Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Mira ever sought out physical affection from anyone was—for lack of better words—a shock. To both Zoey and Rumi.

Mira only ever gave them physical affection when she was comforting them. Or when they would initiate it.

Zoey was a loud lover. She was vibrant in every sense of the word. She always sought out physical affection from both Rumi and herself, and while Mira never turned it away, she was always stiff and tense when it happened.

“It’s just a little new, it’s not that I don’t want it, I just need to get used to it,” she’d always say. 

She longed to see the girl’s eyes light up when she was excited or when she was happy.

Rumi on the other hand was quiet. Withdrawn. The complete opposite of Zoey. But she always showed she cared in smaller ways. It almost reminded her of her childhood—the way Rumi loved— with the small acts of service and the sliced apple slices.

Mira rejected her affections at first. They reminded her too much of home.

Growing up, Mira always had to be the tough one. She grew thick skin so she could take the verbal beating from her father. 

Her brother being the oldest meant she was often left to her own devices. He was the prodigy, the golden child. He always absorbed the attention from their parents. He could do no wrong. 

Mira on the other hand was always wrong. It felt like her entire existence was wrong. 

When she was younger, she would always try to please her parents. Try and do better—be better—so that maybe she’d deserve an ounce of love from them. 

Every time they’d get in an argument, Mira would spend long hours into the night doing the dishes and cleaning the house. So that maybe she would get a morsel of what her brother got. 

Every morning she’d wake up to a plate of peeled mandarin slices on her desk. And that would be the end of it. 

“Sorry”

Is what those slices represented. 

She accepted them without an argument. 

Then she grew up. And every day was the same argument. The same lecture. 

“You should be more like your brother” 

“Why can’t you behave like your brother” 

“Your brother never has these—these outbursts—you need to learn how to be well mannered like him” 

Those orange slices that started out as a sign of love—of an apology—turned into a sign of shame. Of obligation. Because nothing she ever did would compare to her brother.

She was only ten years old when she realized that she wouldn’t ever be enough for her parents. 

She was only twelve when her parents stopped paying attention to her all together. 

She was on the other end of the silent treatment quite often. 

The orange slices stopped appearing on her desk in the morning. The house was a little less put together and the kitchen a little messier than it usually was when her family woke up. 

She thought that maybe the effort she was putting in would be noticed. But the world doesn’t stop for you even if you’ve stopped for it. 

Desperate for a scrap of attention, she started acting out. 

She came home one day with her ears pierced, her usual clean—pristine—outfit had changed into a darker, edgy style. 

“This is just a phase. I will not have you ruin our image” 

Her father scolded. Her mother cried. 

She was fifteen. And she had figured out how to get her parents’ attention.

Her eyes were misty the first few times her father yelled at her. 

She would retreat to her room, closing the door quietly even if she wanted more than anything to slam the door in their face. 

She would silently scream—yell—curse—at her parents through the door as if they could hear. Hot, angry tears streaming down her face. She started bringing girls home soon after as an act of rebellion. 

Her mother walked in on her one day. Mira brought a girl home under the guise of studying. She told her mother that they were working on a project for school together. 

Her mother walked in unexpectedly. Mira had her hand up the girl’s skirt, her skirt half unbuttoned. 

“Is this another one of those fucking phases?” 

Her father yelled at her after the girl was ushered out the door. 

It wasn’t a phase. Not really anyways. It started as a rebellion against her parents. Her reputation. 

Then she realized it wasn’t just a rebellion. And the one time she argued back against her parents she ended up packing a bag and leaving. 

Mira was seventeen. She doesn’t remember much from that night. But she does remember crashing at some girl’s house and drinking for the first time. 

Mira didn’t return home the next day. Or the next. Or the next. But when she did return, she walked in through the front door. 

Her parents were sitting in the living room. Pristine as always. Her brother was already gone. He started university years ago. 

“Get yourself cleaned up. I hope you took advantage of that time to reflect on your actions”

Nothing bad had happened while Mira was staying with that girl. 

“You’re setting yourself up for failure” 

Mira was completely fine. Sore and a little pale. Dizzy maybe. But fine nonetheless. 

Her parents hadn’t even been worried about her. 

That’s why she was shocked when she came back to her new home and her girls were worried. They came barreling into her, she caught herself on the wall so they wouldn’t fall.

She was tense. She didn’t know what to do with all this physical contact. One hand was braced against the wall while the other was awkwardly positioned above Zoey.

What do I do with my hands….

“Where have you been?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What happened?” 

“You didn’t even tell us where you went!” 

Mira furrowed her brows. She hadn’t said anything yet, but she looked back and forth between her girls. 

She had just gone for a walk. She had gone to the store to get some ramen for all three of them. 

Oh Rumi. She was on the verge of tears she was so worried. 

And Zoey? God, she had a gentle tremor to her voice. 

They were barreling her with questions and worries and “what ifs”

Then Mira smiled a soft smile. Something that she hadn’t done in almost ten years.

That was when Mira realized that maybe she did have a real family after all. 

After that, Mira became more protective of her girls. 

She was always there when Zoey wanted to watch movies or shows. Always there when Zoey wanted to go out. 

She always texted her girls before going out by herself now. 

I’m going on a walk, I’ll be back a little later. Text me if you need anything <3 

Rumi always hearted her message. 

Zoey always responded with a turtle emoji and a heart. 

Mira’s heart clenched every time. 

She loved her girls. 

And when they finally made their norigae. Mira put two small charms of her family in the middle. 

Rumi and Zoey. 

Mira could practically hear the seconds ticking by at this fan signing. 

Zoey was sat in the middle, Rumi on her right, Mira on her left. 

The excited chattering of fans, as much as she loved them, always left her exhausted. 

She didn’t know how Rumi made it through these always looking perfect. She scoffed a little at the thought. 

Mira loved Rumi. She really did. But sometimes she saw both her mother and her brother in the worst ways possible. 

Her brother in Rumi’s perfection. Always being the best at seemingly everything. 

Her mother in the way she cared for everyone. And that thought itself didn’t bother Mira. Rumi showed she cared in the ways that mattered. It's just that it also reminded her of her mother. And Mira hated her mother. 

But Mira could never hate Rumi. Not ever. 

Half way through the fan signing, Zoey started to practically vibrate in her seat. 

She had a tendency to get excited and bubbly when meeting fans—by gods did Mira love that about Zoey—but it also took a huge tole on her mental state. And she could tell that Zoey was crashing. She could see the signs of anxiety settling into Zoey’s bones, the overstimulation of it all making her leg bounce and her hands shake. 

Mira brought her hand to Zoey’s thigh. Rubbing small patterns along it. And that alone seemed to calm Zoey down. 

She heard a deep breath from next to her. Looking over, she saw a grateful smile on Zoey’s face. But more than that, she saw a beautiful blush painted across her cheeks. 

Mira walked a little bit lighter that day. 

There was loud, annoying music blaring through the bar. They had been invited to party—a social gathering—Mira didn’t even remember why or who it was for. 

All she knew was that Rumi was nowhere in sight. And that alone made her panic. 

Zoey had linked arms with Mira, and she was talking up a storm with some other girl she couldn’t remember the name of. Meanwhile Mira was scanning the bar with her eyes as nonchalantly as possible. 

Rumi. 

Where are you Rumi? 

Sure, Mira’s been away from the girl for more than a few hours before. Hell, she’s been away from Rumi for days—weeks even—due to photoshoots and whatnot. 

But she’s never lost the girl in a crowd. 

Rumi had a way of always drawing attention. She always radiated poise and elegance, yet she also always lit up the room when she walked in. 

Rumi was wearing her hair down. A very rare occurrence for going out. And she looked absolutely stunning—though Mira would never admit that to her face—and Mira just had this gut feeling that something was wrong. 

“Hey Zo? Could you stay put for a few minutes?” Mira asked quietly, leaning down to whisper in Zoey’s ear, “I’m gonna go see if I can find Rumi.” 

Before waiting for a response, Mira started walking off, before pausing. 

“Don’t move. Or… just stay close to here…” 

Zoey saw the look of panic painted on Mira’s face. The subtle tremor in her voice. The way her hands shook. She nodded before letting Mira walk into the crowd.

Mira practically surfed through the crowd of guests. She searched everywhere for their leader, growing more panicked by the second when she couldn’t find her. 

Where are you Rumi?

Her face may not have shown it. But she was worried. Beyond worried. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, her breathing was fast and shallow. She could practically feel her world caving in. 

What if something happened? 

Oh god Rumi. Please be okay. 

Please please please. 

Then she heard her. She followed the nervous laughter to the back of the bar. Her heart was hammering. Fingers twitched against the wall. 

“Haha… actually I think I have to get back to my team… they’re waiting for me over near the front…” 

“Oh come on… I’m a loyal fan… you wouldn’t want to disappoint me now would you?” 

Then Mira heard her yelp. 

Oh…

Oh.

Mira saw red. She started running to where she heard Rumi. She rounded the corner and finally saw her. 

Some guy had her pinned against the wall, a little too close to her face, her hair bunched up in his fist.

Rumi’s eyes were closed. She was hyperventilating. Her hands trying to push him away. Tears were streaming down her face. 

Rumi couldn’t speak. She was panicking. That was the most emotion Mira had ever seen the girl express while out in public. 

Oh how she wished it was a different scenario. Rumi being happy with her and Zoey. Just spending time with her girls. 

That’s when Mira saw the man reach for the bottom of Rumi’s shirt, untucking it. 

Mira was over there in a flash. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She spat. 

Rumi’s eyes snapped open. Her crying became more frantic when she saw Mira. She was practically sobbing under the man’s hold. 

“Oh come on. Me and your leader were just back here having some fun,” he responded. There was a sick tone to his voice. One she had heard before from the various guys she ran into back in highschool. It was dripping with a perverted hunger. A hunger that was only satisfied when it was taken by force. 

Oh Mira was gonna force him alright. 

“I suggest you let go of her,” her voice was dark. It was a warning—no—a threat. A very clear one. It was laced with rage and malice. 

“Don’t ruin our fun babe, she was enjoying it right?” he laughed. 

That was when Mira reached over and grabbed his wrist. The one in Rumi’s hair. She squeezed at the bony part of his wrist till he made what sounded like a mix of a squeak and a grimace. 

“What’s your problem bitch?” He spat. 

Mira shoved him against the wall, pulling Rumi behind her. 

“Don’t you ever touch her again. Or I’ll make you regret the day you were fucking born,” Mira looked away, shoving him back before he ran out into the crowd. 

Mira turned around and was surprised to feel a shivering body against hers. Quiet sobs raked through Rumi’s body as she tried to get closer to Mira. 

Rumi’s shirt was still untucked, her hair was a mess, and her makeup was long gone. And yet, Mira still didn’t know what to do with her hands as the shorter, purple haired girl curled into her chest. 

Is she trying to crawl inside me… 

Mira wasn’t used to taking care of Rumi. Rumi hadn’t ever been this vulnerable in front of anyone. The closest she’d ever seen was that time she went on a walk without telling anyone. She didn’t know what to do. 

She was never taught how to take care of someone. 

She was never taught how to be vulnerable. 

Even so. She hesitantly brought one hand to cradle the back of Rumi’s head, gently brushing her fingers through her hair. Then she brought her other hand to hold the girl close. Rumi’s head tucked gently under Mira’s chin. 

“You’re okay Ru. Don’t worry, you’re okay.” 

“You’ll always be safe as long as I’m here.” 

Rumi’s breathing started to even out. And they sat there together for a little while longer, before Rumi, sighed, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the underside of Mira’s jaw. 

“Thank you Mira,” she said, before shakily grabbing her hand, pulling her back to where Zoey was. 

They left the party. Zoey gave her a questioning glance. 

But all Mira could think about was the shift in Rumi. 

The spot she kissed was warm. She brought her fingers to it, and she softly smiled. 

Zoey had dragged both Mira and Rumi out that morning for a coffee. 

As Zoey excitedly bounced down the street, Rumi on the other side of her, Mira subtly, quietly, moved them to the inside of the sidewalk. Mira walking on the end closest to the cars. 

That coffee turned into shopping. Where Zoey dragged Rumi to the plushie isle, and Mira stayed back to look at keychains. 

Her eyes caught at the animal key chains. A turtle, a polar bear, and a tiger. 

She picked them up and quietly paid for them. Sticking them in her pocket before returning to her girls. 

My girls. 

She thought fondly. 

She no longer saw her brother in Rumi after one fateful night. She had caught her doing the same thing she did as a kid. Cleaning the kitchen and tidying the living room. There was only one small detail that stuck in her head and pulled at her heartstrings. 

Rumi had stuck their blankets in the drier, and draped the warm, fresh blankets over her and Zoey as they slept. 

As much as Rumi said it was “fine” Mira always saw the way her shoulders deflated a little ever time Mira rejected her acts of service. 

She noticed the way Rumi opened up a bit more after that night. And she especially noticed the way Rumi would walk a bit lighter when she was around Mira. She seemed happier, less tense after Mira started reciprocating the small acts of service. 

She smiled thinking back on the memory. 

She smiled even wider when she remembered how happy Zoey was when she would recall random facts about turtles and various other sea creatures. 

Zoey was hard to understand when she first met her. She was this energetic ball of sunshine and she wasn’t used to it. 

And yet, Zoey always knew how to handle Mira. How to read her. Understand her. And most importantly, love her. 

Mira thought that this was the closest to heaven she’d ever be. 

She found Zoey and Rumi looking at stuffed turtles. Rumi was actively listening to Zoey rant about squid and deep sea gigantism. 

She felt her face heat up. 

Mira walked up to her girls, maneuvering so she could clip the small keychains on their belt loops. 

Zoey’s was a cute blue and green turtle, a yellow clip. 

Rumi’s was a small blue and black tiger, with bright yellow eyes and a matching clip. 

Mira looked back to clip her own onto her belt loop. The polar bear was white with purple accents. The clip was pink. 

Perfect. 

She held her hands out for both of them. 

They each took a hand with a wide smile on their face. 

Zoey was blushing. But she was quiet. The good, comfortable kind of quiet. 

Rumi had a gentle smile on her face. The kind she reserved for home. With Mira and Zoey. 

They were surprised when Mira offered them her hands. But they took them without hesitation and each placed a soft kiss to both of her knuckles. 

Yeah. If heaven was a place on Earth? It was with her girls. 

Chapter Text

Mira was hard to get along with. She knew she was. She was short fused, overly blunt, and she wasn’t afraid of confrontation or the consequences that came with it.

She knew why people steered clear of her when she went to school and she knew why she couldn’t keep anyone close. Quite frankly, she didn’t want to be close with anyone.

And she wouldn’t ever admit it, but it was because she was scared of losing them. She would go home every day and go straight to her room until she was called. Her family would leave to go to dinner and leave her home to “figure out her own situation.”

“We figured you were tired and didn’t want to come out tonight.”

It was always the same excuse. Always the same cold, withdrawn tone of voice her father would use.

Or the tone laced with false-sympathy her mother would use.

As much as she disliked her father, at least he was upfront with his emotions. Her mother on the other hand, the prim and proper woman always put up a front of being poised and elegant in public. Then as soon as she was home, she was a nightmare.

She painted the perfect picture of being the perfect house wife. But once you remove that first layer of paint—stubborn as it may be—you see what really laid underneath. Malice and condescension. Her tears were an illusion—a way to guilt trip you—make you feel bad for your actions. The plates of apology fruit were really just plates of lies.

Mira believed they were an apology. But deep down, she knew what they were.

“See all that we do for you? How dare you talk back to your family. We put a roof over your head and food on your plate.”

That’s what those plates really meant. They were a sick joke. That’s why she always threw them out or gave them to her brother.

By god her brother. She loved her brother. She adored him when she was younger. Looked up to him—he was her hero. Then he grew up. As children so often do. Gone was the brother she adored.

He left her a long time ago. All that remained was a cocky, arrogant, child prodigy. He knew his role. And he knew a little too well. When he finally left for university, she didn’t cry, she didn't even want to show up to his graduation party or help him move in.

She was happy.

Relieved that he was gone—because maybe with him gone—her parents would finally love her.

Here’s a little secret: Mira’s family does love her. They just don’t do it well. They allow the weight of perfection to crush their daughter and throw her to the wolves.

One day, her parents dragged Mira to the car, under the guise of one of the many social gatherings she was required to attend. 

She was dressed in a silky white button up and long black slacks. 

She wore her earbuds and listened to loud, angry music. She was tense as she often was going to these events. But she couldn’t ignore this feeling that was practically dripping out of her ears. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sadness. 

It was fear. 

Why was she so scared? 

They were just going to a social event.

Right…?

Mira was furious. 

They lied to her. 

They sent her away. 

Mira was trying to take deep breaths. She really was. She was trying to calm down. She was in some stranger’s estate. She couldn’t just destroy it. 

But god. All she felt was rage. 

She heard the car start. She watched as her parents drove away. 

Seconds ticked by and her breathing was only getting heavier. 

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Could you come with me?” 

Mira didn’t know why she listened. But something compelled her to follow. Maybe it was the way the girl was so gentle with her even as she stewed in rage. Maybe it was the soft look in her deep, coffee colored eyes. 

She didn’t know what it was about the girl. But she nodded and followed. 

The girl walked in front of her, bringing her hands up and combing her hands through her purple hair. She was quiet. Mira didn’t hear a single footstep from the girl as they walked down the hall. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

Mira paused when she heard the girl speak. Oh how her voice sounded like honey. It sounded like what Mira thought home should feel like rather than how it truly was. 

“You seem angry. We have a punching bag in the gym if you’d like to use it?” 

Mira’s fists ached. Her arms were sore and she was drenched head to toe in sweat. These days, she spends hours in the gym, beating her anger away with her fists. 

And after every session, the purple haired girl always came down to quietly tend to her knuckles. Cleaning and rewrapping the bruised and bloodied skin. Before disappearing without a word. 

Mira didn’t even know the girl’s name yet. 

Celine—the owner of the estate and woman who took her in—never told her. Maybe she assumed the girl introduced herself already. Celine had seen the two walking around her estate, Mira following the shorter girl like a shadow. 

She wanted to know the girl’s name—she just didn’t know how to ask. 

It’s pathetic. You’ve been living with this girl for weeks now. 

You can’t even ask her what her name is? 

She was sitting on a bench in the gym. The girl was in front of her, sitting on the floor. Mira leaned over, her elbows on her knees, as the girl cleaned her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry, but could I ask what your name is?” 

Mira paused. 

I did not just say that. 

Please tell me I did not just say that. 

I’m such an idiot. 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. 

Why would you do that? 

God why couldn’t you just ask Celi—

“Rumi,” she smiled, “my name is Rumi.” 

Mira hummed. 

“Thank you for always wrapping my hands Rumi.”

Rumi. 

Such a beautiful name. 

Mira rarely heard Rumi talk. She was always so quiet. And she never seemed to show emotion. 

The only thing she did was follow Celine’s orders. Follow the rules. 

Mira would have to be blind if she didn't see how beautiful Rumi was. Rumi was more than easy on the eyes. Her voice was like a melody that she could listen to all day and night. 

The only thing was—Rumi was perfect—too perfect. And the more she saw Rumi and Celine interact, the more she saw her brother. 

She didn’t want to see her brother in Rumi. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that Mira was always second best at everything compared to Rumi. 

It started when Celine instructed Rumi to punch the punching bag. Celine wanted Mira to learn some form of martial arts, and Rumi was there to help teach her. 

Small as the girl may be, she packed quite a punch. The bag nearly ripped off the chain connected to the ceiling. 

And that was the moment Mira’s love for Rumi started turning to resentment. 

Rumi didn’t understand what she’d done, but she stayed away nonetheless. Mira just stopped following her around one day, and she quietly accepted and understood that Mira just didn’t want to be around her anymore. 

Mira saw the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Rumi seemed impossibly quieter. Even more distant than she was when she first met Mira. Those soft footsteps she would always listen out for suddenly disappeared. Rumi still wrapped and cleaned Mira’s knuckles every session, she still left snacks for her outside her door every night. 

But she had practically turned into a ghost the way she disappeared. 

Celine didn’t even bat an eye. It was almost as if she didn’t notice. Like it was normal for her daughter to simply disappear. 

Celine didn’t even call Rumi down when she brought home another girl. 

The girl was small. Smaller than Rumi. And yet she took up the most space. She was so vibrant and colorful it was almost an eyesore. Her hair was in a single bun, a yellow, purple and teal colored backpack sagged against her back. She held a box caulk full of notebooks. 

She had wide eyes. Similar to Rumi’s, only hers were bigger, wider. They were a beautiful brown, almost like autumn leaves after they’ve fallen. She gave a wide smile to Mira. 

“Hi I’m Zoey!” 

Zoey was a ball of sunshine.

It was almost annoying how happy she always was. 

She walked on the balls of her feel, practically bouncing down the halls. She always had her arm looped through Rumi’s and was always talking her ear off or humming. 

How does Rumi deal with that all the damn time? 

I can’t even sit in a room with that girl for more than 20 minutes before I have a headache.

It’s almost like Rumi is her mom… 

“Hi Mira!” Zoey called as she bounced over. 

Rumi had this soft smile painted over her face. She was looking at Zoey. She seemed calm. Relaxed. 

Rumi used to smile at me like that too— 

Mira was almost jealous. Almost allowed her to feel the jealousy. Zoey got to see how Rumi was soft and caring. Zoey got to see those soft smiles and gentle hands cradling her face and drawing patterns against her knuckles. Then she remembered that she resented Rumi. 

She hated how perfect that girl was. 

Oh how she loved that perfect girl. 

Mira groaned. She was annoyed. So incredibly annoyed. She could practically feel Zoey vibrating in the room next to her. She could feel the floorboards shake as she practically hopped around. 

Mira had just about enough of this.

She groaned, sitting up and walking towards the door. She aggressively flung the door open, watching the bubbly girl slip down the hall and into Rumi’s room. 

Oh for fucks sake. 

By the time Mira made her way to Rumi’s it was quiet again. Soft sniffling on the other side of the door. Mira tip toed and pushed Rumi’s door open a crack. 

Mira paused. 

Rumi’s head was on her desk, buried in her arms. She was hunched over in her desk chair.

Oh…

Zoey was coming up behind Rumi, a soft blue blanket in hand. She wrapped the blanket around the purple haired girl’s shoulders and ran her fingers along Rumi’s  scalp. Rumi looked up. She looked so sad. 

Zoey climbed into the girls lap. Wrapping her arms around her. 

Rumi looked so small. She was a little pale, her face was flushed and her eyes were misty. She sniffed every few seconds. She wasn’t really crying. But she wasn’t okay either.

”I just don’t understand what I did,” she whispered. Mira strained to hear it. 

“You know how Mira is. I haven’t known her long, but she cares. I think she’s just scared to show it.” 

Maybe there was more to Zoey than Mira originally thought… 

Mira looked at Zoey differently since that night. No longer did she see that annoying, bubbly girl. There was something deeper. Something she only caught a glimpse of. 

“Did you need something or are you just gonna stand there and stare?” 

Mira blinked. 

Zoey’s voice was colder than usual. It wasn’t happy or excited. It almost sounded annoyed. Cold. 

“Excuse me?” 

Zoey raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t smiling. She looked tired. And she looked annoyed. 

“Do. You. Need. Something?” 

Zoey repeated. 

“Can I come in?” 

Zoey hummed. And let her in. This was so unusual. She wasn’t used to this side of Zoey.

What happened to that ball of sunshine?

What happened to the skipping down the hall? 

What happened to the goofy smile she always wore? 

“You’re staring again.” 

“Sorry.” 

Mira isn’t sure what to say. Zoey keeps looking at her expectantly.

”Is Rumi doing okay?” 

Why did I just ask that.

Zoey signs. Heavily.

“Rumi‘s doing as okay as she always is. You know her, she overthinks herself into a pit then disappears because she doesn’t want to bother anyone.” 

“Oh… cool?” 

“Why do you do that?” 

Mira paused. 

“Do what?” 

“You push people away. Pretend like you hate them. I don’t know why you’re pretending like you hate Rumi, I don’t know who or what you’re seeing to make you hate her, but I see how you look at her.  You miss her” 

You miss her 

You miss her 

You miss her

”How are you always so happy? You always bounce down the halls, there always a smile on your face. You always have an arm looped through Rumi’s. How are you always so fucking positive all the time? It seems so fake and superficial.” 

Zoey softens.

”I’m loud. I know I am. I’m loud and I’m colorful. It isn’t just mask—it’s who I am—and I enjoy being who I am because who else would I be?” 

Mira hums. 

“Rumi cares about you. She may not always show it behind all those walls, but she does.”  

“Do you love her?” 

Zoey laughs. 

“Who wouldn’t love her?” 

Mira was trying. She really was. After that talk with Zoey, she started visiting her more often. No happy-go-lucky, excited, bubbly Zoey. Just Zoey. 

She soon realized that Zoey wasn’t just a single color. The vibrant yellow that she saw in Zoey was just the dominant color in the kaleidoscope that made up the bubbly girl. 

There were purples and greens and blues and oranges. 

This is what Zoey really meant when she said she was vibrant and colorful. She feels a lot. She feels her emotions loudly. And she’s not afraid to show them.

Does Rumi ever see this side of her?

She wouldn’t tell her, but Mira beginning to love Zoey’s company. All sides of Zoey’s company—the happy, the sad, the angry—all of it: 

Mira loved the way Zoey’s eyes lit up when she was talking about the things she loved. Mira loved the warmth of Zoey’s body pressed against hers during movie nights. Mira especially loved how Zoey always knew what to say when she was lost in her head. How she knew how to handle Mira and her emotions.

She never shut her down—never invalidated her emotions—but she was honest when something bothered her.

She accepted Mira and her hard love with open arms. 

Mira didn’t exist quietly. She felt real—hard—emotions. Just like anyone else. And she was having a hard time breaking bad habits, but sitting here, leaned against the wall, with Zoey’s head resting against her shoulder made her want to try loving gently. 

It wasn’t perfect. But Zoey helped her see that it didn’t have to be perfect. 

It just had to be real. 

Knock knock knock

Mira stood on the other side of Rumi’s door. Her were palms sweaty but she almost felt cold. She was nervous. Incredibly nervous. She wiped her palms against her pajama pants, shifting her weight as she waiting for Rumi to answer. 

“Mira?” 

Rumi looked tired. She looked empty almost. She had red stains at the corners of her eyes and a deep red bruise that she was rubbing on her arm. 

Mira remembers how she got that. 

They were sparring. Celine had taught both Mira and Zoey enough for them to start sparring with Rumi.

She still hadn’t told them why they were learning martial arts. 

Mira was under the impression that Celine’s estate was a place that parents dropped off children they didn’t want. 

Thats what happened with her—she assumed the same happened with Zoey—she didn’t know why Celine took them in, but she didn’t have it in her to question it when Celine fed her and gave her a place to stay. 

She didn’t question it because Celine gave her Zoey and Rumi. 

Mira and Rumi were sparring, Zoey sat to the side mediating. Everything was going fine. Mira was finally starting to catch up to Rumi in skill and was able to spar without immediately ending up on her back. 

Rumi was panting. She hadn’t said much, but the furrow in her brows told her she was a little distracted.

So distracted that the next time Mira kicked—she flew back into the mat on the ground—her weight was off and when she blocked that kick, she hadn’t don’t it properly.

”How’s your arm doing?” 

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much, thank you for asking though.” 

They stood there. Staring at eachother for a while. 

What do I even say… 

Do i apologize? 

How do I even tell her what’s wrong?

What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? 

Where do I even star—

”Would you like to come in?” 

Rumi was looking at her. She’d stepped to the side, and held onto the door. Waiting for a response. 

Mira came in and stood awkwardly around the room. She just stood and looked around for a a minute. 

Rumi sat on her bed, patting a spot next to her. 

Don't freak out, Don’t freak out, Don’t freak out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Mira sucked in a breath. She still hadn’t said anything. 

Say something you idiot. Please! say something! 

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me. But I’m sorry. And I hope I can fix this somehow. Because—“

Rumi trailed off. She brought her arms around herself. Hugging herself—almost making her seem smaller. 

“—Because I miss you Mira.” 

I miss you Mira. 

That sentence echoed in her head. She still hadn’t said anything. Her face neutral. Her fingers twitched in her lap. She took a deep breath. 

Just. Talk. 

Remember what Zoey said. 

Just tell her the truth.

“I’m sorry I ignored you. Pushed you away…” 

It doesn’t have to be perfect. 

It just has to be real.

Mira woke up the next morning with a groan. 

Warm.

She was warm. She was stiff. 

Mira opened her eyes. She saw Zoey standing over her. 

“I take it the talk went well?” 

Mira looked down. Her heart melted a little at the sight. 

Rumi was curled up against her chest. Her hair was down, her face buried in her neck, her hand was on Mira’s chest. 

Mira grumbled. Pulling Zoey into the bed. 

Zoey giggled, curling into Mira’s other side, she placed her hand over Rumi’s.

They both laid there, basking in the warmth, before falling asleep. 

This was real. And this was perfect.