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Mimi doesn’t announce when she’s having an off day.
She just gets quieter.
Not withdrawn, she still smiles, still chats, still offers opinions with her usual sparkle, but Tai notices the difference immediately. The way she doesn’t quite linger in conversations. The way she lets others talk over her without snapping back. The way she sits a little apart from the group instead of right in the middle like she usually does.
Tai clocks it somewhere between breakfast and lunch.
He doesn’t say anything right away.
He just stays close.
When they’re walking, he matches her pace without thinking about it. When she sits, he drops down beside her, shoulder brushing hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, not yet.
Mimi notices all of it. Of course she does.
“You’re hovering,” she says eventually, tone light, almost teasing.
Tai shrugs. “Nah.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You absolutely are.”
“Okay,” he admits. “Maybe a little.”
That earns a small smile, not her biggest, not her brightest, but real enough to make his chest ease.
They drift away from the others naturally, ending up somewhere quieter. Mimi sits, smoothing her skirt out of habit. Tai drops down next to her, knees drawn up, arms resting loosely over them.
For a moment, neither of them speaks.
Then Mimi sighs.
“I hate days like this,” she says softly.
Tai turns toward her. “Like what?”
She hesitates, fingers twisting together.
“Days where I feel like I’m… in the way.”
His brow furrows instantly. “What? You’re not”
“I know,” she interrupts gently. “I know that. But sometimes it still feels like it, you know? Like I say something and it doesn’t land. Or I worry I’m slowing everyone down. Or I remember how people used to look at me back then.”
She doesn’t have to explain what she means by back then.
Tai knows.
Mimi laughs quietly, but there’s no humour in it. “It’s silly. I’m not helpless. I’ve grown. I just-” She exhales.
“Sometimes it sneaks up on me.”
Tai doesn’t rush to fill the silence.
That’s something he’s learned with her.
Instead, he shifts closer and reaches out, resting his hand over hers, warm, steady, no hesitation.
“You’re not a liability,” he says simply.
“You never were.”
She looks at him.
“People were wrong,” he continues.
“And yeah, maybe you weren’t the loudest fighter back then. But you cared. You still care. That’s not nothing.”
Mimi swallows.
“I like that you care,” Tai adds. “It makes things better. It makes me better.”
Her eyes shine, just a little.
“…You don’t ever think I’m in the way?” she asks.
Tai shakes his head immediately.
“Never.”
Then, softer- “I like it when you’re right here.”
He squeezes her hand once, grounding.
Mimi leans into him without thinking, head resting against his shoulder. He adjusts automatically, arm sliding around her like it’s been there forever.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Tai smiles, pressing his cheek lightly against her hair. “Anytime.”
And just like that, the weight eases, not gone, but lighter. Shared.
Sometimes Mimi doesn’t need to be told she’s strong.
She just needs to be reminded she belongs.
Tai’s never been great at sitting still.
Even when things are calm, there’s usually an edge to him, a sense that he should be doing something, checking something, moving toward the next thing that needs his attention.
But with Mimi like this?
Stillness comes easy.
They end up back at the apartment without really planning it. Not because Mimi asks, she never does when she’s like this, but because Tai steers them there instinctively, hand warm around hers, pace unhurried.
She kicks off her shoes by the door. Tai does the same. No rush. No noise.
Mimi settles on the couch first, curling in on herself in a way she probably doesn’t even notice she’s doing. Tai watches for a second, then drops down beside her, close enough that she doesn’t have to ask.
She leans into him.
That part’s automatic.
Tai shifts, arm coming around her shoulders, pulling her in until her head rests against his chest. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask if she wants this.
He already knows the answer.
Her breathing evens out slowly. Tai rests his chin lightly on the top of her head, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against her arm. He’s not thinking about what to say next, he’s just there, grounding himself in the fact that she’s here too.
This is something he’s learned about Mimi.
She doesn’t need to be dragged back to herself.
She finds her way there on her own, she just needs someone to sit with her while she does.
“You don’t have to entertain me,” he murmurs eventually.
She hums, faint but amused. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good,” he says. “I’m bad at being entertained quietly.”
That earns a tiny laugh, barely there, but real.
Tai smiles into her hair.
He likes moments like this more than he ever expected to. No audience. No chaos. Just Mimi, warm and solid and his, trusting him enough to let her guard down.
He presses a gentle kiss to her temple, not dramatic, not urgent. Just affectionate.
She shifts, tucking herself closer, one hand gripping the front of his shirt like an anchor. Tai tightens his arm around her without thinking, thumb brushing slow circles at her shoulder.
“You know,” he says softly, “you don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time.”
She sighs. “I know.”
“You don’t have to prove anything either.”
Another pause.
“…I know,” she repeats, quieter this time.
He doesn’t push it.
Instead, he reaches for the remote with his free hand and turns on something familiar, nothing loud, nothing demanding. Just background noise to fill the room while they sit together.
Minutes pass. Maybe more.
Mimi’s breathing changes again, lighter now, easier. Not asleep. Just comfortable.
Tai doesn’t move.
He’s not waiting for her to perk up. Not watching for the moment her sparkle comes back. He knows it will. It always does.
And when it does, he’ll be right here, exactly where she left him.
Tai notices it before Mimi does.
It’s not anything dramatic. No sudden burst of energy, no big laugh filling the room.
It’s the way her fingers start moving again.
At first, they’re just idly tracing the seam of his sleeve, thumb rubbing at the fabric like she’s feeling it rather than thinking about it. Then she starts fidgeting, adjusting the throw pillow, smoothing the edge of the blanket, tugging lightly at the hem of her skirt.
Little things.
Familiar things.
Tai doesn’t comment. He keeps his arm around her, steady and warm, letting her come back at her own pace.
A few minutes later, she shifts upright slightly, enough to look at the TV properly. She squints at the screen.
“Is this the third rerun today?” she asks.
Tai snorts. “Fourth, actually.”
She huffs. “Unbelievable. You’re rotting your brain.”
“Excuse you,” he says, mock offended.
“I’m providing emotional support.”
She glances up at him then, really looks at him, and something soft and bright flickers behind her eyes.
“There it is,” she murmurs.
Tai blinks. “There what is?”
“My favourite idiot,” she says fondly.
He grins. “You wound me.”
She smiles back, not wide, not showy, but genuine, and it settles into her face like it belongs there. She straightens a little more now, shoulders back, chin lifted just enough that Tai can feel the shift.
Mimi’s back.
Not all at once.
But enough.
She reaches up and pokes his cheek.
“You’ve been staring.”
“Have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
He shrugs. “Just checking you’re okay.”
She studies him for a second, then leans forward and presses a quick kiss to his lips, light, affectionate, unprompted.
“I am now,” she says.
That does something warm and quiet to his chest.
They stay like that for a while longer, legs tangled, her head occasionally tipping back against his shoulder, her laughter coming easier now. She starts talking about nothing in particular: a dress she saw online, a ridiculous argument she overheard earlier, something she wants to do next week.
Normal things.
Happy things.
Eventually, the room dims as evening settles in. Tai shifts again, stretching, and Mimi immediately claims the space, sliding fully into his side and tucking herself under his arm like she’s always done.
He presses a kiss into her hair.
“You good?” he asks softly.
She hums. “Yeah.”
Then, quieter: “Thanks for staying.”
He smiles, fingers brushing gently through her hair. “Wasn’t going anywhere.”
She sighs contentedly, eyes closing as she relaxes against him, sparkle restored, not loud, not flashy.
Just steady.
Just hers.
And Tai stays right there, holding her, knowing that this, this quiet, ordinary affection, is exactly what she needed all along.
The next morning is slow.
Sunlight filters through the curtains in thin, lazy stripes, warming the room just enough to make staying still feel like the correct choice. Tai is half-awake, mind drifting somewhere between sleep and awareness, when he realises Mimi is already up.
Not out of bed.
Just… awake.
She’s propped on one elbow beside him, hair a soft mess, watching him with an expression that makes his chest tighten before his eyes are even fully open.
“…Morning,” he murmurs.
“Hey,” she says, smiling like she’s been waiting for that.
He squints at her. “How long have you been staring?”
She shrugs lightly. “Long enough to decide I like you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Quiet,” she says. “Soft. Not trying to fix anything.”
He exhales a small laugh. “I wasn’t
fixing.”
“I know,” she replies, reaching out to trace a finger along his jaw. “That’s why it worked.”
She settles back down beside him, tucking herself into the curve of his body like it’s second nature. Her hand finds his chest, resting there easily, familiar and warm.
For a while, they don’t talk.
The world can wait.
Eventually, Mimi breaks the silence. “I think I’m gonna be okay.”
Tai nods, pressing his forehead gently to hers. “I know.”
She smiles at that, brighter this time, and kisses him slow and sweet, unhurried and sure.
When she pulls back, she’s glowing again. Not the loud sparkle she wears for the world.
The real one.
The one she saves for moments like this.
“Come on,” she says, slipping out of bed and tugging his hand playfully.
“You’re making breakfast.”
Tai groans. “That’s not fair.”
She laughs, light and clear. “You love me.”
He watches her move around the room, alive, present, fully herself again, and smiles.
“Yeah,” he says, getting up to follow her.
“I really do.”
And for the first time in a while, everything feels exactly where it should be.