Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a celebrity was fun, until you had to deal with the legal part of it – checking contracts, meetings, making schedules for all three of them that actually worked. And Rumi knew it wasn’t exactly her job, but she liked being involved anyway, she was the leader after all.

She also knew she shouldn’t be doing this now, the hiatus was a very much needed rest for them, but she couldn’t help wanting to make sure everything would be perfect for their comeback.

Her thoughts came to a halt when a melody floated through the door of her bedroom.

Was that their piano?

Obviously, Rumi wasn’t the one playing and she doubted it was Zoey – the girl always said the instrument was too fancy for her.

That meant Mira was playing again after a long period without even glancing at the instrument.

Rumi’s heart did a small flip in her chest, excitement running through her veins. She jumped to her feet and opened the door of her room, a quick glance to Zoey’s door told her that their maknae must have her headphones on – otherwise, she’d be already squealing with happiness and running down the hallway to find Mira.

As she followed the sound through the hallway, Rumi thought she had never heard that melody before – something sweet and calming, with a very faint hint of melancholy. It sounded like coming back home to someone you love after a long, stressful day. Like familiarity and comfort.

Mira must be composing then.

She didn’t look like the people you usually imagine playing a piano. Drums? Maybe. Electric guitars? Of course. But a piano? No, never. If asked why she plays it, she’d always answer with ‘Rich parents love a daughter who plays piano.’ And a shrug. But when she played, everyone could hear just how talented she was. How deep her compositions could go into one’s soul.

Rumi rounded the corner of the hallway and leaned on the wall to take in the sight before her.

The light streamed through the penthouse windows, the setting sun showered the room with a golden glow, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. Mira was sitting at the piano bench, her fingers danced across the piano keys with gentle precision.

She had her pink hair up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face, the gold rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. The lighting brought some sort of softness to her sharp features, glinting on her ear piercings. Mira seemed relaxed, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe she had, now they were on a hiatus.

Rumi always thought Mira was beautiful when she dressed up for their shows or events. She was a force of nature, a storm no one could stop or ignore. But here, dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, so soft and vulnerable…

She was gorgeous. Breathtaking, even.

Rumi wanted to walk to her and touch her shoulders, to tell her how beautiful she looked, to kiss her lips and ask her to compose something just for her.

But that would be too much for someone who’s just a best friend, right? Her stomach dropped at the thought, pain blooming on her chest.

Not now, Rumi.

“Are you going to stand there like a creep all night?” Mira’s deep voice shook Rumi out of her reverie. She sounded amused and lighthearted, Rumi took a deep breath before answering, trying to open a small smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to stop.” And Mira had, in fact, not stopped. The melody kept flowing around them – shifting in speed and tone, but the feeling it evoked was still the same.

“Well, I didn’t.” Mira chuckled and continued. “Come sit with me, Rums.” Rumi hesitated.

She should go back to her room and finish her work. The reason she left it in the first place was watching Mira play, now that she had done it, she should go back. End of story… But how could she say no to Mira?

The temptation of sitting close to her, hearing more of that piece of her mind was too strong.

Rumi was moving before her mind decided what to do. She sat down next to Mira, sharing the bench. The citric smell of her perfume flooded Rumi’s lungs. She wanted to drown in it. “Hi.” She said, trying to keep her voice leveled.

Hi? Jesus Christ, Rumi, she’s your best friend, get a grip.

Mira glanced at her for a second, with a small smile playing on her lips and chuckled. “Hey.” Mira adapted the song into lower tones, since she couldn't reach the higher ones without pushing Rumi or bumping their arms.

“What is it about?” Rumi asked. Mira's fingers hesitated on a key for the first time and she took a deep breath before answering. “You. You and Zoey.”

Rumi's breath hitched in her chest and she whipped her head to look at Mira – heart hammering in her chest. “Us?” Mira nodded. “I composed it maybe one year and a half after the beginning of the band.”

Rumi shouldn’t press to know more, but what if that brief pause meant something more than just hesitation to share something intimate?

Stop, Rumi. You're giving yourself hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing – once it rose, it was hard to stifle again. She couldn't afford hoping Mira would feel something for her, why would her? Even if she did, they couldn’t do anything about it.

The media and fans would go crazy, they’d never have peace, it would distract them from their job. And there was Zoey.

Their sweet and adorable Zoey – what would she think about it? No, it would shatter the balance they had.

When Rumi stayed silent, Mira kept going. “I found a family with the both of you. And when I realized that, the song came easily.” Rumi nodded.

Yeah, family.

She wanted to ask how it would sound if the song was just for her. Something composed only for Rumi.

Again, the decision was made by her body and her mouth worked before her mind. “Can you write… Nothing, forget it” Rumi at least got to hold the rest of the question, shaking her head.

Mira raised a brow, tilting her head. “You know you can ask for what you want, right?” She asked, her voice suddenly serious. She stopped playing, removing her hands from the keys and placing them on her thighs.

Mira turned to look at Rumi, waiting for an answer – eyes locked on hers. Rumi couldn’t make her voice go past the lump on her throat, heartbeat roaring in her ears. Her only answer was a brief nod. Mira leaned closer to her, their shoulders brushing together, making her skin tingle.

Rumi swore she saw Mira glance at her lips and she couldn’t help but mirror her. “Then what do you want, Rumi?”

You. I’ve wanted you for so long.

She wanted to wake up next to her everyday, to hold her close forever and all those infinite cliches, because that's what Mira did to her.

She wanted it so hard, she was afraid the thought was being shouted to the whole world. But she couldn’t say none of it to her.

They had a perfect balance on the band and a job to do – saying any of it would break it past the point of fixing. They worked too hard to risk it over feelings and emotions. Rumi was their leader, she had to make the hard decisions, even if they crushed her heart.

“Some tea would be good.” She said instead.

She immediately wanted to take it back, to tell her the truth and love her like she always wanted to do. Rumi saw the flash of hurt and disappointment in Mira’s eyes before she could school her expression back to neutrality – it broke her heart in a whole new way to be the one causing so much pain.

Mira forced a humorless smile into her lips as she turned back to the piano. “Yeah… Tea.”

Rumi needed to put some distance between them before she said a huge ‘Fuck this shit.’ and did something she certaily wouldn’t regret, but would have consequences. “I-I’ll make tea then.” She got up and shivered at the absence of Mira’s warmth by her side.

The shadows of the room had elongated as the sun lowered on the horizon, no longer bathing the room with its golden light.

Rumi walked to the kitchen and made quick work of heating the water and preparing their mugs – sugar for herself and honey for Mira, as always. When she returned, Mira was still eyeing the keys with a hazed expression before she glanced up at Rumi.

She approached the instrument and set Mira’s mug on it. “It’s great to hear you play again, Mir” Rumi broke the uncomfortable silence between them – it felt wrong, stifling. Mira only nodded, hands fisting her sweatpants, like she was holding on to more than just fabric. Rumi kept talking. “I have to… To finish some papers.”

She slowly started to walk backwards to the hallway leading to their bedrooms. Mira nodded again, gaze already trained on the piano once more. “Good luck. Thanks for the tea.”

Pain broke through Rumi’s chest at her empty tone and distant eyes. Rumi finally turned around to make her way back to her bedroom, a lonely tear rolling down her face.

The melody that followed her there was nothing like the first one. It was dark, just like the room she left – filled with agony so strong it shook the bases of her soul. 

Rumi was sure this would be the sound of her nightmares.

Chapter Text

Being a celebrity was fun, until you had to deal with the legal part of it – checking contracts, meetings, making schedules for all three of them that actually worked. And Rumi knew it wasn’t exactly her job, but she liked being involved anyway, she was the leader after all. She also knew she shouldn’t be doing this now, the hiatus was a very much needed rest for them, but she couldn’t help wanting to make sure everything would be perfect for their comeback.

Her thoughts came to a halt when a melody floated through the door of her bedroom.

Was that their piano?

Obviously, Rumi wasn’t the one playing and she doubted it was Zoey – the girl always said the instrument was too fancy for her.

That meant Mira was playing again after a long period without even glancing at the instrument.

Rumi’s heart did a small flip in her chest, excitement running through her veins. She jumped to her feet and opened the door of her room, a quick glance to Zoey’s door told her that their maknae must have her headphones on – otherwise, she’d be already squealing with happiness and running down the hallway to find Mira.

As she followed the sound through the hallway, Rumi thought she had never heard that melody before – something sweet and calming, with a very faint hint of melancholy. It sounded like coming back home to someone you love after a long, stressful day. Like familiarity and comfort.

Mira must be composing then.

She didn’t look like the people you usually imagine playing a piano. Drums? Maybe. Electric guitars? Of course. But a piano? No, never. If asked why she plays it, she’d always answer with ‘Rich parents love a daughter who plays piano.’ And a shrug. But when she played, everyone could hear just how talented she was. How deep her compositions could go into one’s soul.

Rumi rounded the corner of the hallway and leaned on the wall to take in the sight before her.

The light streamed through the penthouse windows, the setting sun showered the room with a golden glow, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. Mira was sitting at the piano bench, her fingers danced across the piano keys with gentle precision.

She had her pink hair up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face, the gold rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. The lighting brought some sort of softness to her sharp features, glinting on her ear piercings. Mira seemed relaxed, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe she had, now they were on a hiatus.

Rumi pushed from the wall and approached her friend, softly touching her shoulder. “That’s a beautiful song. It’s great to hear you play again, Mir.” 

Mira barely reacted at her presence, glancing at Rumi with a small smile before her eyes returned to the keys. “Thanks, Rums. Don’t get used to it, tho. I’m just checking if I still got it.” Rumi chuckled, but deep down she felt a pinch of disappointment. She liked to hear Mira play, it was like having access to her rarely exposed feelings.

The thought of not hearing it again for god knows how long, filled her chest with dread. “What if we say pretty please and give you puppy eyes?” She asked with a sweet voice and wide eyes.

Mira huffed a laugh and smirked, glancing at Rumi. “Yeah, that might convince me.” The sight of Mira’s smirk and her voice made something shake in her chest, a warmth spreading through her body. 

She wondered how it would feel to press her lips against that beautiful smile and run her hands through the pink strands, undoing the bun. The thought hit her like spotlights on stage – blinding and disorienting. 

Okay, wow. What was that?

Rumi blinked, removing her hand from Mira’s shoulder like it burned her and took a step back. She tried to keep her face neutral, but Mira must have caught something – fingers hesitating on the keys and eyes narrowing.  “You’re okay?”

Rumi nodded. “I’m fine, yeah. I just…” She scrambled for something in her mind. “I feel like some tea would be great right now. Do you want some?” She said finally and started to walk backwards to the kitchen.

Mira nodded. “I can help you,” She said, already starting to get up from the bench. Rumi’s answer came way too fast and loud to sound like a normal person. “No!” She cringed at her own tone, hunching her shoulders. 

The pink haired girl looked at her with raised brows and questioning eyes, frozen on a half seated-half standing stance.

Rumi tried to fix it by forcing a casual tone. “I mean…” She tried, hands waving in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, I can do it. I don’t want to interrupt, you were so beautiful playing– I mean, the song was beautiful, not you! Not that you’re not pretty, you are– You’re perfect…” Her voice grew thinner and weaker by the end of her rambling, face growing warmer with a furious blush.

Mira sat back down, now holding back a laugh – eyes shining with amusement and bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ll make the tea…” Rumi finished, using the last drop of dignity left on her soul. She tried not to run on the way to the kitchen, Mira’s stifled chuckle following her all the way there.

The process of heating the water and preparing the mugs was a soothing balm for her nerves – she had made it a thousand times before: sugar for herself and honey for Mira. It was familiar, comforting. She used the time it took for the water to boil to try to clear her head.

What the hell was that, Rumi? ‘You’re perfect’, really?

She leaned her hands on the counter and let her head hang between her shoulders.

Rumi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, why was she thinking about kissing her best friend? And why the image wasn’t as unsettling as it should be for her?

She had freaked out, yes, but not because she didn’t want to – it was the exact opposite.

She wanted it too much.

The kettle started to whistle, but she couldn’t bring herself to move or look at it – heart racing at the thoughts that flooded her mind. She thought back to all the time she spent with Mira: the late night conversations, the casual touches that, in this new light, held more meaning than words ever could, the looks they shared on and off stage, it was like they had their own language…

Rumi loved Mira, and that was a fact – but had she loved Mira? Was she…? 

Oh my god.

Her breath got stuck on her chest, the realization hitting harder than a slap on her face.

“Are you waiting for the whole water to evaporate?” Rumi jumped when she heard Mira’s voice, turning to look at her.

When did she get here?

She saw the amusement leave Mira’s expression when she took in Rumi’s shocked one. Rumi looked at her like it was the first time, taking in the features she knew so well. 

Yes, Rumi loved her. She loved this woman like she never loved anyone.

Her heart clenched and flooded with so much love, she could write a gazillion songs about it and it would never be enough.

Mira looked at her with a worried expression. “Rumi, are you okay? What hap–” Rumi didn’t let her finish, blurting out the words fast and breathless. “I’minlovewithyou!” Rumi slapped a hand over her lips, but the words had already spilled from her mouth.

The words hang between them, like a third presence in the kitchen. The both of them stood there, just facing each other, the kettle whistles filling the room. She searched on Mira’s face for a reaction, but she was just as shocked – eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

Had she scared Mira? Had she screwed everything already?

Suddenly, Mira’s expression morphed into one of delight, a laugh exploding from her chest. “Took you long enough, Rums.” At Rumi’s gaped and confused expression, Mira kept going. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long now.”

Her voice was soft and full of a care so strong, it made Rumi’s breath hitch. She approached the purple haired girl slowly, touching her hips.

Rumi couldn’t understand, did Mira love her too? Why did she never say anything?

“Why…?” She couldn’t find the right words to ask, but Mira seemed to understand anyway. “Well, I hoped you’d feel it too, but I needed you to realize it for yourself.”

Rumi was still struggling to grasp the whole thing, her mind swimming in confusion and emotion. “But you… You love me?” That earned a chuckle from Mira, something soft and infinitely patient. “Yes, Rumi. I do love you. And no, not in a friendly way.” She was sure she could explode right there, happiness filled her heart and a smile took over her face. 

Mira smiled too, raising her hand to Rumi’s cheek. “Now, do you have more questions or can I kiss like I’ve been dying to do?” Rumi flushed and nodded, still smiling.

She tugged gently on Mira’s shirt, their bodies collided together and Rumi hooked her arms on her neck. Mira looked at her with adoration and hunger, eyes fixed on her lips. But before she could connect their lips, Rumi squeaked a ‘wait’, making Mira groan and lean her forehead against Rumi’s.

The sound made her chuckle, although it also sent a shiver down her spine. “What if I never said anything? You would accept just my friendship?” She asked, leaning back to see her face. A flick of sadness passed her eyes.

“Having something was better than having nothing from you, Rumi.” She said in a murmur. “I’d be whatever you wanted me to be.” 

That was it.

That was the breaking point for Rumi. She buried her fingers on the pink hair and closed the distance between them – one more second without Mira’s lips on hers and she’d go crazy.

When they kissed, everything else disappeared. The whistling kettle, the kitchen, the piano – none of it mattered.

She was in the arms of the woman she loved, and Mira kissed her like it was her life’s mission. Like she wanted to show her love and brand it into her skin through her kiss alone.

When they parted, both had a flush on their cheeks and ragged breath. Only one thought was clear in Rumi’s mind and she quickly voiced it.

“I love you, Mir.” Mira looked at her with wide eyes and a gasp left her lips – like she heard something she waited her whole life for.

Rumi didn’t know for how long they kissed in that kitchen, but by the time they remembered the world around them, the kettle was completely dry.