickly followed by the quiet giggles from Rumi, leave Mira feeling a little too warm.

They have bibimbap for lunch—decidedly not cardboard, but every five seconds Rumi’s gaze slowly drifts off toward the living room, settling on the boxes for a brief second before she waggles her eyebrows at Mira and mouths, ‘do you want me to...?’ which always ends with Zoey giggling while Mira just rolls her eyes.

It only gets worse when Zoey joins in, sympathetically placing her hand over Mira’s, gently murmuring, “You know, it’s okay if you can’t manage this. I’d eat the cardboard with you. Is this too much? I know this must be so hard for you.”

Mira pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, but she can’t quite pretend like she’s not grinning into her bowl, tapping her chopsticks against the glass as she tries to keep herself from laughing. She barely manages to get through lunch without how hard she’s smiling.

Everything just feels...normal. Like this is something the three of them have done a million times over. 

Rumi is about to wash the dishes, instructing Mira and Zoey to sit back down, but then Celine casually interjects and offers to do it instead. Mira is halfway back into the living room when she hears Celine call out, “Mira. May I speak to you for a second?”

Mira stiffens, eyes immediately finding Rumi’s, then Zoey’s. It’s only when Rumi gently inclines her head in a nod that Mira turns around and walks right back into the kitchen, past the dining room. The running water isn’t quite loud enough to drown out the sudden anxious buzzing that picks up in the back of her mind.

She runs through a list of what could have possibly happened. Were they too loud eating? Maybe she fucked up yesterday? Rumi’s parents—okay, they don’t seem like the sort of people who would hold something against her like that, but she doesn’t actually know them, regardless of how easy all of this has been. None of it should have been easy, and so she guesses it makes sense that it’s not going to be like that anymore, and...

“It’s nothing bad,” Celine says, cutting through the buzzing in her head. Mira winces, uncomfortable at the way she’s apparently been read so easily. “I wanted to thank you for driving them up.”

Mira blinks. She swallows past the lump in her throat, quickly pulling herself out of her stupor. “Yeah, of course,” she responds, keeping her hands firmly at her sides. “It’s not a big deal.”

Celine smiles at her; it’s small and sort of amused, and it’s the first time Mira has actually seen her smile at all. “I’m still appreciative regardless. I believe Kimmy has already had this talk with Zoey, but I doubt she’s spoken to you very much, has she?”

“No,” Mira answers. It isn’t difficult for her to stand perfectly straight and to keep her chin held high, but internally she feels like Celine is about to strangle her. “We haven’t talked very much, no.”

Celine hums. “Rumi is very picky about the people in her life, which I’m sure you’ve been able to figure out by now. I’m glad I finally get to meet you and Zoey both,” she says, turning back to look at the sink. “I was starting to think I’d never get to know either of you. She gets nervous.”

Mira nods along to what’s being said to her, letting out a quick breath as soon as Celine’s gaze is moved away from her. “She does, yeah. Which—um, that’s not a problem,” Mira quickly adds. “Or anything.”

“Of course,” Celine says, sounding way too amused for Mira’s liking. “My point simply is that Rumi is choosy. She has a good head on her shoulders; she’s very good at picking people in her life to be close to. If Rumi brought you both up here, I would consider that to be high praise.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Mira almost winces when Celine reaches out, turning the water almost entirely off, meeting her gaze again.

“If my daughter likes you, so do I,” Celine eventually tells her. “Both of you. You and Zoey both are more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like, whenever you’d like.” Celine turns back to the sink, waving her hand above it. “Neither of you are taking up space. It’s been offered to you.”

Mira almost feels like she’s been hit. She opens and closes her mouth for a second, trying to come up with some sort of answer that doesn’t make her sound stupid or weird, but she ends up saying nothing at all.

Celine just looks over her shoulder, smiling again. “Well, I won’t take up more of your time than I already have. I’m sure they miss you. Thank you for speaking with me, Mira.”

“Th-thank you,” Mira stumbles out, wincing as soon as she hears the words play back to her. She bows politely—maybe a little too quickly—and all but scrambles out of the kitchen, power-walking out from the dining room and into the living room. 

She doesn’t even realise she’s holding her breath until she drops down onto the floor, the air being forced out of her lungs as soon as she does. 

Mira doesn’t...know what to do with any of what Celine has said to her. It doesn’t even matter, actually, because it’s not like she’s seriously dating Rumi, or Zoey. And they’re definitely not dating her. None of them are dating, but—it just feels...weird and fucked up to admit to that, or maybe it’s weird and fucked up to have just nodded along to what Celine was saying? It feels like she’s taking something that doesn’t belong to her, and in a way, she guesses that she kind of is.

None of this belongs to her. Rumi and Zoey certainly don’t belong to her.

That doesn’t really explain the tightness in her throat, or the way she feels weirdly exposed, or how she suddenly feels a lot more nervous and off-put about the entire situation than she had just two minutes ago. 

“Hey,” Rumi starts, a little quietly. “What’d she want?”

Mira swallows, clearing her throat as she grabs for another box on the ground, just to have something to do with her hands. “Nothing.”

Zoey makes a noise. “Yeah? Nothing?”

“She just thanked me for driving you guys up here,” Mira says, smiling a little now. “You’re totally welcome for that, by the way.”

Rumi groans, miserably plucking out a handful of Christmas lights from one of her boxes. “Yeah, whatever. I’m driving whenever we go back down.”

Zoey giggles, reaching over to poke her knee. “Actually, how about I drive? I was confined to the backseat, which, y’know, super fucked up, just by the way.”

“You put yourself there!”

“Uh, yeah, because—” Zoey cuts herself off, pursing her lips. “Okay, whatever. You got me there. Next time, though, I have to at least be up front.”

“You can be up front!” Rumi laughs, settling her hand over Zoey’s, patting hers a few times. “It’s fine. I can take the back, or Mira can, or whatever. No big deal.”

Zoey beams. “Our...uh, stuff,” she mumbles, voice dropping to a whisper. “Can we, like, get that at some point?”

Rumi winces, but she rapidly nods. “Yeah. Um. Sorry about that. Maybe we could go shopping later, or something?”

Mira quietly thinks that now would be an apt time for her to jump back into the conversation, to tease Rumi again for the kidnapping, just to keep up the habit. 

Instead, she sits in silence, absentmindedly running her thumb along the seam of the box in her lap. Celine’s words echo through her head, playing again and again and again. Mira doesn’t know what to make of them, doesn’t know what to do with them. She draws in a deep breath, trying to clear those thoughts from her mind.

It doesn’t matter. She’s not going to be here for very long, and this will be a distant memory within the next few weeks. Nothing she has to worry about.

Mira looks back up, feeling a little lost for breath as she watches Zoey wave her hands around excitedly, talking about something she did back when she lived in America. Mira sees the way Rumi nods diligently, looking genuinely thoughtful and interested as the story goes on, offering up her own little hums and words of agreement every now and then.

Yeah, Mira thinks, her throat a little more dry than it had been. Nothing to worry about.

They finish reorganising the boxes just before dinner.

Zoey practically hangs off of Rumi when they migrate back into the dining room, cackling wildly as Rumi whines miserably about something.

Mira grins the entire time she watches them, embarrassment hitting her like a bus when Rumi’s mom catches her, wiggling her eyebrows. Mira is quick to look away after that, ignoring the way she gets laughed at, opting to make her way to the stupid table. 

Whatever.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get changed,” Mira announces, pushing herself up off the couch.

Zoey had been insistent on watching some terrible cooking show, looking way too thrilled every single time one of the competitors fucked up. It had all three of them groaning and near-yelling at the TV, and the only thing that really stopped that from happening was Celine coming back downstairs to look at Rumi in a way that very clearly said ‘quit doing that’. Still, Mira has spent most of her evening being grabbed by Zoey and jostled back and forth all while Rumi sputtered from the opposite side of her and begged to be tapped in. 

It’s been nice. Mira had to keep herself from downright howling with laughter more often than she didn’t, especially when Zoey started losing her mind when one of the teams nearly lit their industrial kitchen on fire. 

“Got it,” Rumi hums. “I need to put dishes away, so I’ll come in, like...in ten minutes, maybe?”

Zoey makes a noise. “I can help, if you want?”

“You don’t have to, it’s not—”

“I literally said I was getting changed,” Mira helpfully reminds her, grinning at the scowl Rumi shoots her way. “It’s fine, Zoey can stay out here. Unless you’re totally cool with being in the same room?”

She knows it’s a mistake as soon as the words are out of her mouth; Mira is painfully used to being the one who usually doesn't back down from anything first, but Zoey is—worse. Zoey is worse.

That’s instantly proven to her when Zoey pretty much lights up, a wild grin stretching out across her face. “Babe, I’d probably kill a man for that. Can I? Can I? Can I? Oh my god, please, you won’t even know I’m there.”

“Stay,” Mira laughs, rolling her eyes. “Calm down.”

Zoey beams at her, batting her eyelashes. “I’m plenty calm.”

Mira rolls her eyes for a second time, shaking her head as she turns toward Rumi’s bedroom. “Have fun with the dishwasher.”

“Have fun with—” Rumi cuts herself off, grimacing. “Your thing.”

“My thing?” Mira teases, grinning now at the way Rumi flips her off. “You got it.”

“I’m exiling you!” Rumi calls out, and Mira can’t help but laugh, ducking her head as she makes her way down the hall. 

Admittedly, she mostly had ulterior motives for turning in early.

Mira slinks into Rumi’s bedroom quietly, face immediately falling into another stupid grin when she turns her head just enough to see the pile of blankets and pillows haphazardly thrown over the far side of the bed. She narrows her eyes a little at the floor bed, where one blanket still manages to peek out just enough to be visible—she had done the best she could manage with the incredibly limited timeframe Rumi gave her, and Mira is proud to say that she did pretty good. Better than she had expected, at least.

She tugs the floor bed out from underneath the actual bed, staring at it for a few seconds, mentally splitting it up into a few different segments: padding, excess blankets, pillows. 

Mira peers up at the actual bed itself after another few seconds, grabbing the two or three blankets she gave to Zoey, who had miserably grumbled about being cold until Mira caved. She doesn’t think that Zoey had even been awake for that, and she’s sure there’ll be a repeat of that exact experience tomorrow, but that’s a future problem for future her to deal with. Mira tosses the first two blankets onto the floor, reaching across the bed to grab the one whole blanket Rumi willingly took, along with the one whole pillow she also decided was apparently good enough.

She can’t help but roll her eyes, pushing herself backward toward the pile of blankets on the floor. She doesn’t know how she managed to get saddled with the politest kidnapper in the world, but she did, and now she’s having to fix that problem by forcibly giving Rumi some kind of backbone. Mira at least gave in and took the stupid bed Rumi made for her—even with the slightest damage to her pride, which she had quickly swallowed down and ignored—but Rumi couldn’t take just...one more blanket? Another pillow? Literally anything at all to maybe not effectively be sleeping on the cold, hard ground? Mira is painstakingly aware of the fact that there was no way that had been comfortable and that Rumi lied directly to her face, and...

Mira shouldn’t care. If Rumi wants to wake up uncomfortable and hurt, that’s her choice; Mira doesn’t need to do this for her, especially not when Rumi has been so adamant on her wanting it. It’s just—it’s ridiculous. Rumi also doesn’t need to be so stupidly stubborn about something like this, not when there is literally a solution right in front of both of them that is incredibly easy to take. Mira’s taking it right now, actually, and it’s maybe going to take up a total of five minutes of her life. 

How terrible and horrible and awful. Five whole minutes of her life. 

Mira rolls her eyes, leaving one of the extra thick blankets on the bed for Zoey as a compromise. She works on Rumi’s bed after that, carefully spreading out a handful of the pillows from her own floor bed on the ground, layering them up with two blankets. It’s not going to be as good as the one Rumi made for her—an unfortunate admission, but it’s true—but it’s going to have to do. Mira is working with a limited supply of blankets and pillows, because obviously Rumi didn’t bring enough to make two evenly-made floor beds, and she also didn’t account for Zoey being really convincing in the mornings. That one might just be on Mira, though.

Mira works quickly, mostly because she knows both Rumi and Zoey should be coming up soon enough. She barely managed to garner herself any actual time to do this, and she’s not going to let the limited time she does have go to waste. She situates another blanket over the first layer, setting a few pillows at the start of that blanket for head support. Mira tosses two blankets on top of the floor bed after that, glancing over to her own, mostly scrapped bed. 

She still has enough of everything for it to be comfortable. More comfortable than the floor, at least, so her and Rumi are probably on equal grounds now when it comes to that. Mira ducks her head and grins when she looks back to the actual bed, memories of Zoey popping up in the forefront of her mind, how she hadn’t wasted any time in claiming the bed for herself, how she cooed in Mira’s direction this morning, muttering something about ‘how comfortable’ the bed was, which Mira had dutifully ignored the implications of then and still is currently. That’s hardly her problem.

She gets changed after that, figuring she might as well take the downtime to actually do what she said she was going to. Rumi’s clothes are short on her; mostly the pants—the oversized sweatshirt Rumi gave her bunches up close to her waist. It’s not really that big of a deal, and Rumi has promised that they could go back down to the diner and get everything out of their cars, or they could just go shopping. An apology for the whole kidnapping thing, or whatever, which Mira finds a little funnier than she thinks she probably should.

Mira is halfway to adjusting her own bed when she hears footsteps and laughter echoing from outside the door. That’s quickly followed by the door actually opening, with Zoey’s voice ringing out, “Okay, okay, okay, listen, right? Listen. Are you listening?”

“I’m listening!” Rumi confirms with a soft laugh, something that makes Mira involuntarily smile, though she had already been smiling once she had heard Zoey’s voice.

“Okay! So—oh!” Zoey cuts herself off sharply, which Mira is almost disappointed by. The feeling only lasts for a few seconds, largely because she watches the wild grin that breaks out across Zoey’s face, the way her eyes practically light up. “Hey, babe,” Zoey teases. “You busy?”

“Just finished,” Mira assures her, smiling back. “An early Christmas gift.”

Rumi pauses in the doorway, her hands on her hips as her eyes very clearly flick back and forth from both floor beds. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made a joke in my life,” Mira says, beaming at the scowl Rumi shoots her way. “There was no way you actually planned on just...sleeping on the ground, Rumi. That’s insane. You’re insane. Did you know that?”

Zoey snickers, gently nudging Rumi past the doorway, shutting the door a second later. “Are we just figuring that out now, or...? I mean, I’m not judging! Really, like, uh, at all. I think I’d also go insane if all three members of the Sunlight Sisters were, y’know, my moms. And dad. Obviously.”

Rumi groans, but she notably doesn’t make a move away from Zoey, or toward Mira. “It literally wasn’t even that bad. You’re just—”

Mira waves her off, quickly interjecting, “I’m just your kind, loving, considerate, caring, adoring, sweet, sincere, passionate—did I say loving?”

“You definitely said loving,” Zoey helpfully agrees, grinning wildly while Rumi stares at her with a completely unamused expression. All of that only spurs Mira on further.

“Right, well loving again,” Mira continues, mostly just to make Zoey laugh. She smiles when she succeeds at that. “I’m your loving and compassionate girlfriend. Take the floor bed. Or else all my hard work was for nothing. I’d be really sad if you didn’t take the bed I made for you. Just for you.”

Zoey mentioned gaslighting before, and Mira’s sort of deciding to go full swing on that. Guilt-tripping too, just for good measure. Honestly, she’s willing to go even lower if it means Rumi stops fucking acting like that and just takes the stupid extra blankets and pillows. Mira is very, very sure that Rumi would not like it if she decided to go and sleep on the couch. 

Rumi stares at her with an open-mouthed sort of affrontedness that makes Mira laugh under her breath the longer it goes on. Eventually, Rumi huffs so hard it makes her shoulders shake, and she looks away, but she still ends up muttering, “Whatever.”

Mira grins. “It’s comfortable.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rumi tells her, nose crinkling. “Your—yours only has, like...two blankets now! Did you just deconstruct the bed I worked on for you? Mira!”

“Oh my god, you’re going to make it,” Mira laughs, rolling her eyes. “Chill. I got rid of, like, three blankets. You came back here with at least ten. It’s gonna be okay, Rumi. Promise. I swear to you that it’s—somehow—going to be just fine.”

Zoey cackles, and Mira watches the way she pats Rumi’s shoulder almost sweetly before she flops onto the bed, limbs splayed out in all directions. Her voice is muffled when she says, “Dunno about that, honestly. She might die. All of us might just die. It’s a total tragedy. How could you do that to her, Mira?”

Mira ducks her head, trying to bite back the stupid smile that threatens to overtake her. “It’s revenge for the whole, you know, exiling thing.”

She settles into her pile of blankets after that, scooting the makeshift bed forward just enough so she can prop her pillows against the wall rather than the floor. Rumi does something similar from across the floor, but she pushes her bed to the closet door instead, more or less just bunching up Mira’s hard work into an oddly shaped semi-circle. 

Mira looks up after a second, finding that Zoey has shifted so she’s propped up on her side, cheek resting against her knuckles as she casually watches the both of them. As soon as their eyes meet, Zoey shoots her a wide, unabashed grin, shamelessly patting the open space on the bed beside her.

Mira rolls her eyes, mouthing a quick ‘absolutely not’ in her direction, struggling not to laugh when Zoey’s grin drops into a scowl. 

“You know what?” Zoey suddenly starts, apparently deciding to no longer keep things quiet. “It’s my birthday in, like, ten minutes. You guys should just get in the bed.”

“That’s what you want for your birthday?” Rumi asks, disbelief shining through her tone. “But Mira just—”

Zoey groans, throwing her head back as she flops over, burying her face into her hands. “Just say you hate me! Break up with me! I wasn’t even the first girl you kidnapped, huh?” she demands, head snapping back to Rumi. “I’m second best. I see how it is. This life? Fucked up. Fucked up! And cruel!”

Mira outright cackles at the stunned look across Rumi’s face, how she rapidly opens and closes her mouth, eyes widening as her hands come up, almost placating. “What? What? Where did—how did you—what? No! I don’t hate you, you—I didn’t even...” Rumi trails off, a series of progressively more and more distressed noises spilling from her lips. “Mira didn’t say yes, either!”

“You really do love to victim blame, huh?” Mira asks, giving Rumi a sly grin and a slow blink when Rumi immediately turns to scowl at her. “Shouldn’t you...want more space?” she questions, tilting her head to the side as she looks back to Zoey. “We’d take up a lot of room.”

“Rumi’s bed is literally huge, don’t even try that,” Zoey mutters. “It’s, like, less about you both being in the bed and more about both of you not taking the floor when you literally could take the bed. Like, there’s an unreal amount of space. A crazy amount of space.”

“How about anything else?” Rumi offers, sounding a little rushed. It’s like the very prospect of sharing the same bed is enough to throw her into a tailspin.

Mira rolls her eyes, but she hums her agreement regardless. “We could go down to the diner tomorrow. Get our stuff. Maybe go shopping, or something.”

“We could go shopping,” Rumi agrees, and Mira watches as she drags her bed from the closet door closer to the bed, closer to Mira. “You—do you want to tell my parents? It’s...it’s totally up to you, um, but they might kill me. Celine’s already mad that I brought you guys up on our fake anniversary. Our fakeversary.”

“I absolutely do not want to tell them,” Zoey rushes out, grimacing as she flips back over to face in their direction. “Like, at all. I want to do that a negative amount. I think I would die. I would literally die. Immediately. Instantly. I’d die instantly. They don’t need to know that about me.”

Mira snickers, propping her arm up on her knee. “But when else are you going to get the chance for all four Sunlight Sisters to sing to you?”

“Four?” Rumi demands, her face completely screwing up as if she’s personally offended at that.

“No, she has a point,” Zoey giggles, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Your papa’s kind of like an honorary fourth member at this point, right?”

Rumi rapidly shakes her head. “Celine would kill him.”

“Okay,” Mira starts again, rolling her eyes. “All three Sunlight Sisters and Rumi’s papa.”

“He was an idol, too!” Rumi protests, though her voice is weak. “Just...not for very long. And I don’t really think he even wanted to be. Everything he tells me just makes it seem like he really didn’t want to be there, so...I guess...yeah, okay. No, you’re right.”

“Always am, babe,” Mira says, flashing Rumi a lazy grin.

She bites down so hard on her tongue that she swears she tastes blood immediately. 

Zoey has said it. Zoey has said it a lot, actually. She uses it nearly every other sentence, and it’s more or less become synonymous with their names, which Mira is just now realising. She doesn’t...really mind. She didn’t mind when Zoey called her ‘babe’ the first time, or the other dozen times, because it’s just—it’s fine. It’s just something Zoey does. It’s barely even an affectionate term, sort of just something casual, a filler word.

Mira doesn’t say it. Mira has never been interested in pet names, not even jokingly. She’s never been interested in them, and she definitely has never said them, though that’s mostly just because she’s never been in a relationship long enough for those to start popping up. Not like there’s a set time for them to, or—maybe there is? Maybe? She wouldn’t fucking know, but it definitely shouldn’t be two days.

Zoey has to be rubbing off on her, she has to be. Mira hasn’t...she’s never...

Her thoughts are interrupted by Zoey’s near-wistful sigh, the sound of her clicking her tongue following a second later. “It kinda, totally, like, was my dream as a kid to have the Sunlight Sisters sing to me on my birthday. But not like this. It can’t be like this. Rumi, can I come up next year, and—?”

“Don’t even finish that question,” Rumi mutters, but Mira can see the way she’s beaming, how she isn’t even trying to hide it. Rumi meets her eyes for half a second, her smile never faltering. It’s as if she didn’t even notice what Mira had called her. “We can get up early and go down to the diner, maybe come back up to go shopping? There’s a few stores around here. Or whatever you want to do. My parents won’t mind if we go out for a day.”

Mira swallows, trying to shake the feeling of discomfort away. It’s not quite discomfort, it’s just...something. It’s close enough to discomfort for her to call it that, though it doesn’t leave her as shifty as she thinks she’s meant to be feeling. She drifts out of the conversion, more than content to listen to Rumi and Zoey discuss specifics of what Zoey wants to do on her birthday.

At some point, Mira pulls her phone out from under the pillow she had shoved it behind, squinting down at the time. 

Two minutes until the 23rd.

Mira looks over to Rumi, deliberately catching her eye. She holds up two fingers once Rumi looks back at her, smiling at the way her face almost instantly lights up. Rumi slowly scoots forward, dragging her bed with her as she positions herself directly next to Mira. 

Zoey immediately notices, because she stops talking and starts scowling at both of them, eyes rapidly flitting between them before she asks, “What are you doing?”

Mira spares a glance at her phone. One minute.

“Nothing,” she says, easily.

“At all,” Rumi confirms with a wide grin, practically wiggling in place. It’s stupid, but it makes Mira laugh, and she laughs even harder when Rumi shoots her a scowl. It’s endearing, maybe. “What are you laughing at?”

Mira just smiles at her. “Nothing.”

She looks back down at her phone. As soon as the time changes, she’s opening her mouth, and then Rumi is—Rumi’s hand is clamped over her mouth, and—

“Happy birthday, Zoey!” Rumi cheers, sounding far too thrilled with herself. She doesn’t even look at Mira. Actually, she thinks that Rumi is deliberately not looking literally anywhere near her because she has to know what she’s doing is wrong and fucked up and ridiculous. 

Mira can’t fucking believe her.

She’s only momentarily stunned before she scoffs, going out of her way to unhinge her jaw and directly lick Rumi’s palm. It’s more of an overwhelming instinct rather than an active choice, and she feels like she’s seven whole years old again, but if Rumi is going to resort to being childish, Mira can give just as good as she gets. That’s confirmed when Rumi squeals and jerks back so hard she nearly topples onto the floor. Mira shoots her a triumphant grin, using the back of her wrist to wipe at her mouth before she turns back to Zoey.

“Happy birthday,” Mira breezily says, leaning back on her hands. She tips her head back, smiling even harder at the way Zoey erupts into laughter, throwing herself back onto the bed.

Even despite Rumi being quite possibly the worst person in the world, Mira can’t resist grinning back at her when Rumi looks at her, still wearing that stupid, crooked grin as Zoey cackles from across from them. It’s really not her fault when she starts to laugh, dropping her head as her shoulders shake.

Zoey eventually rolls back over, propping herself up as she eyes the both of them, still laughing. “You really just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

Rumi doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or bashful or remorseful. She just grins a little harder, nearly preening, as she nods. “Happy birthday!”

For a brief second, Mira is half-tempted to pick a fight, because Rumi literally didn’t even answer the question. She bites her tongue the best she’s able to, trying to get it through her head that it’s Zoey’s birthday; no amount of Rumi being downright insufferable is going to make her ignore that today is Zoey’s birthday.

Still, Mira can’t really help but roll her eyes, ducking her head to keep herself from smiling more than she already is. “Happy birthday, Zoey. Any fun birthday traditions?”

Zoey is instantly scrambling to pull out her phone, decidedly not responding to Mira’s question, either. Mira lets her have it, mostly because it’s her birthday and also because Zoey is notably not Rumi, and opts to watch instead. It only takes her a few minutes to find whatever it is she’s looking for, and then Mira is getting a notification. 

As soon as she unlocks her phone to pull up Zoey’s contact, she’s met with the sight of a link. Rumi’s phone goes off half a second later, presumably with the same link.

“We should make a group chat,” Zoey muses after a beat, looking up, meeting Mira’s eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

Mira immediately looks back down, fingers working without much of her own input. It only takes her a few seconds to make the group chat, snickering under her breath when she names it REAL stockholm syndrome. She outright laughs when she adds Rumi and hears the instant huffing and puffing, but Mira ignores her in favour of opening Zoey’s link.

“Is this, like, malware?” Mira absentmindedly asks, not mentioning how she’s currently watching her browser slowly load into whatever it is that Zoey has sent her. “Are you sending me viruses?”

“Nah,” Zoey assures her, passively waving a hand. “Just a super fun quiz we have to take, because, y’know, my birthday. I’ve got, like, twenty I’ve been eyeing over the past month. I kinda just stockpile them and then go through all of them at one in the morning, I just think they’re fun! And kind of stupid. Honestly, more stupid than fun, but I still like them. Stuff like—well, this one, obviously—and, uh, you know, stuff like ‘what kind of animal would you be’ and stuff like ‘which Sunlight Sister are you’ and ‘are you an alpha or an omega or a beta’. All classics.”

“All...” Rumi trails off. “What was the second one?”

“What was the last one?” Mira asks, leveling Zoey with the most unimpressed look she can manage. “I’m not taking one of those with you.”

Zoey outright pouts at her, crinkling her nose as she somehow manages to make her eyes bigger than they usually are. “Just say you hate me. And on my birthday? Really?”

“Yeah, Mira,” Rumi agrees, huffing as if she’s actually offended. “On Zoey’s birthday? I’ll take any quiz you want,” she promises, sounding so stupidly earnest that it makes Mira want to just...

Mira sighs, dragging a hand down her face as she goes back to looking at the quiz on her phone. “Fine. Whatever. Just because it’s your birthday. But if I get fucked over by any of the quizzes you make me take, I’m going to tell all fifteen of Rumi’s parents.”

“All—all fifteen?" Rumi demands. “I don’t even have that many! Four is—okay, I know that it’s maybe not normal, but a ton of people have more than two parents! Like...like, you know! Um, divorces can—”

“How many people actively have four parents?” Mira interrupts, giving Rumi a lazy look, arching one eyebrow slowly. “Four involved parents that are mostly together? And live in the same house? And aren’t divorced in some way?”

Rumi narrows her eyes. “Do you just hate kids of divorce?”

“Did I say that I hated children of divorce?” Mira asks, rolling her eyes. “No. I didn’t. You’re avoiding the question because you know it’s kinda crazy to have four parents.”

“It’s literally not even my fault!” Rumi whines, reaching out to shove Mira’s shoulder. “I can’t control that! I couldn't control that! How is this my fault?”

Zoey snorts, resting her chin on the back of her hand as she waves her phone back and forth. “Dunno, babe, Mira’s kinda got a point. Four parents? Crazy. Wild, even, if you will.”

“I will,” Mira helpfully lets her know, lips tugging up into a smile when she sees the way Zoey grins at her. 

“Anyway,” Zoey says, shaking her head. “C’mon! Take the quiz with me! It’s, like, probably super tame! And totally cool! And it’s need-to-know information! If we were, like, actually dating, I would’ve put you guys through this on the first date. It’s totally vital.”

Mira hums, only just registering the name of the quiz: What Colour Is Your Soul?

The description is vague and rambly and doesn’t make much sense, so she ignores that, scrolling down to the section where she can put her name. She opts to put in just ‘M’ instead of anything else, and pauses before she clicks the button that presumably leads her to the next page. She looks up, watching both Zoey and Rumi type for a few seconds, feeling something in her chest when she sees Rumi’s head raise, doing the exact same thing Mira had just done.

Zoey looks up after another second, flashing both of them a wide grin. “Ready?”

Mira hums her confirmation again, and Rumi does the same. 

“Okay, okay!” Zoey rushes out, tapping on her phone. Mira follows the action, and she’s about to read the question before Zoey says, “What fruit do you think embodies you?”

“Embodies?” Rumi asks, screwing up her face. “Like...favourite, or the one that’s just...the most similar to me?”

“Second option,” Mira says, squinting at the little list of pictures followed with the name of the fruit shown underneath. She stares at the pomegranate for a bit, then the orange, before she hovers over the dragonfruit for a few seconds longer than the rest. “Are we saying what we’re picking?” she asks.

Zoey beams at her. “Duh.”

Mira snorts, tapping on the dragonfruit. “I’m picking dragonfruit.”

“I’m gonna go with...” Zoey trails off, humming thoughtfully. Mira watches the way she purses her lips, head twisting from side to side as she thinks. “Raspberries, I think.”

“Really?” Mira asks, looking back down at her phone. “I would’ve said blueberries for you.”

Zoey laughs, wiggling her eyebrows. “You think I’m a blueberry?”

“If I had to pick,” Mira offers, shrugging. “Rumi’s more raspberry.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Rumi mumbles under her breath. “Should I pick raspberry?”

“Don’t let her sway you, babe,” Zoey quickly rushes out. “Pick whatever’s right in your heart. Whatever fruit you feel that you are, deep down, inside your soul. The fruit that calls to you.”

Rumi looks hopelessly lost. “None of them are calling to me. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go raspberry, I think. I like raspberries."

Mira can’t help but laugh, peering over at Rumi, who gives her quite possibly the most scathing expression Mira has seen thus far. “Yeah? You like raspberries?”

“Yes,” Rumi grits out, narrowing her eyes. “I love raspberries, thanks. Don’t talk to me. It’s Zoey’s birthday.”

“What does Zoey’s birthday have to do with me—”

“Next question!” Zoey cheerfully announces.

Mira ducks her head, snickering under her breath at the way Rumi huffs, just a little. That doesn’t last very long, and by the time Mira looks up, Rumi is back to smiling, eyeing Zoey with a soft look on her face. Mira shifts her attention to Zoey a second later, carefully paying attention to the question that she reads out; she only actually looks at the possible responses after Zoey has read them all out to her. 

It’s nice. Mira feels herself slowly sinking into the blanket wrapped over her lap as the quiz goes on, humming quietly and laughing at all of Zoey’s jokes, or the way Rumi’s nose crinkles when they get to a question she doesn’t like. The quiz is only a few questions, not even a dozen, but it feels like hours go by because they keep talking about their answers.

Why dragonfruit? Why red? Why pink? Why would your ideal date be going to a bunch of different cafes and parks? Is your favourite kind of weather actually when it’s snowy out? Do you like the rain or are you just picking that because there’s nothing you like more? Would you seriously bury a chicken for your lover even if said chicken attacked you every single day? Really?

And then those spin off into a dozen other questions—what actually is her ideal date? Would the three of them have gone on whatever her ideal date is? What about Zoey’s or Rumi’s? What else do they do in their free time? How did they get some of their hobbies? If they had to pick between being lost at sea or in space, what would they pick? Earliest memories? Favourite memories? Favourite friend growing up? Best friend now? Daily routine?

Mira lounges back with her phone in her lap, head tilted as her eyes trace along Rumi’s LED lights hung up above her bed. She answers every question thrown her way, dutifully listening to anything and everything Zoey and Rumi end up spilling. They bounce back and forth like that for a while, long enough that all three of them separately gasp and bring up the quiz and how they haven’t finished it yet. 

Mira doesn’t mind. She likes listening to them.

By the time they manage to actually finish the quiz, it’s thirty minutes past midnight. Zoey is insistent that they all hit the button together, and Mira is more than happy to oblige her. Zoey counts them down, and then they’re all tapping their phones.

Mira peers down at the screen.

“I got pink,” she says, laughing quietly under her breath as she looks back up to the two of them.

“Purple,” Rumi supplies, turning her phone away from her to show Mira, then Zoey. “Do you think this was rigged? Like...pink, purple?” she presses, gesturing between herself and Mira. “Zoey, are you sure this wasn’t a virus?”

Zoey just giggles and waves a hand, tilting her head as she proudly twists her phone, presenting the two of them with her results screen. She looks genuinely thrilled, grinning so hard that it has to hurt.

Mira can’t help burst out laughing at Zoey’s result—gold. There’s a little text box under the actual answer itself, and it just says #BADDIE. Nothing else. Mira’s half-tempted to remind Zoey that she literally said this quiz wouldn't have a right answer and that it was just for fun, but clearly there was a right answer, and Zoey obviously has gotten it.

Rumi throws her head back when she cackles, pretty much tipping herself over. That only makes Mira laugh harder, and she catches sight of Zoey’s ridiculously proud, wild grin. It takes a few minutes for them to get it together, and then Zoey is insisting that they read off their results, so Mira does.

“Your soul is pink,” she starts, staring down at her phone. “You tend to take charge of situations and can be kind of pushy. You’re stubborn, hot-headed, aggressive—” Mira scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rumi snickers, quietly muttering, “Aggressive, huh?”

“Don’t even start,” Mira shoots back, but she can’t help the way her lips stupidly tug upward. “Whatever. You’re bold and fiery, being a shade off from red. You’re a lot more sensitive than you let on, and you secretly enjoy being—being pampered? You...” Mira groans, huffing out a sigh before she clears her throat and tries to continue, “You’re okay with being left behind sometimes so long as it isn’t forever. You don’t mind waiting, even if it scares you. You don’t like to let people in easily, but you have a lot of love to give. Deep down, you’re gentle and considerate. People are usually intimidated by you because of how blunt you are, but once you find the right people, they’ll fall in love with you easily.”

Mira rolls her eyes. She ignores Zoey’s giggling and Rumi’s stupid grin, tossing her phone down onto one of her blankets. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Rumi asks, amusement shining in the voice. “It seems pretty spot on!”

“Yeah?” Mira asks, lazily turning her head to the side so she can look Rumi in the eyes when she scowls at her. “You think I’m aggressive and hot-headed and a bitch?”

Rumi instantly crumples, her hands shooting up. “I didn’t say that! Zoey, tell her I didn’t say that!”

“Kinda sounds like you said that,” Zoey easily says, flashing Mira a grin quickly followed by a wink. Mira grins right back at her, ducking her head again as she tries to wrestle her face back under control. “I do agree with Rumi, though. I think it’s pretty on point! I mean, you’re super nice! And you kinda are pushy, babe. You drove us up here.”

Mira crinkles her nose, absentmindedly picking at the blanket covering her lap. “Being pushy isn’t, like, a good thing.”

“I think it can be,” Zoey disagrees, sounding thoughtful. “You’re not demanding. There’s a difference. You just, y’know, know what you want. That’s not a bad thing. Taking charge of situations is a good thing!”

Rumi hums, “Mhm. I mean, other than this. But I’d agree with, um, other stuff. Just not this.”

Mira laughs, shaking her head. She tries to ignore the way the noise turns into more of a scoff at the end. “You can’t pick and choose with something like that.”

She means it. The sincerity in her own voice makes her nearly recoil.

“Well,” Rumi starts, “I guess it’s a good thing, then. I don’t know,” she mumbles, shrugging. “I’m having a good time. I didn’t think I’d, like...be able to have a good time after literally everything that happened to me, but...I have been. I don’t think I would be if you hadn’t driven us up here. So it’s a good thing.”

“See?” Zoey presses, giggling. “It’s a good thing! I trust your judgement completely, babe. Oh, do you like being pampered? Just, like, for future reference.”

Mira swallows, firmly staring at Rumi’s stupid mattress, her heart feeling odd in her chest. She just barely manages to grit out, “Absolutely not. Also, it’s Rumi’s turn.” 

Her being short-fused and pushy is a good thing? Mira almost wants to roll her eyes, but there’s a part of her that’s kind of convinced that if she even thinks about her eyes too much she’s going to start crying. She can almost feel the tightness in her throat, which is fucking stupid, and she doesn’t even know why that’s happening to her. It’s just a quiz, and she doesn’t even actually know Zoey or Rumi, so nothing they say to her should really matter.

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t, but Mira is quickly realising that their opinions mean a lot more to her than they should, and she doesn’t know when that happened. When did that change? When did Zoey and Rumi go from total strangers to two people she almost wants to...impress? 

God, she needs to fucking get it together.

Rumi clears her throat, and then she’s reading, “Your soul is purple. You’re a little spoiled—spoiled?” Rumi demands, voice cutting off into a harsh scoff. “I am not. Whatever, um...you’re a natural-born leader, but you like to have people to fall back onto when things get tough. You’re stubborn, determined, and a little arrogant, but you’re just as compassionate. Sometimes you doubt yourself too much. You don’t like waiting and aren’t very patient, but others mostly let it slide because you’re well-liked. You’re afraid of being known too well, even though you want to be close to others. Even despite your insecurities, you’re hardworking and confident, and it shows. You like to not have to carry the load all the time, but you usually don’t let other people help until it’s too late.”

Mira hums, resting her cheek to her knuckles, trying to wrestle down the ache in her chest that hasn’t quite gone away yet. The tightness in her throat is still there, too, but listening to Rumi talk has helped a little.

“Okay, you know what?” Zoey suddenly huffs, scrunching up her face. “You guys got, like, real answers! These are so cool and in-depth! I didn’t get anything! What does this say about me? Nothing!”

“You’re a baddie, obviously,” Mira easily says, laughing at the way Zoey’s nose crinkles, how she flips her off a second later. “You could retake it? There’s more results. There’s a ‘yellow’ option. Maybe that—”

Zoey groans, throwing herself back onto the bed with another unhappy huff. “No, it’s too late. It’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late. I just have to live with this forever, I guess. Whatever. Whatever!”

Rumi giggles, tilting her head to the side. Mira pretends not to notice how Rumi takes a screenshot of her results half a second later.

“I think mine’s kind of right?” Rumi offers, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “I mean, I think I’m a pretty hard-worker.”

“That’s it?” Mira teases, smiling when Rumi rolls her eyes. “I think ‘stubborn’ fits pretty well. Given, y’know...” she trails off, waving her hand toward the pile of blankets that have sort of merged together now that Rumi has scooted up to be beside the bed, just like Mira. “And the whole ‘impatience’ thing. That totally suits you.”

Rumi tips her head back with a groan, a low sigh spilling from her lips.“Whatever. I didn’t even get anything good! At least it told you that you were, like, nice! And—what was it? Gentle? Considerate? I just got told I’m a workaholic who sucks at relationships.”

Zoey snickers, sounding far less miserable now. “Well...if it fits, right?”

“Shut up,” Rumi groans again, dragging her hands slowly down her face. “Just give us another quiz, please. Anything is better than this. It has to be.”

Mira can’t bite back her smile in time, not with how Zoey lights up and beams so hard it makes her almost dizzy. Not with how Rumi looks back to her phone when there’s matching notifications from another link Zoey’s already sent. 

It’s a Sunlight Sisters quiz. Mira bursts out laughing at the bewildered and then faux-furious look on Rumi’s face, though it’s hardly convincing when she can literally see Rumi typing her name into the quiz.

Zoey directs them through it, paired up with putting on about a dozen Sunlight Sisters’ songs when Mira offhandedly mentions that she doesn’t know any off the top of her head. Rumi groans and grumbles, shooting Mira dirty looks that hold no real weight given how she’s still grinning all stupidly. Zoey is more than happy to talk to them about the Sunlight Sisters the entire time, prattling off facts and charts and anything and everything she witnessed when she was a teenager and still actively talking to other fans; Rumi joins in, talking all about the behind the scenes and things that have been kept from the public, and Mira can’t help but smile at the way Zoey pretty much buzzes in place the entire time.

Every time Zoey mentions an event or a minor scandal, Rumi jumps in and explains what actually happened, or if it even happened at all. She confirms and denies a lot, casually waving her hands as she talks, looking significantly less and less miserable about the quiz as time goes on.

Mira thinks it’s sort of endearing. Zoey is clearly beyond thrilled to talk about this, and it’s almost kind of nice hearing her so excited. Her talking seems to help Rumi calm down and look less like she’s contemplating sleeping out in her car—or maybe in the woods, because Rumi seems like the type to do that—and it’s just...nice to listen to them.

Obviously, at the end of it, they submit it together.

Mira blinks.

“I got Mae Kimmy!” Zoey squeals, sounding beyond excited. “Dude, oh my god! This is so cool! There’s no—there isn’t, like, a reason why, which is so boring, but whatever! Whatever! Do you think I should tell her? Would that be weird? Do you think she’d think I was weird if I told her? Maybe I shouldn’t—?”

Rumi laughs, soft and genuine. “She’d like it! She’d—oh, god, she’d make you print it out. She wants that on the wall. So maybe don’t—”

“Oh, now I have to,” Zoey giggles, lighting up even more. “Tomorrow! Before we leave! Remind me to do that! Who’d you get? Who’d you both get? Mira, Rumi? Rumi, Mira? Ru—Rumira?”

Mira snorts, shaking her head. “There’s no way.”

“Oh, there’s totally way,” Zoey helpfully assures her. “Now tell me who you got!”

“Celine,” Mira answers, holding up her phone as proof. She ignores the way Zoey waggles her eyebrows, and definitely ignores the way Rumi seems to nod as if she actually agrees. “Whatever.”

“I got my mom,” Rumi mumbles a second later. She holds her phone up, too, heaving a sigh right after. “Which...I guess it makes sense, right? She’s...she’s my mom? So it makes sense?”

Zoey giggles, nodding rapidly. “Uh-huh? Kimmy’s your eomma, though, right? And Celine’s your dad? So...they’d make sense too, right? And, uh, y’know, your mama was kinda super sort of famous for, uh...the whole...you know...” Zoey trails off, her grin getting wider and wider as she speaks, “Scandals. You know. The scandals. Didn’t she tackle a reporter once?”

Rumi buries her face in her hands, shaking her head rapidly. “She didn’t! She didn’t do that! She—she just...lunged at him, maybe. I don’t know!” she whines, poking her head back up, looking more devastated than she had two seconds ago. “I don’t know! Celine was usually the one who did that!”

“Celine went after reporters?” Mira asks, grinning at the way Rumi’s nose crinkles. “Just for fun, or...?”

Mira can’t help but be amused at the imagery of Celine going after reporters. It’s sort of difficult for her to put the image of the woman she talked to in the kitchen, who was nothing but weirdly nice to her even if she was a little scary, to the image of a woman who went after reporters for sport.

“They usually started it, to be fair,” Zoey tells her. “Like the time they implied Kimmy was, like, going to die alone? Super fucked up thing to say literally just in general, but she was like...eighteen, or something, I think? That was crazy. Anyway, Celine totally slapped the guy—hard. Really hard. It was this whole thing, it was so cool!”

Rumi sighs, drawing in a deep breath as she nods. Mira almost laughs at the way she seems to actually, physically deflate. “Yeah, and Kimmy ended up stalking the guy—online!—for a month and got him completely blackballed from anything and everything. She, uh, was really good at that.”

Mira does laugh at that, raising an eyebrow. “Good at stalking people?”

Rumi doesn’t even miss a beat when she nods. “Oh, yeah. There was a pretty big drop in, like, news coverage of them, ‘cause people were terrified of her,” she says, grinning a little now. “Sometimes they’d go on this show, right? And there’d be this talk show host, and they’d say something or imply something awful, and nothing would, like...happen on the show. And then they’d just be...replaced. Or sometimes segments would get cut. And it was always the Sunlight Sisters’ segments, no one else. That was all Kimmy.”

“So...” Mira starts, tilting her head to the side as she screws up her face, considering. “Your eomma just, what, killed people?”

“Okay, no,” Rumi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “She didn’t kill people. She was just really good at finding out if they committed crimes, or whatever, and then she’d bring that up and get them banned from, like, everything ever. If you ask her about it, she can tell you way more than I can. She really likes talking about it.”

Mira absolutely does not plan on doing that, but judging by the way Zoey starts vibrating in place, she’s going to get to find out regardless.

“Okay, okay!” Zoey rushes out, frantically typing something out on her phone. “Just a few more! Promise!”

“It’s your birthday,” Rumi laughs, voice softer now. “Send however many you want.”

“Yeah,” Mira quickly agrees, already pulling the group chat back up. “No big deal. We can sleep in.”

Zoey beams at her, then at Rumi, and Mira ignores the way she’s forced into a smile without her say-so. Zoey just...has that effect, or whatever. That has to be true, she thinks, because she’s watched the same thing happen to Rumi just about a thousand times by now. 

Plus, it still feels weird and wrong not to smile back at Zoey.

Zoey sends five this time. Promises they’ll be short.

The first quiz is just a personality test, one Mira’s seen a few times before. And then the next is also a personality quiz. And then the third after that. 

One of the quizzes has a dozen questions that make Mira’s nose crinkle. Some of them are easier to stomach—you can easily connect with people you have just met; Zoey nearly dies laughing about that, and Rumi whines and complains a little, but she’s laughing by the end of it. 

The answer should be no. With anyone else, it would be.

Mira rolls her eyes and selects the neutral option. Whatever. Maybe she has a few exceptions.

They all get different results again, and Rumi starts up the whining and complaining and grumbling again when her result largely calls her a workaholic. Zoey ends up snatching Rumi’s phone to read off her results—because Rumi won’t stop whining—puffing her chest out and lowering her voice when she rumbles out, “You struggle to take the initiative when it comes to dating. It can be incredibly uncomfortable. For everyone involved!” which only makes Rumi groan more, head tipped back toward the ceiling as she miserably protests that that’s ‘not true’ and that ‘the quiz is totally rigged’.

Mira laughs at the entire time until Zoey’s sights get turned onto her, and then her phone is no longer her own property, and she’s the one subject to Zoey’s weird, fucked up humiliation ritual.

“An unusual combination of traits that—” Zoey suddenly breaks into giggles. “That often come as a pleasant surprise to their romantic partner!”

“Partners,” Rumi helpfully corrects, grumbling as she scrolls through her results.

Mira ignores the way that correction makes her chest feel weirdly tight. It isn’t the first time that’s happened, and she ignores that realisation, too.

“I’ve often been told I’m pleasantly surprising,” Mira says, fighting down her smile as she speaks. Zoey just giggles harder while Rumi scoffs, shaking her head a little. “Can I have my phone back?”

Zoey clicks her tongue, waving a hand at her. “No, I’m not done! I’m reading about how you apparently really like it when people challenge your ideas. Is that why you get along with Rumi so well?”

“I don’t get along with Rumi,” Mira says, almost on instinct. She can’t bite back her laugh in time when that spurs Rumi onto sputtering and huffing, puffing up all big like a severely displeased, particularly hissy cat. “I don’t like pushovers, I guess,” she amends a second later, shrugging. “I don’t want to, like...trample over someone, or whatever. I don’t know.”

“Sweet,” Zoey coos. Mira decidedly ignores her. “Oh, according to this, you do not like to take the initiative in relationships. Or asking someone out, at least. The—the ‘irrationality of joy’? Do you, like, not experience joy, Mira?”

Mira shrugs one shoulder, flashing Zoey a wide, beaming smile that she’s sure is hardly convincing. “Never once in my life.”

“You seemed pretty joyous when you kidnapped me and drove us up here,” Rumi bitterly mumbles. “You were way too happy, actually.”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” Mira reminds her. “You kidnapped me. Is it such a bad thing that I valiantly—and heroically—took control of the situation so we wouldn’t die? I saved Zoey’s life.”

“From—from me?” Rumi demands. “From me. You’re saying you saved Zoey’s life from—”

“Yup,” Mira interrupts, studying her nails. She grins at the way Rumi lets out a strangled, frustrated sound, quickly continuing, “That is what I said, yeah. You’re such a good listener, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Do not patronise me,” Rumi mutters, her entire face screwing up. “Zoey, read off the weaknesses section right now.”

Mira rolls her eyes, planting her arms behind herself as she leans back, head tilted toward the ceiling. Zoey snickers, but she’s quiet for a few seconds longer, thoughtfully humming every now and then. It takes her another minute or so before Zoey hums again, a little more scornfully.

“So,” Zoey starts, tapping at Mira’s phone, almost absentmindedly. “Apparently, you overthink a lot, you’re kind of impatient, and you get lost in thought a lot. I guess that’s the overthinking bit? I dunno, I don’t really agree with, like, half of this. Like...insensitive? Disconnected? You’ve been super nice, like, this whole time!”

“You barely even know me,” Mira says before she can stop herself, ignoring the way she swears she can feel Rumi’s eyes on her.

Rumi makes an unimpressed noise. “Yeah, but...I don’t know.” Mira watches her shrug out of the corner of her eye. “I think you’re really nice. Way nicer than I’d be if this happened to me, so...” Rumi shrugs again, waving her hand. “I think you’re nice.”

“See?” Zoey presses, grinning widely. “Super nice. And that’s coming from Rumi! She wanted to break up with you this morning! And she wanted to exile you on Christmas!”

“We’re not even dating!” Rumi immediately protests, crinkling her nose. “How can I break up with her if we’re not even together? And I didn’t even actually say any of that, you just lied!”

Zoey shrugs. “You told me to paraphrase.”

“And you chose to lie,” Rumi mutters, huffing. “But whatever. What’s in the strengths part? Maybe those make more sense?”

Mira can’t really help but look in between both of them, feeling that same stupid tightness in her chest that she’s been feeling off and on for the last few hours. They’re so...weird. Both of them are so weird, and neither of them make any sense, and Mira thinks she likes them a lot more than she probably should. 

She thinks this might be the first time someone has ever called her nice. It’s the first time she’s ever felt like she’s wanted to prove that she can be, at least.

Zoey hums. “Curious, open-minded, thoughtful, honest. Original, too! Which, uh, yeah. Duh. These are all good ones! I think they make more sense than the weaknesses, honestly. Feels more fitting.”

Rumi nods, flashing Mira another crooked grin. “Uh-huh. Open-minded is totally a word I’d use to describe Mira.”

Mira scoffs, but she doesn’t manage to stop herself from returning Rumi’s smile. “What can I say?” she asks, tipping her head to the side as she grins a little harder, just for show. “I’m pioneering the idea that maybe kidnappers are just misunderstood at their cores.”

“Like a dark romance bad boy!” Zoey helpfully adds. When Mira opens her eyes again, she can’t help but laugh at how Zoey waggles her eyebrows up and down. “Rumi’s been so brooding and mysterious! You really love to have your mysteries, huh? Like not telling us that you had four parents? Or that those four parents—”

“Were idols, I know,” Rumi groans, rolling her eyes. “I get it! I already said sorry! I was just...there was a lot going on, okay? You were there, you should know that! And it was totally fine, anyway. They already like you, so...you know.” She shrugs, looking away. “No big deal, right?”

Mira smiles, ducking her head. “You think kidnapping’s no big deal?”

“Did I say that?” Rumi demands, sticking out her tongue. “No. I didn’t.”

“Anyway!” Zoey giggles, flashing Mira another smile. “I wasn’t done reading the relationship section. It’s honestly kinda way more in-depth than I thought it was gonna be. Like, this just keeps scrolling! But, um, right, okay. Okay, okay, okay. This is just saying that you’re super honest and you want your partners to be honest, too, which, y’know. We’re off to a really good start on that one.”

Mira snickers, ignoring the way Rumi purses her lips and crinkles her nose.

Zoey continues, “You apparently don’t do gifts, or surprise parties, or...okay, this is kinda just insulting. It’s accusing you of being, like, the most socially unaware person alive. If we were for realsies together, would you just, like, not buy us gifts?”

Mira also ignores the way Zoey’s question makes her head spin, just a little. It’s probably not important.

“I’d buy you gifts,” she agrees, though she almost winces when the words are out of her mouth. It isn’t that she didn’t do that for the relationships she’s been in, it’s just been...a very long time since she’s actually been in a relationship. Generally, one-night stands aren’t particularly interested in surprise dates. Shocker. 

But if she was in one, hypothetically, with them—or with anyone, why does it have to specifically be them?—she’d like to think that she would be good about it. Mira knows how to read people pretty well, and that comes with a certain level of understanding, and she’s good at listening and picking up on things. She already knows dozens upon dozens of things about Rumi and Zoey, things they like, things that they don’t, the sort of things that they’re interested in, what they like to do. It doesn’t take a genius to figure any of that out, though. 

Really, one look around Rumi’s bedroom would be enough to tell her all she needs to know; Rumi has pictures—polaroids, largely—hung up all over her walls. Mira hasn’t seen a camera, but it’s obvious that Rumi at least likes taking pictures. Not to mention all the plants, though the ones here are mostly fake, and it helps that Rumi directly mentioned the plants she has back at her place a few times already. Or the guitar lingering in the far corner of her room, or the partially-open metal tin that has amusement park wristbands in it. 

Zoey hasn’t been shy about talking about what she likes, either. Her collection of stuffed animals, especially the sad looking ones. How she likes going places and specifically loves the ocean, how she likes to surf, how she’s good at skating, all the sports she played growing up, stuff like that. Mira’s already been running through that specific list for whenever they go shopping in the morning, and she’s fairly confident that she can find at least one or two things that Zoey will like.

Which—she...doesn’t have to do that. They barely know each other, or whatever, but it just feels weird and wrong to not do anything for Zoey’s birthday, no matter how insistent she is that it’s fine. It’s the least both her and Rumi can do. Mostly Rumi, probably, but Mira isn’t exactly struggling for money, and she doubts there’s anything Zoey could want that she wouldn’t be able to buy. Especially between her and Rumi. 

So, maybe, in theory, Mira would be good at gifts and surprises and date nights and whatever else they’d want. Or—not them, specifically, just...whoever. 

Mira irritatedly stares at the pictures up on Rumi’s wall, hoping that those’ll clear her thoughts of...this. Whatever ‘this’ is. She tried to avoid looking at them at first, mostly just out of politeness, but that’s more or less gone out the window now. 

“Anyway,” Zoey starts again, and Mira catches a glimpse of her waving her hand. “You should take it again, because this kinda sucks. Mine was good! So was Rumi’s! I mean, I dunno if Rumi agrees, but—”

“It called me a workaholic who sucks at relationships!” Rumi immediately protests. “And—clearly that's not even true!” she says, puffing out her chest a little. “Two girlfriends instead of one? I'm kinda killing it.”

Mira snorts under her breath, shaking her head. “Only when it's convenient for you, huh?”

Rumi scowls at her. “I don't know what you're talking about. I made that floor bed for you because we are...” she trails off, grimacing for a second. “We are such...loving partners. Yup. That's it. I love you,” Rumi says, her hand coming to clamp over her mouth as her shoulders start to shake.

She makes it all of three seconds before she bursts out laughing, head twisted sharply to the side. Mira sort of feels like she's been shot in the head, maybe. Something of that same caliber. She’s not completely sure why.

“That was, like, soo convincing!” Zoey giggles, unabashedly grinning. “You're a total romantic babe. No, no, listen, okay? Watch and learn. I got this.”

“What?” Mira half-demands, looking back and forth between the two of them. “What do you—what are you about to do to me?”

Zoey just ignores her, dropping down to the floor as she reaches up to—to cup Mira's face, like that's something they do often. And then she's leaning in, looking completely and utterly serious when she drops her voice and says, “Mira, I am madly, wildly in love with you. Always have been. I know...I know this is soon, and maybe kind of sudden, but I can't help how I feel, and I need you to know. It's been eating me alive, and I just...” Zoey trails off, heaving a sigh. “You deserve to know. I love you.”

Mira feels her heart twist oddly in her chest.

“Well,” Zoey murmurs, still far too close. “This is, y’know, usually the part where we start making out.”

“Okay, absolutely not,” Mira laughs, a breath of relief being torn out of her throat. She plants her hand over Zoey’s face, shoving her back, ignoring the way Zoey breaks out into giddy laughter. “Does that usually work for you?”

Zoey tilts her head to the side, shrugging. “Honestly, yeah. Oh, you know what? Rumi, I am—”

“You can’t just reuse a love confession!” Rumi interrupts with a laugh, her eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Who said I was gonna reuse a love confession?” Zoey demands right back, hands planted on her hips. “It was gonna be dramatic and poetic and really good, but I guess someone doesn’t want to hear it. So now Mira gets to go twice!”

Mira nearly chokes. “No, it’s fine, I—it’s okay, it’s...cool. Uh, totally cool. I got it the first time.”

Zoey snickers, turning her head back to grin right at her. “No? You don’t want a reminder?”

“I think I’ll remember that forever,” Mira says. The words come out a little too genuine, judging by the way Zoey’s face softens just a fraction, but it’s too late to take them back. Mira sighs instead, looking down at her empty hands, then back up to where her phone remains on the bed. “Can I...have that back now?”

To her surprise, Zoey isn’t the one who reaches back and gets her phone—it’s Rumi. Mira dips her head when her phone is safely placed back into her own hands, the room falling into an easy quiet. She barely even notices how Zoey’s knee is pressed against hers, how Rumi is a little closer than she had been, up until Zoey shifts and yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Okay,” Zoey announces, cracking open one eye, arms still held up high. “Game plan.”

“Game plan,” Rumi dutifully repeats. “What’s up?”

Zoey grins, waggling her finger at Rumi for a beat. “We’re going to sleep, like, now. We can leave early? Like, not six in the morning early, but, y’know, something a little more reasonable. And we can shop for a bit! But I don’t—I really don’t, like, actually need anything, or whatever. I’m a super big fan of window shopping, um, so it’s—”

“I’m getting you something,” Rumi interrupts. 

“So am I,” Mira adds, shooting Rumi a thankful look that gets returned to her immediately. “It’s literally your birthday, Zoey. You’re spending it with us, that’s, like, the bare minimum.”

Zoey looks completely displeased by that, right up until her face twists into another grin. “Bare minimum, huh? Charmer.”

“I’m just...” Mira crinkles her nose, looking off to the side. “I’m literally just being normal. I’m not going to buy you an entire house, or whatever. I mean, I guess I could,” she teases, flashing Zoey a grin of her own. “I could get a sick high-rise, like, just for you. Or a tower. I could probably get you moved into—”

“Don’t!” Zoey hisses, holding her hands up, looking genuinely panicked for only the second time since they’ve met. “Do that! Don’t! No one is asking you to do that!”

Rumi giggles, suddenly beaming just as hard. “Do you want another house? Maybe three or four? Five? I could get you five houses.”

“I could get her six,” Mira says, just on instinct. And maybe she wants to see Rumi’s stupid scowl, or the way her nose crinkles up, or how she pouts, just a little. Just to...just to see, or...whatever. Whatever.

“I’m not even going to feel bad when I exile you on Christmas,” Rumi mutters, elbowing Mira’s arm half a second later. Mira can’t help but grin, ducking her head as she lets herself get jostled around. “But yeah, I’m being serious, Zoey. It’s your birthday!”

Zoey winces. “Uh, okay, so? We already did all of these super fun quizzes! And—”

“And we can get you some super fun other stuff,” Mira interjects. “Chill, I already said it wasn’t going to be a house, it’s fine. Blame Rumi, I don’t know what’s up here. We’re kinda at her whim. Again.”

“Not again!” Rumi immediately protests, glaring daggers at her. “You drove us up here! You literally drove us up here! You could’ve turned the car around! No one was making you do any of that!”

Mira thoughtfully taps her finger to her chin, her lips slowly curling up into a grin as Rumi’s eyes narrow further and further. “I kinda remember there being a gun to my head?” she offers, trying to choke back her laughter at the way Rumi’s jaw actually drops. “It’s all so...foggy...” Mira continues, heaving a sigh. “I must’ve...blocked it out....”

“I’m going to kill you,” Rumi mutters. “I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you! You know what? Come here.”

Mira cackles, immediately grabbing a pillow to hold up, planting her other hand on Rumi’s shoulder to push her away. “See?” she demands, laughing at the amount of distance she manages to get between them. “I felt threatened! I was so afraid for my life! And Zoey’s! Who knows what you would’ve done if I hadn’t been there?”

Rumi scoffs, managing to nail Mira right in the face with a pillow of her own. “Why are you so long? What the hell is your problem?”

“Just because you’re below average—”

“I am literally not below average!”

“Just—just because you’re below—”

“Stop saying that!”

Mira throws her head back when she laughs, which is the unfortunate nail in the coffin for Rumi to hit her in the face again with another pillow. She just barely catches sight of Zoey grinning all wildly, her phone held up, a suspicious click going off; all of that fades to the back of her mind near-immediately, her thoughts too focused on the way she ends up sprawled out on her back, beaming at the way Rumi’s ridiculous scowl has been replaced with that stupid, crooked grin.

Mira twists her head to the side, watching as Zoey waves at her, still looking genuinely thrilled. 

“Having fun down there, babe?” Zoey teases, arching an eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah,” Mira teases back, turning back to stick her tongue out at Rumi. “Rumi’s just a wild animal, I guess.”

“A—a wild animal?” Rumi demands through breathless laughter. “That’s—you—! You know what? Okay. Okay! Beanpole! 

Mira can’t help but burst out laughing again, propping herself up so she can stare at Rumi in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“You can’t be serious!” Rumi laughs back, holding a pillow out like it’s a weapon. “Zoey—”

“Don’t drag Zoey into this!” Mira protests, rolling her eyes. “It’s her birthday, Rumi, that’s fucked up.”

“It’s—”

Zoey laughs so hard that the noise echoes through the room. It makes Mira pause her arguing, turning to look at her head on, grinning wildly. Zoey just shakes her head, resting her cheek against the back of her hand as she giggles, eyes crinkled at the sides. It leaves Mira feeling stupidly fond—or, well, not fond. Not fond. Just...weirdly smiley, or whatever. Zoey’s happiness is kind of contagious, apparently.

That’s only confirmed when Mira glances over to Rumi, finding her smiling even harder than she had been. That in turn makes Mira smile harder, even despite herself. 

They’re so weird.

“Honestly, y’know what?” Zoey asks as she hoists herself back up onto the bed. “This might be the best birthday I’ve had in, like, years. Keep it up, guys! Do not buy me a house in the morning. That’ll ruin it.”

Rumi snickers, shooting Mira a look. “Just one house? Do you want six?”

“We could do six,” Mira agrees with a lazy grin, trying not to laugh at the way Zoey’s face instantly screws up, how she’s clearly unhappy about that. “Or more. You always round up, right? We could do ten.”

Zoey stumbles over her words for a second, shaking her head rapidly. “No! What is wrong with you?” she demands. “Seriously, oh my god. No! Who needs ten houses? I don’t even know what I’d do with ten houses! That’s, like, way too many houses! One is more than—and do not take that as me saying you can buy me a house, god—enough, and I literally already have one of those!”

“You have an apartment,” Rumi disagrees. “That’s different. You said it was basically a cardboard box. No wonder we can’t live there.” She punctuates that with a deliberate look right at Mira.

“You just can’t drop anything, huh?” Mira asks, rolling her eyes as she props herself back up into a sitting position. “I promise I’m not going to buy you a house. Maybe that’s your Christmas gift.”

Rumi scoffs. “Oh, so I get a floor bed, and Zoey gets a house?” 

“We are literally in your house,” Mira helpfully reminds her. “That is literally your bed right there. You see where Zoey is? That belongs to you, Rumi. That is literally your bed. In your room. In your house. You’re choosing to sleep on the ground.”

“Well, so are you!”

“Yeah, duh.”

“You know what?”

Mira doesn’t get to find out what, largely because Zoey hits her in the face with another pillow. The resounding thump of a second pillow being tossed at Rumi’s face is the only thing that placates her, and Mira can’t help but grin behind her own stupid pillow. She pulls it down to her chest, fighting back her smile as soon as she’s able to see again. She pushes up her glasses, tossing the pillow back up onto the bed, watching as Rumi heaves a sigh and then does the same thing.

Rumi is the one who says, “Sorry, Zoey,” first, but Mira is hardly far behind. She thinks it’s a little unbelievable how Zoey has pretty much already trained them into that.

“Behave,” Zoey chides, though it’s obvious she’s not that bothered, judging by how she’s still beaming. “It’s bedtime! We’ve got stuff to do tomorrow!”

Mira hums, tossing two of the pillows Rumi threw at her back over. She adjusts her bed, carefully scooting it a little closer to the nightstand. Rumi does the same thing, pulling her bed closer to the closet, though she doesn’t go as far as she had been when they first started off. 

After she’s done moving, Rumi twists to the side, looking down at her phone. “How about...seven?”

“Absolutely not,” Zoey huffs. “Eight.”

“Seven-thirty,” Mira offers, giving Zoey a pointed look. “You told me that you wished I was dead when I tried waking you up this morning.”

Zoey winces, sucking in a sharp breath. “Okay, I kinda think you might be exaggerating that one, um, but...yeah, okay. Seven-thirty. I can get up in thirty minutes. Easy. Um, breakfast?” she rushes out, and Mira rolls her eyes fondly. “Are we doing that here, or...?”

Rumi shrugs, looking back up from her phone after a beat. “We can, if you want. Or we can go out, there’s some super cute cafes around here. That way we can just...get out and stay out for a while, maybe? Up to you and Mira, I’m totally cool with whatever.”

“I’m fine with anything,” Mira agrees, setting an alarm on her own phone. She trusts that Rumi’s alarm will go off—and she’s completely certain that Rumi was busy setting one—but she still sets it just in case. 

She guesses she probably doesn’t need to, not even just because of the alarm; Rumi literally woke up at five in the morning just by, like, default, or whatever. Mira is somehow pretty convinced that that’s just normal for her. 

Zoey props herself up, humming for a few seconds. “We can go out, sure. You can show us around!”

Rumi gives a quiet laugh, smiling softly. “It’s not like there’s a lot, or whatever. But yeah, um, I’d love to.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Zoey giggles, flopping over onto her back. “Okay! Goodnight! Sleep well! Um, thank you guys for the quizzes, and stuff. It was super fun. You didn’t have to, or whatever, so—”

Mira pushes herself up, setting her chin on the edge of the bed. The movement is enough to make Zoey stop talking, which had been the goal, even if she feels sort of bad about it; she doesn’t ever want Zoey to stop talking, just to maybe...not say things like that when it’s obviously not true. 

“You don’t have to thank us,” Rumi chimes before Mira gets a chance to speak. “It’s your birthday, Zoey. And even if it wasn’t, I would’ve—we would’ve done it anyway, so...” she trails off. “No big deal. It was a lot of fun!”

“Maybe we can do more tomorrow,” Mira offers, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Or whatever you want to do. It was fun.” She pauses, clearing her throat. Mira tries to give the most reassuring smile she can manage, though she doesn’t think she does a very good job. “Goodnight, Zoey. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Zoey!” Rumi whisper-cheers. “Goodnight!”

Zoey is quiet for a second. Then she ducks her head, nodding a few times. “Yeah...yeah, okay. Goodnight, Mira! Goodnight, Rumi!”

Mira slinks off the bed, laying back down. She props herself up just enough to catch Rumi’s eye, shooting her a lazy smile. “Night,” she murmurs, giving a little wave.

Rumi outright beams at her. “Goodnight, Mira.”

She waves back, too.

Mira smiles a little harder. She flips over onto her side after that, deliberately facing the bed. She slips off her glasses a second later, reaching up to place them carefully on the nightstand. Mira tucks her phone half-under the bed, keeping it right next to her pillow. She hesitates for a moment, thumbing over the volume buttons, narrowing her eyes at the screen.

She texted her parents once since...everything. Just to tell them she wasn’t coming up, that something had happened and she wasn’t going to be able to make it. The response was expected: disappointment, but not because she couldn’t come—just because she was inconveniencing them, or whatever. Disappointment because she fucked up again. She didn’t even do anything this time, she doesn’t get why they’re so fucking...

Mira swallows. 

She can hear Rumi shifting off to her right. Zoey adjusts on her left. Rumi’s bedroom isn’t completely quiet—there’s a little fan hanging off to the far side of the bed, opposite of where she is. Both of them are quiet, obviously, but it’s not totally silent, and it’s...nice. Helps her drown out the stupid buzzing in her head that shouldn’t even be there in the first place, but she supposes she’s always been bad at getting rid of it completely. It’s not like she even cares about her parents, and she knows they definitely don’t care about her, it’s just that she’s bad about remembering that, or whatever.

It doesn’t matter. Mira sighs, pressing down on the volume button until her phone turns on for a second. Just long enough that she can mute texts and calls.

“Hey.” Rumi’s voice is soft, but it’s enough to make Mira jolt. She lowers her shoulders, twisting her head over to the side to see if Rumi’s actually talking to her. Judging by the way she’s being stared at, Mira thinks that’s probably a solid yes. “You okay?”

Mira blinks. She hadn’t even—she didn’t even do anything. She just...breathed differently. 

The question, paired up with the genuine concern on Rumi’s face, leaves her feeling stupidly exposed.

“Yeah,” Mira whispers back. “I was just breathing.”

Rumi’s look of concern shifts to a more sheepish smile. “Oh, okay. Sorry. Um...” she trails off, adjusting for a second. “Goodnight, Mira.”

Mira swallows past the lump in her throat. “Yeah. Goodnight, Rumi.”

“I can hear you both,” Zoey mumbles from the bed. Mira can’t help but laugh, listening to the way Rumi does the same. “Goodnight, guys. For realsies this time!”

“For realsies!” Rumi agrees. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Zoey insists, sounding like she’s smiling. Mira wonders when she figured out what that tone of voice means. She’s weirdly certain about it.

Mira breathes out, sinking down into her bed, tugging at the blankets. She totally undersold it to Rumi, just because it felt a little ridiculous to praise the world’s worst kidnapper for making a really good floor bed, but it is a really good floor bed. Definitely not as good as an actual bed, but it’s startlingly close. Mira kind of doubts that her own attempt is on par with the one Rumi made for her.

“Goodnight,” Mira says after a second, feeling like her voice comes out a little too soft. Maybe too quiet.

But Zoey hums and so does Rumi, so they must’ve heard her. Getting a response even after her response was meant to be the last word of the night makes her chest tighten. 

It takes no time at all for her to fall asleep after that. 

Mira wakes up to the sound of shuffling. 

She’s sitting up before she even opens her eyes, blinking a few times once she actually manages to do that. It takes a second for her to adjust to the light spilling in through the window, and then another few seconds for her to remember that she’s not in her own house, and she’s on the floor, actually, and—

Right.

Mira’s gaze eventually lands on Rumi, who’s busy standing totally still. She snorts, planting her hands on the ground as she leans back. 

“Morning,” Mira mumbles, wincing at the dryness in her throat. “What time is it?”

“Sorry,” Rumi whispers back. “Seven. I was going to get ready.”

Mira hums, squinting as she pats the nearby area for her phone. She sighs when she doesn’t immediately find it, twisting to grab up at the nightstand for her glasses. She manages to fumble that, too, fingers grazing against an empty space rather than landing on gold-wire. Mira is half-tempted to do something drastic up until she hears a quiet bout of laughter coming from her side.

That’s all the warning she gets before Rumi is moving, soft footfalls migrating toward the nightstand. Mira peers up at her, blinking half a dozen times in surprise when Rumi’s hand drops down to be near eye-level with her.

Glasses in hand.

“Here,” Rumi murmurs. “Zoey’s a restless sleeper, she totally moved those in her sleep. Honestly, it’s kind of a surprise she didn’t smack you in the face.”

“All the way down here?” Mira asks, ignoring the way her skin buzzes from where her fingers briefly brush up against Rumi’s when she takes her glasses. “...Thanks.”

Rumi just hums, padding away from her after that. Mira swallows down the odd tightness suddenly in her throat, pushing her glasses up her nose. She turns back to the edge of the bed, spotting her phone a second later. She takes a few seconds to turn her alarm off, pausing as she looks at her notifications.

Nothing. Total radio silence.

Mira shakes her head, powering off her phone, tossing it onto her lap. She breathes out, tipping her head back as she stares up at Rumi’s ceiling, eyes trailing carefully over the LEDs wrapped up above the bed. It’s such a stark contrast from her own bedroom that it leaves her feeling a little off. Not in a bad way, really, just...different. Rumi’s bedroom is warm and full of memories. All the pictures, the fake plants, the little trinkets tucked onto every shelf. It’s nice. Mira barely spends any time in her room, and it shows. 

It’s a lot darker than Rumi’s bedroom, at least. She doesn’t really have very much in there other than her bed and a desk she more or less decided to shove in there on a whim. It’s just colder, she guesses. 

“I’m gonna get ready,” Rumi says again, turning back to smile at her. “I shouldn’t take that long, but my parents have a bathroom upstairs if you wanna go up there. Celine’s usually up now, so...” she trails off, waving a hand toward the door. “You can do whatever.”

Mira grimaces, ignoring the way Rumi ducks her head and giggles a little. “I’m fine waiting.”

“They like you guys,” Rumi murmurs, shrugging. “I mean, if Celine thanked you for just driving us up? She never does that.”

There’s also all the other things that Celine said, though Mira can hardly blame Rumi for not knowing about those, given how Mira would quite literally rather die than repeat them. Even now, hours into a new day after that talk, she still feels like she’s done something wrong, or like she’s taking something that doesn’t belong to her, or that she’s just...doing something she’s not supposed to be doing. Mira generally couldn’t care less about lying just to get out of a few awkward situations, or whatever. This isn’t really that big of a deal, it’s just ridiculous, but Celine seemed genuine, and now it’s making her feel like shit.

Not even necessarily because of the lying. Just for...not deserving it, maybe. She hasn’t done anything to warrant that kind of praise.

“It’s fine,” Mira insists, adjusting so she’s sitting up again, back pressed to the legs of the nightstand behind her. “You’re waking Zoey up, by the way.”

Rumi sighs, but she’s smiling all stupidly, so clearly she must not mind all that much. “Whatever, Mira. I can get you an actual coat, um, also. Sorry mine are all...” Rumi waves a hand, shooting her a sheepish look.

Mira shoots her a lazy grin right back, resting her cheek against her knuckles. “Below average?” she helpfully supplies.

“Don’t make me exile you on Zoey’s birthday,” Rumi teases, dropping her voice to a low hum. That’s the last thing she says before she spins on her heel and pads out of her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. 

Mira ducks her head when she smiles, dragging a hand through her hair. She thinks it’s a little ridiculous how much she’s been smiling this entire time, and it’s only the morning of Zoey’s birthday. It hasn’t even been a full two days yet—in a few hours it will be, sometime past nine, give or take. Not even a full two days, and Mira has had a better time in the last forty-eight hours than she has in weeks. 

Maybe it just has something to do with the absurdity of the situation. Or maybe Rumi and Zoey are just way too talented at making things seem normal and arguably good. Whatever it is, Mira can’t exactly deny that it’s happening, no matter how embarrassing it is to have to admit. And it is embarrassing; she can’t believe she’s having a better time sleeping on a stranger’s floor an hour away from her home with five other strangers in comparison to being in her own house.

She’s having a better time with strangers than she's ever had with her own family. 

Mira can’t help the way she narrows her eyes at her phone, irritation prickling in her chest. It’s not like that exactly comes as much of a surprise, but it’s just...stupid. She guesses the bar is kind of in hell—if not further than that—but it still leaves her with an unsettled feeling at the back of her throat. She doesn’t normally even care that much, and she doesn’t care now, but it’s just...

Stupid. It’s stupid, and it’s not her problem, Mira decides. She already texted them once about not showing up, she doesn’t need to keep fucking lingering on that, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. She’s already dealt with it, and she has plans today. She has other things she needs to be focused on.

Like figuring out whatever it is she plans on getting Zoey.

Mira swallows, tapping her phone twice to unlock it—7:08am.

She could probably get something for Rumi, too, just for Christmas. And something else for Zoey, since she’s sure it probably sucks to have her birthday lumped in with the holidays. Mira guesses now’s the chance for her to rectify her mistake of not bringing anything up, though she guesses that hadn’t really been her choice, but still. She’ll have to ask Rumi about what her parents like, if she can get them all one big group gift or if it would be better to get individual ones. She figures individual gifts would be better, but Rumi’s parents are weird, so whatever, she’ll ask. She’s not as confident about them as she is about Rumi and Zoey.

Maybe she shouldn’t be as confident as she is. Mira supposes that she barely knows them, but she’s still pretty sure she’s going to manage to get at least a few things they’ll like. They’ve made it pretty easy to work themselves out in her mind.

Mira glances up at the door when she hears the knob turn, meeting Rumi’s gaze almost immediately. She gives a little wave, smiling despite herself when Rumi beams back at her and returns the gesture.

“Bathroom’s open,” Rumi murmurs, looking off to the side. “Do you still have the clothes I gave you over there?”

“Yeah,” Mira agrees, twisting halfway to the side. She scoops up the handful of clothes she set under the nightstand, placing them in her lap to briefly look through before deciding on an outfit. She probably should have done this last night, but she had been occupied, or...something like that. Wasn’t the first thing on her mind.

Rumi hums, nodding after a beat. Mira takes that time to look her over—her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, the sweater she’s wearing has the sleeves rolled up, which is ridiculous, because it’s literally the middle of winter. It’s not like Rumi’s bedroom is exactly freezing cold, but it’s still not warm, but Rumi hardly seems bothered. Mira looks back down to her own pile, carefully looking over what she has. She figures it probably doesn’t matter what she wears, since they’ll be back down to the diner to grab their stuff, and she did have a bag packed. 

Plus, it isn’t like they can’t just...go to grab more clothes. Mira’s sure that her apartment isn’t too far out of the way, and Zoey’s probably isn’t, either. Even if they were, it’s not like they’re doing anything better.

Mira shifts through the clothes, eventually settling on a nice turtleneck that matches with Rumi’s—

She narrows her eyes. 

“I’ll be back,” Mira mutters, balling up the stupid turtleneck in her hand, shoving her phone in her pants pocket as she pushes herself up to her feet. She takes the whole collection of pants Rumi gave her, but she ditches everything else on the top layer of her blankets. 

Mira’s about to leave the room completely when she pauses, hand hovering right at the doorknob. She turns back to where Rumi has settled on her own floor bed, phone settled face-down in front of her, eyes meeting Mira’s half a second later.

“Actually,” Mira starts, keeping her voice as low as she can manage. “How was the bed?”

Rumi snorts, giving her a look. “Hm, I dunno...” she trails off, shrugging. “Adequate?” 

Mira ducks her head, smiling a little too hard.

Okay. Maybe that one’s on her. She probably should have expected that.

“And your back?” Mira presses, ignoring the stupid grin stretched out across Rumi’s face. “Better?”

“It wasn’t bad in the first place,” Rumi shoots back, eyes crinkled at the sides. “But it’s...uh, fine, I guess. Not like there was, y’know, a reason for it to hurt, or whatever. Hypothetically, I guess, if it had hurt, it might have stopped, but it didn’t, so. You know.”

Mira shakes her head, trying to stifle a laugh. “Uh-huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Rumi dutifully confirms. “You didn’t have to, you know. I was fine with—”

“The cold, hard ground?” Mira finishes for her, arching an eyebrow. “No. That was stupid, I wasn’t letting you do that for, like...however long. Twelve days?” she offers. “There was literally no way, Rumi. I’m glad it was good.”

“I never said it was good,” Rumi protests, but she’s still smiling and Mira sees the way her fingers trace over the edges of one of the bottom blankets. “It was probably just as adequate as yours, I guess.”

Mira feels weirdly complimented by that. She hadn’t let Rumi have, like, literally anything when she asked how the bed was, but it had been good, obviously. Way better than she expected.

She dips her head and tries to pretend like the words don’t make her smile. “Probably more adequate.”

Rumi snorts. “Okay, you’re pushing it.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Mira teases, leaning up against the door, tilting her head to the side. “Exile me?”

“I just might,” Rumi teases back, shooting her another grin. This one is more wolfish than the last. “Thank you, though,” she murmurs, suddenly looking a lot more genuine. “I’ll wake her up before you get back.”

Mira pauses, forcing herself to nod after another second passes. “Good luck.”

She smiles at the way Rumi rolls her eyes, ducking out of the room after that. She stalks to the bathroom, doing her best to not draw any attention to herself even though she can see Celine in the living room out of the corner of her eye. It’s not like she’s trying to completely avoid her, but Mira still isn’t inclined to strike up a conversation. At the very least, Rumi’s other three parents aren’t anywhere to be seen, and she’s able to slip into the bathroom without having to go through any of that.

Mira sets the turtleneck and pants she grabbed on the edge of the sink, brushing her hair back out of her face. She ties it into a quick ponytail, squinting at herself in the mirror for a few seconds.

She still can’t believe Zoey recognised her.

She still can’t believe Rumi didn’t.

Mira ducks her head, grinning a little at the wild difference between the two of them. She had figured it had just been her glasses, which are genuinely usually enough to throw most people off of her. Mira doesn’t know how or why—if it works it works, right?—but whatever, it clearly works well enough that it’s just become an expectation for her, and she figured Rumi fell right into that.

Clearly not. 

It’s kind of nice. It was nice that Zoey was being, relatively, calm about the whole thing, and it was also nice that Rumi just...didn’t know. She didn’t even have to pretend like Zoey. 

Makes her feel more like just a person, maybe. Both Zoey and Rumi have been really good at doing that time and time again with everything that’s happened so far. Mira can’t remember the last time she was sat down and forced to rattle off things that she likes to do, or literally anything and everything that’s ever happened to her in her entire life. She’s still pretty sure Zoey didn’t need to hear her semi-in-depth ramble about cheer and dance and the key, notable differences there, but Zoey insisted on it regardless, and Mira feels weird about saying no to her half the time with stuff like that, so it sort of just ended up happening anyway. 

She shakes her head as she reaches out to grab the toothbrush Rumi gave to her. Mira pauses for half a second, clicking her tongue when she realises it’s pink. 

Fucking Ryu Rumi. 

Mira rolls her eyes so hard that it nearly makes her head hurt. It takes a grand amount of effort for her to actually brush her teeth after that. She can’t help but grin the whole time, especially when she realises that Rumi’s toothbrush is purple, and the only other one on the sink is blue—Zoey.

She can’t believe they’re already colour-coded. 

Well. Maybe she should’ve expected it by now, given how Rumi is just...Rumi. Every single thing Rumi has done has completely thrown Mira off-balance; she doesn’t know how she managed to get saddled with the least effective, nicest kidnapper in the world.

Mira doesn’t take very long to get ready after that. She strips out of the clothes Rumi gave her, folding them up neatly on the edge of the sink as she changes. She transfers her phone from her sweatpants into her going out pants, deciding to keep the ponytail for now. A hat or something would be nice, just to hide some of her hair. She’ll have to ask about that once she’s back.

She pads out of the bathroom, pausing at the door for half a second. Mira tips her head to the side, wondering if she’s actually hearing Zoey’s voice or if she’s delusional. 

She immediately decides to check that, pushing open the door, taking one step forward before she falls short.

Rumi’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her phone in her hands. Mira can’t quite make out whatever’s playing, but there’s a woman’s voice coming from it, faint and quiet. Zoey is awake, and she’s settled directly behind Rumi, head on her shoulder, peering down at whatever it is Rumi is watching. Zoey doesn’t exactly look awake, but she’s definitely not asleep. 

Mira blinks. 

The sight leaves her feeling kind of fond. They look stupidly natural like that, and the soft light spilling in from the now-open window doesn’t help offset that feeling. Rumi looks over to her not even a second later, beaming widely. 

“Hey,” she calls out, waving with her free hand. “Those fit better than I thought they would.”

Mira leans against the doorframe, arms crossed against her chest. She sends Rumi a lazy smile. “It’s kind of tight.” 

“Yeah, well.” Rumi shrugs—notably one shoulder, the one that Zoey hasn’t plastered her head to—and waves her hand again. “It’s totally fine! We’re going back down to the diner today! No big deal, right?”

“No big deal,” Mira slowly repeats with a grin, ducking her head to hide her bark of laughter when Rumi’s face scrunches up. “Happy birthday, Zoey.”

After she says it, she comes back into the room fully, shutting the door behind her. Zoey makes a vague noise that sounds sort of appreciative, maybe, if Mira squints at it a little. It takes a good five or six seconds, but Zoey eventually lets out a low whine, shaking her head kind of like a dog. If the movement bothers Rumi at all, she doesn’t let it show.

Zoey turns to look at her fully, eyes immediately narrowing. “Not happy birthday.”

“No?” Mira teases, tilting her head to the side. “You were having a good time last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that wasn’t seven in the fucking morning,” Zoey helpfully lets her know, bitterly grumbling after the words are out of her mouth. “And you said—”

“I got you thirty more minutes of sleep,” Mira quickly interrupts. “Rumi wanted to wake up at seven.”

Rumi lets out an affronted scoff, as if that’s literally not just what happened. “Uh, can we keep the victim blaming to a minimum on Zoey’s birthday?”

“You can’t just keep using Zoey’s birthday as a way to get out of—”

“I’m not getting out of anything!”

“You’re getting out of the—out of the allegations.”

“There are not allegations!”

Mira shoots her a wolfish grin. “Right. Because there’s proof.”

“For what?” Rumi incredulously demands, eyes narrowing sharply. “I literally—I haven’t even done anything today!”

“So you’re admitting that you’ve done stuff in the past?” Mira asks, studying her nails. She has to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from grinning even harder than she already is.

“You are so getting exiled,” Rumi mutters. It’s so short and to the point that Mira can’t help but laugh, looking back up at her. She finds both Rumi and Zoey beaming, though Zoey has her hand planted firmly against Rumi’s back now, pushing her away.

“You guys are so dramatic,” Zoey teases, seeming much more alive now. “And...and you’re both ready, wow. Huh. Wouldya look at that? Ugh,” she whines, dragging her hands down her face. “I have to get ready, huh?”

Mira snickers, padding around the room so that she’s not blocking the door. “Yeah, kinda seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Be nice to me,” Zoey mutters. “Okay, okay, okay. Fine. Ten minutes. Ten more minutes.”

Rumi laughs, tilting her head back. Mira distantly has the thought that she looks like a particularly thrilled owl before Rumi asks, “Ten more minutes to sleep, or ten more minutes before you have to get ready?”

Zoey doesn’t even look sheepish when she starts to grin, head rested on her knuckles, offering up, “Both?”

“No,” Rumi says, twisting around so she’s acting less like an owl and actually looking at Zoey properly now. “We’re shopping! We gotta get there early!” she insists, hopping off the bed a second later. “It’ll be fun!”

“I know it’ll be fun,” Zoey whines, throwing her head back with another groan. “You know what else would be fun?”

Mira rolls her eyes, smiling even despite herself. “Going back down to the diner?”

“I’m a pretty big fan of that one,” Rumi agrees, openly grinning at Mira now. It almost feels like some kind of win.

“Uh-huh, yeah, for sure,” Zoey mumbles. “You guys can go down to the diner, and I’ll sleep for another hour.”

Mira snorts. She pulls out her phone, glancing down at the time—7:28am.

“Okay,” she announces, pocketing her phone right after. “You have two minutes to get ready. Your time’s already started. Go.”

Zoey outright gasps, scrambling off the bed with a sort of urgency that Mira didn’t even know she could have. She rushes right past her, pausing, her arms coming out to her sides as she goes completely still—other than her head whipping frantically from side to side, eyes huge. Mira watches, kind of impressed, as Zoey scoops up a handful of Rumi’s clothes and then bolts right out the door.

Doesn’t even say a word. She’s gone, just like that.

Rumi is the first to burst out laughing, falling right back onto the bed. Mira isn’t slow to join in, ducking her head as her shoulders start to shake.

“Huh,” Rumi giggles, sounding breathless. “You—did you know that was going to work?”

“I was kind of just hoping for the best,” Mira admits, brushing back some of her hair that’s fallen in her face. “Wanna bet she can actually do it in two minutes?”

“Honestly,” Rumi starts, “I think she might do it in one.”

Mira rolls her eyes, casually moving toward the bed. “What were you watching?”

Rumi hums, smiling at her. “I have a recipes folder I was going through for Zoey to see if she wanted me to make anything specific today, or whatever. She’s...we might have to stop at a few grocery stores. She started sending me links, and, um, I don’t think we have, like, half of what she wants. Have you ever made crab rangoon garlic bread?” Rumi asks, sounding a little hopeful.

Mira just beams at her, and all the hope drains right from her face.

Zoey makes it back in four minutes. 

She’s insistent that it was ‘basically two’ and that ‘two didn’t even count because she was brushing her teeth’, and both Mira and Rumi relent because, well, it’s her birthday. 

Mira thinks she probably would’ve relented regardless. Zoey just sort of has that effect.

“Guys, you’re gonna love this one.”

Mira does not believe Zoey for even a second.

She’s the one confined to the back this time around, with Rumi driving and Zoey being up front. Zoey being up front was expected, and maybe Mira should’ve expected this too, but she didn’t, which, yeah, okay, totally on her.

Zoey’s taste in music is definitely a taste in music. Mira is absolutely convinced Zoey’s just lying and throwing on the worst songs she knows for fun, or whatever, but that doesn’t cancel out the very real suffering Mira’s currently going through. Rumi’s stomaching it a little better, or she’s better at hiding it, at least; Mira’s only real reprieve has been watching Rumi grimace and then force herself to smile and nod politely.

Like right now, how Rumi is nodding along easily, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “What’s it called?”

Mira sees it. Rumi doesn’t, since she’s looking at the road, but Mira sees the way Zoey’s eyes light up, how her grin turns downright wolfish, how she starts wiggling in place. Mira can pinpoint the exact moment Zoey’s shoulders start to shake, she can see the second that Zoey starts to laugh even harder, and she knows exactly when she realises they are both so fucked.

“Oh, y’know,” Zoey giggles, giddily waving her phone back and forth. She laughs again before she manages to finally get out, “Cbat. It’s called Cbat, and you’re really gonna love it.”

They do not love Cbat.

At some point, Zoey excitedly starts playing a ton of English songs from when she was growing up. Rumi recognises most of them, Mira knows a few. 

Rumi can sing most of them.

Mira gets to find that out when Zoey announces that they just ‘have to’ listen to Mr. Brightside because it’s her birthday, as if either one of them has protested thus far. 

Well. They protested during the entirety of Cbat and Rumi threatened to turn the car around, but they didn’t actually skip the song, even when both of them were practically screaming to drown out the god awful noise coming from the car. Zoey had just laughed right through it, bopping her head along to the nonsensical rhythm—if it could even be called that—all while grinning and giggling and adding her own little twist on top of it all.

But they still didn’t actually skip the song, even though Mira was really considering it. It was either that or diving out of the car to hopefully get pummelled by oncoming traffic, but she stayed strong, somehow.

Nothing has been nearly as bad as Cbat, even if Mira wouldn’t call the music playing her taste. It doesn’t matter to her, mostly because it’s Zoey’s birthday and she can do whatever she wants, and also because Mira isn't the kind of person to be picky about stuff like this. 

And, also, as she’s finding out, Rumi likes these songs. She likes to sing these songs.

Mira swears that she’s never met anyone more unintentionally irritating than Ryu Rumi.

Rumi is a fantastic singer. Like, too good. Way better than Mira thought with how Rumi kept miserably detailing her music and her singing and her range, and Mira actually sort of feels like she’s been severely misled, because what the hell, Rumi? 

She’s currently belting out the lyrics with one hand over her chest, grinning as Zoey fills in all the spaces. And Zoey’s a good singer, too. Good pitch, pretty voice.

Mira can’t help but watch from the back seat, her hands neatly tucked under her chin. Rumi has a stupidly beautiful voice; it’s almost familiar. Almost.

Zoey has been insistent on having the windows down, so Mira gets the added joy of watching Zoey’s hair whap her in the face just about a thousand times. If she actually notices or not is up for debate, given how she just keeps singing, head tipped back against the headrest. Rumi taps her fingers against the wheel, head swaying from side to side, a stupid, crooked grin on her lips.

Mira watches the way Zoey suddenly leans in, cackling as she practically sings into Rumi’s ear. Rumi just laughs back, looking perfectly content. Both of them look happy, completely normal, as if this is something they’ve done a thousand times.

It kind of feels like they have.

At some point, Zoey turns just enough to catch Mira’s eye. Rumi does the same, but her gaze doesn’t linger for nearly as long. Zoey, on the other hand, giggles and leans in all sweetly, hand over her heart as she maintains eye contact and keeps singing. 

The sun lights both of them up. It brings out Zoey’s eyes and forms a little halo around Rumi. 

Mira can’t quite seem to take her eyes off either of them.

By the time they finally manage to get to the stores Rumi was insistent on—after eating breakfast at a particularly cute cafe, where Zoey mostly rambled about the design structure of the arches, or something like that—Zoey is practically buzzing. Mira swears she nearly flew out of the car before it was even parked, and she’s already teased her about a million times that Rumi’s going to have to turn on the child safety locks on the way back, just in case.

Zoey helpfully flipped her off for that one.

Now, though, Zoey is grabbing her hand and yanking Rumi forward with the other, tugging them right on into the cute antique store Rumi promised they’d both like.

“Okay!” Zoey giddily announces, spinning on her heels once they’ve made it through the front door. “Okay. Are we all going together, or are we, like, splitting up?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Mira offers, shrugging. “I’m just looking for stuff for you.”

Zoey crinkles her nose. “Don’t.”

“Too late,” Mira says, beaming at her. “Maybe we should split up. Just so, you know.” She waves her other hand, the one that isn’t intertwined with Zoey’s. “You don’t freak out when I start putting things in the basket.”

Rumi giggles, nodding along. “We can do that, yeah. Come find me whenever you want!” she says, wriggling out of Zoey’s grasp and ducking out of sight not even half a second later. She doesn’t even grab a basket or anything, and Mira can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Come back to me whenever you actually want to buy something,” Mira tells her, already looking off to the side, studying the store. 

Zoey clearly attempts to glower at her, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It’s not really—”

“Zoey, you literally have seen me everywhere,” Mira scoffs, rolling her eyes again. “Do you think I’m just, like, not getting paid for that? It’s fine. This isn’t a big deal for me. Also, Rumi literally kidnapped you. Exploit her all you want. That’s pretty much like retribution, or whatever. Okay?”

“Yeah, but she did a really bad job at it,” Zoey whines, her lower lip jutting out. “I kinda feel bad. Also, she didn’t actually kidnap me. She totally kidnapped you, but I was kinda just in her car? Like, that wasn’t really her fault, that was sort of on me, and, um, y’know, it’s—”

Mira laughs, squeezing Zoey’s hand on some sort of instinct that she chooses to ignore. “Chill. I’m gonna do it anyway, you might as well get some stuff that you like out of it. Or I can just buy out the whole store, and we’ll have to explain to Rumi’s ten thousand parents why we—”

“Do not do that,” Zoey rushes out, jabbing a finger at Mira’s chest. “Dude, are you kidding me? On my birthday?”

“On your birthday,” Mira easily agrees, laughing at the nose scrunch that gets her. “Just pick some things out. It’s an antique store, they always have cool stuff. Okay? Cool? Can we do that?”

Zoey rolls her eyes, but she relents. “Whatever. You should get something too! Just, you know, for fun?”

Mira ducks her head, smiling so hard it makes her face hurt. “Okay, Zoey.”

“Promise,” Zoey suddenly insists, holding up her other hand, her pinky raised into the air. “You gotta, babe. It’s my birthday. Those are the rules.”

“I have to, huh?” Mira asks, but she’s raising her pinky not even a second later. Zoey grins when they interlock, and then she’s finally pulling away, head already turning toward an aisle.

“Okay,” Zoey says with a sigh. “Okay. Fine. Cool.”

“Cool,” Mira repeats with an easy grin. “See you soon.”

Zoey bounds off after that, instantly shooting down an aisle. Mira beams, shaking her head again as she turns on her heel and pads to the opposite side of the store; both Zoey and Rumi went to the section behind her, and Mira trusts Rumi to do a good job of getting at least a few things for Zoey.

Mira pads along the aisles, carefully taking in her options. She almost immediately starts eyeing a handful of things she could see herself adding to her already massive collection. Mira pauses when she realises she doesn’t have a basket, pausing for a second time when she realises Zoey also didn’t grab a basket. 

She rolls her eyes, covering the length of the shop again to make her way back to the front, remedying her own problem. For half a second, Mira considers grabbing two more baskets and tracking down Zoey and Rumi, but she hesitates, shaking her head to clear that thought. It’s fine, they’re both capable of getting baskets themselves. Not a big deal.

Mira turns back to pacing down the aisles, deliberately scanning for anything that makes her think of Zoey. It doesn’t take her very long at all before her eyes land on a little ceramic mug with turtles wrapping all around it. It’s a pretty light blue, and each turtle is a pale cream; when she looks inside, there’s a shell painted at the base with the words ‘shelling me already?’ painted over.

She grins, putting the mug in her basket without a moment of hesitation. It feels easy, normal. Like they’ve done this a thousand times, like Mira’s been here a thousand times, like she’s gotten them a thousand things, like this is just something that they do sometimes. Maybe it would be, if they were actually—

Mira grimaces so hard she nearly drops the stupid basket. She clears her throat, breathing out slowly as she adjusts on her feet. She doesn’t know what her fucking problem is, but she needs to get it together sooner rather than later. The amount of times something like this has already happened to her is getting ridiculous, and she doesn’t need for it to keep happening. She doesn’t know why it’s even happening in the first place.

Mira sighs, forcing herself to keep wandering the store. It doesn’t entirely help clear her mind, mostly because there are too many things that make her think of Rumi and Zoey—more things than there aren’t, really. Like the stupid tiger striped plate that actually turns out to be a set, which she only realises when she loops around that section twice over and finds two other plates to go along with it. Mira hovers for longer than she should, staring at them harder than she’d care to admit. 

Then there’s the frog statue that makes her think of Zoey. A turtle soap dispenser (she grabs this one), a dozen or so paintings mostly full of big cats that has her thinking of Rumi again. Mira sees more of them in the items around in the shop than she doesn’t. 

There’s a small container full of little shells and marbles and other scraps that don’t really go anywhere else, and Mira stands there for longer than she thinks she should. Half of them make her think of Zoey, the other half leaves her thinking of Rumi. It’s not even anything they’d like, probably, but she still scrutinises each one, picking up every little item and turning it over in her fingers until she’s satisfied. 

Mira works her way through the shop, pausing every now and then whenever she hears snippets of Rumi or Zoey’s voices. It never lasts for very long—they either drift out of earshot or they stop talking—but it leaves her feeling strangely warm. She catches glimpses of them sometimes, though they usually duck right out of sight again before they even notice she’s there, but it’s nice. Almost. Kind of, sort of. 

She ends up putting a few more things in her basket, including two rings for herself. She never leaves an antique shop—or any shop, really—without getting at least one or two things, but Zoey was specifically insistent this time, so Mira makes sure to hone in on something she likes faster than she normally would. The rings aren’t really anything special. They’re just golden bands with pretty engravings, and she thinks they match up well with her glasses, especially with her outfit. 

Her outfit, which is entirely comprised of Rumi’s clothes.

Mira sighs. 

She spends another handful of minutes looping back ground the shop, carefully going over everything she’s already looked at again, just in case. It doesn’t take her very long to do a double lap, and halfway through her second trip through the shop, she runs back into Rumi.

Mira can’t really help that she bursts out laughing as soon as she sees her, snickering at the way Rumi instantly starts to scowl and huff and puff and offer up explanations that literally don’t even matter, because she looks ridiculous. She has about five things tucked in her arms or held in her hands, and she’s walking stupidly slowly as if she’s worried she’s going to drop everything. 

“Hey,” Mira teases, the word coming out a little strained with how hard she’s grinning. “You know there were baskets up there, right? Like...a ton of them? Like, you know, baskets you can take when you walk around the store so you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” Rumi groans, tipping her head back with another sigh. “I know! It was just...it was too late, okay? I didn’t have time!”

Mira laughs at her again, narrowing her eyes a little. “You didn’t have...time? Rumi, we literally aren’t on a schedule, like, at all. What do you mean you didn’t have time?”

“It was just too late,” Rumi mutters, voice decisive. “Can I...?”

She inclines her head toward Mira’s basket. There’s a part of her that almost wants to say no, just to watch Rumi suffer through her own personal hell, but Mira ends up relenting. She holds her basket out, carefully manoeuvring it under Rumi’s arms, holding it steady as all of Rumi’s items stack up with her own. 

It doesn’t take very long for Rumi to transfer everything into the basket, and then she’s standing back with her hands on her hips, half-doubled over. 

“Thank you,” Rumi says, beaming up at her. “Have you seen her at all?”

“A few times,” Mira agrees. She’s about to adjust the basket to be more comfortable, but then Rumi is reaching out, hands slipping under the handle, tugging it right out of Mira’s grasp. “What are you...?”

Rumi waves her off, not even really looking at her anymore. “It’s mostly my stuff in there now, I can carry it. No big deal.”

Mira rolls her eyes, but she can’t quite wrestle back the smile that breaks out across her face. “Sure, okay. Are you done?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Rumi hums, nodding along. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Mira agrees, ignoring the way Rumi sort of flexes as she adjusts the basket. She didn’t...she hasn’t really noticed how toned Rumi is. She’s not ripped, just...

Mira crinkles her nose, gaze firmly drawn to the ground. “We can go find her then, if you want,” she mutters, shifting from foot to foot. “Shouldn’t be hard. I mean, there’s like, five other people in here.”

Rumi laughs, a bright sound that has Mira’s eyes snapping upward again. “Yeah, but I saw Zoey for maybe two seconds before she was gone again. She’s—oh my god, do you think she was a leash kid?”

“Yes,” Mira says without a beat of hesitation. “I think you were, too.”

“What?” Rumi demands, glaring at her. “I wasn’t! I was...I mean, I ran off sometimes as a kid, but not that bad,” she mutters. “Celine used to get mad at me because I’d start climbing trees if she looked away.”

Mira laughs, tilting her head to the side as she pads after Rumi. “You were a climber?”

“Bad,” Rumi agrees with a sigh. “Did you see the big tree outside the house?” she asks. Mira hums her agreement, and Rumi continues, “I used to scale that, like, all the time. Literally all the time. If I wasn’t in the house, I was probably up there. They hated trying to get me down.”

“Did they go up after you?” Mira asks as they turn a corner. She twists her head from side to side, frowning a little when she doesn’t immediately spot Zoey.

Rumi makes a noise. “Not really. Kimmy tried a few times, and my papa would go up, but I was, like, way too up high to justify any of that,” she admits with a laugh. “No, my mama just got the hose, and, um. You know. That got me down.”

Mira ducks her head, grinning so hard it has her cheeks aching. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“I wish I was,” Rumi miserably mutters. “I got sprayed so many times as a kid. What about you?” she suddenly asks. “You don’t really seem like a leash kid.”

“Probably because I wasn’t,” Mira agrees, smiling at the way Rumi rolls her eyes. “I was just...”

Mira trails off. She wasn’t a very good kid. She was probably a worse teenager. She’s sure that, somewhere, there are still those stupid mugshots after she got into a fight that hadn’t even been that bad, but she was old enough to be actually punished for it. Her parents were thrilled about that one. 

She wasn’t a good kid, but she mostly kept to herself after a while. Mira thinks that she spent most of her time dancing, or being paraded around, being brought to events she didn’t care about enough for her parents’ liking. As soon as she was allowed to get out of the house and spend hours in a high-end dance studio, that’s pretty much all she did. That, and the brief stint she had with self-defense classes. Before she got too good at them and had to be taken out, because god forbid, or whatever.

Mira clears her throat, looking down at the floor. “I mostly just did whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah?” Rumi asks. “Because you were a good kid, or...?”

“Not really,” Mira says, shrugging. “But I was good at getting away with stuff, so, you know. Not much they could do about it.”

“Troublemaker,” Rumi teases, flashing her a grin. It makes the word settle infinitely easier when it’s coming from Rumi rather than her own mind. “Oh! I think I saw her shirt!”

“Her shirt?” Mira asks, wriggling just out of elbowing range once Rumi decides to stop. “You mean your shirt?”

Rumi twists her head over her shoulder, scowling at her. “We’re literally going back down to the diner in, like, fifteen minutes! And I already said sorry!” Rumi jabs a finger at her, but it’s difficult to take her seriously when Mira can see her lips tugging upward. 

Mira raises her hands up, beaming right back at her. “I’m just saying.”

“Well, stop,” Rumi mutters, turning back around. “Come on! I’m pretty sure it was her.”

Mira doesn’t tease her past that, dutifully following as Rumi navigates them through the store. It only takes another minute or two before Rumi guides them to an aisle, and—there Zoey is, crouched down on her haunches, hands on her legs as she leans forward and peers at something on a lower shelf. 

Zoey notices them after another beat, face splitting into a wide grin. “Hey!” she calls out, waving. “You found me!”

Mira snorts. “It's not like it was hard.”

“Were you, like, hiding?” Rumi asks, laughing a little. “Hey. Where’s all your stuff?”

Mira blinks, realising that Rumi is right—Zoey has literally nothing on her person. Before she can speak, Zoey quickly rushes out, “I’m indecisive! Okay? Is that such a crime? And—and it’s my birthday! You have to be nice to me! Remember?” 

“And you just didn’t see a single thing in this whole store that you liked?” Mira presses, planting a hand on her hip, hoping that the look she’s sending Zoey’s way reads as unimpressed as she feels. 

Zoey shoots her a wide, sheepish grin. “...Yeah? Kinda?”

“I don’t believe you,” Rumi interjects. “But it’s fine, once we’re back up from the diner we can just come back and do it again. No biggie.”

“We really don’t have to do tha—”

“No, I think it sounds like a good plan,” Mira agrees. “Cool. Good talk. Do you wanna check out now? We’re done.”

Zoey practically springs up to her feet, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! Yeah, we can so do that, cool, cool, cool. Did you get anything?” she asks, specifically leveling Mira with a look. “You better have.”

“I did,” Mira assures her, reaching into the basket to hold up the two rings she picked out. “See?”

“Those are pretty,” Rumi comments, opening her hand half a second later. Mira blinks, but she sets the rings in Rumi’s open palm. “They’re super pretty. They go really well with your glasses.”

“Yeah,” Mira agrees, blinking again a few times. “Thanks.”

Zoey giggles at both of them, which is about all the warning Mira gets before she’s being grabbed and dragged again. At the very least, Rumi seems to be going through the same process, stumbling over her feet as Zoey tugs them through the shop as if she’s on a mission. Mira just smiles, dutifully following along until they make it to the front desk, where Zoey immediately launches into a conversation with the cashier. 

It’s kind of sweet.

Rumi hums, setting the basket on the counter, slowly starting to unload their haul. Mira studies the additional items in her basket—Rumi pulls out a stupid looking snowman that has a half-broken hat, and she immediately recognises that that must be for Zoey. There are a few other things that are obviously for Zoey, but Mira can’t quite place a handful of the items. They’re probably for her parents. 

And then she watches the way Rumi pulls out a little pink teacup with hearts, and suddenly she’s back at the house, eyeing her pink toothbrush. Mira swallows past the lump that’s quickly formed in her throat, staring firmly at the collection of jewellery settled on top of the front counter. 

Mira clears her throat, tipping her head back for a second as she tries to calm herself down. She shouldn’t even—she shouldn’t even need to do that, but it’s just...she’s...

Mira breathes out slowly. Okay.

“Rumi,” she mumbles, gently knocking their shoulders together. Rumi immediately looks over at her, eyes far too patient and sincere for what Mira’s about to do to her. Mira draws in another slow breath, tapping her fingers against the counter. “Are you sure we can afford this?”

“What?” Rumi asks, frowning. “Uh, yeah. I mean, you don’t have to pay if—”

“Can I even be speaking right now?” Mira quickly asks, drawing her brows together. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rumi demands, voice dropping ever so slightly. “What—what are you doing?”

Mira nods, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

She doesn’t even need to look at Rumi to hear the frantic sputtering and desperate confusion. “What are you—Mira, what—? What is this? What are you even saying to me?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Mira mumbles. She sniffles a little, muffling the sound of her own laugh the best she can manage. “I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

“Oh my god!” Rumi hisses out, grabbing Mira’s arm, jostling her back and forth lightly. “You—you can’t just do that!” she laughs, eyes narrowed firmly. “I don’t—I don’t know you! I don’t know her! Get away from me! Stranger danger!”

Mira throws her head back when she laughs, hardly bothered by the way Rumi continues to shake her. “Not a good look for you,” she rushes out, nodding her head toward where Rumi’s hands are wrapped around her arm. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, can I still not speak?”

Rumi sputters for a second, but she narrows her eyes, rapidly nodding. “You know what? Yeah, no, you can’t speak forever. I’m—I need to pay, oh my god. Because I can afford this! We can afford this!” she hisses, one hand letting go of Mira’s arm so she can move closer to where Zoey is.

Her other hand stays wrapped around Mira’s arm, though. Mira is tugged along once again, and she finds that she doesn’t mind for even a second. Zoey bounds over to her after that, settling on the opposite side of her. 

“Hey, babe,” Zoey says with a grin, eyes sparkling. “Harassing Rumi?”

Mira beams back, shrugging one shoulder. “I wouldn’t call it harassment.”

“I would!” Rumi shoots back, glaring at her for half a second before she turns back to face the cashier with a polite smile. Mira snickers, ducking her head.

“How’s your birthday so far?” Mira asks, eyes flitting back up to meet Zoey’s. “Other than waking up early, I guess.”

Zoey giggles, leaning up against Mira, their shoulders pressed fully together now. “It’s been really good. Maybe I just need to get kidnapped every year, ‘cause, honestly, this is the best birthday I’ve had in years. Other than waking up at seven in the morning. That was fucked up to do to me.”

Mira smiles, pressing back against her. “Blame Rumi.”

“Uh, do not blame Rumi?” Rumi insists, turning her head to glare at both of them. “You know what? Go sit in the car.”

Mira snorts, tugging her arm out of Rumi’s grasp. “You got it. Keys?”

Rumi deposits said keys, waving the both of them off without another word. Zoey tugs Mira all the way out of the shop and into the parking lot, then into the car, but Mira is hardly complaining. 

They settle into the car, with Zoey scrambling up front and immediately opening her phone to put on her birthday playlist. Mira shifts into the back, making sure to warn Zoey that she will crash Rumi’s car into the shop if Cbat comes back on.

Zoey just waves her off, same as how Rumi did, and promises that she’ll love Fergalicious. 

They manage to get halfway through Fergalicious before Rumi comes back, and Mira can’t help but burst out laughing at the way Rumi just sort of stands there with one hand on her hip, head cocked to the side as she squints at the window. She looks kind of like a disgruntled dad on vacation. 

Rumi eventually actually gets in the car, and she hoists the bag of trinkets over into Mira’s lap. “Hold onto these.”

“You got it,” Mira agrees, beaming at her as sincerely as she can. Rumi doesn’t even falter, her eyes narrowing further. “What?” she teases, grinning even harder. “Did I do something?”

“I wonder,” Rumi mutters, but that finally gets her to break, her narrowed eyes being replaced with her crooked grin. “I can’t believe you did that to me!” she whines. “I didn’t even do anything! I didn’t even start it!”

“You don’t have to start it,” Mira helpfully informs her. “It was funny. It made Zoey laugh, too.”

Zoey snorts. “It did make me laugh, yeah. Sorry, Rumi! You just can’t let her tease you like that, babe. Fight her back! Mira,” Zoey suddenly says, spinning around in her seat to look back at her. “You gotta give her a chance.”

Mira shrugs, grinning right back at her. “Well, she kidnapped me, so...”

“Oh my god,” Rumi groans, and that’s about all the warning Mira gets before she puts the car in reverse. Mira chokes, her seatbelt tightening, and she heaves a sigh at the way Rumi flashes her a stupid grin in the mirror. “Oh, sorry. Did something happen back there?”

“You’re not going to like it when I make you get out of the car again so I can drive,” Mira grumbles, sitting back against her seat properly, mostly just so she doesn’t get choked out again. “I can’t believe you—”

“Quiet game!” Rumi suddenly announces. “Everyone but Mira can talk!”

Mira rolls her eyes, but she snaps her jaw shut. She can’t even say she’s mad—she can’t stop smiling, which should make her more annoyed than it does, but...whatever. 

That only gets worse once Zoey starts to ramble about some of her last few birthdays and what she did for them. Mira diligently listens, humming along every now and then, but she’s more than content to listen to Zoey and Rumi laugh back and forth between each other, trading teasing jabs that always get soothed over by Rumi’s gentle laugh. Zoey makes sure to spend half of the drive down to the diner turned over her seat, and Mira appreciates being looped back into the conversation more than she expected.

She doesn’t feel left out for even a second, even despite being in the back. She starts actually giving answers after about ten minutes, asking about some of the things Zoey has brought up. Rumi hums along, tapping her fingers to the songs Zoey puts on; all of them are better than what they were listening to on the drive over to the antique shop, at least. Zoey’s even nice enough to let Rumi and Mira have some vague control of what they listen to, their own songs being interspersed with Zoey’s playlist.

It’s nice.

Mira smiles and laughs through the whole drive, grinning as she shuffles closer to the middle seat so she can actually talk to them better. Rumi and Zoey keep singing, and Zoey eventually ends up egging her into actually joining them. It feels kind of ridiculous, sort of like all of this is just...out of her bounds, maybe. Like it’s something she shouldn’t be doing, and yet here she is, singing along to one of the songs Rumi has put on, laughing wildly whenever Zoey says something ridiculous, grinning whenever she manages to goad Rumi into play fighting back with her.

By the time they get down to the diner, Mira’s face hurts from how much she’s been smiling. 

It doesn’t take her very long to grab her stuff out of her car, tossing it in the backseat. Zoey comes back a minute later, her own bag hoisted up over her shoulder. Mira watches the way Rumi laughs and takes it from her, easily setting it in the back next to Mira’s own bag. Zoey cites that she had just come back from a friend’s place, so she’s ‘totally good’ and has ‘everything she could ever possibly need’. Mira’s not sure how much of that is actually true, but Zoey is pretty insistent that her bag does in fact have everything she needs, so Mira doesn’t press.

Mira’s bag is mostly just full of emergency supplies. That does include about a dozen or so spare clothes, just in case, which she’s thankful for. She doubts she’ll need anything more, especially since she’s only going to be there for less than two weeks. 

Rumi gets back in the car first, though Zoey isn’t slow to join her. Mira pauses when she reaches her door, looking back at the diner for half a beat.

She likes them. It feels almost wrong to not have admitted to it by now, but it feels impossible here, at the diner, where everything started. She likes them. She likes Zoey, and she likes Rumi, and she likes that they’re so...

Weird. Nice. 

They’re like no one she’s ever met before, and Mira likes them more than she should. Way more than she should.

She gets back into the car, trying to choke those thoughts back. It doesn’t really work, not when Zoey immediately launches into a spiel about one of the times she accidentally got roped into a fishing retreat. It’s hard to focus on anything else other than the way Rumi laughs, or how Zoey beams and giggles, or how both of them keep looking back to her, constantly roping her right back into the conversation as if it would kill them to not be talking to her for even a second.

Mira really, really likes them. It leaves her with a weird feeling in her chest—warm and anxious and kind of nervous, and no matter how hard she tries to push it down or choke it back or just get it to shut up, she can’t quite manage. They make it so fucking hard to think, to exist without feeling a thousand things, to just...

Mira doesn’t know what her problem is. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, or when she’s going to get over herself and whatever this is, but she knows she’s going to have to. 

She has ten more days. That’s it. Just ten days, and this will be...over.

Mira tries really, really hard to pretend like the thought of that doesn’t make her strangely upset.