Chapter Text
“Well,” Zoey says in that playful tone that any other time would’ve made Mira grin, “I’ve said for years that we should turn this bathroom into an aquarium."
This time, however, with Mira’s back aching and the sink still leaking, Zoey’s voice just makes Mira grit her teeth. "I said I got it."
She hears an exasperated sigh by the door; doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Rumi. "You said that two hours ago."
"I said, I got it.”
The words come out sharper than intended, louder than intended. The echo of it and the silence cleaved in its wake makes Mira want to throw up. She closes her eyes, forces her breathing to something more even.
There’s a soft sound behind her - feet against the wet floor - then a softer touch at her shoulder. “No, you don’t, Mira,” Zoey says, her tone too quiet, too knowing for Mira to refute. Feels Zoey settle onto the floor beside her. “Wanna tell us what this is really about?"
Mira exhales slowly and opens her eyes. Keeps her gaze on the pipe wrench in her hands. The words feel bottled up, too tight within her chest. There’s a reason why she lets her actions speak for her.
"I want to do it myself,” is all Mira’s able to manage, the sorry excuse for an explanation dropping into a frustrated growl.
But Zoey just presses in closer and, on her other side, Mira feels a palm rest at her back. She sighs quietly and leans into their touch, into the one language she’s sure of. Take your time; we’re here; thank you.
It grounds her enough to try again. “My parents - whenever something went wrong, they just paid someone else to fix it, to replace it. There was nothing money couldn’t buy.” A short laugh escapes her, devoid of mirth. “I hated it. I hated how wasteful it was. How - how helpless it made me feel.”
She remembers: the first time she’d fixed a rip in her skirt. How easy it’d been. How something that had seemed so out of reach was made ordinary with just a needle and some string. How she’s chased that feeling ever since.
At least, that’s what Mira had told herself. Wonders now if she’s just been desperate to not be replaced instead.
“You’re not helpless, Mira.” Rumi’s voice is steady at her back, a lover’s truth, a leader’s command. “You do so much for us. But it’s also okay to admit when you’re in over your head."
"Yeah, Mira,” Zoey says, her tone lighter but just as heartfelt, “We won’t love you any less."
Mira sighs again, takes in their words with her next breath. Reminds herself to believe.
"Fine,” she grumbles, “We can ask Bobby to find someone."
They nod against her, forgiveness and understanding given in light squeezes and lighter kisses against her cheek, her forehead. Lets herself be tugged to her feet and held. Knows what this means as well: we’ve got you; you have us.