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"They're back." Mira's voice is stilted, full of tension still.
"Oh. Should I...go?" There's some rustling sound, fabric probably. "Holy shit isn't it like 2am for you??"
Rumi pokes her head into her room, blinking at her. She raises a hand half-heartedly in greeting. "Yeah. You gonna talk to Rumi, Zoey?"
"Nah." Huh. "I think you need her more right now."
"I don't need—"
"Sorry-I-can't-hear-your-edgelord-excuses, g'night! Oh, and good night to Rumi too!" The call ends with a click.
Silence.
It was light. And now it's heavy.
"That was Zoey." She offers, still sitting cross-legged on Rumi's bed. She hadn't meant to, and starts to un-cross, hissing at the pins and needles of blood rushing back into her muscles. "Sorry."
"For what?" The wisteria haired teen closes her door, pushing aside her pillows to sit at the head of her bed. She smiles wearily, posture tired but eyes bright, "Were you and Zo talking about me or something?"
"No." Mira admits, plugging in the low-battery device. "She called when I got here. And she kept talking."
"And you...listened?" She nods, not meeting her eyes. "Huh."
"Yeah. Huh."
"Mira, you seem..." Trailing off. Mira stares at the juhwang baekha1 by the window-still. "Are you OK?"
"Jaehee thinks we're dating."
Shit.
She didn't mean to say it.
She inhales sharply. It isn't true. She turns to look at Rumi, who is...frozen.
"Kang-ssi2 thinks...we're dating?" Confusion, bewilderment, and her mouth hanging open. "Oh."
"Yeah." Their eyes meet. "It makes sense."
"It makes sense." Rumi repeats, voice calmer than hers. She even nods. "It does. I mean, we're always...running off together."
"Demon-hunting. Yeah."
"Yeah." Mira exhales (or is it a deep sigh?), her voice trembles as her eyes sting. "I don't think we're friends anymore."
"Is...that why you're here? Instead of...?"
"I think we had a dis—a fight. We fought." Her voice drops into a whisper as hot liquid tears start to leak. "We've never... Not about anything. Not like this."
(Another lie. They have been fighting. Fighting about Rumi.)
She starts to curl up and the bed shifts, Rumi's hand is on her shoulder. Silent. Letting her babble through the rivers streaking her cheeks.
God Mira feels pathetic.
"I hate it. I hate lying to her. But I can't stop—she can't see them, but I know she'd...she would've...she'd have wanted to help." She hiccups. "Worse than your samchon."3
There's a soft sound of agreement. It's too early for this. They should be asleep.
Rumi moves closer.
And hugs her.
They sit like that for what feels like forever. Mira's tears don't stop. She hates them, a sign of being weak.
She feels like a doll. Weightless and heavy and disembodied.
"She's why I noticed you, at school." She confesses, still staring at the potted flower. She couldn't look Rumi in the eye, not now. "That and your hair."
"I did st-start dying it, to be noticed." It sounds like a lie. She doesn't feel up to bullying the truth out of her though.
"It worked." They both laugh quietly. Mira sniffles softly. "She helped me dye mine. Took like...six packs. And a lot of bleach."
"Mine takes like, ten." Another quiet giggle. The braided teen is tired, and she should be, after running around in the late hours. "You didn't do it at a salon?"
"No. The DIY, it was fun." A fresh wave of grief hits her. "She picked it out, the shade. The red mugunghwa..."4
"It's a great color on you."
Rumi holds her as the sobs start anew.
She feels like she won't stop, that she cannot stop.
It's Mira's fault that she chose Rumi.
That she'd keep choosing Rumi. No matter how much she wants both Kangs in her life.
She is exhausted. She cannot unleash any more sadness. The guilt heavy in her bones and sorrow a void in her gut.
Mira thinks the other teen is asleep when she asks, in a quiet whisper: "Have you thought about it, before?"
She doesn't know what she was asking.
"About...us?" There's hesitation as Rumi blinks herself awake.
And the silence is deafening and the night is too quiet and they're both holding their breath.
"...Yeah. Us." Mira swallows, feeling small. "...What if we did?"
"Did what?" A sleepy murmur.
"Kiss." Mira must be delirious from dehydration, imagining things in her unstable state. "That's what couples do, right? Real ones anyway."
Rumi jolts awake. But she doesn't let her go from her embrace.
(Mira thinks she doesn't know how to respond.)
The silence drags, and she turns to see brown eyes. Staring at her, thoughtful.
"I haven't. Not before tonight." Rumi confesses quietly.
"...Me neither." She admits.
"Have you...?"
"No." Mira lowers her gaze, focusing on slightly chapped pink lips. "Not before she mentioned it..."
"...I haven't kissed anyone before." The words are slow, formed by a roundish shape of the mouth.
Are her own lips being observed in the same way?
"Me neither." Mira whispers again. Briefly, she wonders if the door is closed.
If Celine opened the door, right now, she doesn't know if she'd move away from her fellow Hunter.
She doesn't know if Rumi would let go of her, either.
"It's late."
"Yeah."
Mira shifts in place, lifting a hand to cup Rumi's cheek.
Rumi doesn't move, but she swallows.
"May I...?"
She nods in a minute movement, and wets her lips in preparation. "Say please."
Mira is the embodiment of the desert right now. Between the crying and this tension between them... She leans in.
"Please." A whisper between them lost as she presses her lips into a soft kiss.
Gentle. Soft. There's give and stillness.
When did she close her eyes? She opens them as she pulls back and lets out a soft huff as her own lips are claimed.
Rumi is kissing her, with her eyes half-closed.
There are no fireworks. Her heart isn't beating any faster other than, from the nerves she started with.
She thinks that, at least.
They both pull away from each other. As much as they could anyway, with Rumi's arms still around Mira.
"...Hi." There's a flush to Rumi's cheeks now.
"Hi."
"We kissed."
"Yeah. I was there." She smiles. The absurd madness continues in a farcical manner. "You're still holding me."
"I know."
"Does this...change anything?" More questions she doesn't know the answer to.
Hesitation.
"Do you want things to change?"
Mira answers honestly: "I don't know."