Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mira was kind of an expert at reading people. She also hated lies. The two things went hand in hand, really, grown organically in a sterile household blanketed in false appearances. Despite years of distance and a new, chosen family separating her from childhood hurts, Mira could never shake the hypervigilance. She was always on the lookout for falsehoods, for outside threats. That was probably why she was hovering outside Rumi’s door at an ungodly hour, nursing suspicion and hurt.

Rumi was lying about something, as usual, and Mira was gearing up to finally confront her about it. Gently. Maybe. This was more impulse than reason, and Mira had left her phone and glasses behind in her haste. What was the point? Zoey was asleep, Mira’s insomnia-fueled texts left unread. Mira and Rumi were the only ones awake, and that really shouldn’t have her pacing in a cold sweat and fuzzy bear pajamas outside the door.

Something was different this time. Rumi had always kept Mira and Zoey at arm’s length, but this felt more serious than her usual distance. Her behavior recently had been tinged with something desperate, almost bordering panic. Rumi was breaking, and Mira just couldn’t understand why. They were all under pressure to seal the Honmoon, and yet Rumi had chosen now of all times to have some sort of secret crisis.

Mira was ready to barge into Rumi’s room and shake her until she finally just opened up for once, but the soft melody of their newest song stilled her hand.

“When your patterns start to show, I see a pain that lies below…”

Rumi’s voice was pensive, almost hurt, and this lyrical change might as well have been a cry for help. Mira wished she could drag Zoey in for emotional backup. Or blackmail, whichever would be more effective. Mira was not built for handling other people’s feelings, too prickly and quick to lash out, but she was stubborn enough to try.

Alright, step one of any good battle plan was to gather intelligence. Mira was starting to feel like a creep hovering outside Rumi’s door, so she leaned against the opposite wall as she put the clues together.

The joint signing today had been ridiculous and humiliating, but Rumi awkwardly cheering on the dumb lead singer of that dumb demon boy band had been what brought Mira to her door in the first place. She still felt secondhand embarrassment and a roiling in her gut she refused to acknowledge. Okay, so she didn’t have a great explanation for that one.

When Bobby and Zoey showed Rumi the new trending “Rujinu” ship, Rumi had scrunched her nose in that particular way that said she was more confused than anything. It was the same expression she wore when Zoey got a little too deep into turtle facts, and Mira snorted at the thought that Jinu might hold the romantic appeal of a turtle to Rumi.

Ugh, whatever. Mira didn’t feel any closer to an explanation. When had Rumi started acting weird? She seemed rattled since the Saja Boys had showed up on the scene. Mira was suddenly struck by Rumi’s lack of reaction to their first meeting, before they had even known they were demons. The boys were objectively and frustratingly attractive, yet Rumi had just rolled her eyes and called her and Zoey gross for their ogling. Alright. That might be something.

That wasn’t where the behavior started, though, was it? Rumi always had offbeat reactions, although she was usually better at hiding it.

Mira’s eyes narrowed as she thought about her and Zoey’s endless quest to get Rumi to join them in the bathhouse. With each refusal, Rumi would look at them with regret and true longing. It was obvious she wanted to go, but something more than modesty held her back. On a few occasions Rumi had turned a pleading look to Celine, before sighing and turning them down anyway. Once, Celine had responded by asking if Rumi thought it was appropriate.

Mira’s brain stuck on that last, ugly word. Appropriate. She turned over every interaction she had witnessed between Celine and Rumi and did not like the picture that formed. “Your faults and fears must never be seen,” was the common denominator, and Mira felt a bit sick as she considered it. Had Celine forbid Rumi from joining them in the bathhouse? Why? Something that might interfere with the Huntr/x image? Was it something Celine believed would shake the bond between the three of them?

Curating an image for the fans was one thing, but hiding from your loved ones? Convincing yourself that a part of you was wrong, that you needed to fix it before you were worthy of love? That mentality was a little too close to Mira’s dysfunctional family history for comfort.

The facts were this. Rumi had been hiding something about herself for a long time. Celine knew what it was, but she thought it shameful, inappropriate, something that needed to be kept from her most trusted friends. Something she believed would make them uncomfortable in the bathhouse of all places. She held no interest for even supernaturally attractive men. It finally clicked.

Rumi was gay.

Rumi was gay, and Celine had made her ashamed of it. That bitch.

Wait, did that mean Golden was Rumi’s coming out song? Rumi had spent months reworking it with Zoey, unusually invested in getting the relatively simple lyrics just right. “No more hiding, shining like I’m born to be?” Could it get any more obvious?

Mira considered all the things she wished someone had said to her teenage bisexual self years ago, back when she had been petrified in the spotlight of her family’s scrutiny. Honestly, she kinda wished someone had just bopped her on the head and told her, You’re bi, dipshit! The kind of easy acceptance she craved might have saved her years of seeking approval from people who would never give it. Old hurts bloomed as Mira thought about Rumi believing she had been born wrong. Tainted. That she might have been carrying this for over a decade.

Mira winced as she ran through the lyrics of Takedown in her head, replacing demons with hiding in the closet. No wonder Rumi was so conflicted. Singing about living a lie, unable to hide how hideous you are deep down? She was a moron for not seeing it sooner. Mira steadied her hands and knocked gently, interrupting Rumi’s musical moping.

“Rumi?” She called. She heard Rumi shuffle about, whispering to herself in a panic. Mira tried to tamp down her impatience, bracing for the conversation to come. She listened to the clatter of something falling as Rumi scurried back and forth in the room. What was taking her so long?

I can hear you in there, she almost said. But no, she was channeling healthy communication like a hack spirit medium from Zoey’s American ghost-hunting shows. Instead, she made her best attempt at gentling her voice. “Can we talk?” She sounded more like a frog croaking at gunpoint, but it would do.

She would be supportive. She would be accepting. She was ready for this.

Rumi finally opened the door, looking unfairly put together despite the frantic look in her eyes. She was buried in her usual soft layers of hoodies and turtlenecks and god knows what else. She fidgeted with her sleeve and eyed Mira with concern the longer she didn’t say anything.

“Mira? You okay?”

Mira forced herself to nod, a prickle of panic sliding down her spine. There was no way she was ready for this. Coming out was a huge deal! One that needed a gentle hand, which Mira decidedly did not have. Maybe she really should go wake up Zoey and let her handle the emotional fallout.

Rumi looked at her skeptically, then opened the door wider. She had the audacity to look at Mira like she was the one hiding things.

“Uh, alright. Did you… want to come in?”

Mira ran through a mental checklist of what Zoey would probably advise her to do as Rumi stared at her, wide-eyed. Be patient. Try to understand. No accusations. She bristled at the last one before realizing she was getting irritated at her own mental coaching.

“I mean, if you want me to come in, I can come in.” Mira shuffled into the room, the far side an enigma of blurry green plants lit by warm grow lights and the soft blues of the city below. She wished she had at least grabbed her glasses for this.

“I heard you singing,” Mira said, aiming for casual. “You sound good.” She pretended to be interested in the sparse decor on the shelves, the only thing close enough to see without squinting. Because Rumi apparently only knew how to decorate with plants, the sole item on the wall of shelves was the box of untouched tonics from Zoey’s quack doctor. Mira snorted at the peeling label that revealed ordinary juice pouches.

“Yeah, who would've thought? Those tonics actually work,” Rumi lied.

Mira looked incredulously between the full box in front of her and whatever the hell Rumi was doing on the other side of the room. Some sort of crab walking lunge? She better not be trying to make her own choreo again, not after what happened last time. Rumi’s unscripted dancing was an affront to the profession and a goddamn safety hazard.

Rumi could at least have the decency to make a good lie. How stupid did she think Mira was? No accusations, Mira chanted in her head. She forced herself to relax as she grabbed a paper that fluttered onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, a victim of Rumi’s flailing. The lyrics of Takedown stared up at her, verses crossed out conspicuously in sparkly purple ink.

“You changed the lyrics?” Mira wanted to pat herself on the back for her impeccable neutrality. No accusations here, nope. Just patience and understanding.

“Oh, I just... Do you really think this is the right song to beat Gwi-Ma? It's so hateful,” Rumi replied, finally sounding like a real person.

Mira narrowed her eyes, biting back an automatic defense. She got that Rumi had a problem with it, but she had weeks to speak up. Why now, when the Idol Awards were days away? Changing the setlist now would be a freaking nightmare, even with Bobby’s miracle working behind the scenes. Rumi shifted under her stare, visibly uncomfortable with Mira’s uncharacteristic silence.

“Why doesn’t it resonate with you?” Mira felt like a vapid talk show host asking that, but at least it left the floor open for Rumi and her issues.

Mira waited for a response, but nothing came. Rumi avoided her eyes and plopped down on some sort of lumpy beanbag next to the bed, all jittering energy and avoidance. Mira’s herculean efforts to be gentle were apparently pointless, because Rumi had obviously started panicking anyway.

Fine. Fine! If Rumi wouldn’t broach it, then Mira would be less subtle. Fuck patience. She strode over to the edge of the bed next to Rumi and sat decisively, making it clear she wasn’t leaving until she got a proper conversation. Deciding that wasn’t dramatic enough to get the message through Rumi’s thick head, Mira sprawled across the blankets and leaned against the headboard, making herself comfortable. She raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Hits too close to home?” Mira rasped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rumi sputtered, high and thin. What little Mira could see of her grin looked painful, more of a snarl stretched too wide over stupidly perfect white teeth. Rumi sat with military posture, uncomfortable and stiff.

Mira was sick of dancing around the lies. She figured they might as well get on the same page. “Rumi, it’s okay. You’re okay. I know.”

“You what?” Rumi’s voice cracked violently as she whipped around, amorphous chair sliding beneath her. Mira winced. Hopefully that didn’t ruin Rumi’s voice just as it was healing, only days before the Idol Awards. Too late to back out now, though.

“I know. And it’s okay.”

“Okay? Nothing about this is okay, Mira!” Rumi threw her hands up, mismatched sheets of paper and a black throw pillow tumbling gently to the ground. She leaned forward, gaze borderline feral and words low in her throat. “What is it that you think you know? How do you know?”

Some of the intimidation was lost as the seat beneath Rumi sank into the ground, leaving her sitting in a sad pile of discarded blankets and jackets. It was surprising an inflatable chair lasted as long as it did with all the pointy objects they handled on a daily basis.

Mira scooched down the bed until they were eye level. “You good?” she asked, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled look on her friend’s face.

“Mira.” Her name was a warning on Rumi’s lips. Mira felt a little off balance at this emotional rollercoaster. Had she been this dramatic when she was in the closet? Ugh, probably.

“We live together, duh. Did you think we wouldn’t notice? Do you think so little of us that we’d treat you differently?” Mira hated the defensive bite in her own words. Why was this so hard?

Rumi leaned forward, crowding her space. Mira tried not to retreat. Nervous sweat beaded on her neck. She really didn’t feel great about how this was going, but she could push through, for little Mira, who never got this support. For Rumi, who obviously needed it. For closeted gays everywhere.

“We?” Beneath the hurt and fear in Rumi’s voice, Mira sensed the barest hint of danger. “Zoey knows? For how long? You two didn’t say anything?”

“Well, no, I mean,” Mira backtracked. Rumi ran on one of two settings at any given moment: pure anxiety or deadly seriousness. Mira had no clue how to function when Rumi’s intensity was laser focused on her. She swallowed and tried again, words rushed. “I’m not sure if Zoey knows, but she’s the last person you’d need to worry about.”

Rumi eyed her as if weighing the sincerity of the words. She crossed her arms and legs, probably going for stern but really just looking uncomfortable on the floor.

“I haven’t said anything to her,” Mira continued. “I figured it out and wanted to talk to you.”

“And what exactly did you figure out?” Rumi hunched over, her arms folded tighter across her chest, long fingers wrapped in a death grip around her biceps.

“That’s not how it works, Rumi.” Mira wasn’t about to out Rumi, not even to herself. That was like the cardinal rule of queer. “It has to come from you, when you’re ready.”

“I need more than that.” Rumi’s strong voice melted into something softer, more fragile. “Please, Mira.”

Mira obliged, and only partially because she would absolutely follow Rumi into hell if she said her name like that.

“The best I can give you is that I know why you wear all of–” she gamely did not say your ‘Kim Possible Magical Girl’ wardrobe, cursing Zoey for the mental image of sequined turtleneck crop tops. She gestured broadly at Rumi’s shoulders, “–all of that.”

Rumi sagged, losing some of the fire in her eyes. She looked exhausted. Mira cautiously draped her arm over the edge of the bed, hand extended in an open invitation. Rumi eyed it like a viper waiting in the grass.

“So you figured it out?” Rumi said, still staring at her hand. “Just like that?” She sounded resigned. Bitter.

“I put some pieces together.” Obviously. It’s not like it was subtle when you knew what to look for. “You’ve been acting weird lately, but I realized it was wasn’t new. You’ve been hiding something for a long time, and dealing with the Saja Boys just–” she considered how to word it, “–brought it to the surface.”

Rumi looked stricken, raw and exposed. Her silence more than anything told Mira she was on the right track.

“Celine–” Mira startled as the room blinked into darkness, now lit only by the cold blue of the city’s reflection.

“Plants, um, sorry,” Rumi stood abruptly. “The lights are on a timer, I can–”

Mira sat up and blindly reached for her hand, grasping her wrist beneath the wide sleeves of the hoodie. She worried they would never finish this conversation if Rumi walked away now, the moment between them stretching thin, unfinished.

“I don’t mind,” Mira said, keeping her tone light. “Not like I can see much anyway.”

“You don’t have your contacts?” Rumi hovered at the edge of the bed, unwilling to break Mira’s gentle hold.

“To sleep in? Gross, no.”

Rumi sighed and collapsed on the bed next to her. “You do it all the time on tour,” she teased gently.

“Not on purpose.” Mira’s face heated. She pretended she didn’t have any mushy feelings about Rumi noticing little things like that.

Rumi hummed. Her nervous pulse thrummed beneath Mira’s fingers. “You were at Celine,” she prompted reluctantly.

Mira slid her hand down to gently squeeze Rumi’s clammy palm. “Celine knows, and she told you not to tell us.”

“I’m sorry,” Rumi mumbled and stared at their joined hands like a lighthouse in a storm, her only hope of safe passage. “I wanted to. I didn’t know how, I couldn’t, I still don’t–” She curled in on herself, cradling Mira’s hand like a teddy bear.

“Don’t apologize. Not for that.” Mira looped her free hand around Rumi’s back, fierce and protective. “Celine can apologize for her own hangups.”

Rumi mouthed ‘hangups’ incredulously before glancing up.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed of it.” Mira heard her own voice soften. Rumi seized in her grip as if trying to draw close and tear away at the same time.

“It’s always been a part of you.” Mira continued. She couldn’t stop the Lady Gaga reference that slipped out next, desperate for some levity. “Baby, you were born this way,” she sang, silly and off-key.

Rumi choked out a surprised laugh, and Mira preened. She felt her tough girl persona die an undignified death as she tried not to coo over Rumi hiding her face against her shoulder, flushed and giggling a bit hysterically.

Then Rumi’s laugh turned into a sob, and Mira flipped the fuck out internally. Rumi buried her head against her chest. For all Mira’s skill with choreography, she had no idea where to put her hands. She patted Rumi’s back awkwardly.

“You might not have told us about a part of you, but we know you,” She babbled, desperate to patch over the hurts she had unearthed. Rumi made a small noise of protest at her words, so Mira pulled her closer, trying to radiate sincerity through every pore. “When you’re ready to say it out loud, then we’ll just know a little bit more about the best friend we already love. We chose you, and you chose us, and that has to mean something. We wouldn’t turn our backs on you over–” she almost said something as small as this, but she reminded herself that it wasn’t small to Rumi. “–anything.” Nailed it. Mira was a master of emotional support.

“I don’t see how you couldn’t! Everything we– I–,” Rumi’s voice cracked again, and Mira nearly started crying herself as as Rumi rocked backward out of her hold. Mira was absolutely not a master of emotional support. She had no idea what she was doing.

Rumi clutched at her own sleeve like a lifeline, as if reassuring herself it was still there. “Given everything, how could you not see me as a monster?”

Mira was going to fucking bury Celine. Zoey would help. Bobby would provide an alibi, no questions asked. A monster? For being gay? Mira had no idea Celine was that homophobic, how she managed to hide that kind of vitriol. Mira shook herself from faintly murderous thoughts to focus on the fraying girl in front of her.

“Rumi, look at me,” Mira said gently. Rumi slowly met her gaze, blinking back tears and searching Mira’s face. How was she a pretty crier? Her fucking shimmer eyeshadow wasn’t even smudged!

“Now listen closely.” Mira prayed she sounded as confident as she was pretending to be. What was she supposed to say now? She wanted to chew through the drywall to escape the conversation, but she kept her butt cemented to the bed. She refused to move a centimeter away from Rumi, lest it be read as rejection. Mira looked at her big, unfairly pretty eyes and steeled herself for the inevitable emotional vulnerability.

“First, you are not a monster.” Good start, keep up the momentum. “Anyone who told you that is a fucking moron.” Mira would fight anyone who disagreed. “You mean so much to me, to us, and I wish you could see yourself how I– how we do,” Mira said, pouring out her feelings. Platonically, of course. Just a gal being a pal. "It’s a part of you. It always has been, and it could never make us love you less.”

Mira cheered mentally for bringing it home.

Rumi looked at her like she expected her to take it back, like one wrong word just might shatter her. Mira tilted her chin up defiantly, annoyed her loyalty was being questioned and determined to overwrite all the dumb shit Celine must have filled her head with.

“Really?” Rumi’s strangled question was almost lost under her nervous fidgeting, and she looked ready to flee face first through the glass balcony door.

“Yes,” Mira gruffed.

“Even though I’m–” Rumi practically choked on the next word, and Mira was about three seconds from crying if the tears in Rumi’s eyes spilled over again.

“You don’t have to say it out loud if you’re not ready. But yes. No matter what.” Mira honestly wanted to hear Rumi say it and finally have everything out in the open, but she also knew she could wait now that things had finally been acknowledged. She had been waiting years, what harm was a few more weeks?

“No, no, I should,” Rumi continued, voice shaking. Her fingers played nervously with her sleeve. “You deserve to–”

“When you’re ready,” Mira insisted. This girl, seriously. If she wouldn’t look out for herself, then Mira would. They sat in silence for a few moments, Rumi staring intently at her own hands and Mira trying to get her heart rate back under control.

A steely look crossed Rumi’s face, and she grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “fuck it,” but that was impossible. Surely Mira heard it wrong. Since when did Rumi curse? Had Mira misstepped? Would Rumi close off even further, pretend this never happened? Mira didn’t think she could go back to ignoring the tension between them, to deflecting with snide humor and pulling Rumi into Zoey’s antics just to get her to laugh, to finally relax for once, leaving all the lies unchallenged.

Rumi stood stiffly from the bed as Mira descended into an internal crisis. Mira just knew that was the end of the conversation. She had pushed too hard, confronted Rumi before she was ready. Mira pushed too hard, just like she always did. She heard the unexpected whisper of fabric hitting the ground and snapped out of her spiral, apology dying on her lips. Mira looked at Rumi’s somewhat blurry form, and choked on air when it finally registered what was happening.

Rumi had shucked off her oversized hoodie and was actively wrestling out of her stupid crop top turtle neck. What. What?

The top followed the hoodie onto the floor, leaving Rumi heaving in nothing but her pajama pants and a sports bra. Mira idly wondered if this was some sort of divine punishment for being an asshole in her daily life. Maybe she should be meaner, just in case. Mira squinted, trying to make sense of Rumi’s expression in the dim light, trying to understand what the fuck was going on. Of all the times to forget her glasses, it had to be this one.

Mira leaned forward as Rumi took a decisive step toward her, and holy hell, when did Rumi get such cut abs? She looked like a freaking statue, taut muscles lovingly carved into the marble planes of her stomach and highlighted in sharp relief by the dim purple-blue glow of the room. Mira wheezed. Zoey had once called Mira an equal opportunity navel gazer during a rap battle, and Mira cringed internally at how right she had been. She needed to channel friendly thoughts, and that was not helped by ridiculous abs painted in neon bisexual pride colors like a parade float.

This was not how you come out to people, Rumi!

Mira finally tore her eyes from Rumi’s abs, intent on looking her in the face at the least, but she froze when she finally registered the source of the glow. For the first time, Mira saw Rumi’s bare shoulders. Markings twisted across her skin like vines, a bruised purple that lit up in flickering streaks, pulsating in a familiar rhythm that set Mira on edge. It was almost like Rumi had–

Oh.

What the fuck.

Mira’s hand twitched in an instinctive motion, countless drills and years of training demanding she summon her weapon. Her heart pounded in her ears. She felt more than heard the oddly discordant hum of the Honmoon as she resisted pulling her woldo from its threads.

On paper, on stone, especially on skin, Celine had taught them to strike immediately, to eradicate what she called the literal manifestation of evil on whatever surface held them. Mira felt dizzy as she realized Celine had taught all of them, including Rumi, that hunters killed everything with patterns, that they deserved to die, despite knowing what was branded on Rumi’s skin. On the child Celine raised.

Rumi’s nervous fidgeting was the only thing that stilled Mira’s hand, her accusations dying in her throat. Rumi reached to tug down sleeves that were no longer there, and Mira’s heart broke all over again when she realized that this wasn’t just an imposter wearing Rumi’s face. This was Rumi, small and terrified and honest in a way Mira suspected she had never been with anyone.

Rumi looked ready to bolt at the slightest movement, gasping breath audible in the brittle air. Mira wanted to recoil, she wanted to reach for her. She choked on angry words, warring with her own feelings of betrayal. Her head screamed that of course it had been to good to be true, of course they had never been family, not really. Not with something this big festering between them.

Mira knew she had never deserved it, not when she could so easily expose these lies, tear Rumi’s world apart with careless words. Mira had always been good at reading people and even better at cutting them to the core, no matter how hard she tried not to.

Mira felt her own breath come back in shallow starts. Something fundamental had broken between them, but maybe it had always been broken. Maybe they needed to finally set the bone, or maybe they needed to burn it to the ground and build something stronger. That had always been more Mira’s style, anyway. Rumi was too important for anything less.

The silence stretched.

Say something, you idiot!

Rumi practically vibrated, her patterns pulsating an ethereal glow in time to her anxious heartbeat. Mira was mesmerized by the play of light cast on Rumi’s face, lies and truth now laid bare on her shoulders.

Say anything!

“I thought you were gay.”

You fool!

Mira could feel a furious blush spread across her face as Rumi gaped at her, patterns dimming like a dying ember. Mira cleared her throat and tried again, aiming for her usual nonchalance. “So, patterns?”

“Wait, Mira, what–”

“And they glow, pretty fancy.” Fancy? Fancy? What was wrong with her?

Rumi looked lost, her gaze landing everywhere except on Mira. “They, um, don’t usually.” Usually. Implying there was a usual for having demonic patterns etched onto human skin. Rumi wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could cover up the markings that sprawled from collar to wrist. “How are you not freaking out?”

Mira was though. God, was she freaking out. She thought she was being a good friend, putting her own insecurities aside to help a baby gay take the first steps of navigating messy feelings. Instead, Mira had barged in like a big dumb idiot, forced Rumi to reveal her deepest secrets, then humiliated herself immediately. Mira was glad she finally had some answers, and boy did a whole lot more of Rumi’s nonsense make sense now, but she really wanted sink into the ground and pretend she didn’t just shove her whole goddamn foot in her mouth at the first opportunity.

“No matter what,” Mira blurted out when her brain finally caught up. “Love you no matter what.” Her usual dry eloquence was nowhere to be found. Mira hoped the dim lighting might hide her flushed cheeks, humiliated at her inability to control her mouth tonight.

Rumi’s eyes softened as she straightened nervously. She watched Mira carefully, relaxing in increments as Mira continued to look at her steadily despite her fluster. “Yeah?” Rumi whispered shakily. “Love you too. Always.”

And if that didn’t just melt Mira’s heart into a puddle of goo. She looked at the exhausted cant of Rumi’s shoulders, the fatigue in her face and the shine of remnant tears in her eyes. Questions could wait for tomorrow, Mira decided. She didn’t know if the hardest part was over, but she was glad for the chance at a fresh start.

Rumi sighed, and the weight of the ordeal went with it, a fleeting breath on the wind. “Now what?”

“Now, I think it’s time for bed,” Mira said, finding herself sinking into the sinfully soft blankets and too tired to deal with any more revelations. She smiled when Rumi yawned as if on cue. “We haven’t been getting nearly enough sleep.”

“I’ll be so glad when the Idol Awards are over.” Rumi grinned, finally sounding more like her usual self. “Couch for a month.”

“At least,” Mira grumbled into the pillow. “You owe us for the Golden release. Make it up to us with a trip to the bathhouse.”

Rumi stayed quiet, and Mira worried she overstepped again. Then, softly, she heard, “I’d like that.”

Mira eyed Rumi as she started to gather up the discarded blankets and jackets on the floor. She hadn’t asked her to leave. Mira and Zoey had never really needed permission for impromptu sleepovers, but things felt delicate and new and more than a little raw.

“Do you want me to stay?” Mira asked carefully. “It’s okay if you need space.”

“You don’t have to,” Rumi responded, a little too quickly.

“I know I don’t have to.” Mira rolled her eyes. This was familiar territory now. “I asked if you wanted me to.”

Rumi moved over to her wardrobe, close enough now for Mira to see the tense set of her bare shoulders. She started rummaging, probably looking for sleep clothes.

“Yeah,” the admission slipped past Rumi’s teeth. She hunched over, as if ashamed for needing comfort and reassurance. As if it was a failing to need help carrying the weight of the world. Fuchsia light threaded through her patterns like a beacon, a temporary flash in the night.

“You don’t have to cover them,” Mira found herself saying. “You can if you want, but like. Just know that you don’t have to.”

“I don’t know how to not hide them.” Rumi sagged over an open drawer, clutching a shirt tightly. “My whole life has revolved around keeping them covered, trying to fix this so no one would have to know.”

Mira felt queasy at the word fix. That was a dangerous, poisonous word, and not one she had the brainpower to address tonight. She would definitely need backup for that one. Tomorrow, maybe.

“But I know,” Mira said instead. Mischief bubbled in her chest. “Besides,” she drawled, “you seem pretty comfortable strutting around half-naked.”

“Mira!” Rumi cried, scandalized. “I do not strut!”

“That’s the part you have a problem with?”

Rumi was laughing now, real and relieved. “I’m going to ignore that and get ready for bed.”

“Yeah, you better run.” Mira grinned. “Go ahead and strut on out of here.”

“You keep your eyes off my strut, you menace,” Rumi said as she slipped out the door.

“I wouldn't if I had my glasses!” Mira called after her.

“I don't even know what that means!” drifted from the hallway, and Mira collapsed back in the bed, laughter fading. She made herself comfortable under the blankets and waited for Rumi to come back, pushing her racing thoughts into a box for later. Mira was a little worried Rumi would run off into the night, but she eventually returned and slipped into bed.

“Brought your spare glasses,” Rumi murmured, passing them over. Their fingers brushed. Mira set her frames on the nightstand next to the fattest succulent she had ever seen, feeling warm and mushy.

Mira rolled back over and let herself really look at Rumi in the dim light. She melted a little at the sight of her wearing a faded t-shirt, arms bare in a visible sign of trust. It was one of the dorky novelty tees with plant puns she and Zoey were constantly foisting on her, this one reading 'rooting for you' in awful bubble font with a cartoon radish smiling underneath. They had never seen Rumi wearing one, but the way she lit up at each new terrible pun was reason enough to keep giving them. The fabric was soft with wear, and something unraveled in Mira’s chest at the sight.

Mira placed a hesitant hand on Rumi’s arm, carefully letting her fingers splay across those impossible patterns. She had never stopped to look at any demon’s patterns closely, too focused on her duty as a Hunter. They didn’t feel any different from the rest of her skin, like she imagined they might. They didn’t sear with heat or twist away from her fingers like worms. They simply existed. They looped and swirled, adorning Rumi’s skin, permanent and fierce as a tiger’s stripes.

They fit you, she didn’t say. Rumi would take it the wrong way, as confirmation that she was everything they had been taught to hate. “I’m glad you’re here,” Mira said instead, because she was apparently still a huge sap.

“Me too,” Rumi said shyly. “Hey, Mira?”

“Yeah?” she replied, feeling the soft pull of sleep.

Rumi covered the hand on her arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “Thanks.”

“‘Course,” Mira mumbled, too tired to care about wording things just right. “Anything for you.”

“Charmer,” Rumi accused lightly, sounding too awake for the hour.

“Are we good?” Mira asked sleepily.

“I should be asking you that.” Rumi shuffled closer, still holding her hand gently. “But yeah. We’re good.”

Mira yawned, and Rumi huffed a quiet laugh. “Go to sleep. We both need it.”

Mira curled into the warmth, letting her emotional and physical exhaustion wash over her. “We’ll talk tomorrow?” she asked, hating the idea they might go back to ignoring the giant demon elephant in the room.

“Yeah,” Rumi promised. “Tomorrow.”

That was enough. Tomorrow they would need to bring Zoey into the loop and apparently rewrite Takedown, and that was on top of choreo practice, demon hunting, and possibly plotting Celine’s downfall. Tomorrow would dig up more hurts before they could even begin to think about healing. There were questions unanswered and difficult conversations ahead, but they could wait. For now they slept, wrapped in soft blankets and each other.

Chapter Text

The worst part about sleeping in Rumi’s room was the windows. The view of Seoul was admittedly breathtaking, but the floor-to-ceiling glass meant the room was painfully bright far too early in the day. Mira grumbled as the sun hit her eyelids, knowing Rumi would be up with the first rays. They had a lot to talk about, but Mira wished they could stay in bed and ignore the world. Zoey would come find them eventually, breadcrumbs of Mira’s paranoid late-night texts an irresistible call. She’d see Rumi’s patterns on her bare arms and be all Zoey about it. Everything would work out.

Mira entertained the fantasy for a few minutes, frustrated it couldn’t be that easy. She heard a quiet snort just behind her and realized Rumi was snoring. It was a rare sound, but Rumi had barely slept these past few weeks. She pushed herself harder than any human should, so it warmed Mira’s heart that Rumi had gotten peaceful sleep last night. Unfortunately, Mira really needed the bathroom, but she feared what Rumi might think if she woke up alone in bed. Mira rolled over quietly, trying to gauge how sneaky she needed to be to get out and get back in quickly.

Enormous yellow eyes stared back unblinkingly, gnarled teeth twisted into a mockery of a grin beneath them.

Mira will deny the squeal she let out to her dying day. “What the fuck!” she screeched, scrambling away until she nearly fell from the bed. She groped for her glasses behind her back, then slapped them onto her face painfully. A hulking blue beast came into focus, predatory and feline. It crouched, too-big eyes fixed on her and drool slipping between its crooked teeth, no doubt ravenous and delighting in slipping past the Hunters’ greatest defenses. Mira refused to believe it had gotten the better of Rumi, the thought making her sick. She braced herself for the demon to make the first move.

The Honmoon had always weaved thickest wherever the Hunters called home, an unshakeable truth since it had first been called forth. To Mira’s knowledge there had never been a breach in the Hunters’ domain. There was a reason they lived together, a reason they refused to stay in hotels any longer than absolutely necessary on tour.

This was not supposed to happen.

Mira hummed, resonating with the threads of the Honmoon. The Honmoon bayed in protest, denying Mira her weapon for the first time since she was sixteen. Something was deeply, disturbingly wrong. She tensed, weaponless but not defenseless, prepared for a fight in her own home.

The monster hunched over, and something about the motion set off warning sirens in Mira’s head. She tried to keep her senses about her, sleep still weighing down her limbs. Its ears folded back against its head, and it broke eye contact, crooning softly. Mira didn’t trust it for a second. She surveyed every inch of it with a Hunter’s trained eye.

It was a tiger. Black, blue, and shimmering iridescent stripes looped and swirled across its vibrant fur. Permanent and fierce.

No. It couldn’t be.

Mira’s hands shook.

It let out a sad warble, loud, unfamiliar, and more than a little alarming.

Mira felt dizzy with a sinking realization. She had seen countless demons wear the guise of humans, no matter how grotesque or animalistic they were underneath. Why had she thought her friend was any different, just because she had only ever seen the illusion? Was this Rumi’s true form?

It made too much sense.

Mira was an awful friend. Rumi had finally felt comfortable enough to trust her, to let her in and see all of her and Mira had tried to–

She registered what she had almost done in horror.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Mira soothed. “I was just surprised, I should never have reacted like that.”

Mira’s hands fluttered around the giant blue tiger, unsure if her touch would even be welcomed. She ruled out the ridiculously fluffy chest and neck on principle, because even if this was a giant cat it was still Rumi. That would definitely be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, “I’ll never raise my weapon at you. I’m sorry.” She reached for a large blue paw, feeling unworthy but deeming it safe territory. She was awed at how gently Rumi relinquished the massive paw, the appendage easily dwarfing her head with claws conspicuously sheathed. Tears spilled from her eyes.

“We’re friends no matter what, right?” Rumi looked startled, then her enormous, somewhat vacant eyes dilated in focused intensity. She butted her massive head against Mira’s shoulder, letting out weird little sneeze-snorts. Mira wasn’t entirely sure what the noise meant, but the affection that accompanied it told her enough.

“I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine,” she promised, the words familiar but something Mira hadn’t said since they were teenagers. “From now until the end of time.” It had started as a joke, a dumb little saying between the two of them. Somewhere along the way it became a comfort. Then they grew up, Mira started noticing Rumi, and suddenly she didn’t feel comfortable wearing her heart so visibly. Right now though, Mira didn’t care. She needed Rumi to know that nothing would drive her away, not even something as bizarre as this. So what if Rumi was secretly a demon tiger? That didn’t diminish all they had been through together.

Rumi pulled back with that achingly familiar seriousness. She crooned in acknowledgement, blowing out a playful breath that fogged over Mira’s glasses. Mira began crying in earnest, overwhelmed and running on too little sleep. She collapsed into the newly fuzzy comfort of her best friend, tears flowing freely, and for once she didn’t care about being the strong one.

She sent a silent thank you to the Honmoon for betraying her. Without its judgment, she would have done the unthinkable. Rumi laid her heavy chin on her shoulder, quietly rumbling. Mira could feel it in her bones, and she felt a little more whole.

She calmed down in increments, and what finally stopped the tears was a glorious, beautiful thought. Rumi probably had kitten pictures. Mira needed them, and she knew Zoey would be on board, because who wouldn’t be? Mira giggled, a bit hysterical. How was this their lives? The only obstacle to getting the pictures would be convincing Celine, or maybe stealing them from her. Mira liked that option better.

“Hey Mira, did you see where I put the Takedown lyrics last night? I wanted to–” Rumi’s voice floated from behind Mira, and she whipped around, warm comfort melting into dread. A very human Rumi stood in the middle of the room, hair damp and arms bare in a tank top. “Oh. Uh. I see you met Derpy. Isn’t he sweet?” she said, oddly evasive.

Mira extracted herself from the enveloping fluff of the giant tiger and discreetly wiped her eyes. She looked at the massive blue face, all wide-eyed and snaggle-toothed, then at Rumi, all flushed from an early-morning shower and undeniably human.

“Derpy?” she rasped, feeling a bit floaty, and the tiger brushed his enormous cheek against hers, evidently pleased with the name. Who named a tiger Derpy? Mira squinted at Rumi, still sniffling a little. Yeah, Rumi definitely would. It was undignified, but Mira wasn’t going to disparage the tiger’s name to his face. She had grown up with enough traditional tales from her grandmother to know you never insult a tiger. Or never trust a tiger? Honestly, it was all a little fuzzy, but she was certain you were at least supposed to treat them with respect.

“Nice to meet you, Derpy,” Mira said blankly, shaking his paw. She felt like someone else was piloting her body. She desperately needed caffeine.

“Are you okay?” Rumi asked, rounding the bed toward her. Mira hated that the patterns on her friend’s skin still made her tense with instinctive wariness. “Were you–” Rumi peered closer, “Mira, were you crying?”

Of course Rumi chose now of all times to suddenly be observant.

“We were bonding,” Mira deadpanned, defaulting to sarcasm. Bonding was one way to word it. Accidentally swearing her friendship and undying fealty to a magical spirit tiger was another. She was convinced he couldn’t be a demon with the way the Honmoon had refused to manifest her weapon. She hoped that’s what it meant, at least, and a testing of the threads proved she could now pull her woldo with ease. Mira sighed. This whole incident was going into a deep, deep box in her mind, and she was never going to let it surface again.

Mira’s only comfort was that Rumi looked as off-balance as she felt. Neither of them knew where to start.

A screeching trill drew Mira’s attention to the far corner of the room. “Oh, sorry,” Rumi said to the corner, and Mira kind of worried they had all lost their minds. “That’s Sussie.”

The most judgmental bird Mira had ever seen was perched on a chair, ridiculous little hat firmly on its head. It probably witnessed her entire breakdown. In a motion that bird anatomy should not be capable of making, it actually rolled its eyes at Mira. It had seen her breakdown, the little voyeur! Then its single pair of eyes to split into three like some sort of Cronenberg fever dream. Mira blinked and decided she was never going to address whatever the hell that was.

Mira felt a familiar numbness wash over her, the same one that had carried her through her initial Hunter and idol training under Celine. When the news came that a Sunlight Sister hand-picked Mira to form a K-pop group, a group that would let her escape her family, she had been ecstatic. She had been prepared to accept whatever she needed to in exchange for a new start. The other two members were a little eccentric? No problem, not like Mira could judge. One of them had, somehow, naturally purple hair? Weird, but not earth-shattering weird. Besides, it was a pretty shade.

They were, apparently, recruited by a divine force that resonated between them? Yeah, little Mira had started panicking at that point. She had been terrified she let herself get roped into a cult, and she didn’t know who she could trust with her suspicions. Rumi had completely bought into it, and Zoey would never go against the grain. Mira’s stoicism had been her only armor.

It was when said Sunlight Sister summoned a glowing sword from thin air that Mira’s brain went on autopilot. Demons were real? Bummer. She was part of an ancient order of demon hunters? Neat. The three of them could complete an ancient ritual to cleanse the world of evil through vocal harmonies? Badass.

Little Rumi and Zoey had thought she was unflappable, but it was more that Mira didn’t process anything deeply past a certain threshold of weird. Mira looked around the room. The eldritch bird opened its mouth vertically and hissed with a serrated tongue. The blue tiger rolled around on her pillow, accidentally catching the fabric on his crooked fangs. Rumi’s arms seemed to absorb the sunlight where it hit her patterns, leaving the markings smooth and without shadow.

Mira had officially reached her threshold. If she had been willing to accept Rumi could turn into a tiger, she could accept anything. Lay it on her.

“So, uh,” Mira began, “what are they?”

“I’m not sure,” Rumi replied, sitting on the bed to start rebraiding her hair. Mira moved forward without thinking, taking the strands from Rumi’s hands gently. Rumi flashed a grateful smile over her shoulder, and Mira idly noted how strange it was to see her arms. Mira tried not to take it personally that Rumi startled at each incidental brush to her bare skin. “The two of them seem to be a package deal, though.”

“Magpie and tiger, huh?” Mira muttered, focusing on the soft purple hair in her hands. It figured Rumi would somehow attract the living manifestation of traditional Korean art. The tiger sidled up next to Mira, jostling the braid from her hand and unraveling a whole section with a happy grunt.

“I guess?” Rumi said, sounding as confused as Mira felt.

Mira glanced up, and the nightmare bird was obviously fed up with everyone in the room. In any other circumstance, Mira might have found a kindred spirit. As it was, though, the bird knew too much. Behind Rumi’s back, Mira made deliberate eye contact with the bird and drew a thumb across her neck in a universal symbol of you will take this to the grave. The bird stared back, unimpressed.

“Is it related to the whole patterns thing?” Mira guessed hesitantly. She didn’t have a great track record with guessing over the last twelve hours.

“Sort of?” Rumi hedged.

“Then we should probably just address it all at once. With Zoey.” Mira finished off the braid, accepting the tie Rumi handed over.

“Oh.” Rumi drummed her fingers in her lap. “I was kind of hoping you might tell her?” Her tone was pleading, but resigned. She already knew Mira’s answer.

“Rumi,” Mira chastised. The quickest way to hurt Zoey was to make her feel excluded, and Rumi should really know that by now. She did know that. Bad enough that Zoey was going to think Rumi trusted Mira more by telling her first, it would add salt to the wound if she thought Rumi didn’t trust Zoey enough to tell her at all. It wasn’t hard to predict how that would go over.

“I know.” Rumi sighed. “It has to come from me, right?”

Was Rumi quoting her? She should not be using that trainwreck of a conversation as a template. Apparently they were just going to ignore how much of a disaster Mira had been last night, which, yeah, Mira could get on board with.

“What time is it?” Mira asked. If she was going to get through this, she needed some caffeine immediately. And to use the bathroom, now that she thought about it.

“Early,” Rumi replied. “But she’ll be up within the hour. I heard her alarm not too long ago.” That gave them at least twenty minutes. Zoey was by far the heaviest sleeper of the three of them, and for the alarm to be audible it had been escalating for some time.

Mira went through a mental checklist of Zoey’s favorite snacks she’d need to stock up on. It would be the fastest way to earn forgiveness for making her a third wheel in the information loop, as temporary and unintentional as it had been. Maybe she’d put the request through Bobby. That man was supernaturally quick with logistics. Mira refused to contemplate if he actually was supernatural. She needed one normal, non-magical person in her life as a baseline, mostly so she had confirmation that her life was as insane as it felt.

“Meet back up in ten?” Mira stretched and yawned. Coffee was calling her name.

“Um, yeah,” Rumi said, still nervous. “I’ll, uh, probably leave these guys out of it, at least to start.”

The tiger gently batted at Mira’s arm as she moved for the door, nearly knocking her over. “Good call,” she said, backing out of Derpy’s disappointed reach. “But Zoey will never forgive you if you keep this one from her.”

“I know.” Rumi laughed. Mira tried not to show her dismay when Rumi slipped on a hoodie, zipper left uncharacteristically open. “See you in ten?” she asked, as if Mira would ever say no.

“You take the lead in this, okay?” Mira said as she stepped into the hallway. “I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine?” she prompted thoughtlessly.

Rumi looked surprised, but her answering grin was sincere. “From now until the end of time,” she finished.

Mira pretended not to see Derpy’s eyes widen in excitement at the words. He turned his head toward her like an owl with an eerily smooth motion. Nope. Not addressing that, not her problem.

Mira wasn’t sure how to feel as she quietly shut the door, but processing could wait until her brain was actually functional for the day. She looked forward to a relaxing shower and a fresh start, and she felt lighter than she had in days, maybe even years.

Her relief was short lived because the tiger somehow followed her down the hall through a closed door. Mira had to double check Rumi’s door, which was, in fact, still closed. If Rumi understood how pranks worked, Mira might even be suspicious. Seeing Derpy’s content face, she was pretty sure he had figured out how to follow her all on his own.

He shadowed Mira’s every step, barging into her room when she grabbed her clothes for the day. He tried to weave between her legs despite his bulk as she moved through the tower, making walking an exercise in agility.

Mira drew the line at the bathroom. She would not let him in, no matter how sad his big eyes were. Mira was mildly terrified of him and inclined not to offend a creature that could seemingly control the Honmoon, but she had limits.

Derpy spent the entirety of her morning routine pawing at the locked door. Disturbingly large blue claws slipped into the gap under the door every time Mira passed. She could feel the Honmoon warp around them each time it happened, which wasn’t great for her blood pressure. She had the quickest and most stressful shower of her life, worried he might start yowling and cause Zoey to stumble upon him too early. Rumi wanted her conversation first, and damned if Mira wasn’t going to make it happen. After the fiasco of last night, Rumi deserved to have at least one coming out on her terms.

Mira snorted at her own wording. Coming out. Yeah, right. That’s what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She opened the bathroom door, fully dressed and ready for whatever new nonsense the day would bring. As her fogged glasses cleared, Mira saw Derpy sitting primly a few feet away, the picture of patient innocence.

“You can’t come with me to the living room,” she told him, feeling a little silly talking to a tiger. Then again, she had been sobbing into his fur less than an hour ago, so really, what dignity did she have left?

He let out one of his sneezy-snorts, and Mira still had no idea what that meant.

“Seriously, it’s important. We need to talk to Zoey. I’m sure Rumi will let you come back later.” She had no idea if this was true, and she was even less sure if she wanted him to come back. Mira just wanted to return to normal. Well. Normal for them, anyway.

His expression didn’t change. Then, the Honmoon chimed around them, and he sank between its fibers like a ripple in a pond. He stared unblinkingly into her eyes until the Honmoon closed gently around him, the weave undisturbed. Mira shivered, deeply unsettled. She looked at the spot for a long time before she turned away and practically marched toward her coffee.

So. The magical spirit tiger could slip through the Honmoon seamlessly, prevent her from summoning her weapon, and had a particular interest in her? Cool. Fantastic. She sure hoped this wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass.

Zoey may have had the luck of the devil, but between her and Rumi they were screwed. Mira amused herself at the irony of Zoey being the one to inherit devil’s luck, all things considered. She passed by Rumi on her way to the kitchenette, coffee the only thing on her mind. Rumi set Zoey’s favorite breakfast cereal and fancy kombucha in front of her usual spot on the couch, and Mira tried not to gag at the combination.

“I’m glad Derpy seems to understand us,” Rumi said into the quiet. “I explained we needed to talk to Zoey alone, and there he went.”

“Yeah,” Mira echoed, feeling her eye start to twitch. “There he went.”

Rumi settled onto the couch across from Zoey’s seat, nervous energy rolling off her. She made a disappointed sound when Mira sat in the spot next to Zoey’s biohazard of a breakfast preference.

“She’ll think it’s some kind of intervention as is,” Mira said. “You’re here to explain. I’m just moral support.” She took her first, blissful sip of coffee. “For both of you,” she grumbled when Rumi tried to protest.

“She wouldn’t think that, right?” Rumi said, like a moron. “It’s Zoey.”

“Uh, yeah she would. It’s Zoey.”

“Whatever you say,” Rumi replied, undeservedly smug. The bait was there, but Mira’s coffee was more important than their usual morning bickering.

They didn’t have long to wait, and before she knew it Mira heard the telltale shuffle of the third part of their whole. Zoey stumbled in like a zombie, making it halfway to the fridge before she registered both her friends were not where they should be.

Zoey considered them blearily, focus landing on her breakfast combo on the coffee table then Mira in the adjacent seat. Her eyes shifted to a fidgeting Rumi, and they narrowed in suspicion.

“Is this an intervention?” Zoey asked, her voice deepened by sleep.

Mira threw her free hand up, vindicated. Rumi ignored her. Rude.

“Sort of,” Rumi said, and offered up nothing else. Zoey started to look a little more awake and a lot more worried.

“For Rumi,” Mira clarified quickly, because apparently she was needed to help navigate this conversation.

Zoey relaxed immediately. “Oh. Sounds good,” she mumbled. Zoey plopped on the ground in front of her food like the uncivilized creature she was.

Seeing the tension diffused, Rumi mouthed a quick thank you to Mira, who for some unknowable reason thought the appropriate response was to wink. Mira died a little inside when saw Rumi flush in what could only have been secondhand embarrassment. When did she get so cringe-worthy?

Zoey glanced between them, kombucha in hand. “You guys are acting weird,” she accused. “I don’t know if it’s bad weird, though.”

Mira gazed deep into her coffee, despairing. Soon Zoey would know exactly how weird it all was, and then there would be no escape.

“Zoey,” Rumi started, sounding confident. It probably wouldn’t last long. “You’ve probably noticed I’m… closed off about some things.”

“Understatement.” Zoey chuckled into her cereal.

“Right.” Rumi shifted in her seat, shoulders stiff. She stood and started pacing, because of course she did. “There’s something I wanted to tell you about myself, and Mira said it had to come from me. So. Here goes.”

Mira grimaced. Rumi really needed to stop quoting her.

Zoey leaned into Mira’s leg, peeking up conspiratorially through her bangs. “Is she trying to come out to me?” Zoey whispered, amused.

Mira’s smile matched Zoey’s, relieved she wasn’t the only one with the thought. “No, just listen. I don’t actually think she’s gay,” Mira murmured, not feeling disappointed by that at all. Mira was a horrible liar.

“Well duh, she’s bi, right?” Zoey searched Mira’s carefully blank face. “Wait, have you not seen her eyeliner?”

“What does eyeliner have to do with it?” Mira asked, a touch too shrill to be casual.

“Everything!” Zoey’s flabbergasted squeak was a little too loud, and Mira was quick to shush her.

“Are you two done whispering over there?” Rumi had stilled, but her nervous energy bled out into her fidgeting hands.

“Sorry, Rumi!” Zoey chirped. “I’m all ears. Whatever it is, you know I’m always on your side.”

Rumi took a steadying breath, then looked right at Mira, seeking support. Mira popped finger guns at her, because apparently Mira really had lost her mind somewhere in the chaos of last night. Rumi’s startled laugh made it worth the final death of her dignity.

In a horrible parody of the night in question, Rumi honest to god said “fuck it” again and started taking off her jacket. Mira felt herself blush from her neck to her ears, face uncomfortably warm. Her heart couldn’t take a repeat. Why was Rumi like this?

“Language!” Zoey gasped, delighted. Mira accidentally caught her attention when she jerked like a puppet on strings, trying and failing to act normal in the light of day. At the sight of Mira’s scarlet face, Zoey’s eyes lit up in mischief. “They’re just shoulders, you puritan,” she whispered playfully. “Should I get a spray bottle if she bares her ankles next?”

“Shut up and look,” Mira said through gritted teeth, certain her obituary would read international pop star, died of embarrassment.

Zoey turned to Rumi, whose patterns were now bared by her tank top. Mira was both incredibly relieved and incredibly disappointed there would be no ab showcase today. Rumi shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the verdict. For a long, agonizing moment, nothing passed between them. The playful air sobered.

Zoey narrowed her eyes, and Mira’s good mood vanished altogether. She hoped she was wrong about what that expression meant, but she was so, so good at reading people, especially the two girls closer to her than anything.

Mira’s loyalty to Rumi and Zoey felt like the only real thing in the world, and it scared her how little she cared if everything else burned as long as they were safe. She could never choose between them. Mira would rather arm wrestle the lord of demons in his own domain, even though Gwi-Ma probably got prison buff somewhere in the last few centuries of imprisonment.

Rumi’s distress visibly grew, and she finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I have–” she closed her eyes, as if not wanting to see Zoey’s reaction to her next words. “I have patterns. I always have.”

Mira suspected that was the case, but the honest confirmation was appreciated. She’d been trying very very hard not to come up with any theories about Rumi’s history. Given how awfully and embarrassingly wrong she’d been in her assumptions so far, Mira knew she’d somehow humiliate herself if she tried again.

“Oh,” Zoey said. Then softer, “How do– No, hang on.”

Zoey lunged for the cushions next to Mira, who flinched at the sudden motion. She covered her coffee protectively as Zoey dug out a battered notebook from the couch. Zoey flipped through it quickly, looking between Rumi’s patterns and the pages with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Zoey said neutrally.

“What?” Mira wasn’t sure if it was her or Rumi that yelled that, and after a moment she realized it had been both of them. Mira was starting to think she might actually be terrible at reading people.

“Golden?” Zoey said slowly, as if it explained everything. When she received no response, Zoey wrinkled her nose in exasperation. “Um, hello, Rumi is the most literal song writer I’ve ever met. No offense, Rumi, you’re great,” she tacked on with a quick smile.

Rumi replied with a shell-shocked, “Uh-huh.”

“Like, I thought maybe she had finally learned how to use symbolism with the patterns line. I was so proud,” She sighed wistfully. “This? Way more sense in context.”

Mira felt so very, very dumb. Yeah, it did make sense when you looked at it like that. How the hell had she come to the conclusion Rumi was gay from all that?

Mira suddenly understood that if anyone was steeped in the inner workings of Rumi’s head, it was undeniably Zoey. Their lyrics often came from their deepest being, and Zoey hoarded every word like precious treasures. Zoey probably had a similar understanding of Mira’s brain, which was impressive considering Mira was bewildered by her own logic half the time.

Zoey got up and shuffled over to give Rumi a hug, which was returned with relief. “Thanks for letting me know,” Zoey mumbled into Rumi’s shirt, then released her. “That must have been hard.”

Mira marveled at the emotional intelligence on display.

“Honestly, you two,” Rumi laughed. She slipped her jacket back on, and Mira lamented losing sight of her annoyingly attractive biceps. “You both kind of did the work for me.”

“Wait, both of us? Mira hasn’t said anything.” Zoey’s words were slow, sounded out carefully. Mira grimaced. She had wanted to avoid hurting Zoey’s feelings, but now it seemed like an exercise in futility.

“You told Mira separately?” Zoey’s eyes slid to Mira, a little too intent. “Last night?” She wasn’t hurt, Mira realized. The little shit was digging for blackmail. The worst part was that Rumi would never believe her.

“I’m sorry,” Rumi said as she gave Zoey’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t exactly plan to tell either of you. With Mira, it just… happened.” Rumi stepped toward the couch then paused, as if unsure of where she was allowed to sit.

Mira tried to telepathically warn Rumi of the danger in continuing this conversation. Rumi smiled and made her way over to her, oblivious as ever.

“What happened?” Zoey asked innocently, returning to her breakfast and taking up her notebook to record Mira’s shame. Mira would fucking burn that thing if she knew it wouldn’t devastate Zoey. Alas.

Rumi carefully sat next to Mira, barely touching the couch in her trepidation. Mira bumped her shoulder into Rumi’s, desperately trying to convey that the conversation needed to end now.

Instead, Rumi collapsed into Mira’s side with a sigh, and Mira’s brain short circuited a little at the contact. Why was this the day to test her physical boundaries, when she finally knew just how many rippling muscles Rumi hid under those baggy clothes? Sure, she was around Rumi in revealing outfits all the time on stage, but Mira was usually watching everyone’s feet and hands in case she needed to adjust choreography on the fly. That was then. That was professional. Now? Now she had ogled, and she could never unsee it.

“She was very–” Rumi swooped her hand in some complex sequence. “–you know.”

No, Mira did not know. She would very much like to know. Just how badly did she come across last night?

“Yeah,” Zoey agreed, practically sparkling. “She’s very–” Zoey repeated the bizarre hand gesture.

What did that even mean?

“Very Mira.” Rumi nodded decisively.

Zoey hummed in agreement, as if that explained anything.

Were they messing with her? Mira glared suspiciously at the two of them.

Rumi turned her stupidly perfect face toward Mira and gave her a dazzingly bright smile. “She already had it all figured out,” Rumi said fondly.

Wait, what?

There’s no fucking way she actually believed Mira went in with all the answers. Mira had all the subtlety of a giant blue tiger last night, there’s absolutely no way Rumi didn’t clock how out of her depth she was. Which could only mean Rumi was covering for Mira. Mira felt an oozy sort of gratitude when she realized Rumi was sparing her from Zoey’s ill intentions. Rumi was the best.

“She did?” Zoey asked, blinking in genuine surprise. Wow, Zoey. Great to know she had so much faith in Mira’s competency.

“Yup,” Mira lied shamelessly.

“That’s Mira for you.” Zoey shrugged casually, and Mira just knew she was going to be interrogated about it later.

Zoey sobered. “So,” she said, flipping open to a blank page. She glanced at Rumi’s now covered arms, “How do you have patterns? I, um, didn’t know humans could.”

“I’m half demon,” Rumi said, surprisingly steady. She started to pull away from Mira as if that would change anything. Mira grumpily dragged her back, slipping a hand under Rumi’s jacket to prove a point. Her palm rested over the patterns of Rumi’s bare shoulder.

Mira froze, hyperaware of the hand she now couldn’t move for fear of drawing more attention. If she pulled away now Rumi would absolutely read it as rejection, and they’d be back at square one. She’d never open up again, and it would be all Mira’s fault. If Mira didn’t pull away, she risked questions. Mira wasn’t sure which was worse. She shouldn’t have to make choices this dire until at least noon.

As if nothing unspeakably gay had just happened, Rumi added, “On my father’s side.”

If Zoey’s eyes got any wider they might just fall out of her head. “That’s possible?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Mira grumbled into her coffee. It was too early for any of this.

“I always have ideas,” Zoey said in mock offense.

“Zoey,” Rumi groaned through an exasperated laugh. “Gross.”

Zoey discreetly tilted her notebook toward Mira, a single word scrawled across the page. Hypocrite stared back at her in bold. Zoey waggled her eyebrows at the hand Mira was pretending didn’t belong to her body, and Mira kicked at the traitorous gremlin who was definitely not getting that extra snack order. Zoey fell against her and Rumi’s legs in a fit of giggles.

Honestly, the implications of half demon were staggering, and they didn’t line up with the whole daughter of a Sunlight Sister thing. Something in the story didn’t quite add up, but Mira wasn’t going to open that wound, not now when none of them would have answers for it.

“But really,” Zoey pushed, and Mira was surprised she was willing to do so. “Can you shapeshift?” Mira did not start blushing again. “Or, oh! Can you teleport?”

“No,” Rumi said, leaning back into the couch pensively. This also meant she leaned back into Mira’s arm, and why did Mira keep doing this to herself. “Why would I be able to do any of that?”

“She’s strong,” Mira added, ignoring Zoey’s knowing look. “Like, really strong.” She drained her coffee for something to do other than blush like an idiot, then got a little sad it was all gone. She handed the mug over to Zoey to set aside.

“Anyone can get this strong with training,” Rumi said with conviction. Mira and Zoey exchanged a dubious look. Where they had to use momentum and leverage to take down larger demons, Rumi sometimes just picked them up and hurled them like an empty soda can. Mira had thought she was somehow using the Honmoon’s power, but demonic strength made about as much sense. Had Rumi seriously never noticed?

“I’m not actually a demon, guys.” Rumi had never sounded so unsure.

“You still relate to them, though,” Mira said, immediately regretting it when Rumi shrank into herself. She soldiered on, “It’s why you’ve had so much trouble with Takedown.”

Zoey’s head snapped up. “Wait, what? You have a problem with Takedown? I mean, it’s fine if you do!” Zoey’s too-tight smile betrayed just how not fine it was.

Mira nudged Zoey’s notebook pointedly. “The lyrics, Zo.”

Zoey flipped quickly through the pages, pausing every now and then. How she managed to have no organization to her writing and yet knew exactly where things were would always be a mystery. “Oh.” Zoey deflated, wincing. “Yeah, some of these are really bad.”

“I’m fine guys,” Rumi said unconvincingly. “The Idol Awards are in two days, and we’ve already put all the work in. I can get over my own hangups for one performance.” At the word hangups Rumi bumped Mira’s shoulder as if it was an inside joke.

Mira wanted to slap herself. That was the opposite of what she said last night! She said Celine needed to get over her hangups, not Rumi. How was this girl so self-sacrificial and dense?

“You shouldn’t have to,” Mira bit out aggressively. “Stop being dumb.”

“I’ll contact Bobby about switching to Golden,” Zoey said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it was. “Still, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you.”

Mira reigned in her building irritation. She was starting to suspect Rumi didn’t even know how to avoid hurting herself at this point, and the last thing she needed was Mira’s misplaced hostility. She’d save it for Celine.

“I’m sorry about the awful things I’ve said about demons,” Mira said, heart twisting. The admission was difficult, and the thought of what Rumi must have felt was worse. “It was never about you, but it still must have sucked.” Demons had always been a safe target for Mira’s aggression, both physical and verbal, and it’s unforgivable that her hatred had bled into her friend’s very being.

“I asked you to.” Rumi’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, despite their closeness.

Mira didn’t remember it that way. She remembered Rumi asking her to keep her grounded and to help her remember what they were fighting for, which was somehow worse. She didn’t voice the thought. “Why?” she asked instead.

“I liked it,” Rumi said, sounding ashamed. “It was a reminder of what I wasn’t.”

Mira felt heat under her palm and saw Rumi’s patterns lit up with the faintest glow. If she hadn’t seen the full light show last night, she might not have even noticed in the bright morning sun. Rumi turned away from both of them, head bowed. “Somewhere along the way it became reminder of what I was.”

Zoey squeezed between Rumi and Mira’s knees, head tilted toward Rumi in quiet support. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “We’ll get through this together.” She didn’t say you’re not, like Mira might have, but Zoey had always been better at knowing what people needed.

“You’re still the same old Rumi,” Mira chimed in, aiming for casual. “You’ve just got a few extra badass stripes, so what?”

“Look,” Rumi said, frustrated. “This isn’t a good thing.” Her hand rose to her collarbones. “It’s costing me my voice.”

Mira felt ice in her veins. Zoey squeaked, alarmed. Rumi’s voice was everything to her, and without it, they would fall apart as Hunters. All three of them knew it.

“I thought your voice was getting better,” Zoey murmured soothingly.

“It was. It is,” Rumi said, “but for how long? These patterns–” she practically spat the word, “–just keep getting worse.” Rumi bowed her head, tears falling but voice steady and quiet. “The last time we tried to do Golden live, I couldn’t. They spread from my shoulder to my throat in a day. And then I couldn’t sing.”

Something about the patterns bothered Mira. They just didn’t make sense. Judging by Rumi’s lengthening sleeves in all the time Mira had known her, the spread had been gradual. Now they were making a year’s worth of progress in a day? What changed? Did anything change? What happened if they continued to spread? Would Rumi still be… Rumi? Or would she be something else?

Mira cursed herself for questioning Rumi, even briefly. Rumi was a miserable little pile of secrets, but she was consistent. Rumi had never been anything but herself. If Gwi-Ma himself lived buried in her skin, Mira had no doubt Rumi would out-stubborn the bastard with ease.

“I did everything I was supposed to do,” Rumi continued. She sounded broken. “I covered them, I worked so hard to fix this, to fix me. And now, when we’re so close, when we can see the gold…” She turned devastated eyes on both of them. “What if it’s too late?”

There it was again. Fix. Rumi wanted to fix herself. Instinctive nausea rolled over Mira, but Zoey just looked at Rumi thoughtfully. Mira worried about the way Rumi’s hands contorted, as if she wanted to claw her own skin. She smoothly guided one of Rumi’s hands into Zoey’s, then took up the other. Rumi didn’t even seem to notice.

Zoey was the first to break the silence. “Rumi, about Golden,” she said, voice quiet but steady, “what exactly did you mean by these patterns all in the past now?”

“When the Honmoon is sealed, all the demons will be gone from this world,” Rumi said in a familiar cadence, “and so will my patterns.”

Mira had heard her own asinine phrase repeated back to her enough times today to know when Rumi was quoting someone. Mira had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly whose words these were. In the last twelve hours, Mira also had a crash course in jumping to stupid conclusions, which was why she had no problem seeing the issue with the logic given.

“If the Honmoon seals your patterns,” Mira wanted to pull away, the physical comfort of both her friends suddenly overwhelming, “Rumi, what if it seals you with it?” Her voice hitched, and she prepared for the worst. She didn’t know what to do if the very thing that had given her life meaning was going to steal away the foundations of her heart.

Rumi’s lack of reaction said enough. She held herself still despite the two girls wrapped around her. “I–” she looked between them, lost, “I don’t know,” Rumi finally admitted. “I just want them gone.”

Rumi didn’t know. Rumi hated not knowing things. Trying to hide birthday presents from her was fucking impossible because she was so nosy, and yet she didn’t know something as big as this? If Rumi didn’t know, that meant she had never even thought of the possibility. Mira couldn’t help but find that absurd. You would need to be single-mindedly idealistic to think–

Oh. No, that made perfect sense. For Rumi. Celine, however, was a cynic down to her core, and that’s the part that caused quiet rage to bubble up in Mira’s throat. Celine had thought of every awful scenario that could cause the Hunters’ deaths and forced them to prepare obsessively. Every scenario except this one. That could only mean one of two things. The first is that Celine knew for absolute certain that Rumi would be safe under the sealed Honmoon. The second possibility?

Well. Mira couldn’t be held responsible for her actions if that were true.

“I think,” Mira said, and she really really didn’t want to, “that we need to talk to Celine.”

“I don’t know.” Rumi finally noticed both her hands were captive, and started trying to pull them free. A silent agreement passed between Mira and Zoey, and a tiny game of tug-o-war commenced. Rumi let out a small laugh when they finally let her break free, so mission accomplished.

“I’m with Mira,” Zoey weighed in. “I don’t think we know enough about how the Honmoon works, and this is important.” She hugged Rumi’s calf from her spot on the floor. “How can we give the Idol Awards our all if we don’t know what will happen to you?”

“She’s really busy this time of year,” Rumi said, but she seemed to be caving.

Mira snorted. “Doing what, communing with the magic tree in her backyard?”

“I thought that was illegal in Korea,” Zoey muttered into Rumi’s leg.

Rumi groaned, “It’s more complicated than that, and you know it.” Which wasn’t a no. Rumi slumped back into the couch. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to her. I don’t know how she’ll feel about you two knowing.”

“I’ll do it,” Mira volunteered. At Rumi’s instinctive protest, she continued, “We’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it. Just let me handle it.” Mira squeezed Rumi’s shoulder. “Please.”

“Okay,” Rumi sighed as though Mira was doing her a favor. “Thank you.”

Mira tried not to feel guilty. Her intentions weren’t exactly altruistic, but she wasn’t about to let Celine talk to Rumi alone just yet. Mira was well-acquainted with the pressures of controlling family, and she was seeing a veritable parade of familiar red flags. She would give Celine the benefit of the doubt for now, but she was on thin fucking ice.

Rumi sat up, radiating a familiar determination. “Alright,” she said. “We’ve got two days until the Idol Awards. We need a game plan.”

“Well, I’ve written down everything we’ve said so that’s a start.” Zoey flipped to the right page and handed over the notebook. She really had written down everything, complete with eyeliner circled three times and a doodled cat version of Mira getting sprayed by water. When Rumi reached for it, Mira slapped it shut with a yelp and sent it skidding across the floor. Zoey protested the notebook abuse.

“Let’s let Zoey be the lorekeeper,” Mira said, going for suave and failing miserably.

“You know I’m going to look at that later.” Rumi eyed Mira like she had grown a second head and started a yodeling duet with it.

“Anyway,” Mira turned to the both of them and started counting off her fingers. “We switch our song to Golden, push through any last minute lyric changes,” she patted a distressed Zoey on the head, “practice choreo, fight off any breaches, and talk to Celine. Not necessarily in that order.”

“No pressure, huh?” Rumi grunted, becoming one with the cushions. Mira was proud of her for finally understanding the allure of the couch.

“So, I guess Takedown is out completely? Which is fine! I’m totally fine with that,” Zoey said, not sounding fine about it in the least. Mira wished, not for the first time, that Zoey could just say what was bothering her. Then again, if all three of them were as blunt and bullheaded as Mira, they’d probably have murdered each other by year two.

“We’ll rework it,” Mira promised. “Maybe for our comeback after the awards?”

“It’s too good to scrap completely.” Rumi sighed. “I’m sorry. You both worked so hard on it.” She pulled her soft jacket tighter around her. “It’s just not the right song if we want to turn the Honmoon gold.”

“Do we want to turn the Honmoon gold?” Mira blurted. Shit. She did not mean to say that out loud.

“What kind of question is that?” Rumi leaned away from the both of them to look at Mira incredulously. “If my voice goes, this is our last chance as a group. We’re so close, and everything is at stake.”

Mira didn’t say that deep down, she thought the reason they had never managed to turn the Honmoon gold was because Mira never wanted to. She knew her place in the team, and it had little to do with the beautiful harmonies of resonating souls. Rumi and Zoey needed music like air, but Mira found meaning in motion. For all Rumi’s strength and Zoey’s skill, Mira was the fighter. She was the one who transformed their battles into a seamless dance, who filled the gaps and stepped in when they faltered. Violence was her expertise on the team, and if the Honmoon didn’t need Hunters, Zoey and Rumi wouldn’t need her. She had never been built for peace.

Mira took a steadying breath, and picked her words carefully. “To strengthen the Honmoon, we need to be in harmony, right? In everything. All three of us have to want it, and I–” Mira swallowed thickly. “I can’t if I don’t know you’ll be safe.”

“Me neither.” Zoey’s admission was quiet, but it was there, and that meant the world.

“You’re going to talk to Celine,” Rumi told Mira, “and she’ll tell you it’s safe. Then we can seal the Honmoon for good.”

Mira wished she had the same confidence in their mentor. “And if it isn’t?”

“Then we’ll deal with it if that happens. Which it won’t.” Rumi looked down at Mira’s slumped form sternly. “Celine would have told me.”

Mira did not voice her doubts. She sighed, ready for the day to be over already. “Fine. We’ll find out and go from there.” Mira forced herself to sit up so she could resist the couch’s siren song. “Either way, we’ll give a kickass performance and send those stupid Saja Boys back into the demon realm.”

Rumi didn’t respond, and Mira was too emotionally drained to start panicking. Did she somehow put her foot in her mouth again?

“There’s no way they’ll play fair though,” Zoey said, scribbling angry eyebrows onto a suspiciously detailed drawing of Mystery. “How do we level the playing field?”

“I might have something,” Rumi said reluctantly. “I have a way to meet with Jinu.” Ugh, Jinu. “Alone.”

“What?” Mira reeled back. “How. Wait, have you met with him before?”

“Kind of?” Rumi stalled, tapping a beat into her knee. So that was a yes. What the fuck, Rumi?

Was Rumi seriously still keeping secrets? About turtle-boy? If her taste in men was this terrible, Rumi had to be straight.

“Ugh, fine, whatever!” Mira threw her hands up. She was so done with this shit. Mira turned back to Rumi, sharp annoyance roiling in her chest. “You meet with Jinu, and we use it to our advantage.”

“Um, how?” Zoey asked, looking only half as disgruntled as Mira felt.

Did Mira have to do everything around here?

“Rumi, you’re going to do what you do best,” Mira said slowly.

“I don’t see how singing will help here, Mira.” Rumi eyed Mira like she was the dumb one.

“Maybe if it’s a really emotional song?” Zoey offered. “Oh, you could save his soul with the power of music!”

“What? No, you’re going to lie.” Mira had no idea how these idiots functioned without her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rumi had the audacity to sound offended.

Seriously? Literally all she did was lie. Rumi was great at lying, it was a compliment!

Rumi crossed her arms, glaring at Mira.

Fine! If she was going to be like that, Mira was going to take a page out of Rumi’s book from last night. Fuck it. Mira would cause the chaos this time. She’d see how much Rumi liked being put on the back foot.

“Hey, you still haven’t told Zoey about the magic tiger,” Mira said, making deliberate, intense eye contact with Rumi.

Rumi paled.

“There’s a magic tiger?” Zoey shrieked. “And you didn’t start with that?”

Mira closed her eyes and basked in the squabble that ensued. She should indulge her mean streak more often. This was fantastic. It served Rumi right for keeping big dumb secrets about big dumb demon boys.

As if on cue, bells chimed to Mira’s left. Derpy rose smoothly from the ground at the edge of the sofa, nightmare bird on his head. Had he been listening to their conversation so he could make a dramatic entrance? He rested his chin on the armrest closest to Mira and warbled happily. Mira studiously ignored the tiger as Zoey gasped in delight.

Why did Mira keep letting herself have ideas? Clearly she wasn’t cut out for thinking.

“This guy’s name is Derpy,” Rumi told Zoey, sounding far too amused, “and his bird friend is Sussie.” Mira still thought those were the dumbest names she had ever heard. Rumi was never allowed to name anything ever again.

Mira glanced at Derpy, and he looked back in either malice or adoration. It was hard to tell when his eyes kept drifting off in opposite directions. The magpie rolled its eyes and hopped over to Zoey, sizing her up.

“I like your hat,” she told it solemnly, eyes sparkling. Apparently those were the magic words, because it settled on Zoey’s shoulder, uncomfortably close to her vulnerable ear.

Mira had no one to blame but herself. She resigned herself to the mayhem that unfolded as the tiger tried to clumsily climb into her lap and Zoey made some sort of unholy alliance with the bird. Derpy finally succeeded in flopping himself across Rumi and Mira by using the Honmoon like a goddamn stepping stone.

“Little help, Mira?” Rumi said, practically buried in fluff. “We do have places to be.”

“He’s an impossibly powerful being.” Mira stared pointedly at Derpy kneading the Honmoon like an old blanket. “I’m not gonna tell him to get off the couch.”

Rumi and Zoey laughed at her like she was joking. Derpy let out a series of particularly loud sneeze-snorts in Mira’s face and she tried not to flinch. She refused to offend a creature that could probably use the fabric of her soul as a scratching post, even if he did get tiger snot on her.

“Rumi.” Zoey sounded awed. “He’s chuffing at Mira.”

Was that what that noise was?

“What?” Rumi asked, bewildered.

“It’s like purring,” Zoey explained. “That means he loves her.”

Oh. Well. That was kind of cute, actually.

“They bonded,” Rumi said, grinning deviously.

Traitors, every single one of them. Mira decided to take one last chance, and she put her trust in the tiger that had shown her nothing but good will so far. “You’d never betray me like this,” Mira confided in him. “You have standards.” Mira settled back, content to put off her meeting with Celine for now. She could wait for Derpy to let her up. He was a good tiger. Nothing Mira learned about him now would convince her otherwise.

Chapter Text

So it turned out the tiger would betray Mira like that, and he had no standards.

“What do you mean they belong to Jinu?” Zoey asked, now eyeing the nightmare bird warily.

The magpie held out its foot to Zoey until she got the message and extended her hand. The bird deposited a shiny rock into Zoey’s palm from god knows where.

Zoey looked genuinely touched. Mira despaired at how easy it was to bribe her.

“You can’t own a tiger,” Mira said, feeling oddly hollow. A tiger was a master of their own fate. Mira couldn’t see that scrawny weirdo holding the reins of such a majestic animal.

Derpy drooled onto the sofa. He rumbled contentedly every time Mira looked his way, and it was starting to give her a bit of a headache. Tigers were loud. And maybe not as majestic as Mira thought.

Rumi continued trying to wriggle out from under Derpy’s considerable mass, but she wasn’t making much headway. Mira didn’t like that they were still essentially cuddling the enemy, but it was overridden by vindictive pleasure at Rumi’s inconvenience. She deserved it after all the shit she was putting them through.

“Then they’re his associates, I don’t know!” Rumi said, throwing her hands up. She sank back against the couch in defeat. Great, they had been discussing their plans for the Honmoon in front of Jinu’s associates.

“Maybe Jinu’s Chang-gwi and trying to lure you into replacing him,” Mira said. She patted the tiger on his giant traitorous forehead. “You’ll have to serve this guy for eternity if you fall for it.” Mira was joking, but she didn’t like the contemplative look the bird gave her. Jinu would be the kind of asshole who tried to hunt down a tiger and got cursed for it.

Mira briefly entertained the idea Derpy might be the secret evil mastermind behind a demon boy band. Honestly, they should hire him if he produced Soda Pop. It was annoyingly catchy. Mira considered Derpy’s friendly and frankly terrifying face, then decided that would be a little too absurd.

“I don’t think Derpy is capable of imprisoning souls.” Rumi sighed. “And Jinu wouldn’t hurt him, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Yeah, he’s too pure,” Zoey said. She resumed petting the bird carefully. The magpie puffed up under the attention, much larger than true bird feathers should be capable of.

Mira glared. Why was it the praise Jinu hour?

Zoey snorted at her expression. “The tiger,” she said.

Oh. At least Zoey was on Mira’s side. Rumi could really stand to recognize the inherent danger of trusting strange demon boys.

“They deliver messages. Like, written messages,” Rumi clarified, as if they’d be dumb enough to think Derpy could talk. Wait, could he talk? No, he would have by now, if nothing else than to make fun of Mira’s incident with him earlier.

So great, this unfathomably powerful creature and its eldritch companion were apparently emissaries of demons. Fucking fantastic. And Rumi was pen pals with Jinu. How lovely for them.

Zoey stared down Rumi. “How?” she asked, voice neutral. Mira was glad she wasn’t alone in her irritation. Or as irritated as Zoey let herself get, anyway.

Rumi gestured helplessly at the tiger she was still trapped under.

“What, do you need to get up to show us?” Mira rolled her eyes. “Use your words, Rumi.”

Please, for the sake of Mira’s sanity, let Rumi learn how to use her words. Mira didn’t think she could handle it if Rumi kept using interpretive actions to say important things. Who knew what clothing item might be lost next?

“You give him a note, and then he does his, uh, portal thing,” Rumi said, scrunching her nose in that adorably confused way she sometimes did. Annoyingly. Annoyingly confused way. “I don’t know how he does it.”

He obviously used the Honmoon. Mira had seen it like twice and figured it out. Did Rumi need her vision checked? Mira knew a great optometrist.

“So you send a note, and then?” Zoey kept the conversation on track, but Mira could see her stern attitude wavering.

“Then I can meet with Jinu.” Rumi crossed her arms a bit defensively. “Somewhere neutral. Preferably in the early morning or at night.”

Of course. How romantic. They were positively Romeo and Juliet. Mira remembered how that particular play ended, and she immediately regretted the comparison. Hopefully she and Zoey could talk their dense friend into not doing anything life-threateningly stupid over a boy.

“Yeah, the tabloids would have a field day if they saw you together.” Zoey grinned, then frowned as if remembering she wasn’t supposed to be cheerful for this conversation.

“Focus.” Mira didn’t want to hear a word more than necessary about whatever rendezvous those two may or may not have already had. “Is it too late to meet?”

“It’s cutting it close, but it should be fine. It’s just–” Rumi turned toward Mira. “You told me to lie, but I have no idea what you want me to lie about.”

Mira honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she wasn’t about to admit that. “Information first. You met with him before.” Mira grit her teeth when Rumi broke eye contact, acting like she could hide it now. “What did you learn?”

“I’m not really sure I learned anything.” Rumi stared ahead and absently smoothed out a patch of Derpy’s fur. “He, um, wanted to talk about my patterns.”

He knew?

He knew before them?

Rumi trusted Jinu more than Mira and Zoey, who had been nothing but loyal for years?

Mira did not open her mouth. She knew if she did, she would never be able to take back what she said. Either that, or she might just scream incoherently.

Zoey shrank into herself, just as quiet as Mira but radiating none of the anger.

For once, Rumi actually seemed to catch the subtext of their silence. She looked frantically between them, obvious regret plastered across her face. Mira supposed there was a first time for everything.

“No, no! I didn’t tell him anything,” Rumi pleaded. Then, quieter, “I wouldn’t have. Before last night I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“But he knows?” Zoey asked quietly.

It was a comfort to have at least one sane person to back Mira up. Then again, Mira shouldn’t be forcing Zoey into the speaking role with how much she hated conflict. It was hardly fair.

“When we fought in the bathhouse, he ripped my sleeve. I–” Rumi buried her fingers into Derpy’s fur, grounding herself. A bright flash of light pulsed through the patterns at her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took so long to help. I froze. You were in danger, but all I could think was that you might see.”

Mira reeled in her anger. Was that where she had run off to? Before last night’s horrifically embarrassing ordeal, one of Mira’s worries had been that Rumi was injured during that fight and hiding it. Despite the faint relief that Rumi had been safe, knowing she was so terrified of trusting them filled Mira with a dull ache.

They hadn’t been enough. Mira hadn’t been enough. If she hadn’t barged in last night, Rumi never would have trusted her enough to tell her. She probably still wouldn’t, given the choice. Mira should be used to it. It shouldn’t hurt. It did.

“So he saw your patterns?” Zoey’s voice softened. Her instinctive soothing was always bound to follow the first signs of distress in her friends. “Then what?”

“He–” Rumi looked around the room, as if searching for answers. “He could have killed me. Easily. But he covered my patterns, and then I could move again.”

“So you hopped back into the fight.” Mira felt the strain in her voice no matter how detached she tried to be. She remembered how fiercely Rumi had torn into the demons when she finally reappeared, making up for lost time. Maybe she had been trying to prove something to herself.

If Mira and Zoey had seen in the bathhouse, how would they have reacted? Not well, Mira realized, limbs feeling heavy. In the heat of battle, in the blinding steam, Mira’s not sure she would have been able to discriminate the patterns on Rumi’s skin from those of the demons. It was an ugly thought, made worse for the truth behind it.

“Yeah,” Rumi said. “He asked to meet that night.”

Mira didn’t like that. Jealousy aside, she knew leverage when she heard it. Jinu learned her darkest secret, and he had used it to isolate her. He wouldn’t have done that without an ulterior motive, so he definitely wanted something from Rumi.

“To talk about your patterns,” Mira echoed Rumi’s earlier words. “He didn’t say anything weird to you, did he?”

“Not really?” Rumi said, squirming in her seat. Rumi was usually smooth as silk with her lies. Seeing her botch one this badly raised all kinds of alarm bells.

“So he did say something,” Zoey observed, suspicious.

Mira’s inward murder plots solidified.

“He, um.” Rumi picked at the fabric of her pants, and for some reason she fucking blushed. What did Jinu do to her? “He did tease me about my choo-choo teddy pants.”

The quiet atmosphere exploded into motion. Mira used all her hard-earned grace as a dancer to twist out from under the tiger. She dumped the rest of his weight on Rumi, who wheezed. Zoey was up at Mira’s side just as rapidly, hands sweeping in wide arcs as the magpie flapped away in alarm.

“You love those pants!” Zoey sounded like she was on the verge of angry tears.

“How dare he.” Mira might have been mad at Rumi, but this was unforgivable.

Zoey pointed her finger into Rumi’s face, crowding in close. “They’re adorable. And you look adorable when you wear them!”

“He wears the same stupid outfit everyday.” Mira was going to stab the grungy bitch next time she saw him. “Has he even washed his clothes once?”

“That’s not important,” Rumi said, exasperated. Like fuck it wasn’t. Hygiene was always important. “Listen, he wanted to know how it was possible for a demon to be a Hunter.”

“And what did you tell him?” Zoey asked, still irate.

“That it was none of his business.” Rumi glared back.

“Damn right.” Mira nodded.

“He thought I could hear Gwi-Ma, like the rest,” Rumi said, trying to free more space under Derpy. She gave up when he rolled onto his back, pressing her further into the couch. “He was surprised I couldn’t.”

“Hear him?” Zoey started clearing the breakfast dishes from the coffee table, apparently needing an outlet for her agitated energy. “Gwi-Ma talks to them directly?” A few alarming crashes sounded from the sink before she returned.

“Apparently he uses their own shame to control them. He puts awful things in their heads.” Rumi tried to pet the tiger’s tummy, but the sudden flexing of his very large claws deterred her. “Or that’s what Jinu said, at least.”

That brought a whole new meaning to inner demons. So was Gwi-Ma like, supernatural mental illness? That just seemed unfair. And kind of sad. If it was true. Which it probably wasn’t.

Mira didn’t enjoy contemplating that the hordes of demons she had personally banished were sent to eternal suffering by guilt complex. She knew firsthand how controlling forces could wield shame like a weapon, how it left a permanent mark on the soul. How things could be twisted around until you felt like you deserved it.

Rumi tugged at her own sleeve, a familiar gesture. “And the patterns are a physical reminder of that shame.”

“We were always told demons couldn’t feel anything.” Zoey seemed to be deep in thought. “But that doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

“I don’t know how true that is anymore,” Rumi admitted. Mira was a little stunned she was willing to question Celine’s teachings, no matter how mildly. “I don’t know how much or what they feel, but they feel something. Mostly shame and hatred, I guess.”

Rumi traced the patterns on her own wrist, and Mira wondered if she knew that people had those feelings too. By the look on Rumi’s face, she just might think herself a monster for being perfectly human.

“Jinu said he used to be human, though,” Rumi said quietly, “and that he had patterns when he was alive.”

“Did he say how?” Mira asked. She didn’t buy it. It seemed too convenient to Rumi’s situation. This guy just showed up on the scene, had all the answers she’s always craved, and could directly relate to her deepest, most secret struggle? One she was too scared to reveal to anyone, making him the only one she could confide in? Something smelled rotten, and it wasn’t just Jinu’s unwashed jacket.

“So, he lived 400 years ago–”

“400 years?” Mira choked. “Like from the fucking Joseon Era?”

“Nerd,” Zoey whispered into Mira’s ear, tension finally broken. Then, louder, she said, “I’m all for a 400-year-old vampire romance, but the age gap is still kinda weird.”

Rumi rolled her eyes at Zoey. “He’s not a vampire.”

Mira muffled a shriek into her hands, whistling like a tea kettle at Rumi’s failure to address the age gap romance part.

Zoey collapsed on the couch, groaning, “That’s not the point, Rumi. He’s ancient!”

“So a decrepit old lecher enticed you into a dark alleyway.” Mira leveled a stern look at Rumi. “Do we need to go over stranger danger again?”

Rumi laughed, exasperated. “Oh my god, shut up, both of you!” She swatted at Mira, but her reach was severely limited by the giant tiger that was crushing her into the couch. “His story is really sad!”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” Mira grumbled. She put a hand over Zoey’s face when she saw the building excitement about a tragic backstory. “No. You can’t fix him.”

Mira felt a disgusting wetness on her palm, and did Zoey just lick her? Zoey’s triumphant look bled into terrified realization as Mira very slowly brought her soiled hand up. Mira quickly rubbed the slobber into Zoey’s hair and stepped back, mood officially lifted.

“Mira!” Zoey screeched, scrubbing at her head with exaggerated vigor.

Mira turned to Rumi. “Please, continue,” she said calmly.

Rumi peeked through her fingers as if witnessing some sort of horrific crime. “Why are you like this?” she whispered, disbelieving.

Zoey’s flailing was enough to convince Derpy to move, and he slunk off the couch. Rumi took a relieved breath in at the lifted weight. Seeing her opportunity, Zoey tipped over into Rumi’s lap to take Derpy’s place, grin on her face. “You love us,” Zoey said, laughing brightly.

Rumi eyed both of them seriously. In a movement Mira was proud of teaching her, Rumi cleanly grabbed Mira’s wrist and swept her legs. Mira let herself be knocked sideways into the cuddle pile, keeping her elbows tucked to avoid hitting Zoey. Mira bounced as she landed next to Rumi, and she couldn’t help but laugh when Zoey immediately stretched out her legs to trap her.

“Yeah,” Rumi agreed easily. “I do.”

And, well, wasn’t that something?

Rumi’s arms were still covered. She still lied a hundred times before she told the truth. Even so, their dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t big or all that noticeable, but it was there. Mira and Zoey had always been close, and they never had to think twice about playful teasing or friendly touch. Rumi did. For Rumi to not just be roped into their silliness, but to include herself? It was a start.

Rumi blew out a breath of laughter, and Mira felt warmth all throughout her body. She had never seen Rumi just be, and it was a beautiful sight.

“Back on track, guys,” Rumi said, and all those fuzzy feelings were doused with ice water. Oh, right. Jinu. “He was apparently ancient–” she poked at Zoey’s side, who laughed at the ribbing, “–and his family had nothing. Gwi-Ma offered to get him and his family a place at the palace.”

Mira was annoyed that she couldn’t even poke holes in the story. Yet. To accept any lifeline when you were at your lowest was a no-brainer.

“He said his patterns kept spreading,” Rumi continued. She pulled up her sleeve to look at the patterns on her own skin. “Eventually, they consumed him.”

Zoey reached up to hold Rumi’s raised hand, and Rumi smiled at the silent reassurance.

“He was condemned to the demon realm, and his family lost everything,” Rumi said, a little stronger but just as quiet. “He said he was haunted by the memory of failing them.”

“So his patterns?” Zoey asked.

“A reminder.” Rumi sighed and leaned her head back against the couch.

Okay, now Mira could poke holes in his story. Right? She looked at her friends, their mood somber. There’s no way they believed the whole thing!

“Oh. That’s really sad,” Zoey said. She melted off their legs into an equally sad little puddle on the floor.

“Yeah,” Rumi agreed. “It almost makes me feel bad for trying to stab him so many times.”

Mira failed to keep in her snicker, and they both sent her disapproving looks. “Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all. “Did he say anything about your patterns?”

“He said mine were a reminder of my own shame.” Rumi traced the patterns that looped around her wrist. “He wanted me to tell him what it was because he would understand. He’s the only one who could.” She sighed again.

“Did he actually say that?” Mira asked sharply. “He’s the only one who could understand you?”

“Yes?” Rumi said, hesitant. “I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? At least about–” she waved her hand with the pushed up sleeve, patterns bared. “–well, these.”

Mira and Zoey exchanged a worried look. That was manipulation, clear as day. It didn’t even seem like Rumi realized how blatant that was. Maybe they did need that stranger danger recap.

Zoey pulled up the ottoman and sat directly in front of Rumi, grasping both her hands. “Rumi,” Zoey said, words firm, “don’t ever trust someone who tells you they’re the only one who can understand you. Ever.”

Thank goodness for Zoey. Mira’s intervention here might have just been a long string of threats directed at Jinu. This was a much better way to get the message across.

Rumi looked uncertainly between a steady Zoey and a seething Mira. “Okay?”

Zoey squeezed Rumi’s hands to regain her focus. “People can still understand you even if they haven't had the exact same experience.” Zoey gave her a soft smile. “You just have to let them in, right?”

“I guess.” Rumi didn’t sound convinced. “But he does know how it feels. I don’t know, I’ve just–” She sighed heavily. “I’ve felt so alone with it.”

The admission held weight. Mira realized that Rumi was finally listening, and it was all thanks to Zoey. Rumi was letting them in. Actively. Even if it was about Jinu.

Zoey’s eyes slid to Mira, tagging her in. Now Mira just had to not bork it all up. It was her turn to get Rumi to realize some manipulation might be afoot, all while cradling the infant trust Rumi had just extended to them. Mira felt a little faint. She didn’t exactly have a delicate touch.

“We don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.” Mira managed to tone her anger down to a rasp, but it still wasn’t gentle. She tried again. “He’s trying to get you to open up to him, but we have no idea if he’s actually opened up to you.”

“You think it’s all lies?” Rumi pulled her hands back from Zoey to hug her knees to her chest. While Rumi had never truly trusted anyone, she was still trusting. If a person got close enough to enter Rumi’s life, she expected them to be good. On top of that, Rumi hated not knowing things. The promise of answers about her patterns for the first time in her life must have been intoxicating.

“I don’t know,” Mira said, mostly to keep the peace. Being too insistent now would just trigger a battle of wills between her and Rumi, and then one of them would inevitably do something stupid to prove a point. “It doesn’t make sense he’d be so ashamed because Gwi-Ma screwed him and his family over. If his story’s true, it’s not even his fault, right?”

Rumi curled into herself, hugging her knees tighter. “He could still feel responsible for what happened,” she said, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice.

People could tie themselves into knots to feel guilty over anything. Add in a literal demon lord whispering in your ear, and Mira could see how easy it would be for a person to fall into oblivion.

“Yeah,” Mira agreed, and Rumi was surprised enough to look at her again. “He could. It doesn’t change that he might be trying to hurt you.” Mira said, as soft as she was able in the moment.

The three of them pressed close, Mira and Zoey acting as barriers against the wider world. Rumi never let herself be anything but strong, yet in this moment she let them be her shield. It wouldn’t last, but Mira cherished the moment.

With the chaos died down, the bird cautiously returned to Zoey’s side. She whispered an apology for startling the nightmare creature. Mira shuddered at its watery stare, no longer feeling safe in their little bubble.

Derpy’s tail thrashed from behind the couch. He was probably upset from getting scared off earlier, and Mira would have to make it up to him. Or not. She must have lost her mind somewhere between neon abs and magical spirit tigers.

“So,” Rumi rested her head on her arm to regard Mira. She looked tired. “You have the info. What’s your brilliant plan? I meet Jinu, who may or may not be a liar. Then what?”

“You take away his leverage first.” Mira kept an eye on the horrific little bird as she spoke, not trusting it so close to Zoey. “Tell him we know. Maybe that you told us, maybe not. Your choice.” Rumi would be good at coming up with the lie, but Mira knew better than to voice that now. “Propose an alliance.”

Zoey’s head snapped up. “What? Why? We just got finished warning Rumi about him.” She placed a hand on Mira’s forehead. “You should not be the ideas person,” Zoey said seriously.

Mira agreed with Zoey, but she was in too deep now.

Rumi brought her fraying braid into her lap and ran her thumb across the tufted end. “Enemy of my enemy, right?” she asked thoughtfully. “It could work. He hates Gwi-Ma as much as us, if not more.

“I still don’t get it.” Zoey patted Mira’s head. Mira politely did not bite her. “But I’ll follow Rumi’s lead.”

“Right.” Rumi nodded to herself. “I’ll meet with Jinu and flip the script. Maybe I’ll even find his weakness.”

“And don’t reveal your weaknesses,” Mira threw out.

“Oh, no, Mira, I’m just going to tell him all my deepest insecurities,” Rumi said sarcastically. At least she had the sense to know it would be a bad idea.

Rumi was opening up to Mira and Zoey at a somewhat alarming pace. While Mira would love to believe it was due to their foundation of trust, it was just as likely that Rumi didn’t know how to hold it in once someone knew. Mira had been similar when she first came out, and it was bizarre how closely the experiences aligned. If she and Zoey had never known about her patterns, who knew what Rumi might have confided in Jinu?

Mira watched Rumi carefully. She looked exhausted despite a relatively good night’s sleep. Her hair was disheveled and her hoodie had slipped down somewhere in their roughhousing, revealing her patterns. She barely registered the exposure anymore, a far cry from just yesterday afternoon. In a move very reminiscent of Zoey not five minutes earlier, Rumi tipped sideways into Mira’s lap, patterns and all. The show of vulnerability had Mira’s heart turning into a gooey mess.

“Is it bad I don’t want go because I’m sick of talking about my stupid patterns?” Rumi asked, staring forlornly up at Zoey.

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid,” Zoey told her, then pointedly looked at Mira. “Right, Mira?”

Mira was so, so tempted to make a sarcastic joke. Seeing how bonelessly Rumi had sunk into the couch, Mira decided against it. “Your patterns are a lot of things, but they're not stupid.” Mira freed Rumi’s hair from its braid and started smoothing out the strands.

“A lot of things, huh?” Rumi peeked up at Mira, small smile on her face. “I seem to recall someone saying they were pretty fancy.”

Zoey stifled a laugh. “Fancy?” She shook her head at Mira, and the message was clear. You’re hopeless. Mira was well aware of that, thank you, Zoey.

“Yes, fancy. They were glowing.” If teasing was in order, Mira might as well get in on it. “You literally lit up the whole room. I needed sunglasses, Rumi.”

“I did not. You needed regular glasses,” Rumi said, smile growing. She reached up to gently tap the bridge of Mira’s glasses, and Mira was glad she had the sense not to poke the frames like a troglodyte. That could have really hurt her face. “You didn’t even notice Derpy was in the room for half of it.”

“What?” Mira asked, baffled. “No he wasn’t. I would have noticed a giant blue tiger.” Well. Maybe. Her vision was pretty terrible.

“No you wouldn’t,” Zoey chimed in. She stuck her tongue out at Mira’s indignant squawk.

Derpy peeked around the sofa at the commotion and his name, then seemed to decide he wanted nothing to do with this. He disappeared behind the couch again. Mira swore he was pouting. Probably because Rumi was lying about him, and he was an honorable creature.

Rumi’s confident grin was a little too smug, so Mira challenged, “Oh yeah? Then where was he, your royal glowyness?”

“The chair by the bed,” Rumi said as though that settled the argument.

Mira had no idea what she was talking about. What chair by the bed? Did she mean the inflatable–

The chair that sunk into the ground.

“You sat on him!” Mira accused, outraged for a reason she couldn’t articulate.

Rumi’s cackle was answer enough.

“You can’t sit on on a tiger,” Mira scolded. “It’s disrespectful!”

“Since when do you know anything about respect.” Zoey laughed, holding her sides like this was the best joke she’d ever heard. Zoey shouldn’t find this funny. She wasn’t even there!

“I know you’re supposed to respect your elders.” Mira turned her nose up, the picture of unaffected poise.

“Our elder?” Rumi ruined Mira’s air of detachment by pinching her side. That was mean. Mira was ticklish and Rumi knew it. “Are we sure you aren’t the old man instead of Jinu? Next you’ll tell us you play chess in the park to unwind.”

If they were going to be that way, they didn’t need to know how Mira spent her rare free Thursdays.

“Fine, make fun of me, you cretins.” Mira trapped Rumi’s dangerous tickling hand and fended off Zoey’s own attempts at her legs. “I didn’t need glasses to see your patterns lit up like a fucking pride parade.”

“A fucking what?” Rumi wheezed.

Mira half expected Zoey to call Rumi out on her language again, but Zoey was too busy staring at them, fascinated. “Wait, you actually glow?” Zoey asked. “I thought I saw something earlier, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Sometimes,” Rumi said, still a bit breathless from laughter, “but I never really noticed a pattern to it.”

Zoey giggled at the unintentional pun. “That would look so cool on stage.”

“Not happening.” Rumi’s tone brooked no argument, but the suggestion thankfully didn’t dampen her mood.

“C’mon, just think about it!” Zoey pleaded.

Mira snorted. There would be no deterring Zoey now. Once she latched onto the idea, it would be talked to death. Rumi was relaxed as Mira rebraided her hair, so it seemed like this particular discussion about her patterns was safe territory.

As Zoey and Rumi chattered, Mira’s attention was captured by the play of morning sunlight across Rumi’s arms. The patterns were pretty fancy. They looked like intentionally fractured lacework, a modern art piece dedicated to dichotomy. The light seemed to bend around them, making them the same shade of purple no matter the angle or shadow. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and Mira couldn’t help tracing the patterns on Rumi’s shoulder in fascination.

Something Zoey said had Rumi burying her head in Mira’s lap, laughter renewed. A lot of things had occupied Mira’s personal space this morning, but Rumi of all people choosing to be there was a novelty.

“Wow, no wonder Mira didn’t see the tiger,” Zoey joked. “You probably blinded her if you managed to glow through all those layers.”

Mira realized she had been a little too distracted by her own gay shit. She should have been paying attention and steered Zoey away from this exact topic.

Rumi peeked out from Mira’s lap, face still a little red from laughing. “What layers?” she asked, confused.

Mira felt the blood drain from her face.

Please no.

“Your whole hibernating for winter in the summer thing?” Zoey looked equally confused now, and that was a very bad thing. A confused Zoey asked questions. Dangerous ones.

Rumi turned her head in Mira’s lap, and Mira tried to pretend she did not exist. She was one with the couch. There was no Mira, only pillows. Rumi shrugged at Zoey, then nestled her head back against Mira’s stomach. If Mira had existed in that moment, she might have combusted. Unfortunately, there was no distractingly hot woman in her lap because her lap did not exist. If Mira wasn’t a lowly piece of furniture, she would overanalyze everything about this.

“I saw you before bed,” Zoey said, more to herself than either of them. She looked back and forth between Rumi and the couch cushion formerly known as Mira.

“Rumi,” Zoey said, hand creeping to her mouth to hide a wicked, evil smile, “weren’t you wearing one of your hoodies last night?”

Mira dreaded whatever fresh hell was about to come out of Rumi’s mouth. She tried to tap out a message on Rumi’s shoulder to just say something normal.

Rumi looked at Mira’s erratically tapping fingers, then up at her ghostly pale face. Rumi’s nose scrunched cutely. “I was at first,” she said, “but it got in the way.”

Anything but that!

Zoey’s eyes narrowed. Blood had been scented in the water, and the shark would feed on Mira’s misery. “And the turtleneck?” she probed.

Rumi’s flush reignited, and oh god that was going to make everything so much worse. “Same thing,” she admitted.

Rumi could have chosen any other moment in the rest of their lives to start telling the truth. They had decades for her to work through the lying thing. Why now?

Zoey looked at Rumi’s head in Mira’s lap. Mira’s hand on Rumi’s bare shoulder. The blush on Rumi’s face and the cold sweat on Mira’s.

Zoey grinned like a jackal. Mira did not feel safe.

If anyone recognized the symptoms of Mira having a big gay panic, it was Zoey. She was the one person Mira had confided in when they were teenagers and suddenly she couldn’t look at Rumi without wanting to pass out. Zoey was the person she continued to go to when she needed to fall apart about dumb shit like how pretty Rumi’s hair was that day. Zoey should get a medal for putting up with her.

Mira could practically hear the last puzzle piece slot into place in Zoey’s mind. She was about to figure out exactly how much of a pathetic loser Mira had been last night. Mira would never live this down if Zoey found out the truth. Please let her come to literally any other conclusion.

“Oh my god,” Zoey gasped into her hands. “Did you guys hook up?”

Any conclusion except that one.

It didn’t help Zoey’s awful, horrible, terribly thought out assumption that Mira and Rumi seemingly forgot how to speak in the moment. They both blushed violently.

“You totally did!” Zoey crowed. “Now that must have been a dramatic pattern reveal.” Zoey winked at Rumi, who looked like her brain might be leaking out her ears.

In a flurry of motion, Rumi sat up and all but headbutted Mira. Too close, too close! Mira was going to fucking die of pretty girl-induced heart failure. This could not be healthy long term.

“Oh, no, what?” Rumi blabbered, somewhere between laughing and crying. “Zoey, ew, that’s not–”

Mira whipped her head around, which was kind of a terrible idea because it put her nose-to-nose with Rumi. This proximity was not helping. “Ew?” Mira snarled. “Ew? Fucking ew?”

Fuck you, Rumi!

Was Mira really so repulsive to her? Even if Rumi did happen to be straight, Mira was a catch. Rumi would be lucky if Mira ever deigned to look her way.

Mira very carefully did not think about the literal years of pining she wasted on Rumi.

“That’s not–” Rumi flailed her hands around and nearly clocked Mira on the head. “No, Mira isn’t– I mean you aren’t–” Was she seriously having a conniption about the thought of them together? “Mira’s super hot, I didn’t mean–” Rumi’s blush intensified, scarlet spreading past her jaw and spilling all the way down to her shoulders. It was actually starting to clash with her hair a bit.

Appeased, Mira sat back and let Rumi continue having her conniption.

Zoey kicked Mira’s ankle lightly, and now Mira was in the crosshairs. Zoey grinned a terrifying grin, one full of stupid assumptions. Mira hated being on the receiving end of this.

“Wow, Mira. You’ve got her speechless,” Zoey cackled. “Didn't know you had it in you.”

Which, okay, rude. Mira had plenty in her. She could totally have Rumi in–

That last thought would never ever be revisited.

“If only,” Mira said softly, her brain shutting off for the day.

Rumi continued to freak out, and Mira was starting to worry she might pass out with all the blood rushing to her face. The fact that Rumi was still practically in her lap wasn’t helping the situation.

“Does this mean I get the solo dressing room?” Zoey wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. Mira knew she deserved it for subjecting Zoey to countless hours of her moping, but poor Rumi didn’t. Maybe now Rumi might believe that Zoey fed off pure chaos and Mira’s suffering.

Eventually Zoey calmed herself, and she looked at them seriously. “Really guys, I’m happy for you.”

Zoey just sounded so sincere that Mira’s mouth decided to say, “Thanks, Zo,” completely without her permission.

Wait, no!

“Seriously, this is great. Do you have any idea how long Mira’s been–”

Nope. Mira wanted nothing to do with this bullshit. Mira had places to be, people to call.

“Oh, look at the time,” Mira said, not a single clock in sight. She extracted herself from under a now profusely apologizing Rumi. “I should go call Celine.”

Zoey looked between them, realization and regret seeping in to her expression. “Wait, Mira–”

As she passed by, Mira gently squeezed Zoey’s shoulder twice. While it was their group’s usual signal for play along during interviews, Mira and Zoey used it frequently to mean talk later.

“We should get the day started.” Mira started straightening the cushions. It was the most authoritative way Mira knew how to say that couch time was now over, everyone move along.

This seemed to snap Rumi from her panic. She bounced up from her seat, still flushed. “I’ll go write that note,” she said, a little too quickly.

Excellent. They were going to pretend exactly none of that just happened. Mira’s relief was dampened by the fact this incident was being ignored in favor of Jinu, of all people.

Rumi scampered off to go write sweet nothings. To Jinu. Who was a demon, by the way. An actual, soul-stealing demon who was directly responsible for the disappearances of hundreds of people in Seoul over the last week alone.

This was a terrible plan.

Derpy stretched and yawned, showing off his enormous jaws and wicked fangs. Then he stumbled over nothing as he trailed behind Rumi. He puffed up, startled, and turned accusing eyes on Mira as if she had somehow tripped him from across the room. Mira recognized the issue immediately.

“I saw nothing,” she promised seriously. This seemed to be the right answer because Derpy butted his head against Mira’s hip as he passed by. She kept her balance this time, but it was a near thing. He trotted happily after Rumi.

Zoey sidled up to Mira. “Who knew you’d be a cat person?”

Mira waited for the, ‘I told you so.’

“Oh, wait, I did,” Zoey said. “I’ve been saying it for years.”

Mira hummed. “Never should have doubted you.”

Zoey watched the distant city streets alongside Mira, and Mira let the silence be for now. She squinted at the brightness of the morning sun through the window. It was much later than she had thought. Knowing Rumi, she’d forget about the time of day and try to meet Jinu in some irresponsible location. She’d absolutely get photographed with him. That would be a disaster for so many reasons, and exactly none of them were magical or demonic in nature.

“You feel like vetting her date plans?” Mira grumbled to Zoey.

“You know it’s not a date.” Zoey’s usual tone was subdued. “But yeah, I’m on it.”

Zoey almost made it to the hallway, then paused. “Hey, Mira?” The way Zoey shifted from foot to foot betrayed that she was a lot more worried than she let on.

Mira walked over and draped an arm across Zoey’s shoulders. “What’s up?” Mira asked softly.

“Are you–” Zoey sighed, apparently deciding to not say what was actually on her mind. She smiled, and while it didn’t reach her eyes Mira knew it was genuine. “Good luck with Celine. We’ll get through this.”

Before Mira could respond, Zoey slipped out from under her and trudged after Rumi. Mira waited a moment, counting out the seconds before making her own way down the hall. Mira didn’t know a lot of things, but she knew Zoey. Right now, Zoey needed space in her own head, and Mira knew with unwavering certainty that it wouldn’t be long before she’d be back. Mira did promise to talk, after all.

Mira continued down the hall without incident. Rumi’s door had been cracked open, a request for privacy and a refusal to shut Mira out rolled into one gesture. That detail had Zoey written all over it, and Mira felt overwhelming gratitude for her friend. Even when in her own head, Zoey always tried to make her and Rumi feel loved through the little things. It had taken Mira a long time to realize just how much that mattered.

The fact that Mira knew these girls so well might actually be a sign of unhealthy codependency, now that she thought about it. Or healthy codependency. It’s not like any of them could function without each other, so why separate?

Faintly, back the way she came, Mira heard an aggravated, “Use the door, Rumi!”

Mira groaned at the knowledge that Rumi had once again leapt off the balcony instead of taking the elevator. In broad daylight. Of all the people Mira could have been head over heels for, it had to be an absolute moron. An absolute moron who insisted on running around the city rooftops like a sparkly purple batman. They had drivers for a reason! If Rumi wasn’t an incredibly pure soul and drop-dead gorgeous to boot, Mira would seriously question her taste in women.

Mira finally made it to her room, and she grabbed her phone for the first time that day. She winced at the many messages from Zoey first thing in the morning, most in all caps. Looking back, ‘Gonna go harass Rumi wish me luck’ probably hadn’t been the best message to leave Zoey with, especially with no follow-up. As she stared at the screen, a new text from Zoey popped up.

we ok?

Aw, Zoey. Mira sent back a quick affirmative, then typed out a message to Celine. A video call would probably be best. Mira would prefer to see Celine’s face when she asked her questions.

Mira did not want to have this conversation, but she was probably the only one who could. She wasn’t about to let Rumi or Zoey navigate this minefield. Mira waited impatiently at her desk, staring anywhere but the monitor. Far too soon for her liking, a slightly off center and unfocused image of Celine’s chin filled the screen. Mira could only hear a garbled mess through her computer’s speakers.

For all her perfectionism, Celine was kind of garbage at using technology.

“Celine, I can’t hear you,” Mira sighed. “You need to move your hand.”

The image shifted, and now half the screen was covered by a giant blurry finger over the camera. Close enough.

“–ra? Hello? Can you hear me?” Celine said with force. It was about the closest she could get to shouting down the phone without actually doing so. Despite being a trained singer, Mira didn’t think she had ever heard Celine raise her voice beyond a disappointed reprimand.

“Hi, Celine,” Mira said. Long-buried etiquette training warred with her instinctive dislike for authority, and her spine couldn’t seem to figure out if it wanted to straighten or slouch. Mira ended up in an uncomfortable position that was reminiscent of that crooked ficus Rumi refused to give up on. Well shit. Now she couldn’t move or this pose would look unintentional, and that would be giving Celine the upper hand.

The control Celine had over her own expressions far surpassed Mira’s own stoicism, and it had always annoyed Mira. Every time they interacted, Mira made it a contest to see who could crack the other’s mask first. Celine always won.

“Oh, good,” Celine said, shuffling her phone into a better position. She was sitting with perfect poise, as usual. “What’s happened? It’s unusual for you to reach out.”

At least Mira could rely on Celine to cut through the formalities. “I know about Rumi.”

The way Celine leaned into the camera frame with intensity was uncomfortably similar Rumi’s behavior last night. “What do you know,” Celine demanded calmly. It was kind of uncanny how little Mira could read on her.

“I know about the patterns.” Mira watched carefully to see what the response might be. If anything might get a reaction, this would be it.

“If you hurt her–”

“Never,” Mira was furious at the insinuation. “I would never hurt her.”

Celine’s accusation hadn’t even been accompanied with a raised voice. It was goddamn neutral, as if she was pointing out a single missed step in choreography.

“So she told you?” Celine’s even tone shifted to disapproving, and the lack of accompanying reaction did nothing to douse Mira’s anger.

“I figured it out,” Mira snapped. It wasn’t exactly true, but Mira wasn’t going to throw Rumi under the bus here. She deserved better. “It’s a wonder she kept it hidden so long.”

Celine was silent, eyes closed in contemplation. After a long moment, she said, “It should have stayed hidden a little longer. Our faults and fears must never be seen.”

How predictable. Mira wanted to punch through the screen at the words.

“Why?” Mira ground out. Before Celine could respond, she continued, “Why did she need to hide it from us?”

“Could you have completed your training knowing this?” Celine’s questions were perfectly measured and even. “Could you have learned to strike so instinctively if you worried it might be her on the other end of your blade?”

The thing that irked Mira most of all was that Celine was right. If they had known that people could have patterns, that patterns could exist on someone so painfully and sincerely good? Mira and Zoey would have questioned everything they were learning, and their influence would have shaken Rumi’s own confidence.

“And after training?” Mira still wasn’t ready to let Celine off the hook. Mira just didn’t understand why the need to hide this was so imperative. Now that it was out in the open, they were stronger for it. They could have had this years ago.

“It was not worth the risk,” Celine stated. She gave no further explanation. Why was getting answers from her like pulling teeth? Mira was beginning to remember why they never called Celine.

“What risk?” Mira reined in her temper, and she held herself upright in a mocking imitation of Celine.

Softly ringing bells behind Mira heralded Derpy’s arrival in her room. Mira glanced from the corner of her eye, and she saw the tiger crouched near her bed, just out of sight of the camera. He must have finished his errand for Rumi. Mira would not think about who was on the receiving end of the errand in front of Celine, because that would definitely crack her mask. Mira was not losing this battle of wills a second time in one conversation. Not now when Celine refused to just be a person for once.

Celine continued, face blank as ever, “It’s about providing the perfect image. Revealing her patterns risked that.” She sighed as if Mira had failed to grasp some fundamental truth in life. “Nothing is more important than sealing the Honmoon.”

“Nothing?” Mira asked, voice flat. She hadn’t even asked the most important question yet, but Mira did not like where that mentality led. She knew Celine was far too intelligent to just overlook the possibility that she might be driving a child to their own death.

Something raw and petty crystallized in Mira’s chest. More than anything, she needed to know Celine actually had feelings under all those layers of perfect image. That she was even capable of feeling something for the girl who for all intents and purposes was her daughter.

Behind her back, Mira crooked her finger, inviting Derpy to come join her. She kept her face carefully neutral even as she felt him press his nose into her palm behind the chair.

Deep down, Mira was a troll.

“What is that.” Celine stared in trepidation, and even that tiny expression told Mira she was inwardly horrified.

“This is Derpy,” Mira said blandly, leaning against him. And then, because she knew it would get under Celine’s skin, “He’s my best friend.”

Derpy used a thread of the Honmoon to hoist himself up and inspect the new person on the computer screen. Mira noted the paw that did so was in perfect view of the camera.

“Is it manipulating the Honmoon?” Celine trembled. Her mouth gaped. Mira almost worried she might have broken Celine.

She wasn’t that worried, though. “Yeah, he does that,” Mira said flippantly.

Celine seemed to be shaking her phone and pressing in close. “This isn’t something to take lightly, Mira.” Celine sounded on the edge of panic.

“He’s a good boy,” Mira drawled. She scratched Derpy behind the ear and he tilted his head into it, chuffing. “It’s fine.”

“That is an incredibly dangerous creature.” Celine had never been so frantic.

Mira wanted to be happy that someone else finally saw how terrifying Derpy was, but the fact that it was Celine made Mira want to disagree out of principle.

“Why have you not drawn your weapon?” What little of Celine’s eyes Mira could see in the skewed frame were wild.

There were a lot of funny answers Mira could come up with here, but she settled for the most emotionally devastating one. “Nah. He won’t let me.” It also happened to be the truth.

“He won’t let you?” Celine repeated, high and reedy.

Apparently Derpy decided to help Mira out with a grand finale. He began sinking into the Honmoon in full view of Celine, and Mira delighted in how much this would break her brain. As his head slipped under the Honmoon’s weave, Celine stared unblinkingly at the screen.

Then, to Mira’s utter dismay, Celine’s unaffected mask slipped back in place. She said serenely, “Perhaps he is an emissary of Hunters past.”

What the fuck was this? Was Celine trolling Mira back?

Before Mira could rock her world with the knowledge that, no, he was actually an emissary of demons, Celine continued, “The tiger is an auspicious symbol and a ward against evil spirits.”

On second thought, it would have been a really bad idea to reveal his connection with demons to Celine of all people.

“It’s possible the Honmoon has provided you a protector in the final push to seal it,” Celine kept droning on. “You did well to understand his potential.”

Did Celine just monologue her way out of a panic attack?

Mira shook off her stupor at the tables being turned. If she didn’t know better, she would have said Celine almost looked smug. As it was, though, they had reached the actual topic of interest.

“Listen, Celine,” Mira said, leaning forward in her chair. “I actually called you for a serious reason. We need to talk about Rumi’s patterns and how they connect to the Honmoon.”

“When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be gone from this world.” Celine was tranquil and sure. It was a near perfect echo of Rumi’s words this morning. Nothing had pissed Mira off more in her life. “And so will her patterns.”

“And if Rumi goes with them?” Mira seethed.

Mira might as well have struck Celine with how she jerked away from the screen. Mira wanted to hold nothing but anger. She didn’t want to acknowledge the devastation in Celine’s eyes. She wanted to go back to when she thought Celine was an unfeeling automaton, created to train Hunters and criticize personal life choices. She wanted Celine to be a villain, but it was painfully clear she loved Rumi.

Then again, Mira knew better than anyone that love didn’t stop people from inflicting pain.

Celine regained her composure, and her posture became rigid. “That won’t happen.” It was said with certainty. Her voice didn’t waver.

Mira wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe Celine so badly it felt like an open wound. Mira’s trust in Celine was broken, and it might never recover, left to fester in resentment and suspicion. Mira couldn’t believe Celine.

“How do you know?” Mira asked softly.

“It’s the only way.” Again, Celine radiated a surety that had once been comforting, back when Mira’s ordinary world had been shattered and replaced by lurking danger and demons.

Mira did not respond because that wasn’t an answer. Mira turned her senses outward. The room was too small, the mesh of her chair too rough on her skin, the fan too loud, and the air too cold. If Mira let herself feel inward, she knew she might never surface.

“Mira, I’m glad you were the one to call.” Celine fumbled with her phone, tone conveying the conversation had come to a close. She centered the screen, and Mira saw her entire face framed correctly for the first time in the conversation. Celine looked tired, and that scared Mira more than anything. “You obviously care for Rumi and Zoey, and they are lucky to have you.”

Mira didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“It will be alright. You understand what’s at risk, and you will do what needs to be done, for their sake. You always have.” Celine smiled gently, and Mira hated the part of herself that craved the proud approval she saw in Celine’s eyes. “You’re practical.”

Whether intentional or not on Celine’s part, the call ended. Mira shut down her computer and stared at the blank screen for a long, long time.

Practical.

Celine thought Mira was practical.

She expected Mira to be the strong one. The Honmoon must be sealed, so they must perform, no matter the cost. She was either ignoring or refusing to believe the possibility that their life’s work might just destroy the person Celine loved most. Celine trusted Mira to go through with it, to be practical for the greater good. To understand why it was necessary.

Celine miscalculated.

If Celine wanted obedient, she should have gone to Zoey. She would have believed Celine’s steady reassurance, glad to have a confirmation that everything would be okay. Zoey was smart, but she trusted authority, especially Celine’s. Zoey would gladly perform knowing their mentor would never lie to them.

If Celine wanted dutiful, she should have gone to Rumi. If anyone would willingly march to their death to better the world, it would be her. She would sacrifice herself in a heartbeat, happily giving up everything for people she had never even met. Rumi would gladly perform knowing she might just disappear.

If Celine wanted practical, she should have gone to literally anyone else. Mira would do anything for the two girls who had become her irreplaceable family, and it would be a mistake to ever think otherwise. But practical? Mira wasn’t practical. Mira was fucking vicious when she had to be.

If Mira had to drag Celine all the way to the tower by her ears, then she would. If she had to repair every demon breach with needle and thread for the rest of her life, then she would. If she had to tear the Honmoon apart with her bare hands and rebuild it from scratch, then she fucking would if it kept her loved ones safe.

Mira had never been practical, and she wasn’t going to start now.

Mira had no idea how long she had been staring at the wall when a soft rap at her bedroom door interrupted the silence. She knew by the rhythm that it wasn’t Rumi, but it was rare for Zoey to bother knocking.

“It’s open,” Mira called. She hugged her knees to her chest and swung her chair around to face the door.

Zoey peeked into the room. Apparently she was dreading Celine’s words as much as Mira had been. “Bobby gave us the day off.” Zoey should sound excited. She should be bouncing off the walls at the news. “I sent him a message, and he said he’d handle everything. I ordered some food too.”

Bobby was a saint to give them the day off, no questions asked. Honestly, Zoey was a saint too for dealing with all of Mira’s bullshit over the years.

“We should probably give him a raise,” Mira said. Their day off would be interrupted by some stupid demon incursion, as always, but it was an incredible relief to put off rehearsal until tomorrow.

“We really should.” Zoey took a half step into the room, then faltered. She searched Mira’s face. “It’s not good news, is it?” she asked quietly.

No. It really wasn’t.

Mira tilted her head toward the bed. Zoey took the invitation and climbed into Mira’s unreasonably large pile of pillows. She inspected a soft pink octopus plush with a grumpy face. “I’m glad you kept this,” Zoey said, cracking a smile. “You need some softness in your life.”

“You got it for me,” Mira said fondly. “It gets the place of honor, as it should.” Mira still had trouble expressing how much the little things meant to her. Before Zoey and Rumi, Mira never had a ‘just because’ or an ‘it reminded me of you.’ Before them, Mira hadn’t known love could be anything other than transactional.

Zoey hugged the plush and rested her chin on top. “So, you wanna start with Rumi or Celine?”

Rumi. Definitely Rumi.

“We didn’t hook up.” Mira felt that it was important to clarify this. She also wasn’t sad about having to say that at all. Really.

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious.” Zoey grinned at Mira’s indignant face. “She was worried she made you uncomfortable.”

Mira spun her chair around to stare at the far wall. “She did say ew,” Mira grumbled. The chair slowly rotated back toward Zoey, who laughed at her melancholy like the sadist she was.

“Mira.” Zoey said her name like she was being dumb. Honestly, fair. “She was worried she made you uncomfortable by calling you super hot. She was kind of freaking out about it.”

Mira did not let herself perk up at the news. That could mean anything. “What did you tell her?” Mira wasn’t sure she actually wanted to know.

“That you are super hot, duh.” Zoey threw a pillow at her, and it didn’t even make it halfway across the room. Mira snatched it up and threw it back with more force.

Zoey shrieked as the pillow bounced harmlessly off her forehead. Drama queen. “This is how you repay me?” Zoey collapsed into the mountain of cushions.

“Repay you for what?” Mira wished she had more pillows on this side of the room to throw, but Zoey had learned her lesson and was hoarding them. “Why would you tell her that?”

“It’s objectively true,” Zoey said, laughing.

Mira preened, because, yeah. She was super hot. She worked hard at it.

“And,” Zoey stressed. “I wanted to see what she thought. I know your useless bisexual brain backward and forward, but Rumi’s never talked about this stuff before.”

“She hasn’t?” Mira was genuinely surprised. “I guess I just assumed she talked to you about it but not me. Kind of like we do.”

“Yeah, after talking with her, I think–” Zoey tilted her head, as if clearing out a thought. It looked ridiculous but very Zoey. “Ah, no. You don’t need to know that.”

“No,” Mira mourned into her hands. “Stop being a good friend and tell me.”

In her moment of distraction, Zoey tossed another pillow at Mira. “Nope! She just needs time to figure stuff out. She’ll tell you if she wants. It’s nothing bad and nothing to do with you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Mira let herself slump all the way down into the seat of her desk chair. Being a good friend sucked sometimes. “So then why ew?”

“I’m not going another round of overanalyzing things Rumi didn’t say.” Zoey burrowed backward into the pillow fortress. “She wasn’t saying ew about you.”

“Sure sounded like it.” Mira did not pout.

“She was saying ew about what I said.” Zoey blew out a frustrated breath. “The dramatic pattern reveal.”

It took Mira longer than it should have to connect the dots. “Zoey, no! That’s so sad.” Mira wanted to sink through the floor. Rumi hated her patterns that much? “Does she not know how hot they are?”

“You would, Mira.” Zoey rolled her eyes. Mira wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. “Honestly, you should tell her that sometime. She could use the ego boost.”

Mira would probably work up the courage to do that exactly never.

“So, that’s everything about Rumi.” Zoey took up the octopus once more. She settled into what Mira privately thought of as her listening pose. “Now tell me what Celine said. I can't handle the suspense.”

Mira sighed, wishing she could reclaim the fiery determination she had at the end of her call or the lightness she felt talking to Zoey. Now, she just felt drained. “I might have had the single stupidest idea of my life,” Mira said, staring at the ceiling. If only it could give her all the answers. “I need you to talk me out of it.”

“Well, that’s not a great start.” Zoey muffled a laugh into her arm. “You’ve had lots of dumb ideas.”

Zoey might be the only person to actually know what lay under Mira’s carefully curated persona. It was both nice and mortifying to be seen so clearly. Mira was a walking disaster failing upward on a good day, and Zoey had been the first to get close enough to find out. Rumi would get there someday, but she had over a decade of deliberate distance to overcome. Zoey had put in the work, and Mira would trust her with anything because of it.

“I think we should destroy the Honmoon.”

“What?” Zoey squeezed the life out of the poor stuffed animal in her arms. “Mira, no!”

“Mira, yes,” Mira said, feeling calm for the first time that day. “Hear me out.”

"Hear you out?” Zoey gaped at Mira. She bounced her knee against the bedspread, agitated. “This is not a hear me out thing.”

“No, really, think about it.” Mira sat up in her chair, catching Zoey’s eye to convey just how serious she was. “If we get rid of the Honmoon, it can’t hurt Rumi.”

“I am thinking about it,” Zoey shook her head and hugged the plush tighter, “and everyone will get hurt without the Honmoon. Including Rumi.”

“The first Hunters did it,” Mira blurted out.

“Broke the Honmoon?” Zoey was speaking softly, as if afraid to startle Mira. Which felt a little insulting because this plan actually had merit. “I don’t remember that from Celine’s history lectures.”

Oh. Apparently Mira had skipped a step. No wonder Zoey hadn’t been on board.

“No, they made the Honmoon,” Mira said. This really wasn’t as easy to explain as she thought it would be. “I’m saying that each generation is stronger, so we should be able to make one too, right? A better one.”

“You cant just make a new one!” Zoey’s fingers joined the staccato motion of her knee. Then, she stilled. “Wait. Can you?”

Mira opened her mouth to reply, but Zoey beat her to it. “No! We are not destroying the Honmoon.” Zoey glared reproachfully. “Stop talking me into it.”

Mira laughed, and it sounded a little crazed to her own ears. “You were supposed to talk me out of it.”

Zoey stared at Mira with wide eyes. “What happened on your call?”

“She said Rumi shouldn’t have told us. That we never should have found out.” Mira buried her face in her hands. She felt her anger from the conversation reignite. “She said Rumi needed to keep hiding her patterns.”

“That’s not great,” Zoey said hesitantly, “but also not worth creating a demon apocalypse.”

“She said nothing would happen to Rumi.”

“That’s good, right? This seems like an overreaction.” It was unusual for Zoey to invalidate anyone, but Mira could hear the undercurrent of panic in her words. “Please tell me this is an overreaction.”

“I asked her how she knew.” Mira’s voice cracked, and she couldn’t find it in herself to care. “And all she would say is that it’s the only way.”

“Oh.” Zoey wilted. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s just… that means she doesn’t know.” Mira’s glasses fogged as she teared up, so she placed them on the desk beside her. She felt cowardly. She didn’t want to see Zoey’s expression. If Zoey started crying, Mira would absolutely follow. “She doesn’t know if Rumi will be safe, but she thinks the fucking Honmoon is more important.”

“I doubt she thinks it’s more important. She loves Rumi.” Ever the peacekeeper, Zoey’s words rang with truth. Celine did love Rumi, and Mira knew that now. Even still, Mira couldn’t help but wonder if it was enough.

“She also said she was glad I was the one to call,” Mira continued, eyes fixed on her knees, “because I’d do what needed to be done. That I’m practical.” Mira hid her face in her arms as she felt tears begin to spill over. She had cried enough today, and she didn’t want to start again. “I can read between the lines.”

“You’d never hurt her,” Zoey said seriously, and Mira felt something crack open within her, jagged relief spilling forth. To hear what Celine thought Mira was capable of had rooted deeper than she realized, and Zoey had excised it with four simple words. Zoey was well and truly the best.

“Besides.” Zoey’s voice was quiet, but Mira heard the hint of a smile in it. “You’ve never been practical.”

"Right?" Mira was glad Zoey was here and not Rumi. Rumi would probably try to convince them that they should just let her sing herself into nonexistence, the idiot.

“Thanks,” Mira whispered. She was thanking her for more than just the words, and she hoped Zoey knew that.

Mira heard rustling, and the blurry pillow amalgamation in her vision that was probably Zoey stretched out on the bed. “Look,” Zoey said, “it’s sweet you’re willing to end the world for Rumi.”

Well, when she put it that way it sounded like some overly dramatic gay shit that would get everyone killed. Mira had been so sure that this was an incredible plan.

Zoey continued, “But maybe don’t?”

“Come on, Zo.” Mira laughed, and she sent a grin Zoey’s way. “You know I’d end the world for you, too.”

Mira couldn’t see Zoey’s reaction, but the silence told her just as much. After a moment, Zoey whispered, “Mira, you’re kind of scary sometimes.”

Mira was going to take that as a compliment.

“So you won’t let me break the Honmoon,” Mira said, ignoring Zoey’s groan. With the danger of tears passed, Mira replaced her glasses. “Then what should we do?”

Zoey blinked back at her, and Mira could see the moment she switched into brainstorming mode. Zoey sat up haphazardly.

“I had an idea earlier. Honmoon’s all about harmony, right?” Zoey said quickly. The way her hand curled showed she was itching to write this down. “Maybe Rumi’s not in harmony with herself, so she can’t harmonize. Maybe that’s what happened to her voice.”

“I thought the patterns affected her voice.” Mira didn’t see how the Honmoon might factor in, but maybe it was some kind of immune system thing? Was Zoey trying to say the Honmoon was treating Rumi like a virus?

“It’s only ever happened with Golden.” Zoey leaned forward. “Why that song?”

Mira didn’t know where Zoey was going with this, but she would hear her out. Mira owed Zoey for listening to the whole hey, let’s destroy the world plan. She was obviously leading Mira somewhere.

“If the patterns are affected by shame, then she was… ashamed?” Mira reasoned. “While singing?” Rumi was pretty much a sentient lump of shame, and Mira wasn’t sure if one song could really make that worse.

“Golden is about being free of her patterns. Mira, she was singing a lie.” Zoey’s eyes bored into hers. “What if we made it, like, not a lie?”

“How?” Mira said, a touch irritated. “If sealing the Honmoon might hurt her, why would we ever risk it to get rid of her patterns?” That was the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place.

“No, not that,” Zoey spoke faster, trying to get the words out all at once, “not get rid of them. Accept them.”

Mira thought about it. It actually made some sense. She was starting to become convinced the patterns were connected to shame, and the conversation earlier about their glow had solidified it. Mira had seen the patterns glowing several times now. Rumi had said there was no pattern to it, but Mira saw a common denominator. Shame for revealing, shame for needing comfort, shame for hesitating… And the opposite of shame?

Zoey was a genius.

“Can we do that?” Mira felt hope so profound she didn’t know what to do with herself. “I don’t know if we can overwrite a lifetime of hiding in two days.”

“Do you have any idea how repressed you used to be? I put you through baby bi boot camp,” Zoey scoffed. “This should be easy in comparison.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” Mira protested, but she also knew for a fact she definitely had been that bad.

Zoey was unconvinced. “You were worse.”

“Says you,” Mira said, not all that bothered. She had been pretty miserable to deal with back then. And now.

Zoey ignored her, but that was to be expected. “We have an advantage,” Zoey told her seriously. “The wording of Golden can also work for self-acceptance.”

“Yeah,” Mira agreed. “I thought it was Rumi’s coming out song.”

“That–” Zoey pinched her brow. “Of course you did. Anyway, we get her to accept herself, and maybe her voice will heal. It seems weird, but I think it makes sense.”

“It’s just–” Mira swallowed, feeling more fucking tears coming on, why wouldn’t they just stop, “–if Celine is right? If sealing it is the only way? I don’t want to protect the Honmoon if it won’t protect her.”

“I’m with you,” Zoey said, insistent. “We’re not losing her. We don’t try for gold.”

“Okay,” Mira said, the world feeling solid under her feet once more. “Okay. We don’t try for gold. We get Rumi to accept her patterns as part of her.”

“Or at least get her started on it,” Zoey offered.

“And if somehow the Honmoon is sealed, and Rumi goes with it?” Mira feared the answer, but her trust in Zoey was unshakeable.

“Then we rip it open.” Zoey’s smile was all teeth. “And we drag her back out.”

Yeah, Zoey was the best.

Chapter Text

Mira volunteered to retrieve the food delivery from the lobby, mostly so she could put off informing Rumi about the Celine conversation just a little longer. Zoey had decided that feelings time would be best hosted in the studio because it was cozier and less exposed than the living room. She had reasoned that they needed to make Rumi feel safe if they wanted to make any headway in the self-acceptance thing. Mira saw the logic, but she also hated feelings time with a passion. She was not looking forward to any of this.

Mira made her way toward their studio, arms laden with infuriatingly delicious smelling food. She hadn’t eaten anything yet today, and she was feeling the telltale symptoms of being well and truly hangry. The heavy soundproof door was left ajar, and Mira was relieved she wouldn’t have to contort herself into opening the handle with her foot again.

Mira nudged the door open with her hip and took in the room. Rumi had apparently arrived before Mira, and she and Zoey were sitting side-by-side on the purple loveseat, heads bent over a notebook. Zoey excitedly pointed something out, and Rumi shook her head. Mira noted with some disappointment that Rumi had donned a new and very concealing hoodie since they last saw each other.

“I come bearing bibimbap,” Mira announced, kicking the door shut on her way past.

Rumi scrambled up to help Mira lay out the food. They made quick work of it together, maneuvering around a notebook-enthralled Zoey. Now that Mira was looking closer, Zoey was a little too buried in her notebook. Mira’s hackles raised when she realized Zoey was probably up to something. Mira decided to let her be for now, the call of bibimbap too strong to resist on an empty stomach.

“Hey, Mira.” Rumi said, playing with her sleeve. “You, um, you okay?”

Mira raised an eyebrow as she folded herself into the beanbag. “Fine. You?” Food may have been her top priority at the moment, but something was obviously bothering Rumi. There were about ten things Mira could think of that might be upsetting her given recent events, so Mira didn’t even try to speculate.

Rumi looked nervous and a little disheveled, and the lack of perfection in her appearance spoke volumes. She fidgeted like she didn’t know where to sit despite the seafood bowl clearly marking her spot. Without looking up from her notebook, Zoey dragged Rumi back down onto the loveseat next to her.

“Yes. Yeah.” Rumi held her breath for a moment, and when she let it out her voice was steadier. “I, um. About earlier. I’m sorry.”

Without talking to Zoey, Mira would never have considered Rumi might apologize for the whole super hot incident. Feeling a bit raw with everything that had happened today, Mira fell back to sarcasm. “For what, having eyes?”

“What?” Rumi blinked, then flushed. “Oh, no. I meant for the, um, ew thing. It was never directed at you.”

Oh. Mira honestly hadn’t expected this, but she probably should have. She cut a glance at Zoey, who actively projected innocence as she kept her focus on her notebook. Mira felt relieved to have identified the source of meddling. “It’s okay, Rumi,” Mira said. “Zoey already explained.”

Rumi let out a quiet laugh. “She got to you too, huh?”

“She always does,” Mira said. She eyed Rumi’s covered arms and debated if she should say something. It was unusual they managed to address an issue, much less work through it in a day. Maybe it would be best to back off on this for now.

Rumi followed Mira’s gaze and sighed. “She’s also been on me about ‘showing the guns,’ whatever that means.”

Zoey looked up from her notebook and grinned. “Show the guns,” she chanted, “show the guns!”

Mira could never resist a good Zoey chant. She had also never been great at backing off on an issue right in front of her. Why change now?

“Show the guns,” Mira joined in, “show the guns!”

“You guys are being ridiculous.” Rumi hid her face in her hands, flushing.

“Show the guns, show the guns!”

“Oh my god, fine!” Rumi wrestled out of her hoodie and tossed it on the empty chair beside her, revealing one of her silly plant pun shirts. A winking cactus declared, ‘You’re looking sharp!’ on the faded fabric. “Happy?”

Zoey cheered. Mira tucked into her bibimbap, pleased as punch.

“I swear, you two.” Rumi looked like she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Mira wasn’t sure if she and Zoey were on the exact same page, but she could at least speak for herself. “I don’t like seeing you hiding now that we know what it is,” Mira said quietly. “It feels like a step backward.”

It feels like lying, Mira didn't say. It would put Rumi on the defensive, and they couldn't afford that now. Mira still felt familiar anger creep in whenever it felt like she was being lied to. She had always hated lies, but Mira was finding that she didn't give a flying fuck about Rumi’s skill as a liar long as she never lied to them.

The distinction mattered more than Mira could express.

Zoey was quick to reassure. “If you’re really uncomfortable you can cover them,” she said, giving Rumi’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t let us bully you into it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to cover them,” Mira added, a touch too aggressively. The phrase ‘should have stayed hidden a little longer’ swirled endlessly in her mind, each cycle renewing her irritation at Celine. “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know if I want to cover them or if it’s just, like, instinct.” Rumi sighed, reaching for her own bowl. “I’ve been hiding it for so long that not hiding feels like I’m doing something bad.”

“Are you doing something bad?” Mira asked. She tapped Zoey’s knee to head off the interjection she saw coming. Rumi’s answer was important here.

“Yes? Maybe? The longer you guys know, the more I think it might be okay. I keep expecting you to freak out, and then you just… don’t.” Rumi poked at a carrot, and the fact that she wasn’t inhaling her food spoke volumes. “I don’t really know what to do with that.”

“For now? Trust that we won’t freak out.” Mira said it with as much conviction as she could muster. She braced herself for the stupid gooey vulnerability that was needed here. “Remember what I said? Nothing could ever make us love you any less.” Mira tried to comfort herself that at least this would be a good warmup for feelings time. Ugh.

“Aww Mira,” Zoey cooed. “You said that? That’s so sweet.” After a moment, she tacked on with a sly grin, “You can learn.”

What was that supposed to mean? Mira glared.

Zoey slung an arm over Rumi’s shoulders and brought her in for a hug. “Of course we love you,” Zoey said softly. “We’re in this together.”

“It’s one thing to hear it,” Rumi said hesitantly. “I guess it’s another to believe it.”

“We’ll keep telling you until you believe it.” That was an easy promise for Mira to make.

Rumi’s smile grew in increments, and she finally started on her meal. Mira and Zoey pantomimed a high-five, which had Rumi laughing then coughing on a shrimp. She really should be used to the hazards of eating around them by now.

Still, as Mira enjoyed her meal she felt dread growing at the upcoming prospect of feelings time. The quicker they got everything in the open, the quicker she could get it over with. “How'd it go with Jinu?” she asked, despite not wanting to know literally anything about that punk.

“About that, Mira, I need a second opinion,” Zoey said, tone conveying it was going to be one of those conversations.

Mira groaned into her food, “No notebooks while eating, Zo.” They should really make that an official house rule. Rumi would probably vote with her, so Mira made a mental note to add it to the board.

“You can multitask!” Zoey shoved her open notebook in front of Mira’s nose.

It took a moment to register the words on the page, and then Mira kind of wished she hadn’t. The heading read ‘Pickup Artistry’ in cheerful block letters. Mira pulled her rice bowl closer to fortify herself against whatever this was. She skimmed a few of the bullet points.

“Zoey?” Mira asked, fearing what she might learn. “Are you trying to teach Rumi how to neg people? That seems dangerous.”

Rumi was such a good liar that she’d be fantastic at negging people. It was a truly terrifying thought.

“Ugh, no!” Zoey snapped her notebook shut and rapped Mira on the head with it. Mira couldn’t even dodge unless she wanted to upend her precious bibimbap. “I’m teaching her how to spot negging. She’s already fallen for it once,” Zoey said.

“What happened?” Mira demanded. She still hadn’t quite shaken off the feeling that her heart had been turned inside out by the conversation with Celine, and Mira was itching for a fight. She was ready to punch a bitch, no questions asked. Especially if that bitch happened to be Jinu.

“For the last time, he wasn’t negging me,” Rumi muttered.

“First he implied you were on a date, then criticized you for being late and not picking a better location.” Zoey crossed her arms, positively radiating the air of a disappointed teacher. “Then he told you that you weren’t his type.”

“He told her what?” Mira may have been furious about the date and criticism thing, but she had her priorities straight. She gestured at Rumi’s, well, everything. “Rumi is everyone’s type!”

“That’s what I said!” Rumi perked up, smiling.

Zoey pinched her brow, and Mira realized she had probably been at this for a while. Trying to convince Rumi of something once she set her mind to it was a very brave choice.

“Pickup artists are like a whole subgenre of men in California.” Zoey snatched up her own food and immediately started devouring it. “I know what I’m talking about,” she said around a mouthful of rice and vegetables. Mira would judge her table manners, but she wasn’t much better.

“You haven’t lived in California since you were fourteen,” Rumi teased, stealing a slice of beef from Zoey’s bowl. Zoey swatted her away when she went for seconds.

“We also have pickup artists here,” Mira said, sneaking another slice of beef while Zoey was distracted with Rumi. Mira toasted her pilfered goods to Rumi with a grin.

Rumi laughed and gave Zoey her fried egg in penance. “I don’t think Jinu is a pickup artist. If he is, he’s really bad at it.”

“And I’m telling you it’s textbook!” Zoey cried, nearly tipping over her meal. She scrambled to right the bowl, hovering protectively over her extra egg.

“He’s like a gajillion years old,” Mira said, peeking over at Zoey’s notes. They actually made a pretty sound argument. “He probably just looked up ‘how to manipulate a girl’ online and followed the first link he found.”

“Still not a number.” Rumi flicked a shrimp at Mira, who tried to catch it in her mouth. It bounced off Mira’s forehead and she had to lunge to grab it before it hit the ground. Rumi laughed. “You’re probably right, though. The guy is so old-fashioned.”

“No throwing seafood!” Zoey interjected between them. “Rumi’s in time-out from the oyster sauce incident.”

“That was three years ago!”

“And yet,” Mira said, sighing dramatically, “the smell still lingers. I catch a whiff of it, and it takes me to dark places.” Mira had always enjoyed getting a rise out of both her friends, but she was especially enjoying teasing Rumi today. She had no idea her blush frequently reached all the way down her neck.

“You do not,” Rumi said, face flushed. “I cleaned it up!”

Zoey poked at Rumi’s side. “And how long did that take you, again?”

“That’s not important!” Rumi took a calming breath, cheeks still pink. “Anyway. Besides the pickup artistry,” she rolled her eyes at the words, “I don’t think Jinu knows what to do when things go off script. He went in expecting me to spill all my secrets to him, and as soon as I told him you guys already knew he went from, like, smooth to kind of a dork.”

If Rumi was calling someone a dork, it had to be spectacularly bad. It took one to know one, after all.

“So how’d you go about it?” Zoey asked, looking like she might be having a religious awakening with Rumi’s fried egg.

“I played up the half-demon angle.” Rumi looked a little disturbed by Zoey’s egg worship. “I told him that we refused to seal the Honmoon because it would probably seal me, too.”

Zoey exchanged a look with Mira.

“Still, none of us wants Gwi-Ma getting more souls, because that makes him stronger here and in the demon realm,” Rumi continued. “Jinu said he’d think about it.”

“We don’t exactly have much time for him to think about it,” Mira said, irritated. They had two days, and the jerk was stalling?

Rumi smiled reassuringly at Mira. “I’ll be meeting with him again tomorrow. He said he’d have his answer by then.”

Mira scowled. She really didn’t like this plan, what idiot had come up with it? Oh, right. Rumi and Jinu were besties now, and it was all Mira’s fault.

“Think on the bright side.” Zoey leaned over precariously to throw an arm around Mira’s shoulders. “You get to see Derpy again!”

That didn’t make Mira feel any better about this. Really. Not one bit. Besides, Derpy seemed to come and go as he pleased, he wasn’t beholden to Jinu’s whims. He was his own tiger.

“Hey, Rumi,” Mira asked with no ulterior motive whatsoever, “what does Derpy eat?”

“Oh. I don't know.” Rumi leaned against the armrest to fully face both of them. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“It’s probably better if he doesn't,” Zoey said. “Can you imagine the size of the litter box?”

“I’d rather not.” Rumi grimaced.

Mira sincerely hoped he didn’t use the Honmoon as a litter box. He used it for just about everything else, but Mira absolutely refused to think about this particular possibility. She decided to just steer right around that existentially horrifying thought. “So you haven’t seen him eat at all?”

Rumi shrugged. “Not yet, at least.”

Zoey pulled herself up to sit cross-legged. “I’ve been trying to offer Sussie different foods, but she hasn’t eaten any of it. At least she likes shiny things.”

“She?” Mira asked, genuinely surprised the bird had standard pronouns instead of the unpronounceable syllables of a child’s nightmare.

“Seriously?” Zoey handed her open notebook to Rumi, who set aside her food and cradled it reverently. That was probably the only reason Zoey trusted her with it, honestly. “It’s like you know nothing about birds.”

“Zoey,” Mira said slowly. “Why would I know anything about birds?”

“You watch bird documentaries with me all the time!” Zoey nearly lost her balance as she threw her hands up in frustration, and Rumi steadied her without looking up from whatever she was reading.

“For the dancing birds,” Mira said. She actually did enjoy watching those shows with Zoey, and Mira was kind of in love with all the overly complex rituals and silly courtship dances of the birds. She empathized with their years-long quest for just the right pretty girl, but Mira would never tell anyone that part. Then again, Mira also didn’t think she could name a single species beyond ‘that one with the cool tail’ or ‘the one that barks like a dog.’

Rumi laughed at something, and Mira saw she was peering over the notebook to look right at her. “Seems fitting,” Rumi said.

Mira felt herself blush under the attention. God, she was such a loser.

“Well, what do you think Derpy eats?” Zoey drew Mira’s focus back to her as she slapped an excited hand onto the armrest. “Souls? I hope not. Oh, maybe he eats demons?”

“Seems unlikely if he hangs out with Jinu,” Rumi cut in.

Mira poked at the beef in her bibimbap thoughtfully. “Don’t tigers just eat meat though?”

Zoey looked disappointed with her answer. “Yeah, but he’s magical. He could eat sunshine and moonlight for all we know.”

“He’s still a tiger,” Mira argued. “I doubt he’s a vegetarian.”

Rumi leveled Mira with a flat look. “We are not keeping bloody meat in the fridge on the off chance Derpy wants it.”

“Gross.” Mira shuddered. “I wasn’t suggesting that. I just think we should have all the information we can about them. Bribing them with food seems like a good start.”

Mira may or may not have been planning to feed Derpy so he liked them better than Jinu. She kind of hoped he liked those squeezy tubes she was always seeing in cute cat videos.

Zoey’s gleeful expression told Mira that she saw right through her. “You just want to get him treats,” Zoey teased. Zoey knew Mira maybe a little too well. Mira felt like she never got away with anything.

“Well, how else do you bribe a tiger?” Mira crossed her arms challengingly. “Does catnip work on them?”

“I don’t know,” Zoey looked at Mira like she was dumb, “and if it did, that would be a terrible idea.”

“Why?” Rumi asked, looking up from Zoey’s notebook. Mira really hoped there was a section on self-acceptance in there and not just more pickup artistry.

“I thought cats loved the stuff.” Mira didn’t actually know much about cats, but she felt like it would be a good idea to learn if Derpy was going to stick around. “Tigers are basically cats but better.”

Zoey squished Mira’s cheeks between her palms, forcing eye contact. “Have you ever seen a cat with the zoomies?” Zoey asked, tone deadly serious.

Mira was graced with the mental image of an enormous tiger careening around the tower, crashing through coffee tables, skittering uncontrollably across the hardwood, and leaping sideways off the Honmoon midair.

Mira thought about the pros and cons. “Can I give him some right before we send him back to Jinu?” she asked hopefully, prying Zoey’s hands away.

“No.” Zoey vetoed the idea immediately. Then a grin spread across her face as she tried to hold in her laughter. “Okay, maybe.”

“Mira,” Rumi said, exasperated. “Don’t drug your tiger friend.”

“He’s intelligent enough to make his own choices.” Mira had no doubt Derpy could resist peer pressure. He had a good head on his fluffy blue shoulders.

“Then don’t enable your tiger friend’s drug habits!” Rumi draped an arm over her eyes as if she could shield herself from Mira’s terrible ideas. “I thought we were allying with Jinu, not bullying him.”

Mira waggled her eyebrows at Zoey, who laughed and gave her a discreet thumbs up. They were definitely going to get some catnip.

“Is there really a difference?” Mira asked, just to mess with Rumi.

“Be nice. I don’t think he’s really a bad guy. He just made a mistake.” Rumi said, looking contemplatively at her own patterns.

Mira was about to respond with a snarky comment, when Rumi continued, casual as can be, “But I am a mistake. Have been since the moment I was born.” She said it like she was commenting on the weather, like it was small talk. “If there’s no hope for him, what hope is there for me?”

Mira inhaled her gochujang and started coughing uncontrollably.

Zoey’s rice fell out of her mouth into her lap.

Rumi finished her bibimbap and leaned back against the armrest. “So, that’s everything with Jinu.” She sighed. “How did your talk with Celine go?”

Zoey stared with wide eyes. Mira glared at Rumi through spice-induced tears.

“Was it that bad?” Rumi curled a little further into the cushions. “What did she say?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Mira gasped, her nose and throat on fire.

Rumi looked taken aback. She turned to Zoey for answers, but Zoey was already lunging toward Mira.

“Mira!” Zoey cuffed her upside the head. “That’s not nice or helpful! There’s nothing wrong with Rumi.”

“We’re not just glossing over that, are we?” Mira tossed her bowl on the table, no longer hungry. “What the fuck. What the fuck.”

Zoey kicked Mira’s shin, not hard enough to hurt, but the warning was there. “Do I need to bring out the swear jar again?”

“Is now really the fucking time?” Mira started laughing, and it had nothing to do with being amused. Rumi thought she was born a mistake, and she just dropped it into casual conversation. What the fuck.

“Language!” Zoey reprimanded in a pitch-perfect imitation of Celine.

Mira’s spine straightened on instinct, and she tried not to look over her shoulder at the disturbingly good impression. Her mind was all but certain that Celine must be lurking behind a potted plant like some sort of parental bogeyman, just waiting for her to curse again. Celine’s version of a swear jar used burpees as a currency. Burpees they had to do while singing.

Then Mira remembered why she was so frazzled, and she scowled at Zoey. “Why are we just ignoring this?” Mira turned to Rumi and snapped, “You’re not a mistake, you never have been, and I will fucking stab anyone who made you feel that way.”

Mira took a deep breath and counted backward from ten. If she actually wanted to address this properly, it could not be led with her own feelings, overwhelming as they were.

“Oh. Uh,” Rumi said, looking more surprised than anything. “Thank you?”

“Not how I would have said it, but I agree with Mira.” Zoey placed a gentle hand on Rumi’s knee. “You’re not a mistake, and I’m so sorry you ever felt that way. We’re glad you’re here with us.”

Rumi covered Zoey’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. Zoey laced their fingers together for good measure.

When Rumi responded, she gave them a small smile, one that didn’t even touch the weight of the situation. “I’m glad I’m here too,” she said.

Zoey leaned forward to make eye contact with Rumi. “We said it before, and we’ll say it a hundred more times if we need to. We’ll get through this. Together.”

“Rumi,” Mira said once she had leveled her heart rate, “whether there’s patterns on you or not, you’re you. That will never change. And you could never be a mistake.”

“Oh.” Rumi stared at her and Zoey’s intertwined hands, then looked to Mira, face pinking. “Oh. That’s–” She gave Mira a sheepish smile, as if she didn’t quite know how to feel about that. She probably didn’t. “No matter what, right?” she said quietly.

"Yeah. Always,” Mira repeated Rumi’s words from the night before, and she could see by the softening of Rumi’s eyes that she understood. Mira smiled as Zoey threw herself at Rumi for a much needed hug. The two of them quickly descended into giggles, as any Zoey hug was bound to do. In that precious and fragile moment, Mira knew with crystal clarity that she would do anything for the girls in front of her.

Zoey removed Rumi’s hair tie and started sneakily unraveling it behind her back, snickering the whole time. When Rumi finally caught on, she wrestled Zoey back into her own seat, triumphantly retrieving her hair tie. Her hair just got more unruly in the playful scuffle.

Mira sighed and let herself fall back against the beanbag, feeling drained. She covered her face with her hands. “Zoey,” she whined. “I don’t think your thing is gonna work if this is what we’re dealing with.” Mira felt a reassuring pat on her shoulder, no doubt from Zoey.

“Have faith, Mira. One step at a time.” Zoey stole the last of Mira’s abandoned bibimbap. “Celine, then my thing, and we can all work through how we’re feeling together. Almost there.” Zoey smiled at Mira as if she hadn’t just threatened her with weapons-grade emotional processing. Mira despaired at the reminder of the upcoming feelings time.

“Alright, Celine, then your thing.” Mira deliberately left out the dreaded feelings time. She propped herself up on her elbows to better see Rumi. “Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Rumi said softly. “Thanks for calling. I really wasn’t ready to talk to her.”

“Of course.” Mira would always guard them from hurts they didn’t need to face. The choice had been obvious.

Anticipating the conversation to come, Zoey reached out to Mira this time, holding tight to her hand. Mira was thankful for the support, but Rumi looked troubled by the gesture.

“Not good, then,” Rumi murmured to herself. She curled into the corner of the loveseat, as if she could make herself small enough to disappear between its folds. A bit louder, she asked, “So what did she say?”

Well. Celine said a lot of things, many of which made Mira want to headbutt her through the screen. She was also a flawed person who loved Rumi, which was kind of a bummer. It was easier to nurse abject rage if Mira thought of her as a dastardly villain. Mira was good at rage. She didn’t like all this careful contemplation stuff.

Mira honestly couldn’t think of a delicate way to word it, much as she wanted to spare Rumi’s feelings. Blunt it was, then.

“She doesn’t know.” Mira winced as Rumi froze, then started to unfold herself from her crumpled position like she had forgotten how to coordinate her own limbs. Maybe that had been too blunt.

Rumi sat up fully, back straight. “Did she say that.” Rumi’s voice was perfectly flat, rigid as her posture. Her blank face reminded Mira uncomfortably of Celine’s iron-tight control.

“Rumi, she doesn’t know what will happen to you if we seal the Honmoon.” Mira tried to remain as calm as she was able, but it felt like a trying to hold back the tide with a bucket. “She doesn’t know.”

Mira could not tell her Celine’s exact words. Mira knew with a bone-deep certainty that if Rumi heard the phrase ‘it’s the only way,’ she would latch onto it with single-minded focus. That’s just who Rumi was. If Celine said it was the only way, then to Rumi, it was the only way.

Mira would not let that happen. Zoey squeezed her hand, and Mira knew she wasn’t alone. They would not let that happen.

“You know how Celine is.” Mira held tight to her anger, kept it wrapped in her chest so she could get through this without boiling over. “She’d never admit she doesn’t know something.” Mira leaned forward, careful to catch Rumi’s eye. “When I asked her about the possibility of you being sealed, she–” Mira paused to steady her shaking voice, “–she looked scared, Rumi.”

“I don’t–” Rumi made to stand, then fell back against the chair again. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t she say anything?” She started rebraiding her hair, more nervous habit than a need for tidiness. “So what are we supposed to do? Just not seal the Honmoon?”

“Well, yeah,” Mira grumbled at the same time Zoey said, “Kinda!”

“I was being sarcastic!” Rumi turned wild eyes on them. “That is not an option.”

“Well, why not?” Zoey asked, releasing Mira to help Rumi with the last of her braid. She really had a lot of hair. Mira wished she was sitting over there to run her hands through it as well.

Rumi eyed them both. Then, she sighed. “Alright, you two obviously have a plan.” Braid restored, she settled back into the armrest to face them. “Don’t leave me in suspense, then.”

“So, Zoey and I had an idea,” Mira started.

“Zoey and I?” Zoey asked, miffed.

Mira patted her knee placatingly. “Fine, Zoey had an idea.” Mira pinched Zoey’s leg and jumped back out of her reach. “I think it’s a good one.”

Zoey pointedly did not rise to the bait. She turned her nose up. “All my ideas are good,” She declared haughtily. Then she grinned at Rumi. “But yeah, this might be a really good one.”

Mira chimed in, “If her theory is right, we might be able to try for gold next year. We’ll have more information by then.” This was a bit of a stretch, but Mira also knew it would help convince Rumi to listen. Besides, it’s not like it couldn’t be true. If Mira knew Celine, she was probably buried up to her eyeballs in old Hunter history looking for a solution. Either that or she was burying her head in the sand. If Celine knew what was good for her, it better be the first one.

“So!” Zoey held up two fingers. “I’m going with two big assumptions here. First, your patterns affected your voice.”

It took a few moments for Rumi to realize Zoey was waiting for an answer. “Um, yes?” she looked to Mira, who gave her a lazy thumbs up. So far, so good.

“Second!” Zoey recaptured Rumi’s attention and counted down her second finger. “Your patterns are affected by shame.” Her cheerful tone clashed with the statement, but if anything, it seemed to relax Rumi.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Rumi said, crossing her arms and looking vaguely amused. Zoey tended to have that effect. “Let’s see where you’re going with this. Are you saying my voice was affected because I’m ashamed?”

“While singing,” Mira cut in.

“Right,” Zoey nodded to Mira. “Specifically while singing Golden.”

“I don’t remember feeling ashamed during dress rehearsal.” Rumi remained unconvinced.

Mira could see by the furrow of Zoey’s brow and the soft drumming of her fingers that she was about to switch tactics. Mira smiled when she realized that Zoey was tapping out the familiar beat of Golden.

“Okay, so then who were you singing to?” Zoey asked softly.

Rumi blinked. “The fans?” She looked between them, confused. “Who else would I be singing to?”

“Well, yes, but also no.” The pace of Zoey’s tapping fingers increased as she visibly searched for the right words. “Not when you perform, when you sing.”

Rumi looked lost. “What’s the difference?”

Mira had an inkling of what Zoey was getting at. “Who were you writing it for?”

“Yes,” Zoey reached over to give Mira a brief hug. “Exactly that!”

Mira was happy to help. She was also glad she finally got an assumption right this time.

“Oh.” Rumi slowly uncrossed her arms and reached to pull down sleeves that weren’t there. She stared at her bare arms for a moment before replying, “You. Both of you.” Rumi flushed a delicate pink.

It was the prettiest thing Mira had seen all day, and the words accompanying it didn’t help all the soft feelings in her chest. Mira tried to wrestle her gay shit into submission for the moment, but was a losing battle.

“The story of us, right?” Mira said before she could think better of it.

“Yeah,” Rumi said, smiling softly. Her smile faded as she mulled something over. “Zoey, why do you think I’d be ashamed of that?”

Aren’t you? was on the tip of Mira’s tongue, the word mistake forever imprinted in her mind.

Zoey thankfully beat her to it. “I wrote the lyrics with you, Rumi. I can go line-by-line if we have to.” Zoey took a deep breath, and Mira was a little worried about what would come next. “When you last sang Golden, how much of it felt like a lie?” It was said gently, but it looked like it hurt Rumi all the same.

“It didn’t–” Realization crept over Rumi’s face. She reached a hand to her own neck, fingers brushing just shy of a pattern peeking past her shirt collar.

Mira wanted to say something, but Zoey waved her off. The silence didn’t last long, so it was probably the right call.

“If you’re right, then I can’t sing Golden without risking my voice,” Rumi said, voice small.

“Sure you can,” Zoey said cheerfully.

“I can’t just not be ashamed,” Rumi said, carefully neutral, “that’s not how it works.”

Zoey patted Rumi’s hand. “Let’s reframe it.” The confidence Zoey spoke with would always be enviable, especially when she was on a roll. Zoey was in her element.

Rumi eyed her dubiously. She didn’t respond.

Zoey sighed dramatically. “Line-by-line it is.” She pulled her feet up onto the couch and crossed her legs, facing Rumi fully. “So, Rumi. What walls are you breaking down?”

Something about breaking down walls bothered Mira. “Wait, was that juice quack right?”

“I told you he was legit!”

Rumi sighed, a bit aggravated. “Is this really necessary?” she asked. “I don’t think we need to do this.”

“You wouldn’t break Zoey’s heart like that, would you?” Mira leveled her best disappointed look at Rumi.

Rumi eyed Mira. “Oh, that’s playing dirty.”

“Never said I played fair.” Mira waved mockingly at Rumi.

“Stop flirting and focus.” Zoey dodged Mira’s disgruntled swipe at her elbow. “Walls, Rumi!”

Rumi startled. “I don’t know, I just–” She looked between them, subdued. “I don’t know. How do we even know that the patterns are affected by shame? We only have Jinu’s word on that.”

“Did you know you light up like Namsan Tower when you’re ashamed?” Mira blurted out.

Rumi dragged her hand down her face. “Not everything has to be connected, Mira. I think it might just be random.”

“You were ashamed about the bathhouse, and you started glowing,” Zoey said gently.

“Okay, that’s one instance.” Rumi looked like she was gearing up to be as bull-headed as possible. Great.

Mira realized it was up to her to make the case, since Zoey had probably only seen the one incident. “What about last night,” Mira said. “When I asked if you wanted me to stay over, you were ashamed to say yes. Glowing.” She wiggled her fingers in a silly imitation of light waves, mostly because Mira knew Rumi couldn’t help but correct her.

A small smile tugged at Rumi’s mouth. “That’s not how light works, but good try.”

Mira felt smug at redirecting Rumi’s stubborn denial. “The big reveal, too.” Mira tapped her own glasses for emphasis. “Sunglasses, remember?”

“That makes three,” Zoey said. “And everyone knows three times isn’t coincidence.”

“All of those were because of my patterns.” Rumi laughed, but the sound was brittle. “So my patterns are a representation of my patterns? That’s not helpful.”

“Listen,” Zoey leaned into Rumi’s space. “Golden is about not hiding who you are, and last time we tried it you were definitely hiding.”

Mira took the cue to finish. “So the question is, are you still hiding?”

Rumi ran a hand over her forearm, thumb following a pattern across her skin. “If I’m singing to you, then I guess not,” she said thoughtfully. “Reframe it. You really think that will help?”

“It can’t hurt.” Zoey patted Rumi’s knee.

“It’ll be a great performance, but let’s not make it perfect.” Mira gave Rumi her best puppy dog eyes. They had never been very effective in the past, honestly. People had always said they were more intimidating than anything, but Rumi was made of sterner stuff. “It’s not worth the risk of losing you to seal the Honmoon.”

Rumi was silent for a long moment before she replied, “So we won’t reach gold this year, but we can strengthen the barrier, right?” Mira wasn’t sure if she sounded disappointed or relieved.

“Right,” Zoey said. “And whenever you get glowy, we work through it and help you overcome your shame.” She smiled softly at Rumi. “Your voice is improving. Let’s keep it that way.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do to get over my shame of being ashamed?” Rumi pulled a face at her own wording. “That sounds so stupid to say out loud.”

“Positive affirmations!” Zoey said, bouncing up from her seat. “Just like I showed you earlier.” She nodded to the notebook.

“Weren't those just nice things you wrote about yourself?” Rumi asked. “I thought it was sweet you shared them with me.”

“They’re nice things I wrote about you,” Zoey said cheerfully as she grabbed Rumi’s hands and dragged her to the front of the room. Rumi looked shocked at the declaration and allowed herself to be led. Zoey continued, “Now you’re gonna say them out loud.”

Rumi stood awkwardly by the wall, frozen in place. Zoey sat back down and stretched her legs across Rumi’s former seat deliberately.

“Zoey, what?” Mira asked. Rumi did not look comfortable with whatever this was, and Mira was worried about pushing her too far. Everything was still so new and raw.

“Say something nice about yourself!” Zoey tapped her notebook. “I gave you lots of options.”

Rumi looked from the swivel chair with her hoodie to the door, as if weighing sitting down with escaping. Mira didn’t blame her, but she also didn’t want Rumi to leave just yet. They had barely made any progress, and they only had two days.

“Start easy,” Zoey continued. “What about ‘I am strong?’”

Rumi opened her mouth as if to say it, then she shook her head. “Zoey, this is ridiculous.”

“Me and Mira are the only ones here.” Zoey reached over and pinched Mira’s cheek. “And Mira’s not nearly as scary as she looks.”

Honor besmirched, Mira put Zoey in a headlock. “I will noogie you if I have to.”

Zoey twisted away from her hold, and Mira graciously let her. “Alright, fine!” Zoey said, laughing. “Mira is that scary.”

Mira settled back at Zoey’s admission. All was right in the world again.

“I am–” Rumi tried again. “Zoey, this is stupid.” She edged closer to the door.

“Just do it.” Mira sighed. “We’ll be here all day if you don’t.”

Rumi stared down Zoey, who smiled back innocently. Rumi’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I am strong,” she said unconvincingly.

Zoey glanced at Mira and winked with a mischievous grin. “I don’t believe you!” Zoey sang.

“What do you mean you don’t believe me, of course I’m strong.” Rumi rose to the bait, irritated. “What is the point of this?”

Oh. So that’s what they were doing. They were going to antagonize Rumi into saying positive affirmations. That… honestly seemed counterproductive, but Mira trusted Zoey's judgment.

“Next one,” Zoey said, notebook at the ready. “You are worthy.”

Rumi started to say something, then paused. Her nose scrunched in confusion. “Of what?”

Zoey froze, and Mira realized she didn’t have a followup. “Good things?” Mira threw out, hoping that was the right answer.

Zoey nodded as if that had been what she meant all along. “You are worthy of good things.”

“I am worthy of good things,” Rumi repeated flatly, crossing her arms.

“Your shame does not define you,” Zoey said seriously.

Mira did a double take. That one seemed way too serious for this little exercise.

Rumi blinked. “You sure?” she asked. Rumi flexed her arms, and Mira choked on air. “Thanks to these, my shame kinda does define me.”

Incredibly attractive muscles aside, Mira was getting pretty sick of this song and dance.

“Bullshit,” Mira said aggressively. “Your shame does not define you. You define you.”

Rumi eyed Mira, disbelieving. “My whole life revolves around this. How could it not?”

“Does it still?” Mira asked challengingly. For someone whose life revolved around hiding it, Rumi sure had a lot of skin on display.

“Yes!” Rumi replied automatically. “No? I don’t know!” she said, frustrated.

“From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like you’re hiding much.” Mira raised her chin defiantly. “So does your shame define you or not?”

“Fine! No! My shame does not define me!” Rumi actually stomped her foot for emphasis, which would have been funny in literally any other situation.

“Exactly!” Zoey crowed, and Mira still had no idea if this was actually helpful for Rumi.

“Alright, I get it.” Rumi finally laughed, relaxing. “You guys are ridiculous. Anything else you need me to say?”

“Come on, Mira. Your turn.” Zoey patted Mira’s shoulder with enthusiasm, then leaned in close. “Just be honest,” she said, quiet and sincere.

Honesty was a dangerous concept when it came to Mira’s thoughts about Rumi. What was she supposed to say that wasn’t incriminating? The only thing she could think of was ‘You sing good,’ but that would be utterly pathetic.

Mira stared at Rumi, hoping she might get some sudden and most importantly platonic flash of inspiration. She looked over Rumi’s annoyingly attractive biceps and forearms, the patterns looping and framing the muscles in a mesmerizing display. Mira had none of the answers, but she did know that the patterns were surprisingly beautiful. She never would have guessed they could be so delicate, given their origin. The more Mira let herself look without judgment, the more they revealed and the more she lost herself in memorizing them.

“Is it that hard to come up with something nice?” Rumi’s tone was light, but her expression was unreadable. Mira abruptly realized she had staring at Rumi’s arms like a creep while they were waiting on her contribution. Mira searched for something to say, and she let out the first half-baked thought that crossed her mind.

“Your patterns are hot,” Mira said before she could think better of it. Well, shit. At least it was honest.

That had also not been what she meant to say. Mira had apparently been possessed by the ghost of terrible decision making. Her face warmed uncomfortably, but she refused to back down now.

Why did she say that? Oh god, why did she keep doing this?

Zoey slapped a hand to her face, which looked painful. And unnecessary.

Rumi blinked slowly. Then, her face twisted and she let out a painful sounding laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re making fun of me.”

Mira gave them full, embarrassingly real honesty, and Rumi didn’t even believe her? Unacceptable. Was she questioning Mira’s judgment?

Mira’s taste was impeccable. She refused to stand for this insult.

“What’s my role in the group?” Mira asked sharply.

“Uh,” Rumi reeled back in confusion. “Choreography?” she asked, unsure.

“Sarcastic commentary!” Zoey threw out excitedly.

Both true, but also not what Mira was looking for. She groaned, “What’s my public image in the group?”

Rumi and Zoey exchanged a glance like they didn’t know. Mira felt her irritation building. What did she have to do to get respect around here?

“Sweet and scary?” Zoey shrugged.

“Cool and rebellious?” Rumi added.

“I’m the visual,” Mira stressed. She also privately tucked away the fact that Rumi thought she was cool and rebellious.

The two bozos looked appropriately chastised.

“And since I’m the visual, I know hot.” Mira tossed her hair in a practiced motion. The effect was probably ruined by her teetering seat in the beanbag, but the point still stood. Buoyed by giddy feelings from Rumi thinking she was cool, Mira decided to just go for it. “You, Rumi, are hot. Those patterns? Double hot.”

Double hot? Double hot? The fuck was that supposed to mean?

Mira immediately regretted just going for it. She could feel her blush spread to her goddamn ears. She kept digging the hole deeper, but Mira wasn't about to put down the shovel now.

Rumi blushed and looked anywhere but at Mira. Mira refused to acknowledge the flush on her own face and tried to will Rumi into believing her through glaring.

“Can’t argue with the visual.” Zoey came to the rescue. “Rumi and her patterns are hot!”

Mira snapped her fingers toward Zoey, glad for the intervention. “She gets it.”

“Mira I don’t…” Rumi trailed off, and Mira felt bad for embarrassing her.

“Just try,” Mira said softly. “Positive affirmations, right? Try saying it out loud.” Mira cringed at having to repeat her own stupid words. “You are hot. Your patterns are double hot. You’re the whole package.”

Rumi crossed her arms stubbornly. “I’m not going to say I’m the whole package.”

“Oh, so you aren’t the whole package.” Mira nodded solemnly. “My mistake.”

“What?” Rumi took immediate offense, just as Mira knew she would. “Of course I’m the whole package!”

“There you go,” Mira said as she flopped back down on the beanbag.

“Wait, no, that’s not–” Rumi slumped against the wall and groaned, “Mira.”

“Mira,” Zoey whispered as she leaned over, “I don’t know if this is the kind of positive affirmation Rumi needs.”

“Look,” Rumi said with finality. “I appreciate what you guys are doing, but I don’t know if this is going to do anything for my voice.” She moved for the door.

“You haven't even given it a real try.” Zoey pouted.

Rumi was going to run. She was going to run, and it was all Mira’s fault. She shouldn’t have pushed. Running had always been Rumi’s first instinct whenever she got uncomfortable. She would disappear for hours, and Mira and Zoey had spent countless nights waiting awake just to make sure she came back safe. If Rumi ran now, this conversation was over for good. If Rumi ran now, she’d never even try to accept herself as she was. If Rumi ran now, she’d weasel her way out of feelings time.

Something dark and petty rose within Mira at that last realization. If she had to be subjected to feelings time, then everyone did, no exceptions.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Mira deftly slipped an arm around Rumi as she passed and pulled her down onto the beanbag. “You’re not getting out of feelings time that easily.”

Mira really shouldn’t have done that. Rumi looked startled, all erratic breathing and wide eyes at the sudden movement. Mira was just fucking up in every way imaginable today, wasn’t she?

After a moment, Rumi relaxed with a deep breath. She patted Mira’s hand at her waist, as if to reassure. Mira immediately let go as if she had been burned. That was not a safe place to leave her hand.

“Little warning next time?” Rumi gave Mira a wry smile. “What was that about?”

“Feelings time?” Zoey tilted her head. “Mira, we’re not doing feelings time.”

“What do you mean we’re not doing feelings time?” Mira felt inexplicably betrayed. “You can’t just let Rumi off the hook because she’s upset. That’s like the whole point.”

Rumi made a noise of protest, and Mira gently squeezed her wrist twice to say talk later. She’d get to back to Rumi, Mira just had a certain someone to yell at first.

Zoey stretched out on the loveseat to get eye level with Mira. “Feelings time is for conflict resolution. Not self-acceptance.”

Mira put the clues together and was outraged at the conclusion. “You tricked me into learning conflict resolution!”

“And, uh,” Rumi said hesitantly, eyes darting between them, “feelings time?”

Deeming Rumi’s flight risk low, Mira settled back into the beanbag and sighed. Rumi wobbled to keep her balance with the movement.

“Feelings time is a thing that somebody has apparently been making me do under false pretenses.” Mira grumbled.

“False preten–” Zoey sputtered. “How could you not know it was for conflict resolution?”

Mira didn’t feel like looking at Zoey anymore, so she rolled over toward Rumi. Which was a terrible idea because it put her exactly at eye level with Rumi’s stupidly perfect ass. Mira hurled her glasses across the room in a panic. She didn’t need eyes at the moment.

Rumi flinched. “Were those your glasses?”

Mira glared over her shoulder at the fuzzy blob that was Zoey. “You told me it would help me work through my big feelings.” There was a reason Mira didn’t like processing her feelings. They were always so… messy.

“Big angry feelings Mira,” Zoey said, still disbelieving. “It’s about being nonconfrontational. Although,” Zoey’s tone grew thoughtful, “this kind of is a big feelings thing. You wanna try it, Rumi?”

“Uh, sure?” Rumi said, not knowing what emotional horrors lay ahead.

“No.” Mira buried herself further into the beanbag, and Rumi slid sideways at the shifting weight.

“I mean, no?” Rumi said, patting frantically at Mira’s shoulder for some reason.

Then Rumi leaned over her, and Mira almost swallowed her own tongue. Mira was glad she couldn't see whatever horrible teasing expression was probably on Zoey’s face. Rumi’s breath fanned over her ear, and Mira just about died.

“What am I supposed to be playing along with?” Rumi whispered, trying to keep her balance on the lopsided beanbag. “Do you want me to do this feelings time thing or not?”

The realization dawned on Mira slowly, and when it did, she ached for all the things Rumi had never been a part of. All the things she had never let herself be a part of. “I meant talk later,” Mira said, carefully raising her voice for Zoey to hear. “Play along is only for interviews.”

“It is?” Rumi blinked down at Mira. “Since when?”

Mira exchanged a glance with Zoey. Or she might have if she could actually see her.

Zoey piped up, “Since always?”

“Sometimes it’s like you have your own language.” Rumi looked between them. If she hadn’t been uncomfortably close, Mira would never have caught the hurt that flashed across Rumi’s face. “I think it’s my own fault that I don’t know it.” Her words were steady, drumming into Mira’s ear. “I’m sorry I haven't spent enough time with you two.”

Rumi would normally have excused herself by now and left Mira and Zoey to their antics. She would have insisted on working despite their rare day off, or else she would have gone off to go mope in her room or crawl out a window and brood over the city. Mira wasn’t actually sure what Rumi did in all that time she spent alone. Maybe it was exhausting for Rumi to worry about hiding during every interaction, and she needed that space to be herself without scrutiny. Maybe she didn’t know how to relax, had never been taught that it was okay.

Whatever her reasons then, today Rumi was here. With them. It mattered.

“Get ready to learn,” Zoey said brightly.

Mira poked at Rumi’s cheek, trying to make distance so she could think straight. Rumi retreated carefully, her hand slipping on the smooth fabric as she tried not to fall over. This beanbag was really not meant for two people.

“You’re stuck with us,” Mira promised, “whether you like it or not.”

“I think I figured out what those walls are,” Rumi said quietly. She ran a gentle hand through Mira’s hair, seemingly deep in thought. “I’ve been so worried about hiding that I’ve missed a lifetime with you.”

Mira could sense Zoey tearing up, and she refused to confirm it lest she join in. How did Rumi pull pure poetry out of her ass on the regular? She was a bumbling dork seven days a week, and every now and then she’d just emotionally annihilate whoever happened to be closest with no warning.

“I guess we have a lot to catch up on,” Mira offered, misty eyed.

“We can start with feelings time,” Rumi said as if she hadn't just devastated them both. “What even is that? It sounds like a little kids’ show.”

“Don’t call it that!” Zoey cried, still sounding a little choked up. “It’s hard enough to get Mira to do it normally, please don't make it worse.”

Mira explained, “You use stupid ‘I feel’ statements and work through your big feelings.” She sneered the last words toward Zoey. Mira softened her tone as she turned back to Rumi. “Something like, I feel upset you were gonna leave just now, but I feel glad you're staying.”

“I wasn’t leaving.” Rumi said, amused. She smoothed down some of Mira’s flyaway hair. “I was just cleaning up the bowls.”

So Mira had freaked out and practically tackled Rumi for no reason at all. Great. Wonderful. Just fucking fantastic, really.

“Oh.” Mira buried her face in her hands, feeling a warm flush creep over her skin. “Kill me now, please.” She peeked through her fingers. “You can go back to your spot,” Mira said, feeling incredibly stupid.

Rumi hummed. “No, I don’t think I will.” She wiggled down until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, smooshed tightly together by a too-small beanbag. “You wanted me here, now you have me here. Why would I move?”

“Rumi,” Mira complained. She normally would have more to say, but Rumi’s newfound touchy-feely tendencies were horrifically dangerous with all that bare skin. Part of Mira’s brain still triggered an instinctive fight-or-flight reaction at the sight of those patterns, and a larger part just wanted to map them all out until she knew them better than her own name. The combination of adrenaline and besotted admiration left Mira a shaky mess with no words to be found.

Maybe Mira had been the prude all along if she was getting worked up over exposed elbows and wrists and collarbones. God, she felt so pathetic.

“I’m pretty comfortable,” Rumi said, looking distinctly uncomfortable in the lopsided cushion.

“Now that you’ve brought up feelings time, we kind of have to do it, don’t we?” Zoey’s tone was teasing, and Mira knew this was a bed of her own making. She had been the one to bring it up. “Aren’t those the rules?”

Zoey knew damn well that they were.

Mira whined in despair.

Rumi turned her head to face Mira, which put their faces far too close together for Mira to retain rational thought. “You really don’t like feelings time, do you?” Rumi said, small smile playing about her way, way too close lips. Mira really needed to quit her gay shit and pull herself together. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’s worse.” Mira grumbled, intensely aware of just how close Rumi was.

Rumi grasped Mira’s hand and laced their fingers together. Mira screamed internally.

“How about we get through it together,” Rumi offered. She lowered her voice. “I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine?”

Mira was mortified. “Not in front of Zoey!” Mira hissed. “She’ll make fun of me for eternity.” This was prime blackmail material.

“She would never,” Rumi said, placing far too much trust in the goodwill of their friend.

“Yes, I would,” Zoey said immediately.

Rumi suppressed a laugh. “Are you just gonna leave me hanging?”

In a single, rapid breath, Mira rushed out, “From now until the end of time.”

Mira ignored Zoey’s sudden coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like the word gay.

If this was how it had to be, Mira wasn’t going to make it easy.

Mira sat up in the beanbag and leaned over the edge toward the sofa. “You do not want me to share how I feel right now,” she whispered into Zoey’s ear. “That is a warning.” Mira was flustered and mad and most importantly, she was not above taking everyone down with her.

Zoey put a hand to Mira’s forehead and pushed her back toward Rumi. “You brought it up,” Zoey said, her smile wide and eager. “You gotta start.”

Zoey really didn’t know what she was asking. If Mira had to do feelings time, she would do it to the letter and make it painful for everyone. Especially Zoey.

“I feel–” Mira tried to find the most family-friendly wording that might drive Zoey nuts, “–interested in the recent revelations.”

Zoey blinked and mouthed ‘revelations.’ She glanced at Rumi’s patterns. Then she slumped back into her seat. “I feel grossed out by Mira’s entire existence. Ugh. I should have known.”

“I feel like you got what you asked for.” Mira scoffed. She reached over and flicked Zoey’s forehead. “You wanted feelings, you got feelings.”

“I feel like some thoughts are inside thoughts,” Zoey cried, holding her hands up defensively. “I feel like I didn’t need to know that!”

“I feel like you already knew that, don’t play dumb.” Mira’s response just riled up Zoey more, as she knew it would.

“I feel confused. What are you talking about?” Rumi grabbed Mira’s arm and hauled her back. “I also feel like you’re going to dump me out of this thing if you’re not careful.”

Mira gave Rumi an apologetic smile. “I’ll stay put.”

“Stop weaponizing feelings time, Mira,” Zoey groaned. “If we’re gonna do it, we should do it properly.”

Mira prayed for literally any intervention that could get her out of this.

The Honmoon rippled violently, and a discordant shriek raced along its threads. It could only mean one thing. There was a breach in the Honmoon. A big one.

“Yes!” Mira cheered and leapt up, sending Rumi flailing as the beanbag collapsed around her. Mira was so pumped to go stab some demons. “Fuck feelings time!”

Zoey fed off of Mira’s energy, and she raced ahead of her, laughing. “Fine,” she called, “it can wait!”

Mira was halfway to the door when she realized she couldn’t see shit. “Uh, did you see where my–”

A somewhat bedraggled Rumi gently slapped Mira’s glasses to her chest as she passed, apparently having retrieved them after rolling out of the treacherous beanbag. “Stay put, huh?” Rumi huffed a laugh. “You– Just, you.” She strode out the door without a second glance.

Mira wasn’t really sure what that meant, but she felt warm and mushy that Rumi immediately thought to grab her glasses in an emergency. “Thank you!” Mira called after her. She followed her friends, ready for anything this breach might bring.

And if Mira saw a lounging Derpy on the couch and offered him one of Rumi’s cans of tuna before they left, that was her business. He just batted at the plate though, so she crossed it off her mental list. There were plenty more foods to try.

While Mira was disappointed that Rumi had covered her arms again, she understood Rumi just wasn't ready to show her patterns beyond the safety of their home. It was incredible that Rumi let them see her patterns at all, given how much of her life had been dedicated to hiding them. Mira kind of worried Rumi was so casual about the exposure because she still believed her patterns might just be gone in a few days. Rumi had always been good at ignoring a problem she thought would fix itself.

Well, Mira would just do her best to continue Zoey’s work at breaking through Rumi’s self-imposed shell. No one ever said the positive affirmations had to stay in the studio. As she cut her way through the crowd of demons toward Zoey, Mira tilted her head toward Rumi. Zoey lit up, catching on immediately. They were so doing this.

Rumi hurled a particularly beefy demon an impressive distance with her bare hands.

“Woah, look at how strong Rumi is!” Mira hyped her up. She smirked as Rumi whirled around, flush on her cheeks. Then Mira had to lunge and take out a demon just beyond Rumi’s shoulder. Maybe distracting her during a fight wasn’t the best idea.

Rumi rolled her eyes and thrust her sword past Mira’s hip, catching a one-eyed demon with a swift jab. “Is now the time?” Rumi ducked beneath a swipe of claws.

“Why not?” Mira asked, sweeping her woldo to create some breathing room. Louder, Mira said, “She makes it look easy!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Rumi dove between a burly demon’s legs and drove her sword into its back. She sounded more amused than anything. They had really needed this outlet after all the suffocating weight of today.

Zoey laughed and joined in, “You're a beautiful person who deserves good things!”

A pink-skinned demon stopped attacking Zoey momentarily. It held a hand to its chest in shy surprise.

“Oh, uh. I was talking to her,” Zoey said, pointing over her shoulder, and the demon lashed out with more ferocity than before. “I don’t know you, but I’m sure you’re lovely!” Zoey cried, slicing her shinkal across its torso in a panic.

“Did you see that?” Rumi looked toward Zoey incredulously, then rushed to parry a set of descending claws.

Mira didn’t like the contemplative look that crossed over Rumi’s face.

“Weird,” Mira agreed, and she took out the dog-like demon wrestling with Rumi’s sword. “Now give me an affirmation,” Mira said, mostly to distract Rumi from whatever stupid idea was brewing. Mira brought her woldo into a tight spin, taking out three demons in its path.

Rumi’s answering grin was sly. “You dance beautifully!” she said as she easily ducked under the twirl of Mira’s weapon. A quick slash of Rumi’s sword took out a snaggle-toothed demon just beyond the woldo’s reach.

Mira tripped over a short little demon that she really should have seen, and Rumi caught her by the shoulder before she went down. “Affirmations about you, dumbass,” Mira grunted as she righted herself.

Rumi stabbed behind herself, banishing the little demon without even looking. Showoff. Mira had seen her do it a thousand times and she still didn't know how.

“Rude,” Rumi said brightly. “I’ll take my affirmations elsewhere.” She used a demon’s shoulders as leverage to bound off toward Zoey.

“Zoey!” Rumi called as she cut across the knees of a charging demon. “You’re the smartest person I know!”

Zoey laughed and threw her shinkal into the demon Rumi felled. “Thanks, but you only know like five people, Rumi.”

Mira fought her way through the crowd to rejoin Zoey and Rumi. “Are we just complimenting each other now?” Mira asked when she made it to their sides.

Zoey and Rumi exchanged a glance. Rumi shrugged. Zoey grinned.

Well, alright then. They jumped back into the fight.

Mira completed an intricate spin and heard, “Looking sharp, Mira!” from Rumi.

“Nice shot, Zoey!” Mira praised an impressive bullseye on a distant cyclops’ eye.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” Zoey called to Mira, then winced at the startled expression of a tall blue demon. It happened to have a luxurious and glossy mane. “I was talking to– actually, you do have gorgeous hair, you must take good care of it.” Zoey blanched and tossed a shinkal directly into its beautifully coiffed head.

Mira slashed into a demon from behind. “Zoey!” she said, exasperated.

“What?” Zoey cried. “It was true!”

Mira slipped her woldo past Zoey’s side to impale a demon sneaking up on her. “Are we complimenting the demons now?” she asked with mock sternness.

Zoey tackled a demon to the ground and rolled back to her feet in a single fluid motion. “It’ll be good practice!” She gave Mira a brief thumbs up before summoning more shinkal between her fingers and diving back into the fray.

Oh, what the hell.

“Your tusks are rad,” Mira told a pig-faced demon whose tusks resembled Derpy’s fangs. She stabbed it in the face. “Zoey, it feels weird to murder them after complimenting them!”

“It’s not actually killing them.” Zoey bent over backward and kicked a demon across the chin. “I’m sure they don't mind!”

The indignant looks on the demons’ faces said they most certainly did mind.

Despite the Hunters’ creed claiming they slayed demons, their weapons didn't seem capable of inflicting permanent harm on them. Demons were banished back behind the barrier of the Honmoon, and Mira swore she had fought the same annoying water demon multiple times. Then again, just because they didn’t die didn't mean it was pleasant for them to get stabbed by magical soul weapons. Mira would keep her compliments to her friends.

Mira turned to continue hyping up Rumi, and she caught a glimpse of a purple braid disappearing down an alleyway. Shit.

Mira swept her woldo through a lunging demon and blocked a vicious swipe of claws from another. “Rumi ran off!” she called to Zoey.

“Again?” Three of Zoey’s shinkal whizzed over Mira’s shoulder, and a wisp of smoke and the smell of ozone proved they struck true. “You go, we’re almost done here!” Zoey drove a large demon to the ground with her knees, following with a quick slash of glimmering blades.

Mira impaled two demons on her woldo in one thrust. The crowd had thinned considerably, and that was the only reason she thought about listening to Zoey. “You sure?”

“It’s just small fry.” Zoey said, and the scrawny demon she was fighting took visible offense. Zoey twisted under its punch and stabbed deep into its exposed armpit. “Go get your girl!”

“She’s not my–” a demon rudely interrupted their banter by leaping for Mira’s face. “Do you mind?” She sliced it in half.

Trusting Zoey to handle the rest, Mira used a demon as a springboard and took off after Rumi. The last thing they needed was to separate right now when everything was so delicate. Their easy camaraderie could be shattered in an instant with the wrong trigger. Mira dreaded what she might find around the corner. Her mind conjured every worst case scenario.

This temporary split might not even register on a good day, but this was not a good day. Right now?

Rumi was reckless.

Rumi was vulnerable.

Rumi was… talking to random demons again? They really needed to put a bell on her or something.

“–you hear me?” Rumi said, pinning a little green demon by the neck. Mira wondered what it had done to make her so mad. “Your shame does not define you. You are worthy of good things.”

Wait, was Rumi giving it positive affirmations? Her heart was obviously in the right place, but Mira was pretty sure it was lost on the audience. It probably didn’t help that Rumi was being a bit too aggressive about it.

Judging by the exuberant rapping in the street, Zoey was doing just fine without them for the moment. Unfortunately, that gave Mira plenty of time to deal with this. She sighed, hand on her hip.

Over Rumi’s shoulder, the demon made pleading eye contact with Mira. She raised an eyebrow and pointed to her woldo. The demon nodded frantically. Mira’s woldo thunked home into its head, and she swore she heard a quiet thank you drift past her ears in the resulting cloud of smoke.

Rumi whirled around. “Mira! Oh, I was just, um.” Her shoulders sagged. “You heard all that.” It wasn’t a question.

What was Mira supposed to do with this girl? Rumi took all the right messages from the completely wrong places. If that was the best way to get through to her, Mira might as well lean into it.

“You can’t force self-acceptance on people, remember? It has to come from you, when you’re ready.” Mira felt ridiculous using the phrase again, but for whatever reason it seemed to resonate with Rumi.

“I know, but what if all they need to be ready is some support?” Rumi turned soft eyes on Mira. “You guys have helped me so much, and I just–” she let out a breath. “If I feel ashamed, how much worse do they feel?”

While she was glad that Rumi seemed to be internalizing the self-love thing, Mira didn’t think this level of projection could be healthy. She also wasn’t going to encourage Rumi accosting random demons with self-acceptance mantras. “It should be handled by a trusted friend.” Mira eyed the glowing weapon in Rumi’s hand. “And probably not at sword point.”

Rumi looked down at her sword like she had forgotten it was there. “Oh. Right.” She stretched out a kink in her neck, shaking off some of the adrenaline of their battle. “How’d you get so good at this? I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”

Asking herself ‘what would Zoey do’ didn’t seem like a helpful answer here, even if it was true. “Practice,” Mira said instead. “You are playing catch-up. It took me years to not second guess myself about stuff like this, and you’ve had maybe a day. Give yourself time to figure it out.”

Mira wasn’t sure where she pulled that speech from, but she was very proud of it. That had been exactly the kind of thing her younger closeted self had needed to hear.

“Stuff like this?” Rumi elbowed Mira playfully. “You hiding some secret supernatural heritage as well?”

It was strange hearing Rumi talk about her heritage so casually. Mira laughed, more from Rumi’s good cheer than the joke. “No, nothing like that,” Mira said, throwing an arm over Rumi’s shoulders and steering her back toward Zoey.

“Fine, then.” Rumi smiled up at her. “Keep your secrets. I can wait.”

Mira wondered where their conversation had diverged. What secrets? She had been talking about her sexuality, and Rumi definitely knew about that. It’d be ridiculous if she didn’t. Mira had come out ages ago, and she’d never been quiet about her appreciation for pretty people. Rumi would have to be willfully ignorant to miss how flamingly bi Mira had always been. When had she… Oh fuck, Mira had never formally come out to Rumi. She didn’t think she needed to!

“I’m bi,” Mira blurted out like a moron. “I think I forgot to tell you.”

Rumi started laughing, deep belly laughs that were honestly kind of offensive. “Mira,” Rumi managed breathlessly, “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Debatable,” slipped out of Mira’s mouth before she could stop it.

Rumi pinched Mira’s side in retaliation, who squirmed away with involuntary laughter. “No fair!” Mira gasped under the assault.

“Never said I played fair,” Rumi said, backing away and grinning.

Mira grabbed at her braid, but Rumi whipped it to the side. “Isn’t that my line?” Mira asked.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Rumi challenged playfully. Her eyes were shining, and it made Mira feel like a million bucks.

“Give you a head start.” Mira stood back and inspected her nails like she had all the time in the world.

Rumi raced off toward Zoey, laughing when Mira gave chase. It had been so long since they had let themselves just be silly. They joined back up with Zoey, and for the first time in weeks they were elated after a hunt. With the pressures of touring and fighting and sealing the Honmoon, the three of them had barely had a chance to breathe. Rumi’s increasing distance hadn’t helped, and Mira couldn’t even remember the last time they had genuinely enjoyed themselves while serving as Hunters.

Mira had missed this desperately. She was glad she had taken the chance to talk to Rumi, and Mira would never have imagined that this might be the result. She would never have imagined such a stupid misunderstanding might bring them together again.

And if on the way home Mira slipped into a pet store to peruse the aisles, well, no one really needed to know.

Chapter Text

At an ungodly hour of the night, Mira woke up to what sounded like the dying screams of an animal just outside her bedroom. Fearing the worst, she scrambled for her glasses and sprinted to the door. She wrenched it open with her woldo at the ready.

Mira blinked as she processed the sight in front of her, panic still gripping her heart. Derpy sat just outside the threshold, looking reproachful but otherwise completely fine.

“What’s wrong?” Mira whispered. “Did something happen?” Mira’s fear ebbed as the tiger remained unperturbed.

Derpy’s only response was to push past Mira into her room. He padded forward and heaved himself onto the bed, curling up as if he owned the place. Mira watched him carefully, and she let her weapon dissolve back into the Honmoon at the lack of immediate threat.

Mira quietly shut the door. While she desperately needed to get back to sleep, she was a little too wired now. Mira figured that as long as Derpy was here, she might as well offer him a few of the options she picked up at the pet store. Rumi would have gotten on Mira’s case about rewarding bad behavior like yowling for no real reason, but Rumi wasn't here right now. Mira presented a crunchy cat treat for inspection.

Derpy didn’t even seem to register it as food. Several other choices yielded similar results, with him bumping his head against her hand or placing an inquisitive paw on her knee instead of just eating the treat. He was completely uninterested in Mira's efforts to be an awesome friend through bribery. She gave up by the time Derpy ignored the contents of a squeezy tube in favor of playing with the crinkly wrapper. Mira was immeasurably disappointed.

Deciding that she might as well get some sleep instead of banging her head against the wall, Mira gave Derpy's chin one last skritch before climbing back under the covers. He crooned happily and rolled into a stretch that took up half the bed, kicking several of her pillows to the ground. It wasn't the most ideal sleeping situation, but Mira was really too tired to reason with him for more space. She turned out the light and let herself drift off, the warm weight of Derpy an unfamiliar comfort at her rather cramped feet.

Not ten minutes later, Derpy slipped out of bed and started screeching at the door again.

“No,” Mira whined, far too tired to deal with this. “Just go to bed!”

Derpy continued to wail as if he had been stabbed. Mira put on her glasses and turned on the light again to check on him. He was, predictably, perfectly fine if not unreasonably loud.

Mira sighed and dragged herself out of the cozy cocoon of her blankets. She shuffled to the door and opened it, and Derpy immediately rushed back out into the hallway. Intent on getting some sleep before early-morning rehearsal, Mira shut her door and collapsed back in her bed.

She had just about fallen asleep when Derpy started howling outside her door again what the fuck.

Mira stomped over and ripped the door open, a little frantic from lack of sleep. “What?” she cried. “What do you want from me?”

Derpy brushed past Mira, rumbling contentedly.

“You can teleport through the door, why are you doing this?” Mira left the door open and faceplanted on top of the bed, glasses and all, not even bothering with the covers. If she had to get up again, she was going to scream into Derpy’s face and see how much he liked it.

Well, no. She probably wasn’t going to do that because that would be mean, and he was just a little guy. Big guy. Tiger. Whatever. But if he acted up again, Mira was going to march him to Rumi’s room and demand they send a note to Jinu so she could just go to sleep holy shit.

A soft sound at the doorway had Mira turning her head slightly, familiar footsteps cluing her in on the newest visitor’s identity. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

Mira should probably never say that joke out loud, all things considered.

“Hey, Rumi.” Mira sighed. “Why are you still up?”

“I heard, uh,” Rumi’s footsteps stopped, meaning she was probably hovering in the doorway like a weirdo. “Something. Thought I should check on you. Everything okay?”

“Just Derpy.” Mira waved Rumi forward, not bothering to look up from her spot face down on the bed. “C’mon in.”

“Should I get the door?” Rumi sounded concerned. “You never leave it open.”

“Try it,” Mira challenged, eyeing Derpy. He very slowly blinked at her. “See what happens.”

Rumi shut the door softly behind her, and a long silence passed between the three of them. Nothing happened.

Mira glared at Derpy. She should have known he was a troll under that innocent face; no wonder they got along so well.

Derpy placed his chin on the bed, making deep and probably meaningful eye contact with Mira. Well, one of his eyes did, and the other drifted off to look at the corner of the room. Mira decided to forgive him only if he never did that door thing ever again. She reached out and smoothed down the fur of his forehead, and he chuffed at her in return. Mira hoped that meant this farce was over.

Derpy shook himself, then trotted over to Rumi to wind around her waist. Out of the corner of her eye, Mira saw Rumi pet him fondly and give him a backscratch for good measure. Derpy gave Rumi one last affectionate bump of his head before he moved on.

His greetings thoroughly completed, Derpy stepped toward the door. Mira bolted upright, ready to plug her ears at a moment’s notice.

Instead of the expected round of caterwauling, Mira heard the soft tinkle of bells. The Honmoon rippled over the door, and Derpy quietly slipped through as if solid objects held no meaning for him.

Mira muffled a scream into her pillow. It was pretty cathartic.

Peeking up at a visibly confused Rumi for the first time since she entered the room, Mira startled. Earlier, Rumi had opted to keep her hoodie for the remainder of the night after their hunt, but now her patterns were unexpectedly and fully on display. The split second of surprise was all it took to set Mira’s instincts screaming for her weapon, and the Honmoon whispered obligingly in her ear. An ounce of will was all it would take, but thankfully, Mira had completely lost her spine when it came to all things Rumi years ago.

Instead, Mira forced herself to relax. She took in the sight of Rumi wrapped in soft clothes, a loose tank top hanging from her bare shoulders and almost obscuring the shorts underneath. Mira had been a heartbeat from drawing her weapon last night, and she didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself for it. Not when Rumi could stand here in front of her, vulnerable and open. If Rumi was going to give Mira the precious gift of trust, then Mira would do her level fucking best to be worthy of it.

Mira could and would set aside her own instincts for Rumi. If, once she had calmed, Mira let her eyes wander over those impossible, enticing patterns a little too long? Well, she could just chalk it up to exposure therapy.

“Here for a sleepover?” Mira teased, trying to play off her mini freakout and also pretend she hadn’t just been checking Rumi out. It was a versatile maneuver.

By the hesitant smile on Rumi face, Mira realized the answer was surprisingly yes. Now that Mira thought about it, she didn’t think Rumi had ever initiated a sleepover. Not with Mira at least, although it was possible Rumi might have with Zoey. Mira kind of doubted it. It had always been her and Zoey kicking off impromptu movie nights and hangouts and sleepovers. It was this thought that had Mira truly worried something was wrong.

“You’re always welcome to stay,” Mira said seriously. She didn’t think poking at Rumi was really the best choice if she was actually seeking help. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about our earlier conversation, what with Jinu and, and everything, and I–”

Rumi wanted the worst kind of sleepover ever. She wanted to stay up and talk about boys.

“–I just couldn't sleep.”

Oh. Now Mira kind of felt bad for jumping to conclusions. Rumi might not have said it, but Mira heard it plain as day. ‘I didn't want to be alone.’

Mira sighed. This meant she needed to push aside her desperate need for sleep and her usual catastrophizing for the moment.

“It’s been a lot.” Mira said, leaning back against her pile of pillows. She patted the spot next to her when Rumi continued to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Rumi made her way over to the bed and sat down gingerly, as if it was unfamiliar territory. In a way, it was. Rumi seldom dared to encroach on Mira’s space, especially if the door was shut. Which Mira realized was all the time.

“You know you can always knock, right?” Mira figured she should at least clear this up for the future.

Rumi’s eyes widened. “Should I have knocked? I'm sorry–”

“What, no!” Mira was obviously not firing on all cylinders. The sooner they talked this out, the sooner they could both sleep. Rehearsal was way too early in the morning for any prolonged conversation. Mira rubbed her temples. “Sorry. I meant you can always come in. Don’t let the shut door stop you.”

Rumi fiddled with her hands in her lap. “I’ve knocked before.” She sounded a little defensive, and Mira wondered if Rumi might be hurt by the reminder of her self-imposed distance. Mira hoped not.

“It's pretty rare.” Mira propped her elbow up on the plush octopus Zoey got her, allowing herself to get comfortable, but not so comfortable she might fall asleep. “Just, you can if you want to. My door’s always–” Mira despaired at her inability to just talk like a normal person. “–well, not open, but you get it.”

Rumi reached across the bedspread to grasp Mira’s hand, and she gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” Rumi said, heartfelt.

Mira eyed their hands and did not let herself react. Rumi needed comfort, and this was the very least she could do. Holding hands was safe. It was fine.

Now if only Mira could convince Rumi to put her feet up and relax instead of sitting ramrod straight, then it’d be perfect. Mira tugged at Rumi’s hand, trying to convey that she should just get in the bed and make herself comfy.

At the pull of her hand, Rumi took the cue to make intense eye contact and not get in the bed. Why was communicating so difficult? “You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Rumi said.

No, Mira was not wondering that because it was kind of obvious. Rumi was here for a sleepover, and she was doing it like a dork. Ugh, fine. Mira could talk it out first and then Rumi could get cozy.

Mira reserved the right to judge Rumi for doing things completely out of order. Sleepover protocol should be sacred, but apparently Rumi was going to drag Mira down with her blasphemy. Zoey would have been so disappointed.

“You wanted to talk about something?” Mira asked. It was a pretty safe bet.

Rumi hummed, and it was one of her ‘yes, but I’m stalling’ hums. Rumi had a lot of hums. Probably part of the perks of being a music-based magical girl.

Rumi broke eye contact to look at their joined hands. She brushed a gentle thumb over Mira’s knuckles, and Mira shivered. It was embarrassing just how little it took. If Rumi said anything, then Mira’s room was cold, and she would double down on it until eternity. Mira also felt like maybe her thoughts were a little scrambled, and she hoped she could make it through the whole conversation without just passing out mid-sentence.

After a long moment, Rumi asked, “What aren't you telling me?”

The phrase, ‘I’m in love with you,’ was on the tip of Mira’s tongue without a thought, which meant her filter had probably gone offline somewhere past midnight. It had been a while since then.

Mira needed to be careful here. So, so careful.

Thankfully, Rumi continued talking before Mira could destroy their relationship forever. “Why wouldn't you tell me what Celine said?” Rumi asked, voice low and hurt.

Of all the questions, Mira had not expected that one. Maybe she should have. She didn’t know how to respond in a way that would end well, so Mira just opted for the truth.

“I’m afraid of what you might do,” Mira said, and she laced their fingers together because apparently she was a masochist. Even still, Mira wanted proof that Rumi was here. That she could be permanent if Mira willed it hard enough.

“Tell me anyway,” Rumi said, the quiet demand both stubborn and familiar. Rumi never could stand being kept in the dark, and Mira felt like she might be disintegrating from the combination of overwhelming affection for Rumi and overloaded nerves.

Mira really didn’t want to tell Rumi. There was the very real possibility that Rumi would decide Celine was right, and then Rumi would be a victim of her own stupidly altruistic behavior. Lying to Rumi now might just ruin them, but it was hard to care when the alternative meant losing Rumi forever. Mira would rather Rumi hate her than not be here at all.

Nothing good had ever come of lies, though, at least not for Mira. Lying was what drove them here in the first place, and Rumi gracing her and Zoey with the truth had been the catalyst for change. Real change. Good change. Maybe even a chance for a better future.

Mira sighed, and she hoped she wasn’t making an irreversible mistake. Her judgment hadn’t exactly been proven sound lately. “She said sealing the Honmoon is the only way.” Mira closed her eyes, and she felt better not being able to see whatever reaction her words might bring. “That’s all she would say.”

“Oh,” Rumi breathed. She didn’t immediately agree with Celine, so that was something. Even softer, Rumi asked, “Do you think she’s right?”

That Rumi was seeking Mira’s opinion rather than forming her own spoke volumes. Rumi had always been quick to decide and slow to change. Here and now, it seemed like Rumi was choosing to change, to let herself slow down and think, and that more than anything was terrifying. Mira felt she might suffocate under the weight of Rumi’s trust, given simply and without reservation.

Mira forced herself to answer, ignoring the rasp to her own voice. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. Mira swallowed down her own emotion and tried again, lighter this time. “Zoey's pretty smart, and she doesn’t think so either.”

The breath Rumi let out wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was close. “You have your moments,” Rumi said, surprisingly sincere.

Mira opened her eyes to see Rumi staring down at her, still looking awkward and a bit twisted up sitting on the edge of the bed. Warmth and light danced in Rumi’s eyes, and Mira hoped they got past the worst of it quickly and relatively unscathed.

“Only moments?” Mira seized the chance for levity. “What happened to those positive affirmations?”

“I thought I needed those, not you,” Rumi shook her head, unbraided hair falling about her shoulders.

Mira was stunned by the sight of pretty girl with pretty hair for a moment too long. “Still nice to hear how smart you think I am,” she rushed out, trying to keep up with the banter and hoping she didn’t sound as pathetic as she felt.

This time Rumi’s laugh was real, if subdued. “I thought you hated lying.”

Mira would absolutely have initiated a tickle fight or wrestled Rumi into submission in the light of day for that slight, but the atmosphere felt far too intimate to increase physical contact.

“I’m gonna let that slide,” Mira said magnanimously. She really didn’t want to though.

“How generous.” Rumi smiled down at Mira, and her eyes softened. “Thanks for actually talking to me.”

“Of course,” Mira said automatically. “That’s what sleepovers are for.”

Rumi didn't respond beyond her smile tightening, and Mira wondered what she had said wrong. It might be that Rumi hated the reminder of how much she had missed with Mira and Zoey. It could also be that Rumi was just kind of clueless about how to have a proper sleepover, which seemed more likely.

Deciding to lead by example and hoping they could get some actual rest, Mira tried to wiggle back under the covers. Rumi playfully refused to relinquish her hand, which made the whole thing needlessly challenging. Mira was nothing if not flexible though, and she managed to fold herself up and under the blanket, no problem. She probably made it look easy. Mira felt smug at her dumb little accomplishment as she sank into her pile of pillows. Now this was the way to get cozy.

Rumi continued to sit upright on the edge of the bed like an awkward dork, acting like she still didn’t know sleepovers were supposed to involve sleep at some point. To make it easy for Rumi, Mira lifted the blanket in silent invitation with her free hand.

It had been the right call, as Rumi visibly relaxed and joined her under the covers, still holding tight to Mira’s hand. Mira set aside her glasses and turned out the light, feeling both exhausted from the day and pleased that Rumi was comfortable enough to seek her out. Then Rumi tucked herself under Mira’s arm and slipped a hand behind her back, drawing Mira in so close that she felt the heat of Rumi's body from her chest down to her toes.

It had apparently not been the right call because Rumi was wrapping herself around Mira like a baby koala what the shit. Mira had offered an invitation to crawl under the covers, not an invitation to try and crawl inside Mira’s fucking skin.

Mira kept her panicked blubbering under lock and key. Rumi obviously needed Mira right now, and nothing in the world could prevent Mira from being there for her.

Mira was fine. Everything was fine.

Rumi pressed against her, forehead resting on Mira’s clavicle and far, far too close to her neck. That particularly sensitive spot was not a good place for Rumi’s face to be. Face flushed, heart racing, and brain offline, Mira idly wondered if this might be what it felt like to have an aneurysm.

Mira took a deep, calming breath in and immediately regretted it. The soft floral scent of Rumi’s conditioner invaded her senses, and Mira berated herself. Like, it was just flowers, Mira could handle this without losing her cool. She did not need to flip out about flowers of all things. Mira could definitely handle this and all the other awful emotional stuff that Rumi needed right now.

If Rumi needed a very stupidly close hug, Mira could oblige without overreacting. Mira considered where a safe place to put her other hand might be, and she rapidly came to the conclusion that literally nowhere was safe. She settled for the most platonic spot she could think of, and Mira looped her arm around Rumi to gently hold Rumi’s bare shoulder. Shoulders were platonic, right? Except, Mira realized, that particular hand placement on Rumi meant she had splayed her fingers across Rumi’s patterns. Again.

Mira was starting to wonder if maybe she had a fixation. Every time she fought past her initial rush of adrenaline, Mira’s hands just seemed to gravitate right to those patterns.

When Rumi melted into her even further at the touch, Mira also wondered if she had become a bit of a living security blanket for Rumi. This couldn't be healthy for either of them long term.

With one hand clasped in Rumi’s own and the other wound tight around her shoulders, there was hardly an inch of space between them. Mira was thoroughly stuck, and it was kind of her own fault this time. She couldn’t let go because Rumi was obviously upset, and the last thing Rumi needed was to feel rejected. Especially about her patterns.

In addition to Celine’s words, there were about a dozen different things in the past day alone that might have driven Rumi here seeking comfort. Mira wasn’t about to add another. She did her best to just be present, much as it made her want to combust. Right now it could not be about Mira’s feelings.

They were quiet for a long time. Mira resigned herself to an entirely sleepless night as she tried to control her erratic heart beat through subtle breathing exercises. After so long Mira thought she might have fallen asleep, Rumi curled further into Mira’s very limited personal space and murmured, “I just feel so stupid.”

Mira did not make the obvious joke, much as she wanted to. It wasn’t the time, and Mira hated how small Rumi sounded just then. “Rumi,” Mira said, gently squeezing her hand. “You’re not stupid.”

Rumi sighed, warming the air between them. “I’ve had my whole life to overthink this, and I have.” No arguments there, Rumi was a champion overthinker. “But I didn’t once realize getting rid of everything with patterns might include me, too.”

“Why would you?” Mira’s still not sure if Celine had even realized it was a possibility. Rumi and Celine were very different people, but they shared their perfectionism and single-minded intensity. “None of us actually know what sealing the Honmoon might do.”

“Part of me is terrified that I might disappear if we seal it.” Rumi pulled their joined hands closer to her chest. “Part of me thinks we should do it anyway.”

“Never mind,” Mira said, irritated. She used the hand wrapped around Rumi’s back to pinch her bicep. “That part of you is the stupid part.”

“Ow, hey!” Rumi clutched Mira’s hand even tighter, as if stealing it in retaliation. Mira wasn’t actually sure what Rumi thought that would do, but it seemed to make her feel better at least.

“We’re not sealing the Honmoon if we can’t guarantee you’ll be safe,” Mira said, voice rough with anger and hurt. She knew she never should have told Rumi what Celine said. Why was Mira so fucking stupid?

“It’s just–” Rumi blew out a frustrated breath. “Sealing the Honmoon is what’s best for the world. It feels selfish to put my fear ahead of that.” Quieter, Rumi muttered, “I’m just one person.”

Just one person? Just one person? Rumi obviously had no idea how Mira’s brain operated, or else she would know better than to say something so ridiculous. To Mira, Rumi and Zoey were the world, and everyone else could go hang for all she cared.

“Fuck the world, and fuck the fucking Honmoon,” Mira all but snarled. Rumi might have had reservations about being selfish, but Mira had none. “They can’t have you.”

Rumi ducked her head into Mira’s chest, shoulders shaking. For a terrifying heartbeat, Mira feared that Rumi had finally broken under the pressure, that all this had just been too much. Mira pressed a gentle hand to Rumi’s back, and realized her fears were pointless.

“Are you seriously laughing?” Mira wasn’t sure if she was relieved or insulted. “I’m ready to fight the world here for you, and you're laughing?”

“Fuck the fucking Honmoon?” Rumi muffled another laugh against Mira, which definitely felt insulting.

“Language,” Mira warned grumpily.

“You curse all the time, are you–” Rumi’s complaint cut off, and she released Mira’s hand to poke her chest accusingly. “Are you distracting me on purpose?”

“From your suicidally stupid ideas?” Mira would admit it shamelessly. “Yes.”

“Oh, so now I am stupid?” Rumi griped, getting all uppity about Mira trying to save her fucking life.

This felt like walking a stubborn moron through why they shouldn’t touch a hot stove. “About sealing yourself into the Honmoon? Yes.”

“Mira, I don't want to disappear!” Rumi seemed to startle herself with her own outburst.

Oh. Well. Good. Glad they cleared that up.

The fight drained from Rumi and she collapsed against Mira’s chest. “That’s the problem,” Rumi said, words muffled.

No, they had been doing so well!

“How is that a problem?” Mira was starting to wonder if she should just knock herself out to get out of this conversation. She had no idea if she was making things worse or better.

Rumi lifted her chin, and Mira was intensely glad she couldn't actually see how close Rumi's face was through the inky dark of the room. Mira was also glad Rumi couldn't see her perpetual fluster. Small mercies.

“I’ve been training for this since I could talk,” Rumi said, her voice shallow and bitter. “It feels wrong to go against it when I’m so close.”

Something about Rumi’s phrasing nagged at Mira’s memory. “You’ve said something like that before.” Mira frowned, trying to remember. “After that shitshow with the Golden release.” Mira ignored Rumi flicking the center of her forehead at the phrasing, although she begrudgingly acknowledged it was an impressive shot in complete darkness. “You’re so close. Not us. You weren’t just talking about the Honmoon then, were you?”

Rumi hummed another stalling hum, and this time Mira felt the vibration in her own chest. With her heart racing and thoughts fuzzy, Mira wondered which homophobic deity she had pissed off today.

“No,” Rumi finally said, quiet and measured. “I was scared I’d lose my voice before I could get rid of my patterns for good.”

“What if you didn’t?” At Rumi’s questioning noise, Mira realized her question didn’t really make sense. She tried again, “Say we never found out. If we sealed the Honmoon, what would you have done if your patterns just… didn’t disappear?”

From the way Rumi reeled back, Mira knew she hadn’t expected the question. “I would have told you guys.” Rumi did not sound convincing. “Eventually,” she muttered.

“Told?” Comforting aside, Mira wasn’t going to let Rumi rewrite ab history.

“You know what I mean. It’s just– ” Rumi groaned. “If you had asked me that yesterday, I would have had an answer for you.”

“And now?” Mira kind of really needed that answer.

“I’m still terrified I might have to live with my patterns forever,” Rumi said, and she bowed her head into Mira’s shoulder. So quietly Mira barely heard it, Rumi whispered, “Losing you both would be so much worse.”

“We’re not going anywhere, and neither are you,” Mira promised, steadfast. “I’ll make sure of it, if I have to.”

Rumi snorted. “You can’t fight all our problems.”

Mira felt like that was a challenge. Agitated, she propped herself up on an elbow, making some much-needed breathing room. “Watch me,” Mira said, hair falling over her shoulder as she lorded her newfound height over Rumi.

With unerring accuracy, Rumi tucked Mira’s hair back behind her ear and laughed. “If anyone could, it’s you,” Rumi said, voice unbearably fond.

Mira may have swooned a bit, and she felt the wind in her protective sails die abruptly. If she had tried that kind of maneuver, she probably would have poked Rumi’s eye out or something equally stupid. Mira carefully settled back into the pillows, feeling a bit sheepish. Why did she have to be such a fucking pushover around Rumi?

Well, fuck. Might as well lean into this mushy shit. Something about the dark made Mira braver. She felt as though it cradled her insecurities, soothed the fears that speaking might bring. Here in the dark with Rumi wrapped around her, Mira felt safe enough to tell the truth.

Well, to an extent.

“I know I’ve said it before, but, these–” Mira tried to place a hand on Rumi’s arm and accidentally got her chin. “Uh, sorry, these–” Mira successfully placed her hand on Rumi’s arm. “–don’t matter. They could cover you head to toe or disappear tomorrow, and it wouldn't change a thing about how much me and Zoey love you.”

Rumi snickered at Mira’s fumble, but she grasped Mira’s hand over her shoulder anyway. “Thank you,” Rumi said, amusement clear in her voice.

“We’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Mira immediately cringed at her own wording, realizing Rumi would probably take it as another reference to Mira’s stupidity just the previous night. Mira really needed to stop prompting this.

As expected, Rumi said, “Always,” with a weight that felt like it meant more. Mira tried not to read into it because Rumi apparently really liked quoting stuff back to her. As long as it made Rumi feel better, Mira figured it was worth enduring.

Mira also hoped that with their fears addressed and seemingly settled for now, they could finally get some rest. She didn’t even know how many hours they had until rehearsal, but it was already fewer than she would have liked. Their closeness might be a distraction at the moment, but Mira knew that sleep would eventually come.

Well, sleep would probably come once Rumi stopped giggling to herself. Mira sighed, lamenting the bedtime that was just out of reach. She just knew something asinine was about to come out of Rumi’s mouth. It never boded well when she laughed at her own jokes.

When Rumi spoke next, her voice was filled with mischievous glee. “My patterns could disappear tomorrow, huh?”

Mira was extremely wary about what could make Rumi want to joke about such an obviously sensitive topic. Like, Rumi had just been having an existential crisis over this shit! Nothing good would come of this. It would probably be dumb. And definitely at Mira’s expense.

“You know, I’ve been told they’re pretty fancy,” Rumi continued, and Mira could hear the smug grin in her voice. “And double hot. You sure you wouldn't be sad to see them go?”

Mira had pulled out all the vulnerable stops, and this was how Rumi was going to betray her? No more comfort cuddles for Rumi for a month after the Idol Awards. She was in sleepover timeout.

And more than anything, Rumi was so fucking predictable. Two could play at this game now that Mira knew just how flustered Rumi got when the teasing was returned. Rumi was playing with fire, and the poor idiot didn't even know it.

“I might be.” Mira said levelly. Petty competitiveness was a great motivator, and Mira wasn’t about to lose this stupid game of gay chicken. “Then you’d just be regular hot, and we can’t have that.”

Rumi sputtered into the dark, obviously taken aback. With only the barest hint of strain in her voice, Rumi said, “So you only love me for my eye candy, is that it?” If Mira wasn’t aiming to win this, she might even be impressed by the quick recovery.

Unfortunately for Rumi, Mira was aiming to win this. She also happened to have the perfect ammunition.

“It doesn't hurt,” Mira said, feeling a grin of her own creep across her face. “But if anyone’s in it for the eye candy, it’s you, miss ‘Mira’s super hot.’”

Mira tried not to laugh at the way Rumi curled up into a tight ball while whispering, “Oh my god, why,” under her breath.

“Oh, so you can dish it, but you cant take it?” Mira ruffled Rumi’s loose hair, and Rumi slapped at her hand. “Are you telling me you don’t think I’m super hot?”

“Shut up, shut up,” Rumi pushed against Mira’s side, and Mira let herself go limp on the bed so she’d be immovable dead weight. “Why are you like this?”

“Super hot?” Mira asked innocently. “I come by it naturally.”

Mira worried a little bit that she’d broken Rumi with how perfectly still and silent she’d gone. Mira was about to apologize when Rumi finally uncurled from her mortified little huddle and all but flopped on top of her.

“Mira,” Rumi said, sounding both flustered and aggravated. Mira could relate. Rumi sighed, sounding defeated.

Mira opened her mouth to say something that would probably be wholly inappropriate, but Rumi cut her off with a firm, “No.”

It was for the best.

Mira might normally calm herself by reviewing her five senses. Unfortunately, she was down one sense thanks to the darkness of the room, and three of the remaining four were saturated in Rumi. On its own, Mira didn’t think the lingering taste of toothpaste was a very effective grounding technique.

Still, with Rumi quiet, if perhaps way too close, Mira could just pretend she was something nice and innocuous and not at all attractive, like a large pillow or warm sack of grain. Unfortunately, Rumi would probably be the hottest sack of grain in existence. Mental exercises proven thoroughly ineffective and not compatible with her sleep-deprived brain, Mira gave up. Breathing exercises it was, then.

Mira had just about managed to drift off when she heard, “So, I’ve been thinking.”

Holy shit, no. Why wouldn’t Rumi just go to sleep?

“Sounds dangerous,” Mira said sleepily, because apparently she couldn't help herself.

“Shut up,” Rumi pressed even closer, laying her forehead against Mira’s chest as she tried to suppress her laughter. Mira felt quite a bit more awake at that.

Rumi pulled back just a bit, and Mira felt like she could think again, if only a little. “I’m going somewhere with this, so be serious for a second,” Rumi said, her tone almost conspiratorial.

That got Mira’s attention. Well, the part of her attention that wasn’t consumed by everything else about Rumi. “I’m always serious,” Mira said, blinking away sleep and curious about what Rumi might say next.

A moment of silence passed before Rumi quietly said, “I’m pretty sure Celine was in love with my mom.” The fuck? Mira took it back. She did not care at all about Celine’s love life. She’d rather sleep. Heedless to Mira’s willful disinterest, Rumi continued, “I think she still is.”

Well, that was horribly depressing. And a little messed up if even Rumi could pick up on it.

“That’s… not what I was expecting.” Mira said diplomatically. What even was this? Mira really didn’t want to dig deeper, but Rumi obviously did. Mira gave Rumi the floor anyway because every decision she made was apparently terrible. “How do you feel about that?”

“Lately? Really weird.” Rumi somehow scooted even closer. “Celine always said I wasn’t one of them, that I’m a Hunter like my mom. She always sounded so sad about it.”

If Celine was still hung up on Rumi’s mom, which was a disturbing thought in itself, that was a long time. It also sounded way too familiar. Celine had been endlessly pining over another, straighter Hunter, year in and year out? Even decades after her death? That was… probably something Mira would do if she was being honest with herself.

Oh god. Did that mean Mira was the Celine of their group? That was horrifying. And ridiculously embarrassing. Instead of confronting her own Celine-ness, which Mira absolutely didn’t have, she latched on to comforting Rumi, throwing her heart and soul into it.

“You’re not your mom, Rumi,” Mira said, letting her thumb brush in gentle sweeps over Rumi’s shoulder. “You’re you.” It was a bit much, but Mira was in panic mode. She could not be the Celine.

Rumi leaned back into the touch, and Mira was thankful to have her just that much further from her overly sensitive neck. “I know that, but Celine says she sees her in me.” Rumi let the silence stretch for a moment. Then, quiet and hesitant, she said, “Now I’ve been thinking if that were true, she wouldn’t have made me hide.”

Mira wondered how many times her heart might break for Rumi before she healed. If it helped safeguard Rumi, Mira would endure it as many times as she needed to. “What brought this up?” Mira kept her voice low. Her own hurt and anger weren’t needed here.

“When you learned about my patterns, you both treated it like it was no big deal.” Rumi punctuated her statement by gripping the back of Mira’s shirt, and that was doing nothing great for Mira’s sanity.

“It isn’t.” Mira blurted out, trying not to squirm away from the hand at her also overly sensitive back. Mira was starting to think every part of her might be overly sensitive when Rumi was this close. “Well, it is, obviously, but it’s not–”

“Mira, thank you.” Rumi saved Mira from her rambling. “I appreciate that you don’t freak out if I want to wear short sleeves.”

That was such a bare fucking minimum, Rumi should not be thanking Mira for it. Mira could also never tell Rumi that she absolutely did freak out whenever Rumi wore short sleeves, although for entirely different reasons.

“I don’t miss those stupid turtlenecks.” Mira fell back on teasing to cover her fluster. “They looked so uncomfortable. Bad vibes all around.”

“They are uncomfortable,” Rumi whispered like it was a secret, smile audible in her words. “I actually kind of hate them.”

“Then why did you keep wearing them?” Mira despaired at Rumi’s lack of common sense, which was a near-daily occurrence. “You could have just gotten something more comfy!”

Rumi was silent, which told Mira she probably hadn’t thought of it before. “Huh. I don’t know.” Rumi blew out a breath. “It feels kind of stupid, now.”

“You should be able to wear what you want, when you want,” Mira said, and she felt irritated that she had to say it at all. “Because at the end of the day, it isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s funny.” Rumi’s tone said it wasn’t funny at all. “The more you guys treat it like no big deal, the more I wonder why Celine never could.”

“Fuck Celine.” Mira was sick of Celine’s own prejudice against demons coloring Rumi’s every thought and feeling. The thing is, Mira understood. She literally had the same prejudice. That was how Mira knew for a fact it should never have bled over to Rumi. “She can work through her own issues in her own time if she knows what’s good for her. That’s not on you.”

“Mira, are you trying to threaten Celine?” Rumi asked, amused. “That doesn’t seem wise.” She started absently drawing circles into Mira’s incredibly sensitive back, Mira could not stress that enough. Before long, Mira’s brain fogged over a bit at the soothing motions.

“I’d do it for you,” Mira said, feeling sleep weigh down on her gently. She relaxed into the blissful calm that washed through her.

“You’re ridiculous.” Rumi said it like it was one of their positive affirmations, and it made Mira feel as warm as the gentle hand at her back.

Mira let herself sink into the comfort of the moment. She couldn’t quite remember why she had been so worked up earlier, and her eyelids felt heavy. With Rumi happy and safe and whole beside her, Mira felt like they could take on anything. Honestly, this was a pretty great way to end the day.

“Am I being unfair?” Rumi asked softly. “It’s all she’s ever known. She’s a Hunter.”

The words took a long time to process, Mira’s thoughts mushy from the soothing motion of Rumi’s hand. “I’m a Hunter,” Mira mumbled into the pillow, feeling like she might just fall asleep here and now.

“I’m not sure you’re a very good Hunter, Mira.”

Did Rumi just–

Suddenly, Mira felt very awake.

“Excuse you?” Mira halfheartedly shoved at Rumi, limbs feeling a bit like jelly. Rumi refused to budge, probably using unfair demon strength or something. “I am a fucking fantastic Hunter, you little shit.”

Rumi started laughing at Mira, burying her head into her chest. Mira was tempted to just roll out of the bed and onto the floor to escape all this disrespect and touchy-feely nonsense. It had been so nice for a moment there.

Why did Rumi have to go and pop their happy bubble? This sucked.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Rumi sounded contrite, but only a little. She could have groveled a bit more after such a mean insult. “I mean Hunters are trained to be aware of patterns. It’s instinct, right?”

“Sure,” Mira grunted, still kind of offended. Mira had plenty of instincts, she just wasn’t ruled by them like a wild animal. Well, mostly. Usually. Sometimes.

“But you?” Rumi’s tone was oddly teasing. “I don't even think you’ve noticed you’re touching them.”

Mira had definitely noticed. “So?” Mira blustered. “It’s just arms.”

Yes, just arms. Incredibly attractive arms that happened to be rippling with muscles. Muscles that Mira could feel shift with every one of Rumi’s movements. Just. Arms.

“It’s not just arms, and you know it.” Boy, did she. “Honestly, I think our friendship affects your judgment,” Rumi said, getting that woe-is-me mopey tone.

“Yes,” Mira said immediately. It was true, after all. “It does. Because I know you.” Mira hoped that could be the end of it. She really wished they could just shut up and go to bed, her mellow officially harshed.

“Mira, that’s– Just because you know me doesn’t mean you should–” Rumi trailed off, frustrated. As she searched for the right words, Mira felt Rumi’s fingers tap against her back. Mira was a little sad she wasn’t doing the circle thing anymore, then felt kind of pathetic for it. After a moment, Rumi asked, “If Zoey killed someone, what would you do?”

Weird change of topic, but at least the answer was obvious. Thankfully, they could get this over with in no time and be off to bed.

“Help her hide the body,” Mira said confidently.

“What?” Rumi drew back, just enough that Mira’s air smelled of something other than Rumi’s conditioner for half a breath. It was both refreshing and disappointing to lose the lovely floral scent. “No, that’s not–” Rumi groaned. “Ugh.”

“Why?” Mira asked, confused about where this was going now. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, she probably had a good reason. Wait, no,” Rumi shook her head as if to dissuade herself. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Mira reviewed the conversation up to that point and was immediately pissed off when she put it together. Seriously? Again? Why was Rumi keeping her up for this? Mira scowled. “If you’re trying to convince me you’re a bad person because of your patterns, you’re doing a lousy job.”

“No I–” Rumi let out a sigh that ghosted across Mira’s collarbone, warm and intimate. “Not that I am a bad person, that you’re supposed to think I’m bad.”

Mira was pretty sure her blood pressure may have broken an international record at this point, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from telling Rumi she was being dumb. “You’re being dumb.”

Rumi grumbled into Mira’s neck, obviously insulted. Mira was insulted by Rumi’s utter lack of consideration for just how fucking tired and gay Mira was right now.

Mira also felt like maybe she needed to elaborate to get through Rumi’s dense skull. “It doesn’t matter what someone is, it matters what they do.”

Rumi snorted. “Oh, but murder is apparently okay?” Mira wished Rumi would get her face out of Mira’s extremely sensitive neck. This was not conducive to a peaceful bedtime.

“Only if Zoey does it,” Mira bit back, entirely overstimulated. “You did say she had a good reason.”

“I guess you’ve never done what you’re supposed to,” Rumi said, and Mira could practically hear the eye roll. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised you’re always touching my patterns.”

Hearing it like that, Mira thought maybe she should be more conscious of boundaries. She didn’t think she had actually asked if she could touch them once, and it was a sensitive topic. Had she made Rumi uncomfortable? Mira doubted Rumi would ever say anything if she did.

“Uh, is that okay?” Mira prepared to remove her arm from around Rumi at a moment’s notice.

Rumi muttered something lowly, then said a bit louder, “Yes, Mira, it’s okay. It’s just new.” She sounded a bit exasperated, which was kind of rude since Mira was just trying to establish healthy communication. Even if it was extremely overdue.

Rumi leaned back into Mira’s hold, deliberately pressing her patterns against bare skin. Oh. Message received, then. Mira also came to the abrupt and extremely dangerous realization that Rumi was probably touch starved. That would explain so, so much.

Still, Mira didn’t enjoy the thought that she was basically the first person to touch Rumi’s bare shoulders. That seemed like a lot of responsibility. It also seemed kind of messed up.

“Celine never, like, patched up a scraped elbow or something?” Mira asked. Parents were supposed to do that, right? Mira wasn’t actually sure.

“Not really, no. Not once they reached that far, I don’t think,” Rumi said neutrally. “Is that sad? I feel like it should make me sad.”

“I dunno,” Mira replied honestly. “I never really had anyone to do that either.” She felt like that should probably make her sad, too.

Rumi buried herself beneath Mira’s chin for some stupid reason, getting even more up into Mira’s fucking neck, oh my god stop. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Rumi sounded distraught, and hearing Rumi be upset for her was a weird experience.

“So it is sad,” Mira realized, feeling like an emotionally stunted moron. Which, to be fair, she kind of was. “I think we might need Zoey for a healthy comparison.”

“She’d think we’re both sad,” Rumi complained good-naturedly. “She’d probably make us do feelings time.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Mira whispered, fully believing the name might summon Zoey through dark ritual. Mira had muttered about feelings time under her breath often enough to know Zoey had a supernatural sense for when it was mentioned. “If you bring it up around her, you have to do it.”

“God forbid we process our feelings, Mira,” Rumi said, pulling away and placing a teasing finger on Mira’s nose. Mira wished Rumi would just go to sleep holy shit.

“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Mira said, ignoring Rumi’s antics and thoroughly exhausted with the conversation.

“Oh,” Rumi said, surprised, finger still pressed to Mira’s nose.

With this level of stupidity between them, Mira was starting to wonder how they both survived childhood.

Mira swatted at Rumi’s hand, and she met nothing but air. How the fuck did Rumi dodge that?

“Hang on.” This was just the latest of a few incidents tonight that sparked a growing suspicion in Mira. She held up her hand between them, one finger raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rumi replied, mildly offended, “Okay, rude.”

Mira put down her middle finger. “You can see in the dark?” Which meant Rumi could see every single one of Mira’s gay overreactions during this entire conversation. Would Mira never get a break?

“What?” Rumi asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“How’d you know I was flipping you off?” Mira demanded.

“Not everyone’s eyesight is as bad as yours, Mira,” Rumi said slowly, as if Mira was being particularly dense.

“It's pitch black, Rumi! How can you–” You know what? No. Mira was not dealing with this right now. “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight,” Mira snapped, entirely done with interacting until tomorrow.

Mira immediately felt bad about her abrupt end to the conversation. She had let herself get worked up over stupid shit again, and she had lashed out at the closest person. Again. That it was Rumi who got the brunt of it was entirely unfair, especially after she had come here seeking the comfort of a friend. Fuck. Some friend Mira was.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Mira pulled Rumi closer, relieved that Rumi allowed it. “I shouldn’t have–”

“Hey, Mira?” Rumi cut Mira off, sounding content. “Thanks. I think I needed this.”

Rumi admitting she needed anything was a miracle in itself.

“Yeah,” Mira said, feeling defeated. “Anytime.”

Mira was grateful she could provide just a fraction of the support Rumi so desperately needed right now, even if she could be a huge pain in the ass. Mira settled in, resigned to a sleepless night but happy to be there for Rumi. A blanketing quiet enveloped them, and little by little, Rumi’s breathing evened out as she relaxed into sleep. Fucking finally.

Rumi burrowed further into Mira’s chest in her slumber, grip tightening around her waist as she threw a leg haphazardly across Mira’s.

Mira decidedly did not screech like a banshee, mindful of the hour. She was considerate that way.

Mira must have fallen asleep at some point because she eventually woke up, and it sucked. She felt like she had been hit by a truck. A really gross and sweaty truck. Cuddling all night might have been great in theory, but it was honestly kind of uncomfortable. Mira’s shoulder was cramping, and she was pretty sure her arm and her leg were asleep, painful pins and needles running through them as she slowly stretched awake. She felt kind of suffocated too, meaning she had fallen asleep face first in a pillow again. She should be more careful about that, mostly because it would be the lamest way to die. Zoey would host a seance just to make fun of her from beyond the grave.

The pillow beneath her rose, ever so slightly, then fell again. Mira cracked an eye open.

It wasn’t a pillow. They weren’t a pillow.

Using perhaps the most impressive self-restraint of her life, Mira did not make a sound. She used all her considerable balance and mastery over her own body to carefully extract herself from Rumi without waking her. Mira had to slip her plush octopus into Rumi’s arms so they wouldn’t fall after releasing her. Holding herself up to disentangle their legs was also a surprisingly difficult core workout, but she persevered. Inch by agonizing inch, Mira crept out of bed with barely a whisper of sound.

Safely free of the bed, Mira stepped back and let herself silently flail and flip the fuck out about boobs. She felt it was well deserved.

Feeling a bit better and employing her probably unhealthy coping mechanism of shoving this incident into a memory hole, Mira considered how she should approach the day. Mira slipped on her glasses to better navigate the room, and the sight of Rumi sleeping peacefully stole her breath away. Mira didn’t think she had ever seen Rumi truly relaxed, and it felt a bit like glimpsing some beauty never intended for human eyes.

Unfortunately, they had rehearsal bright and early. They could not miss their time slot, not after the hell they imposed on the tech crew with their last minute song change. Mira reached for Rumi’s shoulder, reluctantly committed to waking her.

Rumi pulled the plush octopus closer, and Mira heard the faintest hum escape her. Of course Rumi would even be musical in her sleep. That should not be as adorable as it was. Still, adorable people had to be responsible as well.

Mira had to wake her up. Just, shatter this peace unlike any Rumi had probably ever known. Rip Rumi out of sweet musical dreams and go force her to practice the song that might have ended her life in another universe.

Mira couldn’t do it.

Rumi existed in the bed in front of her, and that alone was enough to shatter Mira’s resolve.

Mira would leave a note, then. Rumi obviously needed the sleep, so this was just her being a thoughtful friend. Mira and Zoey could get things started, then Rumi could join them once she woke up, well-rested and ready to go. Mira sat at her desk and grabbed a notecard, pleased with her idea. Mira was an awesome friend.

Now, if only Mira knew what the hell to write. Every time she started, she had to keep scribbling out incriminating things about how cute and peaceful Rumi looked when she slept. Rumi would probably think that was creepy. Definitely. She would definitely think that was creepy.

It took a lot longer than it should have. When Mira finally got her note written down, it amounted to a lonely, ‘Sleep well. At rehearsal. See you there,’ surrounded by an ocean of crossed out lines and false starts. There was a reason Mira wasn’t the lyricist.

Still, Mira should probably tack on some bullshit about how Rumi shouldn’t backslide on the patterns things. She wrote that if Rumi started to feel weird about her patterns, she should pull her head out of her ass. Mira quickly crossed it out again. Zoey would be heartbroken if Mira accidentally unraveled all their progress because she sucked at writing.

Mira cast about for the best way to tell Rumi to keep her head out of her ass without explicitly writing that. Looking at Rumi’s relaxed face and carelessly bared patterns, Mira felt inspired. She knew exactly what to write to close out the note.

‘Remember, no matter what.’

Perfect. Short, sweet, meaningful, and most of all, a stupid fucking quote. Mira underlined the last three words several times. It was best to be clear in your messaging, and Rumi could always benefit from more context clues.

Mira idly doodled a heart, then panicked and tried to scribble over it. It ended up a sketchy and lopsided lump, but unfortunately still very recognizable as a heart. If Mira fiddled with it any more she’d mess up the note, and it was already pretty messed up. She also really didn't feel like rewriting it. It was probably, fine, right? Friends left notes on the pillow with hearts drawn next to pseudo love confessions all the time. Right?

Mira felt like that wasn’t quite right, but she placed the note and tiptoed out before she could think better of it.

When Mira saw Zoey in the living room, she made a beeline for her, feeling relieved. Mira had an extremely pressing matter to talk about, one that had been haunting her since her talk with Rumi. It had been sloshing through her sleepless thoughts, keeping her awake even longer than Rumi's forced proximity had. Mira clasped Zoey’s shoulders and looked deep into her bleary, sleep-crusted eyes.

“Zoey,” Mira said with all the seriousness the situation warranted and more than a tinge of sleep-deprived desperation. “If Rumi and Jinu have a demon baby, you have to be the one to raise it.”

Zoey blinked once, then closed her eyes as if fortifying herself for the responsibilities of unconventional parenthood. She did not respond for a long time. When she finally did, her answer was a simple, “No.”

“You don’t understand,” Mira pleaded. “I’m the Celine. We can’t risk it. You have to raise the baby.”

Zoey’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, there is a baby?” Her voice was shrill with alarm.

“No!” Thank fuck. “But if there were–”

“Mira!” Zoey slapped a hand over Mira’s mouth. “It’s too early for this.”

Zoey just wasn’t getting it. This was important.

Mira pried Zoey’s hand off of her for one last pitch. “Zoey, please–”

“I don’t even want kids!” Zoey was getting just as worked up as Mira. At least she understood the gravity of the situation. “I just want to be the cool aunt!”

“What, no, I'm the cool aunt! I thought we agreed I’d be the best queer wine aunt!” Mira felt unreasonably offended at her future title being usurped. To be fair, though, Zoey would be a super cool aunt.

Zoey blinked, taking her time to process Mira’s logic. “You don’t even drink, Mira.”

“I could,” Mira said petulantly. She felt like her honor was being questioned.

“Please don’t.” Zoey started backing away. That wouldn’t do, not before Mira could get Zoey to hammer out their adoption arrangements. A child’s life might hang in the balance. “And why are you trying to give Rumi’s imaginary baby to me?”

Mira held Zoey’s hands and told her earnestly, “Because I would fuck up that kid so badly.”

“And I wouldn’t?” Zoey said incredulously, trying to tug her hands away. “You said you were the Celine, so you take responsibility!”

“Celine didn’t bandage Rumi’s booboos,” Mira cried, feeling outraged on Rumi’s behalf and horrified she might follow in Celine’s footsteps. “And I didn’t even know you were supposed to!”

Zoey stopped her retreat and searched Mira’s face. “Wait, did you sleep at all?” Zoey pulled her hands away with surprising strength and marched Mira over to the couch. She shoved her into a seat. “Mira, chill. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mira found herself sagging into the couch without realizing it. “I’m talking about how I’d be a terrible parent for Rumi’s demon baby.” It sounded a lot stupider out loud now that Mira had slowed down to think.

“Well I’m not doing it.” Zoey collapsed on the couch beside Mira and sighed, sounding as exhausted as Mira felt. “Just give it to Bobby.”

Was it really so simple?

“Yes,” Mira said, awed at Zoey’s genius. “We’ll give it to Bobby.”

Zoey’s shoulders started shaking, and small giggles quickly turned into helpless laughter. “Were we playing hot potato with Rumi’s hypothetical demon baby?” she asked breathlessly.

Mira came to a realization. “We’re terrible people.” She couldn’t help but join in on the laughter anyway.

When they had calmed a bit, Zoey asked, “What brought this up?” She laid her head on Mira’s shoulder and looked up at her. “I know you. You’d never want to think about Rumi and Jinu in the same room, much less coparenting.”

“I wouldn’t trust them to coparent either,” Mira grumbled. “Can you imagine what unbelievably stupid name they’d saddle the poor kid with?”

Zoey pulled a face halfway between laughing and grimacing, which only proved Mira’s point.

“Rumi told me Celine is probably still in love with her mom,” Mira blurted out. “And I thought it was, like, sad she was still stuck on her after almost thirty years, but then I realized that’s exactly what I would do, and then I thought what if–”

“Wait, she is?” Zoey headed off Mira’s sleep-deprived rambling with an excited interjection. “I knew it! It explains so much.” Zoey paused in her triumphant Zoey was Right Celebration and squinted at Mira consideringly. “Hang on, when did Rumi tell you this?”

“Last night,” Mira said, feeling the comforting allure of the couch pulling her in. It was a treacherous position when she had places to be and not enough sleep. “I let her sleep in. Figured it couldn’t hurt with everything she’s going through.”

“That’s sweet,” Zoey said, and Mira could practically see the gears turn in her head. A small frown pulled at Zoey’s mouth. “Did you guys have another sleepover without me?” Zoey’s tone was light, but Mira knew her well enough to read the hurt underneath.

“You didn’t miss much.” Mira said placatingly. Honestly, Zoey would have been offended by Rumi’s lack of sleepover know-how. “Highlights are that she doesn't want to disappear, and she feels weird about Celine.”

Mira didn't mention they had discussed giving Zoey a pass on murder. The power would go to her head.

“That’s good, right?” Zoey said, mood improving. “I just wish you two would actually sleep once in a while.”

“Rumi slept,” Mira said, feeling oddly defensive. “She’s still sleeping. It’s a miracle.”

“And you?” Zoey said knowingly. She crossed her arms, her projected disappointment ruined by the smile tugging at her mouth.

Mira didn't have an answer for Zoey, but Zoey already knew that.

Zoey laughed. “That’s what I thought.” She bounced up in her seat. “Ooh, we should have a pre-show sleepover tonight! All of us.” Zoey tugged Mira’s ear reproachfully at the last statement, and yeah, Mira probably deserved it. Both her recent sleepovers would have gone over so much better if Zoey had been there.

“Couch fort?” Mira asked hopefully. She could stand another sleepover for a good couch fort and super boring animal documentaries.

“As if there was any other way,” Zoey said brightly. She started prying Mira back off the couch, matching Mira’s sloth with equal energy. “Now come on! Get your breakfast, and let’s get our butts to the stage!” Zoey successfully hauled Mira off the couch and steered her to the fridge. “Are we waking up Rumi?”

“I left a note and said she could meet us there.” Mira shamelessly stole some of Rumi’s leftovers to eat. If Rumi got to sleep in, she could fend for herself. “Besides, the tech crew is probably pissed at us for the song change. I’m not gonna fuck up their schedule because we can’t get our act together.”

Zoey crossed her arms on the counter and watched over Mira as she got her morning routine started. “Having them rig up that golden hoop in two days is kind of crazy.”

Honestly, it was. Mira still worried it was a death trap waiting to happen, but she trusted Rumi’s reflexes if not her common sense. “No chance it would’ve happened without Bobby,” Mira said. They really needed to give the guy a raise. “He’s a little fiend for paperwork.”

Zoey snickered. “He’d be a great dad, though.”

Mira was delighted to find Zoey had already put the coffee on for her. Zoey didn’t even drink coffee, the little angel. “No arguments there.”

The stadium was bare of decoration, the stage stripped to its scaffolding and ready for the dynamic scene changes of tomorrow. A sea of folding chairs stretched from the stage to the far back wall in neat rows, reminding Mira of just how many people were going to be here for them. Normally it was exhilarating, but for the first time since their debut, Mira was terrified of an audience.

These chairs would be filled with the souls who could turn the Honmoon gold, and a part of Mira hoped they would hate everything about their performance on the off chance it might protect Rumi. Being good enough to strengthen the Honmoon but not quite good enough to seal it was going to be a daunting balancing act.

The stadium was oddly quiet, even for the early hour. Rehearsal usually had at least a few techies milling about. There were almost always volunteers to work the sound system and get a sneak peek at Huntr/x behind the scenes. Today, however, the only other occupant of the space was a portable CD player abandoned in the middle of the stage.

Zoey winced. “I think we might’ve really annoyed the crew with the song change.”

Mira walked over and popped open the disc slot. “They burned Golden onto a CD? That’s petty.” Mira was honestly impressed. They could have easily just used their phones with some speakers, but this definitely sent a message. “Maybe don’t tell Bobby. He takes copyright a little too seriously.”

Zoey sank to the ground and started stretching out her legs. “I’d hate to get them in trouble for a joke. And like, we probably deserve it for the flying hoop thing.”

“As long as that thing’s safe, I don’t care what pranks they pull.” Mira folded over into her own stretches, and as the blood rushed to her head, she had a great idea. “If no one else is here, think we can get Rumi to run through it sleeveless?”

Zoey leaned back on her palms, pausing her warmup in favor of staring Mira down, unimpressed. “You just want to see her arms during choreo.”

Mira knew Zoey would understand. “I mean, yes, but for the greater good.”

Zoey smiled wanly. “It could be a good confidence boost for her.” She abandoned any pretense of stretching and lay flat on the stage. “Was I too much yesterday? I keep thinking I pushed too hard.”

“You’re never too much, Zo.” The reassurance was automatic. Mira held out a hand to Zoey. “Come on, the stage is filthy.”

Zoey swiped lazily at Mira’s hand, making no move to actually grab it. “It’s just, she looked so uncomfortable.” Zoey melted further into dusty despair on the unswept floor. “She didn’t say anything, but I should have noticed. I feel like I was just deciding what would help her without listening, and I was jumping to conclusions and–”

Mira recognized a Zoey spiral, and she desperately wanted to avoid it if possible. Zoey deserved to feel bright and happy and like her contributions were valued because they were. To fix this, Mira was going to have to be a decent human being. Ugh. Mira was such a good friend for this.

Mira grabbed Zoey’s hand and hauled her to her feet. “You think you were jumping to conclusions?” Mira brushed off some of the dust and cobwebs from Zoey. “Let me tell you how much I fucked up with Rumi the other night.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What are you talking about? You guys seemed fine.” She let herself be led to the gaffer tape marking their start positions.

Mira rounded to the CD player. “No, it was a complete disaster,” she said, thoroughly embarrassed about what she was about to do. “Of like, epic proportions.” Mira was such a good friend for this.

Zoey crossed her arms. “I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m wounded, Zo.” Mira held a hand to her heart. “You think I’d lie to you?”

“I don’t believe it was a disaster if Rumi said you were–” Zoey made the bizarre hand gesture from yesterday.

Mira would have thought Zoey was making fun of her if she was in literally any other mood. “What does that even mean?”

Zoey shrugged. “You were Mira. Supportive. Sarcastic.” Zoey paused and eyed Mira consideringly. “You made her feel safe.”

That made Mira feel all kinds of ways, and most of them were tooth-rottingly sweet. “And you conveyed all that through–” Mira’s attempt at the gesture looked more like a dying spider than whatever those two kept doing.

Zoey laughed, sounding more like herself. “Close enough.”

Mira felt extremely condescended to. She soldiered on anyway, because Mira was a really good fucking friend.

“Well, I went to talk to her about her weird behavior.” Mira focused on setting the volume for the CD player. This thing was ancient. “And I went in having it all figured out, right?”

“That’s what you guys said,” Zoey said reluctantly, but Mira could hear the interest underneath. Zoey could never resist a good story.

Mira let her finger hover over the play button. “I had no idea.” She grinned at Zoey. “I bluffed my way through the whole thing.”

“Wait how?” Hook, line, sinker.

“I’ll tell you if you run through your choreo for me.” Mira hit play, and the opening notes of Golden filtered through the tinny speakers. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

“What? No,” Zoey whined, but she assumed her starting pose anyway. “You know I hate running it solo.”

“You want to hear how it went or not?” Mira said, and she knew Zoey did. Mira waited for the exact moment before Zoey needed to move for the big reveal. “Zoey, I went in thinking she was gay.”

The bass kicked in, and suddenly Zoey was breathlessly laughing and trying to keep up with her choreo at the same time. “You’re kidding,” Zoey called out, overjoyed at Mira’s suffering and a half step behind in the routine.

“Loosen those fingers on the lunge,” Mira said. “From the top?”

“Yes, fine!” Zoey giggled and tried to hold herself still for the next attempt, arms raised and waiting. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I thought I was being a good friend,” Again, Mira waited until just before the bass to share her next tidbit, “I let her know she could come out to me.”

“Mira, no,” Zoey grinned, and she hit the lunge with loose fingers and loose shoulders. Excellent improvement. “That’s so dumb!”

“It gets dumber,” Mira promised, then frowned and paused the music. “Fix that face on the crossover. You look constipated.”

“Mira!”

“I’m serious!” Mira laughed. “You did great on the lunge, but you’re thinking too much about your hands right after. I need you to focus on footwork there.”

“How can I focus on footwork at a time like this?” Zoey shook herself loose and returned to the start, determined to get the whole story.

Mira began again, not bothering to time her story this time around. “I told her I knew what she was struggling with, and that she could tell me anything.”

“Aw,” Zoey cooed, and while her footing was a little off, she pulled through to the next step in the choreo. “That’s so cute, Mira.”

“Yeah, she didn’t tell me shit.” Mira watched with a professional eye as Zoey moved into the undulations needed for the line, ‘given the throne.’ “She showed me.” Mira saw the moment Zoey put the dots together and stopped the track.

“No.” Zoey fell out of a body roll into a belly laugh. “The hoodie?”

“And the turtleneck.” Mira rewound and hit play, and Zoey scrambled back to start. “I wanna see you be like water, Zoey, that transition into your solo needs to be fluid.”

“How can I–” Zoey lunged, fingers a bit stiff but pose passable. “Don’t make me laugh if you–” she hit the crossover, feet sure but expression still pinched with concentration. Zoey moved into the fluid movements of Rumi’s solo.

“I didn’t have my glasses,” Mira dropped casually. “So I couldn’t even see her patterns.”

Zoey gave up entirely, hands on knees. “Mira, how?” She laughed brightly. “You are literally the only person this could happen to.”

“One more from the top, and I’ll tell you the worst part.” Mira hit play before Zoey fully caught her breath.

“It gets worse?” Zoey cried in excitement, then busted her way through the routine. She was doing great, if a little slow on the transitions. Zoey finally made it to her solo uninterrupted and belted out her lines with enthusiasm.

Rather than continuing into Mira’s section, Zoey crossed her arms expectantly. “What, no corrections?”

“Nah,” Mira said sincerely, hitting pause. “That section is all you. I wouldn't change a thing.”

It was rare for Zoey to blush because of something Mira said, and Mira knew a good deal of it was because Zoey had made her own choreography for her solo. To have someone acknowledge that it represented Zoey in a fundamental way was important to her. It was unusual, but in this moment Mira knew Zoey was proud of herself.

Mira hoped they could make more moments like this together.

“I know what you're doing,” Zoey said with mock disapproval.

“Is it working?”

“Yeah,” Zoey said, and she walked over and gave Mira a big, sweaty hug. “Thanks.”

Mira tried to push her away, but the damp little gremlin had latched on. “Gross!” Mira said. “Off! Away with you!” Zoey held on tighter.

“It’s your own fault!” Zoey sang. “Now do a run through with me. You owe me that worst part before Rumi gets here.”

A mischievous grin passed over Zoey’s face, and she slapped the play button without rewinding. She raced back into position, seamlessly falling into the transition between her and Mira’s solos.

Mira scrambled to catch up and managed to make the high kick on time, but there wasn’t much of the choreo left, all things considered. Mira laughed with Zoey as the music trundled on into what would be Rumi’s crazy flying ring section.

Eyeing an eager Zoey, Mira laid the last of her dignity to rest with a solemn farewell. “So I didn’t have my glasses, right? No idea Rumi has patterns even though she’s half naked in front of me.”

Zoey buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Why did she even do that?”

“I think she realized I couldn’t see,” Mira mimed a step forward. “So she stepped closer.”

“No, where is this going?” Zoey peeked through her fingers. “What did you do?”

“She stepped closer, and all I can see are abs. Like the most incredible abs I’ve ever seen.” Mira whined. “Zoey, I didn’t even notice she had patterns.”

“Mira, that’s so gay,” Zoey whispered in awe.

“Her abs had their own mood lighting!” Mira threw her hands up at the ridiculousness of it all. “Which now I know is because she was ashamed. I can’t even enjoy memory abs without getting sad.” Mira slumped over, using Zoey’s head as an armrest.

Zoey gamely allowed Mira to use her as furniture and looked up at her. “So, how does it end? I’m kind of afraid to ask.” Zoey’s wide smile said otherwise.

Mira sighed dramatically, and it was only partially acting. “The first thing I said after she showed me was, ‘I thought you were gay.’”

Zoey groaned. “Mira! Why?”

“And then–”

“Don’t you dare tell me there’s more.” Zoey looked like she might burst from a combination of delight, embarrassment, and disbelief.

Mira brought her other arm on top of Zoey’s head and sadly rested her chin there, too. “Before she could say anything, I said, ‘Oh, you have patterns, pretty fancy.’ Zoey. Fancy. I called them fancy.”

“Did you successfully gay panic your way through Rumi admitting she was half demon?” Zoey asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Mira lamented, good deed done for the day. “Now, lets take it from the top.”

“Taskmaster,” Zoey accused as she pushed Mira off. “You know you’ll never live this down, right?”

“Yeah,” Mira said, resigned. “I know.”

Zoey smiled at her, soft and genuine. “Seriously, thanks.”

Mira gave Zoey a quick hug before she started up the music again, then she joined her side-by-side and ready to make the most of their time. They managed three full runs, and Mira was pleased with the progress so far. Sleep-deprived as she might be, Mira reveled in the precision and timing of dance. She hoped Rumi would be along soon, and Mira knew she’d never hear the end of it if Rumi actually overslept. That might as well be a cataclysmic-level event.

For now, though, Mira just needed to focus on harassing Zoey about her stupid-looking face during the crossover. Tomorrow would be the big day, and it was a point of pride for Mira to make their moves shine. Mira considered the Honmoon, threads rippling with potential. Well, maybe the choreo didn’t need to be perfect. Mira would leave Zoey unharassed for now.

Chapter Text

Two more practice runs of Golden’s choreography with Zoey passed, and Mira was getting a little worried Rumi might not show up. Mira was also starting to get annoyed by the morning sun warming the open-air auditorium, the rising humidity of late spring made even more unpleasant. She wondered for the umpteenth time why they couldn’t do this indoors as she ran a hand over her sweaty neck, hair stuck fast. Ugh. No one needed this much hair.

At least the network didn’t host these stupid outdoor events during monsoon season, or it’d be truly miserable. Honestly, Huntr/x should schedule their long-overdue break for the hottest months of the year and just avoid any possibility of performing in the muggy Seoul summer.

“Hey, Zo,” Mira said, working through her cooldown exercises during their five-minute break. “You got a spare hair thing?”

“Nope, sorry!” Zoey sat down on the edge of the stage, kicking her legs. Mira disapproved. Zoey should be stretching out right now if they wanted to get back to it. “And last time you borrowed one, it snapped.” Zoey snickered.

Whose stupid idea had it been to make ass-length hair part of Mira’s idol image? Or rather, why had nobody told her that an ill-informed decision she made at seventeen would be permanent? Even Rumi apparently had more sense than Mira with her braid, and that thing was a liability. Although, that wasn’t a half bad idea right now.

Mira considered the dinky little hair ties that held up her mini-pigtails. “Think I could manage a braid with these?” she asked, working them out of her hair.

Zoey laughed. “You’d have to do two braids, and with that color?” She grinned mischievously. “You’d look like Pippi Longstocking.”

Mira had no idea what a Pippi Longstocking was, but it felt insulting. “Is this another American reference I’m not getting?”

“It's from a movie and a kid’s book.” Zoey rolled her eyes. “I swear you actively avoid learning about the culture.”

Mira wanted nothing to do with the culture at this moment or any other moment. She was always happy when Zoey shared this part of her, but Mira was also careful not to ask too many clarifying questions at any given time. It never ended well.

Mira was still a little traumatized from their trainee days, back when they were brand new acquaintances, all clashing personalities and barely even teenagers. With her etiquette lessons still an ingrained instinct at that point, Mira had reflexively asked after Zoey’s ‘Uncle Sam’s’ health after hearing her reference him.

Zoey had laughed so hard she almost puked. Confused and offended, Mira had then immediately challenged Zoey to a fight, and Zoey proceeded to kick her ass while crying and apologizing. To top it off, the two of them got in trouble with Celine, and that had been the start of the endless singing burpee punishments.

It had been the single most humiliating event of Mira’s life, and Zoey continued to mock her with it when Mira least expected it. Zoey even referenced it on her fucking branded ramyeon cup. So yeah, Mira was a little wary about addressing the culture.

“I learn plenty about the culture,” Mira said. “I just don’t read kid’s books. That would be weird.”

“But Mira,” Zoey said, grinning, “isn’t that your reading level?”

“Only in English!” Mira griped back, then realized how dumb that made her sound. “Shut up, I’m fluent.”

“Ish,” Zoey said, waggling her hand side-to-side. “Now c’mere, I want to braid your hair.”

Mira was tempted to refuse on account of Zoey continuing to insult her, but Mira’s irritation at the sheer amount of hair weighing on her neck was a strong motivator. It wasn’t like they could get much more done without Rumi here, anyway.

“Fine.” Mira dropped down next to Zoey cross-legged and turned her back to her. “Just don’t make me look like Pippo Longsocks or whatever.” Mira grimaced. “Or Rumi. We don’t need to match.”

“It’s Pippi–” Zoey snorted as she started sectioning Mira’s hair. “I know what you’re doing.” She laughed, and Mira was a little concerned about whatever might be going on back there. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it cute.”

“You ever think we braid too much hair?” Mira asked, both anxious at their choreo time ticking away and enjoying not having to move for a bit. “With Rumi, it’s practically worked into our schedule.”

Zoey hummed as she split Mira’s hair down the middle and started on the left side. “It’s not like she’ll let the stylists touch it, and she can barely reach it these days. You guys have way too much hair.”

Rumi had always been skittish about other people’s touch, but it had thankfully never extended to Mira and Zoey past their first year as trainees. Still, it’s not like Rumi often initiated much with them. In the past, Rumi had just passively let Mira and Zoey hang off of her like the boundary-lacking goblins they were.

“About the touching thing.” Mira tried to twist around to see Zoey, but a firm hand on her head stopped her. Mira huffed. “Is it just me, or was she way more touchy-feely yesterday?”

Zoey was quiet for some time, and Mira thought she maybe didn’t hear the question as she focused on the braids. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Zoey to get a little too in the zone. Mira had opened her mouth to repeat herself when Zoey finally said, “I have a theory.”

This was either going to be something profound, or Zoey was going to try and rope Mira into ghost hunting.

“I’m not going ghost hunting with you again,” Mira replied automatically.

“If demons are real, ghosts can be real too!” Zoey cried, the argument familiar. She poked Mira’s back admonishingly. “Wait, no, my theory is about Rumi.”

Zoey better not be theorizing that Rumi could sense ghosts like a cat with her demonic heritage. Although now that Mira thought about it, they did have an actual magical cat on hand. If anyone could see ghosts, Derpy might be able to.

Mira would not voice this out loud lest Zoey drag her and the poor tiger into some filthy and long-abandoned building with EMF equipment and manic glee.

Mira sighed, bracing herself. “Let’s hear it.”

“I think Rumi is imitating us,” Zoey said, stealing one of Mira’s hair ties from her fingers.

Mira waited for Zoey to elaborate with something that made more sense, but nothing came. “Uh, what?” Mira asked, trying to see Zoey through the corner of her eye without moving her head. “Rumi is, like…” There was only one real way to put it. “She’s Rumi. I don’t think she could be anyone else if she wanted to.”

Rumi was possibly the dorkiest being to ever live, but she was always unapologetically herself.

“Not, like, our personalities.” Zoey started combing her fingers through a section of Mira’s still-loose hair. “Our behavior, maybe.”

Well, that was a terrifying thought. Zoey had always been the peacekeeper, but Rumi was definitely the calming influence. Without Rumi? The two of them tended to go a little feral.

Bathhouse excursions had ended in more property damage than Mira would ever admit, and only some of it was the demons’ fault.

“Zoey,” Mira said warily. “That’s bad. We need one sane–” Mira blinked. “None of us are sane, are we?”

Zoey laughed. “I mean our touchy-feely behavior.” Mira really wished Zoey would address her concern about their collective sanity instead of steamrolling ahead. Zoey steamrolled ahead anyway, “Beyond hugs and stuff, she's never really reached out to us, you know? Not much hand holding or anything.”

“Maybe she's just not comfortable with it.” Mira would have been a lot more certain of that just two days ago, but now she was relearning where all the lines were. The scariest part was that it kind of felt like there weren’t lines anymore.

“Sure,” Zoey replied, the practiced motions of her hands just visible over Mira’s shoulder, “but like you said, yesterday she did a whole lot more.”

Zoey didn’t even know the half of it with Rumi’s newfound penchant for latching on to Mira like a sexy barnacle. Mira grimaced at the sudden mental image of Rumi as a barnacle, which was not sexy at all.

Unaware of Mira’s renewed distaste for sea life in general, Zoey continued, “I just realized everything Rumi did start was something one of us had already done.” Zoey held her hand out for Mira’s second hair tie, and Mira passed it over.

Mira remembered a lot of touching yesterday. Probably too much touching, if she was being honest with herself. That said, she wasn’t sure she remembered Rumi copying something Mira had done. It’s not like Rumi caressed her arms lovingly or anything.

Mira flushed. “Any examples?” she asked, hoping Zoey wouldn’t notice and inevitably make fun of her.

“Like, I put my head in her lap,” Zoey said. “Then she put her head in yours later.”

Mira’s felt her face warm further at the reminder, and she wished Zoey would hurry up and actually braid the hair on the back of her neck so they could stop dissecting this.

Unfortunately, the biggest contradiction to this theory was one Mira could never, ever share with Zoey. Last night, Rumi had drawn those wonderful little circles into Mira’s back. That had been downright bold on Rumi’s part, and Mira was still embarrassed by how she had just melted like a sleepy kitten. Rumi had taken her own initiative, because Mira certainly wouldn’t have been brave enough to–

Now that Mira thought about it, hadn't she done the exact same thing to Rumi when comforting her about her mom? Mira had been so freaked by the possibility of being the Celine, she had hardly noticed.

Holy shit, Zoey might be right.

“Are you saying she's figuring out her own boundaries by copying us?” Mira asked. That was equal parts adorable and sad.

“Maybe?” Zoey said, and Mira felt the hands at her back rise and fall with a shrug.

“That’s a terrible idea.” Mira said as she drew her legs to her chest, bothered by the idea that Rumi knew so little about herself. “We have no boundaries.”

“We do too have–” Zoey laughed. “Okay, no, we really don’t. I think the best we can do is listen to her and let her know that she can.”

“Like she’d even tell us,” Mira grumbled.

“All done,” Zoey said, spinning Mira back around to face her.

Already? Zoey hadn’t even touched the hair at Mira’s neck to braid it up, and that had been the whole point.

Mira patted about the crown of her head. “Did you literally just make my usual pigtails into braids?”

“Yes!” Zoey said proudly.

Mira sighed. She tried to find the motivation to restart their choreo practice, but it was hard without Rumi there as the workaholic backup to help wrangle Zoey in. Or to help wrangle Mira in. Mira realized she just missed Rumi.

A sudden twist of darkness among the folding chairs in the center of the audience interrupted Mira’s gay pining. Her Hunter’s instincts had her braced and at the ready in an instant. Zoey tensed at her side, and they watched warily as shadows coalesced into a cloud of demonic smoke, the kind that heralded a teleporter.

That was not a run-of-the-mill ability, and Mira had an idea of just who might have the audacity to crash a Hunter’s rehearsal. Mira was proven right at the sight of a punchable smirk and dumb cowlicked hair. She wasn’t sure if her mood lifted or fell at the sight of Derpy rising from the ground behind him, creepy bird on his head. The tiger butted up against Jinu, sending the bird tumbling to the ground and hopping away indignantly. Seeing the clear adoration Derpy had for Jinu, Mira decided it was definitely a bad feeling.

Mira didn’t share very well.

“What is he doing here?” Zoey whispered, fingers twitching and ready to summon her shinkal in an instant.

“Besides stinking up the place? Who fucking knows?” Mira honestly didn’t care why Jinu was here because he needed to leave. She glared his way. “If he cuts into our rehearsal time, I’m gonna smash his face in.”

Zoey stifled a laugh. “You’d do that anyway.” She stood and dusted herself off. “I’m just gonna ask him.”

“Wait, Zoey, no!” Mira hissed. She did not want to encourage more conversation with this manipulative jerk. They needed to practice their choreo, not have a cup of tea with a murderer.

“Hi there!” Zoey raised her voice enough for Jinu to hear, and the cheerful mask she cultivated for fans slipped over her like a second skin. “Looking for Rumi?”

Only Mira and Rumi would have been able to tell just how much deadly potential lay in the tense set of Zoey’s shoulders despite the inviting smile. That smile had always freaked Mira out a little, but all three of them were a bit unhinged in their own special ways.

“Ah, yes,” Jinu called back with surprising politeness, but he noticeably kept his distance. Stupid asshole had no idea Zoey could ice him easily from this range. “She told me to meet her here.”

Rumi told him to come here during their choreo time? Obviously Rumi had no fucking respect for Mira’s craft.

Mira exchanged a questioning look with Zoey, who gave a subtle shake of her head.

So neither of them knew Rumi had apparently arranged this. Great. Mira’s only comfort was that Jinu looked startled to see them too. Seemed like Rumi sucked at telling everyone the truth.

Mira also realized he probably wasn't going to leave without talking to Rumi. Mira resolved to just go stab him. He'd be back before the Idol Awards thanks to Gwi-Ma, and then they could get back to rehearsal. Mira took her practice time seriously, and she wasn't about to be derailed by this smarmy fucker.

A hand on Mira’s arm stopped her in her tracks. She turned, and Zoey was giving Mira one of her most stern looks. It was pretty cheerful. “Rumi says I'm in charge when she's not here,” Zoey said.

“What?” That seemed kind of unfair. “When did that happen?”

“Ages ago.” Zoey crossed her arms, and she’d probably look more authoritative if she wasn’t fighting a smile. If Zoey were capable of lying with a straight face, Mira might even suspect something.

Mira sighed. “Fine, then.” Her fingers itched to summon her woldo. “What do you think we should do? I'm not letting him see our routine, and we don't exactly have an endless time slot.”

“Rumi will probably be here soon.” Zoey worried at her lip, apparently not actually enjoying being in charge. “Why don’t we just wait until she gets here?”

“I hate this plan,” Mira said, starting for the edge of the stage. “I'm just gonna go smash his face in.”

Zoey latched onto Mira’s shoulder and turned her back around to face her. “We could tell him to come back later?”

“Why would we do that?” Mira felt her anger building, hurt that Rumi continued to fucking lie. “I want him out of my rehearsal now, and I'm happy to resort to violence to get it.

Zoey pulled out the big guns, namely Mira’s pathetic obsession with keeping Rumi happy. “Rumi would be upset with you if her meeting got messed up.”

Mira considered how willing she was to live with that, and internally cringed at her reluctance to cause Rumi even mild disappointment. “Come with me if you’re so worried.”

The smile Zoey had been fighting won the battle, and a grin crept across her face. “If we both go over there, he’s definitely getting stabbed.”

“I see no downsides.” Mira returned the smile, then immediately felt duped as Zoey stuck her tongue out and turned back to Jinu.

“You can wait here,” Zoey called to Jinu as Mira tried and failed to wrestle a hand over her mouth. Mira glared at Zoey for enabling this stupid farce.

Jinu waved in response, then lowered himself into a folding chair in an obviously practiced movement. The guy looked like he was sweating bullets. Did he think anyone actually bought that casual act?

Honestly, the dude should have been freaking out. Jinu’s survival instincts must have hit rock bottom a century ago if he thought it was a good idea to just waltz up to two Hunters. Mira cut a glance at the tiger stretched out next to Jinu in the aisle. Even if she did go over there, Derpy probably wouldn’t let Mira stab Jinu, right?

Mira kind of wanted to try anyway. And, well, if Jinu started something, who could blame Mira for reacting in self defense? Surely Derpy wouldn’t have an objection to that. Mira started toward them.

Zoey stepped in front of Mira, squaring her shoulders in a kind of adorable imitation of Rumi. “If you go over there, just don’t stab him,” Zoey said, staring Mira down.

Mira held up her hands placatingly. “I wasn’t going to stab him.” Much. Zoey’s flat look proved she knew better, so Mira cast about for a plausible explanation. Unfortunately, there wasn’t exactly a wealth of friendly topics for Mira and Jinu to talk about. Except– “I wanted to say hi to Derpy.”

Perfect excuse.

Mira felt proud of her quick thinking for all of two seconds. Then she realized she actually had to talk to Jinu now if she walked over there, and under Zoey’s watchful eye Mira would probably have to be civil. Ugh.

“I’m in charge, and I’m trusting you not to stab him.” Zoey knew the exact words to get Mira to do what she wanted because Mira hated breaking trust more than anything. If that trust happened to touch on one of Mira’s deepest insecurities about her lack of restraint? That was fucking mean.

“Oh, come on, that’s a low blow!” Mira griped. “Now you know I can’t stab him.”

“Good.” Zoey smiled at her beatifically, the manipulative little goblin. Her grin took on a sharp edge. “You’re welcome to if he gives you trouble, though.”

Mira backed toward the edge of the stage. “Define trouble.” She scarpered before Zoey could impose any more restrictions.

Mira dropped down off the stage and made her way over, steps measured and empty hands intentionally visible. Jinu watched her approach warily, and Mira saw how he tried to hide the way his muscles tensed. The mean streak in her reveled at his obvious discomfort.

Derpy stretched into a yawn, then strutted forward to meet Mira halfway. He excitedly twined around her legs and smacked her head with his fluffy tail, doing his best to knock her off balance. Mira couldn’t help but smile at him as she scratched deep into his cheek ruff, and he rumbled contentedly under the attention.

Jinu followed the tiger cautiously, expression unreadable. As he neared, Mira realized Jinu actually did have a bit of a smell to him. Mira had been joking about him not washing his clothes! This was the guy Rumi had been ready to spill her secrets to?

“How’d you con Derpy into hanging out with you?” Mira asked, vindictively pleased the tiger was still preoccupied with her instead of Jinu.

Jinu stopped in his tracks, just a few feet away. “Derpy?” He said the word like the syllables were foreign.

How dumb was this guy? “Yeah,” Mira said slowly. “Isn’t that his name?” She gestured toward the tiger, who was unfortunately padding his way back to Jinu.

“Oh.” Jinu blinked stupidly and looked down at Derpy as the tiger nuzzled his hand. “I don’t know. Is it?”

“That’s what Rumi calls him.” Mira was convinced this guy was extremely dumb. “Hang on, how long have you known him?”

Jinu looked uncomfortable at the question, but he reluctantly answered as Derpy nudged him pointedly. “Since I first entered the demon world.”

Mira stared at him, disbelieving. “You had 400 years to come up with a name and you didn’t?”

Jinu’s face twisted, and Mira recognized the scowl he was trying to hide beneath a brooding look. “I never thought about it,” Jinu said, carefully neutral.

Mira realized that Jinu had the personality of drying paint. She also despaired that she had been right that Rumi and Jinu should never be allowed to name a child.

Figuring Jinu was probably her best source of information on Derpy despite his ineptitude, Mira asked, “So, what does he eat?”

Jinu didn’t bother to answer.

Mira bristled at Jinu’s silence. “What, is it a secret or something?” This jerk was probably going to keep it to himself so he could be the sole briber.

Jinu snorted. “I don’t think he eats anything.”

If this guy was telling the truth, and it was a big if, Mira had bought catnip for nothing.

Derpy seemingly got bored with Jinu’s lack of attention, so he pranced back over to Mira. She obliged him with as many pets as he wanted, feeling smug and resolving to pretend Jinu didn’t exist.

Mira was irritated when Jinu interrupted her Derpy petting time with his stupid voice. “So you know I lived 400 years ago,” Jinu said, stating the obvious because he was evidently a simple creature. He tried and failed to look uninvested when he asked, “What else did she tell you?”

“Not much, honestly.” Mira felt irritated that his shoulders relaxed at that. She didn’t want to make him feel comfortable. “She said you made a deal with Gwi-Ma, and he screwed you and your family over.”

Mira sighed at Zoey calling out, “Try to be nice!” from the stage.

Mira would absolutely ignore Zoey normally, but Mira also didn’t want to hurt her feelings by undermining her being ‘in charge.’ It would break her heart, and Mira wasn’t about to be responsible for that.

“Sucks if true, I guess,” Mira added reluctantly. That was the absolute extent of how nice she was willing to be.

“Is that how she framed it?” Jinu sounded genuinely interested.

Mira wanted to turn around and march away immediately. How were they actually being civil? This felt gross. And wrong. Mira did not feel comfortable with this.

Actually, no. Fuck civil, and fuck nice. This asshole was complicit in stealing the souls of hundreds of people.

Mira also couldn’t stab him at the moment, so she took the next best option. Zoey would understand.

“So, what’s that smell?” Mira decided some mild bullying was in order. If he got riled up enough to give her trouble? Well, it's not like that'd be her fault.

“What?” Jinu’s stupid eyes blinked stupidly.

“You’ve been alive since the Joseon Era,” Mira said, holding a hand to her nose. “Have you seriously not figured out how to bathe in 400 years?”

“Excuse me?”

How was he this dense? Was he too thick to be properly bullied? He and Rumi must be a match made in… whatever demons called their domain.

Mira threw her hands up, frustrated. “Why do you reek like farts?”

A devious smile crept across Jinu’s face, and Mira was deeply disturbed by his reaction. What kind of psycho got a shit-eating grin because they smelled bad? Mira resolved to inform Rumi how much of an unhinged freak her demon boyfriend was.

At that particular mental wording, Mira just about had a self-inflicted meltdown. No, fuck no. Absolutely not. Mira snapped her jaw shut in irritation and accidentally bit her tongue. She refused to flinch because it was her own goddamn fault, and she wasn’t about to let Jinu see her crash out because she had unintentionally thought the word ‘boyfriend.’

Jinu waved mockingly and disappeared in a cloud of black and red smoke. Mira was kind of annoyed by how metal it looked. Then she caught a whiff of it and almost gagged at the overwhelming scent of rotten eggs. Banishing demons smelled of ozone, so what the hell was this? What kind of stupid teleportation power came with the drawback of smelling like raw sewage? If Rumi ever did that, it might actually be a deal breaker.

Mira tried not to feel dismayed at the fact that no, it probably wouldn’t be a deal breaker. They would definitely need house rules about it, though.

Mira yelped as Jinu popped back into stinky existence behind her left shoulder, and her woldo was at his throat without conscious thought.

“Woah!” Jinu raised his hands in surrender and scrambled backward, tripping over a folding chair. He straightened himself and plastered on a transparently fake grin, eyes still wide with panic. “Is this how Hunters show their hospitality?”

“Are you stupid?” Mira had to very, very deliberately force her hand to release her weapon back into the Honmoon, then immediately regretted not just banishing him while she had it out. She scowled at Jinu’s smug facade. “Don’t do that if you don’t want to get stabbed!”

Derpy watched their back and forth with a delighted-sounding croon.

“It’s sulfur, by the way.” Jinu said blandly, as if he hadn’t been a flick of the wrist from being skewered. At Mira’s unchanged expression, he elaborated, “The smell?”

Did this guy think he was slick? Mira was an expert at pretending she wasn’t a loser, so it was easy to spot in others. Mira could practically smell the pathetic aura surrounding him. It unfortunately smelled like farts.

“Thank you for the disgusting trivia,” Mira snarked back. “Remind me to prop open a window at the Idol Awards.”

Jinu smiled at her as if she had complimented him. Dishonest fucker. He tucked his hands into his pockets, probably aiming for casual and failing miserably, the sweat beading at his brow a dead giveaway. “So, did you just come over here to insult me?”

Well, yes, but if Mira admitted that it would be conceding to this smarmy asshole.

“Just making sure you don’t, like, kidnap a child or kick a cat.” Mira feigned boredom with the conversation.

Derpy looked alarmed by the suggestion. He sidled away from the both of them.

“Why would I do that?” Jinu asked innocently, leaning a hip against the chair he had almost faceplanted in. Did he even realize he looked like a complete douchebag?

Mira sighed as if the conversation was beneath her. It was, goddamn it. “What else would demons do for fun?” She inspected her nails as if they were more interesting than Jinu. Her nails honestly had more personality than this walking bag of hot air, so it wasn’t difficult to pretend.

“There’s a lot of arm wrestling. I play my bipa.” Jinu shrugged nonchalantly, but Mira got the impression he might actually be telling the truth here. “Sometimes there’s board games.” Then he smiled, pleased with himself. “Cat-kicking is only on Tuesdays.”

Derpy sank into the Honmoon up to his nose, eyes narrowed and darting between them.

Was Jinu smiling at his own jokes? Mira felt embarrassed just existing near him. And board games? This idiot expected her to believe demons sat around and played fucking board games?

Mira considered Jinu for a moment. “You ever play chess?” she asked.

The sharp look Jinu gave her told Mira that he absolutely did. “Sometimes,” Jinu said, sounding uninterested in the prospect.

Mira knew better.

“You any good?” It had been ages since Mira had a good challenge. If she couldn’t crush him physically at the moment, intellectually was the next best thing. And Mira would crush him.

A competitive glint crept into Jinu’s eyes. “Why, are you offering a game?”

“Bring it, turtle-boy.” Mira bared her teeth.

From behind her, Mira heard Zoey shriek, “That’s an insult to turtles!”

Jinu laughed, startled. “Turtle-boy?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mira said mockingly.

Jinu’s gaze slid over the top of Mira’s head, and she really didn’t like the way his eyes lit up. Was the creep looking at Zoey like that? Fucking weirdo needed to back off Mira’s girls. She didn’t have long to glare him into retreating because he winked at Mira and disappeared in another rancid-smelling wisp of smoke.

Mira was starting to think this guy was kind of a loser. Well no, she already thought that he was a loser. It was just finally being confirmed that Mira was, in fact, great at reading people. This guy was a huge loser.

Derpy bounced back out of the Honmoon excitedly, and Mira thought he was coming in for more attention with Jinu gone. Instead, he brushed right past Mira.

“Mira!” Rumi’s voice scolded, far too close.

Mira whirled around to see Rumi, Derpy winding around her waist. She was irate and glorious in a white hoodie and looking incredibly well rested. Rumi was practically glowing. Mira momentarily lamented the long sleeves, but she was surprised by the lack of accompanying turtleneck, thin tendrils of patterns peeking just past her collar. Rumi looked like a magical warrior princess in sweatpants, and Mira was powerless before her.

“What happened?” Rumi demanded as she stepped into Mira’s space, visibly disappointed.

The reminder of Jinu doused Mira’s smitten adoration. Why was Rumi immediately taking his side? Mira didn't even warrant a hello? How about a good morning, thanks for talking me through my insecurities and being an awesome friend who let me sleep in? What about thanks for holding me through the night even though I drool? No? Nothing?

This was their first time seeing each other since last night. Mira thought it had meant something to Rumi, but apparently not. Must have been another big, fat wrong assumption.

Mira crossed her arms defensively. “Nothing,” she grit between clenched teeth, refusing to acknowledge the tears pricking at her eyes. “We talked about board games.”

“Board games.” Rumi leveled a flat look at Mira. “You expect me to believe that?”

Jinu poofed back in over Mira’s right shoulder, and her woldo was pressed under his chin in a heartbeat. If he had been expecting she’d be any slower on the draw with her other hand, then he was as stupid as he looked. Celine had drilled them until they were damn near ambidextrous with their weapons. Mira sneered at him over her shoulder.

Rumi blanched and lunged for Mira’s woldo, trying to pry it away from Jinu’s neck. Mira wasn’t even close to stabbing him; she was just proving a point. Oh, so Jinu got the benefit of the doubt, but Mira didn’t? It couldn't have been the soul-stealing demon in the wrong here, obviously. Of course Rumi had to blame overly aggressive Mira for always fucking things up. Why had Mira expected differently? Rumi didn’t trust Mira to have restraint, because nobody ever did.

Of course Rumi would rather side with fucking Jinu than Mira, who had been by her side for over a decade. Rumi would rather have the man who proudly smelled like farts.

Feeling petty, Mira opened her hand and dropped her woldo. At the sudden lack of resistance, Rumi fell back on her stupidly perfect ass.

Or Rumi would have fallen if Jinu hadn’t swooped in and caught her like the leading man on the cover of a trashy romance novel.

Motherfucker!

Mira took a deep breath and turned on her heel to go rejoin Zoey onstage. Mira was done here. She recognized she was getting too worked up, and she would not be capable of deescalating if she stayed. She was spitefully glad that Derpy slunk after her instead of staying with that smelly jerk.

Mira’s decision to walk away was proven wise when she heard Rumi ask, “Jinu, what happened between you two?”

“Hm?” Jinu said, pretending he hadn’t heard the question at first. The guy was painfully fake. “Oh, we just talked about board games.”

“You two actually talked about board games?”

Mira would have flipped her lid if she had to stand next to the happy couple while Rumi clearly demonstrated how little she trusted Mira’s word over Jinu’s. Instead, Mira picked up the pace and hoisted herself up onto the stage. Mira didn’t even care that the stupid bird was on Zoey’s head, because Zoey was waiting with open arms.

Zoey was the best.

“That was rough,” Zoey said as Mira sagged into her hug. “You wanna talk about it?”

Mira whined in protest, falling limp in Zoey’s arms. Mira felt Derpy wrap around them both, warm and solid, and she let Zoey’s breathing guide her own. Mira calmed down slowly, letting her anger gradually wash away like a high tide rolling out.

“Fucking morons,” Mira mumbled once she was steady. She felt a pinch on her scalp, and Mira was unsettled by the sight of the horrible little magpie preening through her hair from Zoey’s shoulder. Gross.

Zoey patted Mira’s back, ignoring the abomination invading their space. “Yeah,” Zoey said, “it was pretty moronic. You good?”

“No, but thanks. Got too in my own head.” Mira pulled back, feeling drained and a little on edge. That bird better not steal her hair for some fucked up ritual. Mira trusted Zoey to keep it in line, though. “Rumi okay over there?”

“I saw that.” Zoey leaned against Mira’s side, her presence grounding. “And she’s fine. I prepped her yesterday, and no one’s tried to kill each other yet.”

Mira peered over Zoey’s head, and while their body language was incomprehensible, Rumi and Jinu were in one piece. Pity. Jinu could stand to be in a few more pieces.

“What would I do without you?” Mira was intensely grateful for Zoey. It wasn’t like Mira could ever be this kind of irreplaceable support for others, and the thought lanced through her still-sensitive heart. She really didn’t deserve Zoey.

Zoey squeezed Mira’s waist in a gentle side hug. “Probably be miserable.” Then, as if reading Mira’s mind, Zoey added, “You did the same for me earlier. We stick together, even when our third is being a fucking moron.”

A startled laugh escaped Mira at Zoey’s language. “I must be a bad influence.”

“Or the best kind.” Zoey pinched Mira’s side, the cheeky little thing.

Now that Mira had calmed down, she fully recognized her reaction had been overblown despite the lingering hurt. From here, Rumi didn’t look like she was taking Jinu’s side in anything, and that was a small comfort. Mira probably shouldn’t have left Rumi alone over there with Jinu, but Mira also knew she’d have done something she regretted if she stayed.

Fucking feelings. At least Mira had walked away this time.

Mira wrapped a careful arm around Zoey’s shoulder, extremely mindful of the nightmare creature eyeing her fingers. They both made their way to the edge of the stage and sat, side by side and legs dangling off the edge to wait for Rumi to finish her stupid meeting. Mira just really wanted to get back to rehearsal, and this was eating into their preciously limited time.

Derpy rubbed his cheek against Mira’s, then gently headbutted Sussie over Zoey’s shoulder. The bird was dislodged from Zoey’s shoulder with an indignant squawk, and she flew up to perch on the stage rigging. If Mira didn’t know better, she’d say the thing was pouting.

Rather than hop down like Mira knew he easily could, Derpy opened a portal in the Honmoon to travel through the floor of the stage and out the side into the audience. Mira admired his dedication to laziness as he meandered off toward Rumi and Jinu.

“What are they doing?” Zoey asked, face twisted in confusion and disapproval. “That doesn’t look like pickup artistry.”

Mira really didn’t want to know if Zoey was expecting Jinu or Rumi to be the pickup artist in this interaction. Both were alarming concepts. If Zoey’s prep work actually involved teaching Rumi how to neg people, Mira might have to flee the country.

Looking at the two morons, though, Mira was genuinely baffled. Whatever they were discussing, Rumi and Jinu were keeping their voices quiet enough that she and Zoey couldn’t hear. Rumi acted out… something energetically, and she didn’t look happy about it. Jinu stood with his shoulders stiff and his face in a rictus grin, occasionally gesturing at Rumi in a way that felt passive aggressive even from here.

“Maybe they’re just the same breed of socially inept?” Mira speculated. It felt a bit like watching one of Zoey’s nature documentaries on mute.

Hang on, did Rumi just kick Jinu in the shin? Never mind, this was great. Rumi turned her back on Jinu to sweep her hand pointedly over the Honmoon. Rather than pay attention to her, Jinu surreptitiously rubbed his leg.

Zoey started to say something, then cut off with a familiar quiet squeak. That could only mean Zoey had just stopped herself from saying something she thought Mira wouldn’t like.

One of these days they’d get Zoey to not overthink other people’s reactions, but it apparently wasn’t today. Maybe Mira could positive affirmation her into it after the Idol Awards. Rumi would probably be on board if she wasn’t busy being a fucking moron again.

Mira sighed. “Spit it out, Zo.”

As Derpy approached Rumi and Jinu, the two idiots seemed to be making a sport of using the most aggressive motions to make the most innocuous gestures. Mira was pretty sure Rumi slipped in some Korean Sign Language to call Jinu a ‘rude child.’ They should probably work on Rumi’s lame vocabulary, but Jinu did look outrageously offended by it.

Eventually, Zoey told Mira, “I was gonna say, what if it’s a demon thing?” Zoey cringed at her own wording. “Not that she is, I just mean–” she waved her hand toward Rumi and Jinu.

Mira gave it genuine consideration as Rumi’s face took on a similar snarly grin to Jinu’s. “She does do that creepy shark-eye smile sometimes.”

Zoey whipped around to face Mira. “Wait, you don’t mean–” Realization bled into her expression. “Demons smile weird.”

Mira felt like they had overlooked a number of really, really bizarre things that she and Zoey just chalked up to Rumi being Rumi. “We already mentioned her strength. What else did we miss?”

In the distance, Rumi climbed onto a folding chair and seemed to monologue dramatically over the empty auditorium while Jinu pretended he wasn’t invested in whatever bullshit Rumi was selling him. Derpy tried to climb into a chair too, and he knocked over three rows.

“Mira,” Zoey whispered, clutching Mira’s arm. “Her hair. How did we never figure it out?”

Mira hadn’t even made that connection yet and felt a bit stupid. Really, what human genetics had they thought caused purple hair? “Apparently she can see in the dark, too. Learned that last night.”

“Is that why she never turns on the lights?” Zoey looked like she might be having an existential crisis. Honestly, Mira might be too. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught her drinking tea in total darkness?”

“That could be normal.” Mira was starting to think she had no idea what normal actually was. “But she also crawls through the closest open window whenever I lock her balcony.”

“Wait, that’s your fault?” Zoey shoved at Mira indignantly. “I hate when she does that, she always manages to sneak up on me!”

“She needs to learn to use the elevator.” Mira fended off the entirely unprovoked attack. “It’s tough love.”

“Just use your words, Mira.” Zoey shook her head like Mira was the socially incompetent one instead of Rumi. “And don’t do it again.” Zoey bopped Mira on the head for good measure.

Rumi and Jinu now seemed to be fighting over who could right the fallen chairs fastest. Neither of them were very good at it, and the entire section was left askew.

“At least we know she can’t teleport.” Mira graciously chose to ignore Zoey’s blatant abuse. “She would’ve jumpscared us with it years ago.” Mira was so glad that egg fart smell wasn’t a staple in their lives.

Zoey doubled over in sudden laughter against Mira. “Can you imagine,” she said through giggles. “how much trouble Rumi would have been if she was a teleporting toddler?”

In her mind, Mira could see the vivid picture of baby Rumi farting around, teleporting away from Celine as she chased her down.

Through iron will, Mira kept a straight face. “Zoey,” she said slowly, “do we live with a cryptid?”

“I think we might.” Zoey let out another laugh. “At least she’s a nice cryptid.”

After soundly losing the chair race, Jinu loomed haughtily over Rumi. Rumi tried to loom right back despite being a good foot shorter.

Trying not to laugh at how dumb Rumi and Jinu looked, Mira asked, “How did she think we wouldn't notice?”

“We didn't though.” Zoey slumped into Mira’s side.

“Are we just all stupid?” Mira asked, feeling very stupid.

Zoey's pitying look was answer enough.

Rumi squared her shoulders, and Mira knew from her posture she was trying to give Jinu an inspirational speech. She did the same for Mira and Zoey before nearly every show, but her speeches were pretty hit or miss. Judging by the grimace on Jinu’s face, this one was definitely a miss.

Zoey giggled and eyed Mira. “I’ve seen Rumi pull a tray of cookies straight from the oven,” Zoey lowered her voice like she was telling a campfire story, wiggling her fingers spookily, “with her bare hands.”

Mira snorted. “What about her voice dropping three octaves when she’s really mad?” God, how had they not noticed?

“That’s not even in her range normally.” Zoey said excitedly. “How about her losing the same tooth twice when we were fourteen?”

“I just thought it was weird she still had baby teeth,” Mira said, covering her eyes in disbelief at her own obliviousness.

“That’s not how teeth work!” Zoey’s laugh bordered on manic.

Mira thought of all the varied dentition of the demons they’d fought. “You think she might grow fangs or something?” That was probably the tamest option, since Rumi would look weird with tusks. Probably still hot, though.

Zoey stiffened beside Mira. Then, surprisingly aggravated, she said, “I don’t want to know about your kinks, Mira.”

That hadn’t been what Mira meant at all!

But now Mira was thinking about it, and her stupid blush was just going to make Zoey think she was right. Which she was most certainly not.

Oh god, maybe she was.

“This is your fault Zoey,” Mira hissed, definitely feeling some kind of way. “This is your fucking fault.”

“What is?” Zoey dragged her eyes away from the spectacle of Rumi and Jinu, then took in Mira's face and paled. “Oh no. What have I done?” Zoey asked with quiet devastation.

Rumi seemed to give up on whatever it was they were doing. She fearlessly grabbed Jinu by the sleeve of his jacket and started dragging him toward Zoey and Mira. Jinu stumbled to keep up, trying to play it off like he wanted to go in that direction in the first place while also looking terrified of being manhandled toward a group of Hunters. Beside them, Derpy trotted happily, seemingly thrilled those two were getting along.

Mira was also not ready for Rumi to rejoin them at the moment given her current state. She did not want Jinu to sense any weakness in them, and Mira was broadcasting a pretty fucking big one at the moment.

Mira wasn’t sure what Jinu saw between Zoey’s wan face and her own flushed and angry one, but she knew she didn’t trust the way his eyes narrowed and his demeanor smoothed into something more confident. Mira could read this guy like a book, and right now she was reading that Jinu had just found his new angle.

“Mira,” Zoey said lowly, and it was enough to put Mira on high alert. “Look at their hands.”

If those two bozos had decided to hold hands, Mira was going to lose her shit.

A quick glance proved that silly theory wrong, but the reality may have been worse. Poisonous light snaked around Jinu’s wrist in jagged patterns, visible even in the early-morning sun. Where Rumi’s hand wrapped around his sleeve, her skin took on the same glow. New patterns crept past her knuckles and up her wrist, searing brightly through the fabric of her hoodie.

Rumi hadn’t even noticed.

Somehow, Jinu had made her patterns glow and spread. Mira met his eyes, and he smiled challengingly, making it clear this was no accident.

Mira was on her feet and halfway across the auditorium to them before she could think, Zoey bristling at her side. Rumi halted at their rapid approach, and Jinu actually stumbled into her back, the clumsy fucker.

“He’s not hurting you, is he?” Zoey demanded, fists clenched tightly at her side.

Mira recognized Zoey was deliberately preventing herself from summoning her shinkal, and that cue was the only reason Mira’s own woldo wasn’t out and through Jinu’s torso. Even if they would never be pointed at her if Mira had anything to say about it, the last thing Rumi needed was to face Hunters’ weapons at the first hint of new patterns.

“What?” Rumi blinked stupidly at them, then looked back at Jinu, who shrugged innocently.

“Your hand, Rumi,” Mira snapped. “Is he hurting you?” Mira was going to fucking banish this asshole, hunt him down into the demon realm, then kill him a second time if he hurt Rumi. She might just do it anyway on principle.

“Oh, what?” Rumi looked down at her hand, then pushed his arm back when she saw the glowing patterns. She flailed away from him like his hand had turned into a mass of spiders. “Jinu! Stop that!”

“What?” Jinu said, pretending Rumi hadn’t almost shoved him onto his ass. “It’s not something I can control.”

“Bullshit,” Mira said, so incredibly tired of dealing with this guy’s ‘ain’t I a stinker,’ act.

“I’m not above stabbing you, Jinu,” Rumi warned, and Mira hoped she’d follow through on the threat. “Knock it off.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his glowing hands in surrender and smiled an exceedingly punchable smile. “I was just curious how accepting your friends really are.”

Zoey pulled a face at Jinu. “That’s silly. We love Rumi.”

At that, Jinu didn’t seem to know how to respond. He and Rumi looked equally startled by the frank declaration.

While Zoey’s statement was true, Mira also didn’t feel like Jinu needed to know that. He was a manipulator and a liar, and he was trying to find whatever weaknesses he could. “You think it’s smart to antagonize us?” Mira asked him, hoping the answer was yes so she’d have the clear excuse to smash his face in.

“I think it’s smart to know where you stand.” From the tightness of his eyes despite his easygoing smile, this situation wasn’t going to plan. “You don’t look very okay with her patterns to me.”

Was this stupid fucker actually trying to drive a wedge between them? Mira was going to smash his face in, excuses be damned.

Mira’s murderous focus was broken when she glanced over to Rumi. Shit, was she actually falling for it? Rumi stared at her hand, new patterns fading slowly, and Mira didn’t like the way she angled away from her and Zoey. Maybe Mira’s note should have told Rumi to get her head out of her ass.

“Rumi.” Mira reached out her hand toward Rumi’s patterned one in clear invitation.

Rumi broke out of her stupid melancholy and looked at Mira’s outstretched hand, then her own. Rumi sighed. “Mira, you don’t have to prove a point.”

Mira kind of did, actually. She wiggled her hand in front of Rumi expectantly.

Rumi seemed to consider for a moment, then gave Mira a firm handshake. A goddamn handshake. Apparently Rumi just wanted to demonstrate the full extent of her natural cringe-factor. How was Mira attracted to this colossal dork?

Jinu raised an eyebrow at the admittedly lame handshake, smirk on his stupid face. 

Mira stared down in disbelief at the handshake she was apparently participating in. Just before she withdrew, Rumi squeezed Mira’s hand twice. Despite clarifying it yesterday, Mira wasn’t actually sure if Rumi was asking her to talk later or to play along. They should make a separate signal, in all honesty.

Rumi tucked her patterned hand into the pocket of her hoodie, and Mira’s eyes narrowed. Well, fuck. Rumi had seemed like she was opening up to touch, but Mira should have known better than to push in an unfamiliar environment. Especially in front of fucking Jinu.

Mira would have to make this up to Rumi. After Stinky McGee left. Which would hopefully be soon, because he was wasting their rehearsal time.

“Anyway, Mira,” Rumi said, looking just past Mira’s ear. “I need you to tell Jinu he’s being stupid.”

“You’re being stupid,” Mira said to Jinu on reflex. “Wait, about what?” Mira thought everything Jinu did was stupid, but it was best to be specific when talking to idiots.

Jinu looked down his nose at Mira, unimpressed. He wasn't even that much taller than her, the jerk.

Rumi rolled her eyes at Jinu’s refusal to speak. “He won’t help us because he thinks he won’t get anything out of it.”

“Is that what I said?” Jinu’s face got even more punchable by the second, which was honestly impressive given its preexisting punchability. “I thought I was being pretty cooperative.”

Rumi scowled. “I’m not stupid, Jinu.”

Mira opened her mouth on pure sarcastic instinct, and Zoey pinched her behind her back. Mira closed her mouth again, thankful at least one of them had sense.

Mira also abruptly realized she had overlooked a vital aspect of this alliance. She really should have thought this through more, because liars had ulterior motives. Liars had goals. Until they knew what Jinu was getting out of helping Gwi-Ma, they could never trust him. Luckily, they had an inside source.

“Hey, Rumi,” Mira said casually. “What did you say Jinu wanted from Gwi-Ma again?”

Mira hated lying. Then again, it was because she had been born to liars. It was only natural she’d pick up a thing or two.

Mira saw the minute surprise and calculation that flashed through Rumi’s eyes, proving they were on the same page. Never let it be said Rumi couldn’t lie with the best of them.

“Oh, I don’t think I ever told you,” Rumi said truthfully.

Mira sighed, her brilliant plan thwarted by Rumi’s newfound if inconsistent dedication to honesty. “Well, what is it then?”

Jinu watched their back and forth like the world's most fascinating ping pong match, dumb smirk on his face. He probably thought it looked attractive, but it really just made him look like he didn’t know how faces worked.

Rumi looked at Jinu and shrugged, apparently deciding to just tattle on him. “Jinu said Gwi-Ma promised to erase his memory.”

“Gwi-Ma can do that?” Zoey gasped.

“Why would you want that?” Mira was creeped out by every implication involved here.

“That’s not–” Jinu stopped himself from correcting them and grit his teeth.

Rumi continued, glaring into the side of Jinu’s head, “He wants to erase the memories of his shame.”

Okay, now that was pure bullshit.

“Seriously?” Mira had not been expecting whatever fucked up logic this was. “Even if Gwi-Ma could, there’s no way that’ll ever happen.”

Mira had no idea if Jinu was bullshitting them, or if Gwi-Ma was bullshitting Jinu. She knew for certain, however, that someone was getting bullshitted.

Jinu clenched his fists, then visibly forced himself to relax. “You don’t know what you're talking about,” he said neutrally, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Uh, yes, Mira absolutely did. Mira was admittedly dumb about a lot of things, but she knew how to spot manipulation, how promises and crumbs of hope could string a person along for eternity. She'd never have escaped the quagmire of her family's influence otherwise.

And Jinu? It was becoming crystal clear the idiot was being strung along.

“Shame is how Gwi-Ma controls you, right?” Mira crossed her arms, recognizing she was about to argue with a particularly dense brick wall. At least living with Rumi had given her good practice.

Jinu cut a sharp glance at Rumi when she nodded, apparently annoyed she had told them that tidbit. “Yes,” Jinu said stiffly. “Through his mark.”

Ho boy, Mira did not like the wording of patterns being Gwi-Ma’s mark. The smallest of silver linings was that Rumi couldn't hear him like demons could. Mira hoped that remained the case, because Rumi didn't need anyone else telling her she should feel shame. Rumi managed just fine on her own, thank you very much.

“So you think Gwi-Ma would willingly give up his power over you?” Mira sneered. This guy was insultingly dumb if he thought the lord of demons was trustworthy. “He has literally no reason to ever do that.”

“Gwi-Ma makes deals.” Jinu sounded certain, but Mira could read the defensiveness in his tense shoulders. “He doesn’t go back on them.”

“Why wouldn’t he just erase the memory of you making a deal?” Zoey chimed in. “Seems like free labor.”

Rumi blinked in realization. “You could do his dirty work over and over again,” she said, words quiet. “You’d never even know it.”

Well, would you look at that? Mira loved it when her girls joined her in making fun of someone’s stupidity, rare as it was.

Judging by Jinu’s face, Rumi’s logic had just punted away the last stable brick in the foundations of his resolve. He kind of looked like he had swallowed an egg whole and was trying to keep it down. Rumi really hadn’t been kidding about Jinu not knowing how to deal with things going off script.

“So what’s your brilliant plan, then?” Jinu's voice was rough, and Mira warily noted a fever-bright light bleeding into his eyes. “You think Gwi-Ma won't help me, but somehow you will?”

“Nope!” Zoey said cheerfully.

Mira stifled a laugh.

“Zoey!” Rumi hissed. She saw Mira holding back laughter and rounded on her, too. “Mira!”

“We can’t erase your memories or anything,” Zoey prattled on, unaffected by Rumi’s admonishments. “Which is, like, super messed up, by the way. What we can do is weaken Gwi-Ma.”

“I’m listening.” Jinu did not look like he was listening. He looked like he was staring off into the distance and seething at something far beyond them.

“We’re not sealing the Honmoon.” Mira said, and she stared pointedly at Rumi, who waved Mira off without looking at her. Rude. “But we're strengthening it. Less souls for Gwi-Ma means less power.”

“You’ll be on this side when it happens because of the Idol Awards.” Rumi nodded as if it settled the argument. “Wouldn’t that weaken Gwi-Ma’s connection to you?”

Jinu closed his eyes as he deliberated, and for the first time, Mira felt his expression might be honest. Jinu looked kind of enraged, and it didn’t seem to be directed at them.

“Look,” Jinu said tightly. “I can’t help you.”

If Jinu had wasted this much of their rehearsal time to tell them no, Mira was just going to stab him and make it up to Derpy later.

Jinu pulled a hand from his pocket and inspected his own patterns, eerie glow shining from within. Then he met Rumi’s eyes, molten gold overtaking the brown of his irises. “But I guess I can warn you. Tomorrow, be adaptable.”

Rumi’s initial smugness at getting him on board faded into confusion. “Wait, what does that even mean?”

“If the Honmoon survives,” Jinu smirked a very stupid-looking smirk, “I think your problem will take care of itself.”

Jinu disappeared in a dramatic plume of smoke. Anticipating the smell, Mira took a large step back.

“Well,” Zoey said brightly, “that was ominous.” Then she caught a whiff of the smoke and recoiled. “Did he just crop dust us?” she shrieked.

“That was a huge waste of time,” Mira grumbled as she steered a gagging Zoey back toward the stage, disappointed no one had murdered Jinu but elated that they could finally get back to work. “Chop, chop, Rumi!” Mira called over her shoulder. “I want you stretched and ready to dance in two minutes!”

“What– Two?” Rumi jogged to catch up, Derpy trotting at her heels. “I just got here.”

Jinu sucked so bad he forgot to take his tiger friend with him. Good thing the three of them were better friends and a much better influence on Derpy.

“And we’ve got a shrinking time slot.” Mira eyed Rumi. “One that was cut into by someone not telling us they invited a guest.” Mira spat the last word.

“Yeah, a heads up would be nice next time,” Zoey said, still looking a little green.

“I didn’t tell you guys?” Rumi looked genuinely surprised.

Mira paused at the foot of the stage. “You forgot?” She buried her face in her hands, anger at being lied to melting into familiar exasperation with Rumi’s, well, Ruminess. “Just– Just go get ready for practice.”

Derpy stretched himself along the foot of the stage, basking in the morning sun. Mira really didn’t get why anyone would enjoy this grossly warm day, but at least Derpy looked happy about it.

“Actually, Mira, can we talk for a second?” Rumi asked, and Mira felt both irritation at another delay and cold dread at Rumi’s serious tone.

Had Mira made Rumi uncomfortable earlier with the hand thing? Or had Mira overstepped last night?

A part of Mira didn’t care, still hurt by the earlier interaction with Jinu. A much, much larger part of her was freaking out. Overthinking every minuscule thing Mira had ever done that could have made Rumi uncomfortable revealed that it was a long list, and Mira didn’t exactly feel great about it.

“Fine,” Mira said gruffly, then immediately regretted her defensiveness. She looked to Zoey, desperate for emotional backup.

Zoey cited the crooked row of chairs as an excuse to flee and went off to go straighten them, winking at Mira for some unfathomable reason. Mira felt extremely abandoned in her time of need.

Then Mira’s eyes narrowed at the slow shuffle of Zoey’s steps down the aisle. Was she eavesdropping? She wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Rumi said, words so steady and measured that Mira had a sneaking suspicion they might have been rehearsed.

Wait, hadn’t Mira made Rumi uncomfortable?

“Uh.” Mira had no idea what was going on now. “You didn’t?”

“Oh,” Rumi said. “That’s good.” She plastered on a fake grin, one of those kind of terrifying ones that didn’t reach her eyes. Seriously, how had Mira and Zoey never made the demonic connection?

And why were Mira’s friends so weird?

Mira threw caution and boundaries to the wind. She wrapped an arm around Rumi’s shoulders, knowing from experience this idiot was about to run from the conversation. Mira tried not to take it personally when Rumi’s eyes darted for the exit.

“Okay, what is up with you?” Mira asked, still irritated they couldn’t just skip to choreo practice. “We were fine yesterday, so tell me what’s wrong today.”

“I’m sorry,” Rumi blurted out.

“For what?” Mira failed to keep her rising annoyance out of her voice.

“I must have done something wrong last night.” Rumi hunched away from Mira’s arm but made no move to escape her. “It’s just– you left without me.” Rumi sounded surprisingly neutral, but Mira knew her well enough to read the hurt underneath.

It was a hurt Mira understood intimately, one that was a near constant companion. It was fear. The fear of being left behind. The fear that people would leave you the moment you gave them your heart. The fear of never being enough for people to stay.

Mira didn’t know how to convince Rumi that Mira couldn’t leave her. Mira’s first instinct might be to push people away before they could hurt her, but it would never extend to Rumi and Zoey. As terrified of rejection as Mira was, she was far more selfish than scared. Mira would take any scrap of love her two girls might give, and nothing in the world could drag her away from them as long as they still wanted her.

“I was letting you sleep in.” Mira hoped this was enough. She didn’t know what else she could say to reassure. “Didn’t you see my note?”

Rumi looked at Mira oddly. “Note?”

“On the pillow?” Seriously, Rumi should have seen it. Mira had placed it strategically for maximum visibility and far away enough Rumi wouldn’t knock it to the ground. She had maybe thought it through a little too much.

“Oh.” Rumi’s shoulders sagged, tension draining with the revelation. Then she scrunched her nose in confusion. “Wait, those were words? There’s no way your handwriting is that bad.”

Mira went to all that trouble for nothing?

Mira slapped Rumi’s shoulder weakly in retribution. It was really more of a gentle, pathetic pat if she was being honest with herself. “Excuse you, my handwriting is a work of art.”

Rumi snorted. “Abstract art, maybe.”

Mira eyed Rumi and decided she didn’t deserve a response if she was just going to besmirch Mira’s admittedly over the top efforts to be considerate.

Rumi leaned back against the stage, Mira’s arm now uncomfortably squished against the edge as a pillow. “I keep saying I’ll be a better friend to you guys, but I feel like I don’t really know how to do that.” Rumi sighed in clear exasperation. “Like, I didn’t even know you and Zoey were dating.”

“What?” Mira choked out, and she heard Zoey screeching from across the auditorium and rapidly approaching. She was eavesdropping, the little cretin!

“Rumi,” Zoey yelled. “That’s gross!”

“I’ll show you gross!” Mira called back. “But yeah, that would be gross.”

Zoey was… She was Zoey. Mira and Zoey were so wrapped around each other emotionally it felt kind of like trying to see her own elbow in a romantic light, if her elbow was a foundational part of her heart and soul.

Zoey drew up next to Rumi and Mira, and she gasped in mock hurt. “Mira. Are you saying you don’t value our love?”

“You’re the light of my life, Zo.” Mira held a hand to her head in a false swoon. “I’d propose on the spot if you’d say yes.”

“Pfft.” Zoey waved Mira off, grinning. “We both know I’m too good for you.”

Mira nodded. It was true, after all. She turned to Rumi. “Zoey is like a–” Well, she definitely wasn’t a sibling, because Mira’s only experience with a sibling had been steeped in turmoil and betrayal. Zoey was the opposite of a sibling with her unconditional acceptance and emotional support. “She’s like a fungus to me.”

Zoey giggled. “If you say it’s because I grew on you–”

Rumi watched their back and forth, looking completely lost. “Earlier, when I was talking to Jinu, you guys looked…” She made some flappy finger wiggle that Zoey seemed to immediately understand.

How many random hand signals did these two have? Mira eyed Zoey, and came to the realization that these might just be a Rumi thing. Zoey probably just instinctively knew what they meant, in the same way she was fluent in Mira’s pre-6am grunts.

After a moment, Rumi’s words registered. She had seen Mira’s breakdown, which could only mean one thing. Mira covered her face with her free hand, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Mira was just upset, Rumi.” Zoey climbed onto the stage with all the energy and volume of a howler monkey, then posed with her hands on her hips above them.

Mira was mortified that her own human emotions were being broadcast to the world. She refused to turn around and face the stage and the oncoming loss of her dignity. Rumi raised an eyebrow and followed Mira’s lead, instead just tilting her head back to watch Zoey soapboxing about Mira’s proven ability to have feelings.

“Zoey, no,” Mira whispered. As always, she went ignored.

“So what did Jinu say to you?” Rumi asked Mira. “He wouldn’t tell me what he did that bothered you so much.”

Mira felt all kinds of warm and gooey things in her heart when she realized Rumi had probably kicked Jinu in the shin for her. Mira also had no idea what Rumi was talking about.

“Jinu didn’t upset me beyond cutting into our rehearsal and being a complete loser.” Mira looked to Zoey, who was proudly nodding at the ongoing open communication below her.

Rumi paled. “So I did do something weird last night.”

“What?” Mira was running on too little sleep to parse whatever the hell this conversation was. “No, I was mad you took Jinu’s side as soon as you got here.” Mira tamped down the lingering hurt because she knew that wasn’t exactly what happened. Sure felt like it, though.

“I did not–” Rumi’s immediate defensive response cut off as Zoey’s foot started tapping near Rumi’s head. Zoey crossed her arms, squinting at Rumi in exaggerated disappointment.

“Zoey, you don’t need to coach us through this,” Mira said, feeling extremely infantilized and kind of offended Zoey thought Mira couldn’t navigate a basic conversation.

“Don’t I?” Zoey said knowingly as Rumi stared her down stubbornly.

Mira thought about it for half a second longer and sighed. “Yeah, you probably do.”

Mira decided she might as well get this over with so they could get back to rehearsal. “Look, I know you weren’t actually taking his side.” Mira pried her arm out from under Rumi’s head and hopped up to sit on the stage, patting the spot next to her. “It’s fine, Rumi. It just hit me the wrong way.”

After a moment of hesitation, Rumi joined her. “It’s not fine if you were upset,” Rumi said, making kind of overly intense eye contact. “I’d never take his side over yours.”

“You better not.” Mira felt herself relax with Rumi’s reassurance. “He’s kind of responsible for murdering a shitload of people.”

Rumi hummed, and Mira knew that one meant she just didn’t want to admit Mira was right. “I thought we agreed murder was contextual,” Rumi said teasingly.

Mira scoffed. “Only when Zoey does it.” Mira immediately regretted her words and peeked at Zoey through the corner of her eye.

Zoey looked between them contemplatively. “For the record, I didn’t kill anyone.” She thought about it for a moment, and a smile broke across her face again. “But good to know you guys have my back.”

Mira was deeply unsettled by Zoey's immediate acceptance, but not surprised.

“So, are we good?” Mira asked, thinking she might scream if the answer was no and they needed to address even more bullshit during their limited rehearsal time. “Everyone all talked out and ready to actually dance?” Mira stared them down, practically daring them to have another emotional crisis during choreo time.

“I think so,” Rumi said, and Mira ruthlessly suppressed her sudden rage at the but she heard coming, “but what’s with the CD player?”

“Staff prank,” Mira said brusquely. “Can’t imagine they’re happy with rigging your flying circus act in two days.”

Rumi grimaced. “I guess I didn’t consider that.”

“Ooh!” Zoey poked at the aforementioned machine. “We should send them a gift basket!”

“I bet Bobby has someone on speed dial for that,” Rumi said, elbowing Mira playfully.

Bobby actually did. He was impressively prepared for all scenarios.

“Uh huh.” Mira ran through her mental checklist as she folded into her stretches, extremely annoyed as her stupid fucking hair got all over the place again. “Don’t you two have stretches to be doing?”

Zoey complained all the while as she started stretching, and Mira carefully kept her eyes off of how disturbingly flexible Rumi was. Choreo time was professional time.

Mira’s eyes were inevitably drawn to Rumi as she eased herself into a deep stretch, arms outstretched and hoodie riding up from the movement. Mira felt like she might be entranced, and she couldn’t look away if she tried.

There, looped enticingly around Rumi’s wrist, was a sturdy hair tie.

“Rumi.” Mira held out her hand, relief finally in sight. “Give me your spare hair thing.”

Rumi's face twisted into confusion. “You have two in your hair already,” she said, then her expression bled into something more sly. “Cute braids, by the way.”

Zoey fist pumped excitedly at the compliment to her work.

Mira rolled her eyes at the two of them. She felt her face warm at Rumi’s words, which did nothing for Mira’s annoyance at the humidity. “I want to put my hair up.” She gestured vaguely at her own head. “These are too small.”

Rumi’s smile grew, and she hid her wrist with the coveted hair tie behind her back. “I thought you always came prepared, oh fantastic Hunter.”

“That’s fucking fantastic to you,” Mira tried to reach around Rumi, who kept twisting to prevent hair accessory theft. “Now give it.”

“Make me,” Rumi challenged, wrestling Mira’s grabby hand down and using her admittedly impressive strength to pin Mira to the stage by her shoulders, one wrist trapped in her hand.

In any other circumstance, Mira would probably be freaking out and having a big gay panic. Right now though, Mira was too fucking annoyed and overheated to really care. Rumi smiled down at her smugly.

Mira was starting to suspect Rumi was just overreliant on her own strength, and it made her needlessly cocky. It was like the idiot forgot Mira was the fighter. She didn’t need two hands to kick Rumi’s ass.

Fighting Rumi was also kind of insulting, because she had no technique. Did she never pay attention when Mira and Zoey showed her how to do this shit? Like, this moron had been training since she could walk, and she still sucked at grappling. She had always sucked at grappling, and she needed to put the work in to correct that.

Mira felt an uncomfortable twisting dread settle in her stomach at how much her inner monologue sounded like a foul-mouthed version of Celine, who was constantly getting on Rumi’s case to just work on her hand-to-hand for once.

Getting Rumi to realize she couldn’t brute force her way to victory wasn’t exactly easy because most of the time it worked. Celine would probably use psychological warfare to guilt Rumi into it. Since Mira wasn’t and never would be the Celine, she chose violence instead.

It was the work of maybe three frustrating seconds to twist their positions and lock down Rumi’s wrists, and Mira sat back on Rumi’s stomach, scowling down at her. Rumi blinked up at her owlishly, making no move to escape. Good. The idiot could stand to be put down a peg or two.

Feeling gross and sweaty from all this dumb roughhousing and honestly getting sick of all this fucking hair, Mira triumphantly snagged the spare hair tie from Rumi’s wrist and swept her hair up into a loose bun. Finally.

Mira blinked as she abruptly realized her position. She felt herself blush as she looked down to check, and yep, Mira was indeed straddling Rumi, who was staring blankly up at her. In perhaps the most graceless maneuver of her life, Mira immediately rolled away from Rumi and off the fucking stage.

Mira lay on her back, kind of wishing the Honmoon didn’t cushion her fall so she could give herself a concussion. It’d be nice to forget any of that just happened.

Zoey’s mildly concerned face filled Mira’s vision as she crouched beside her. “You alright?” Zoey asked, suppressing a laugh and knowing full well Mira was not alright.

“Leave me to die, Zoey.” Face aflame, Mira closed her eyes and welcomed the sweet embrace of death by embarrassment. “It’s for the best.”

“You still owe me a spa day with Rumi, so no.” Zoey patted Mira’s still-burning cheek. “Also, I think you broke her.”

“What?” Mira sat up quickly, forcing Zoey to juke to the side to avoid an accidental headbutt. “Is she okay? That shouldn’t have hurt her.” Heart in her throat, Mira tried to push down her panic. Rumi was probably fine, right? Right?

Mira peered over the edge of the stage cautiously. Rumi remained unmoved, lying flat on her back and staring up into space. She didn’t seem injured. She kind of looked like she might be cloud watching.

“Is she sulking because she got pinned?” Mira asked incredulously, annoyed she had gotten worked up over nothing.

Zoey was no help in solving the mystery thanks to her stupid laughter.

“Ugh, whatever,” Mira grumbled. Louder, she called, “Dance time, you two. Hop to it!”

Zoey’s laughter cut off with a disappointed whine. “Can’t we just go back to positive affirmations and couch time? Yesterday was the best.” She aimed weapons-grade puppy dog eyes at Mira, but Mira had acquired an immunity to it.

Still, Mira wasn’t stupid enough to look at those pleading eyes directly. “Not a bad idea,” Mira said. She raised her voice for Rumi to hear. “Every mistake you make, you gotta give an affirmation!”

Zoey lit up at the suggestion, and Rumi groaned in despair from the stage, finally showing some life.

Mira wrangled the two hellions into actually preparing for their routine, and she let the familiar rigors of dance become her sole focus. It soothed the last jagged edges of her anger as she worked them into tighter and tighter synchronization, the comforting give and take of correction and improvement a balm. Where Rumi thrived in song and Zoey lived in words, Mira felt like she could only breathe with dance.

That their practice was filled with lighthearted laughter as Zoey came up with increasingly ridiculous affirmations for Rumi to say with each mistake? All the better. Mira wondered when Rumi would finally catch on that she was just making shit up, forcing Rumi to compliment herself with imaginary infractions.

Mira grinned at Rumi when she narrowed her eyes in suspicion a full three runs later.

A cheerful, “Hey, girls!” rang out from stage right, and Mira’s spirits lifted even further. Bobby during rehearsal could only mean a snack break, and he always managed to find the best stuff.

“Hi, Bobby!” the three of them chorused.

As Bobby turned his back to set down his snack haul, Zoey punted the CD player off the stage, apparently deciding that was the quickest way to hide evidence of staff copyright infringement. When Bobby startled at the resulting crash, Zoey was there with her phone out and shoved under his nose to distract him.

Sometimes Mira forgot just how scarily effective Zoey’s chaotic tactics were.

From his place among the folding chairs, Derpy cracked an eye open at the new voice. He oozed into a fluid stretch and a yawn that looked incredibly satisfying. Rumi did a double take at him, then frantically gestured at Derpy, then Bobby, then Mira.

Mira sidled up next to Rumi, who seemed to be sweating bullets as Bobby happily extolled his undying support for literally every life choice they could ever make. Bobby was awesome like that.

“Rumi,” Mira whispered, “I don’t think we should introduce our very normal manager to the magic tiger.”

“Obviously!” Rumi snapped back, a little too loud. She cringed and lowered her voice. “I meant we need to hide him.”

Mira looked at the giant blue tiger, who was serenely licking a paw and running it over his face just below the stage, then at Bobby, who was excitedly pointing at something on Zoey’s phone.

Mira sighed, and much as she didn’t want to say it, she did know the easy solution. “Just send a quick note to Jinu,” Mira said, feeling icky for suggesting it.

“Derpy spent pretty much all night with him,” Rumi said, high-pitched panic in her whisper even as she looked at Derpy with guilt in her eyes. “I feel bad sending him away so soon.”

“He’s not our child, Rumi.” Mira did not blush. She did not. “We don’t need equal visitation time because he’s a tiger.”

Bobby started to say something, then squinted up at the scaffolding. “Is that bird wearing a hat?”

“Oh, I guess so!” Zoey said, her grin tight and eyes darting to Rumi and Mira.

“Weird, right?” Mira threw out, kind of wondering why they never just told Bobby about the demon hunting thing. He’d be supportive, although the extra worrying might take a few years off his life.

“Cute.” Bobby shrugged away the existence of a hatted horror bird with enviable ease. “Anyway, I wanted to see how you girls were doing with the song change. I know it’s stressful to rush things like this, but I’m glad you’re doing what’s best for you.”

“We’re hanging in there,” Mira said, sidestepping to better obscure Derpy’s ears perking up past the lip of the stage. “The routine is solid, so we’re just working on polish.”

“Excellent!” Bobby nodded as if it was the answer he had expected all along. Mira felt a quiet, giddy pride in the unwavering faith he had in her.

“And how are you holding up, Rumi?” Bobby asked earnestly. “Zoey mentioned you weren’t feeling well.”

Rumi stiffened, eyes wide as she looked from Bobby to Zoey. “I’m, uh. Much better.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for taking some time for yourself.” Bobby smiled kindly at Rumi, and Rumi looked like she wanted to swan dive off the stage to escape his unconditional support. “I know that’s hard for you. I just want you girls to know I’m here for literally anything you need.”

Rumi choked out a wavering but sincere, “Thank you.”

As if in protest of Rumi working through her emotional issues, the Honmoon heaved in a sudden violent rush, discordant squeal ripping through the neat weave of its threads.

Zoey groaned in despair through a mouthful of turtle chips.

Mira threw her hands up, enraged at the stupid fucking timing. Seriously? A fucking demon attack not only during a snack break, but during their already interrupted choreography practice?

Did demons have no appreciation for dance?

Blinking back what might be tears, Rumi placed her hands on Bobby’s shoulders. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we have to go.” She hesitated, before nodding at Zoey for some reason. “We really appreciate what you do for us, Bobby,” Rumi said, voice quiet but clear.

Bobby actually sniffled in response. If so little praise affected the guy, they should probably do it more often. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stick around to reassure him, much as Mira thought they probably should.

There wasn’t time for more than a quick, “Bye, Bobby!” Wherever the breach was, this one felt bad, no doubt a last push by Gwi-Ma to distract them from the Idol Awards.

Mira dropped down the stage, and was nearly bowled over by an overly affectionate tiger that was pleased they were joining him. Shit, Mira couldn’t bring him on a hunt. Him accidentally sealing her weapon behind the Honmoon’s threads would be such a stupid way to die.

Then again, it wasn’t like she could leave him here. Could she? It’d probably be fine, right?

“You stay with Bobby,” Mira told the happily rumbling tiger. She hoped Bobby either couldn’t hear that or chalked it up to the sound system being weird. “Stay out of sight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Mira gave Derpy a quick scratch under his chin, and thankfully he seemed to understand. He met her eyes, slowly blinked once, then wove around the edge of the stage with surprising stealth.

“Hurry up, Mira!” Rumi yelled from the stadium doors, and Mira raced to catch up with her girls.

On her way out, Mira heard Bobby cry out in alarm, “Girls, I don’t think you can own a tiger!”

Well, shit. That didn’t last long. At least someone other than Mira understood that tigers could never be tamed.

Bobby anxiously screamed after them, “It’s illegal!”

Oh. Mira didn’t actually know that, but she wasn’t worried. Bobby would never snitch.

Chapter Text

A train. The demons chose to attack high-speed rail of all things. What did these guys have against a peaceful morning commute? And would it kill them to pick a location that wasn’t so hard for Mira to keep her footing? A little common courtesy is all she asked.

Unfortunately, the demons had no sense of common courtesy and an incredible knack for bad timing. The three of them were going to miss their whole rehearsal window if this kept up much longer, not to mention their interrupted snack break. They had the basic routine down, but all three of them were still kind of a disaster by Mira’s admittedly high standards. Even if they didn’t want to seal the Honmoon tomorrow with a perfect show, they at least had to be decent.

Mira wasn’t going to be giving these guys a single compliment.

To top it all off, Derpy had not stayed with Bobby and had followed them onto the roof of a moving train. Mira was starting to think he did the opposite of what she asked on pure principle. Not that she could blame him, since she did the exact same thing to most people. They really were two peas in a pod.

Mira started to jab at a demon crawling up the tunnel wall, then wrenched her woldo away in a panic as Derpy leapt playfully on its back. The little demon scrambled away, smoke leaking from large claw marks but otherwise unharmed.

Rumi stabbed it without even looking over her shoulder. Mira still had no idea how she did that all the time, even though she privately thought it looked very cool.

Heart still racing, Mira took a moment to crouch in front of Derpy. “I need you to stay safe,” she told him firmly. He looked at her with wide eyes and warbled happily. “I’m serious. You need to go.” Mira knew he could understand her, but she had no idea how she was supposed to convince a giant tiger to do something he just didn’t feel like doing.

Derpy’s attention snapped to a demon Zoey knocked beside him, and he began batting at its head. It tried to scuttle away from him, making awful muffled noises from its faceless head. Mira hated fighting these things. They were such a horror show.

Mira banished the demon with a precise stab, far away from Derpy’s paw. This wasn’t working.

“Any time now, Mira!” Zoey called. “Could use some help–” she flipped over a tear that opened underfoot, sending shinkal through before the demons even surfaced, “–whenever you’re done. No rush!”

Mira drew her woldo into a quick spin, taking out two demons reaching for Rumi’s ankles. She had to pull the move short when Derpy pressed in a little too close, leaving her off balance. With such close quarters, Mira was so fucking glad she had put her hair up for once, because she just knew it would’ve gotten caught on Derpy’s fangs or something equally stupid.

“Gimme a sec!” Mira grabbed Derpy’s cheek ruff with one hand and forced his attention on her. “Derpy, please. Go somewhere safe.”

He butted his head against her, seemingly unaware of her wickedly sharp blade next to his eye. This wasn’t working.

Mira rose and stabbed a demon that dropped from overhead, one that would have landed directly on his back. How could she get him to listen?

A desperate idea formed. She was never going to live this down, but his safety was more important.

Oh god, this was going to be so embarrassing. Mira knelt in front of Derpy and took a deep breath. “I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine,” she told him solemnly. “From now until the end of time. Please. Go.”

Derpy finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, and he regarded Mira with just as much seriousness as she was giving him. The tiger stood, chuffed once, and trotted back the way they came, leaping deftly over the train car gaps with only the occasional backward glance. Mira breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you just–” Rumi sputtered. “What gives, Mira? That’s our thing!” Rumi looked… surprisingly furious, in all honesty. Well, shit.

Mira didn’t have time to respond as she ducked under a pale grasping hand. She kicked the lunging demon away and resumed her deadly dance.

Zoey leapt in, and with a flurry of blades she cleared some breathing room. “That’s your guys’ thing?” she asked, giving them that particular look that told Mira she was judging just how ridiculously gay Mira was for Rumi. It was a very common look.

“Not anymore!” Rumi snapped, and Mira was genuinely hurt by that. It had been their thing for almost a decade now. Even if it had been a while since they regularly said it, it still meant something. Rumi stopped fighting altogether, whirling around to glare at Mira. “Since apparently we say it to any old cat that wanders in.”

Mira felt like her feet were suddenly rooted to the ground under the force of Rumi’s disappointment. “Hes not a–” Mira stopped herself from correcting Rumi, because that really wouldn’t help here. “It was an accident! It was the only way I could think of to make him go.”

“Uh, guys?” Zoey called out. “Is now really the time?” Mira faintly registered her holding the line while she and Rumi squabbled.

Rumi scoffed. “How was it an accident if you did it on purpose?”

“No, the first time was an accident,” Mira blurted out, then immediately regretted being so forthcoming.

“You’ve done it more than once?” Rumi’s voice rose uncomfortably in both volume and pitch, and Mira winced. Hopefully that wouldn’t fuck up Rumi’s still-recovering voice.

“I’ll make it up to you!” Mira said, feeling a bit frantic. She had literally no way to explain her mistaken identity by tiger and accidental fealty swearing fiasco without sounding completely insane or humiliating herself even further.

“You better!” Rumi’s word was punctuated with quick jab behind her back, impaling a demon without even looking. How did she keep doing that? At least Rumi wasn’t throwing her sword again, which would be so, so dumb on a moving train.

Maybe Mira could join Rumi on one of her mind-numbingly dull shopping trips and let her ramble about subtracting colors or whatever. Surely that would be enough to appease her.

“Can you two stop being stupid and look?” Zoey pointed past their shoulders with a shinkal.

All the bluster drained from Rumi’s face. “The tear,” she said, awed.

Mira followed her gaze, and dread washed over her. “It’s huge.”

And it was. They were used to seeing small gaps in the Honmoon, just wide enough for a few demons to slip through at a time. This was different. A jagged split in reality spanned the width of the train, alien light from the demon realm seeping forth. Masses of grotesque, faceless bodies clawed their way free of the spreading rift and grasped at threads of the Honmoon, unraveling it violently at the edges.

Rumi clapped Mira on the back, jolting her out of her stupor. “I’m still mad,” Rumi said as she moved forward, sword at the ready. She threw a wild grin over her shoulder at the both of them. “But we got this.”

Mira felt her confidence surge, and she couldn’t help but whoop as she and Zoey rushed forward. Stupid arguments aside, it had been so long since they were truly in sync like this. It felt fantastic. Mira was hyperaware of the lives they were protecting in the train below, but she still reveled in the frantic whirl of violence.

“This is crazy!” Mira called as she was forced to spin again and again just to keep up with the faceless horde that surrounded them. “I’ve never seen so many in one place!”

Zoey easily slid under the swirl of Mira’s woldo and took out three demons at the knees. “And you wanted to destroy the Honmoon!” Zoey bounced up laughing, then used Mira’s shoulder as leverage to leap overhead.

Rumi faltered, and Mira had to rush to finish off the demon leaping for her neck. Rumi spun around and screeched, “You what?”

Mira slipped her woldo past Rumi’s offside, impaling a demon that was crawling up behind her. “I changed my mind.” Mira shoved Rumi back toward the battle. “Temporary insanity!”

Rumi just barely brought her sword up to deflect an attack. “What do you mean temporary insanity?” She regained her footing, lashing out at the closest demon. “What is wrong with you today?”

“She almost talked me into it!” Zoey called as she bounded past.

Mira brought her weapon into a tight arc, clearing space. “Not helping, Zoey!” God, these faceless things were so unpleasant. They swarmed like ants in an upturned hill, and their fleshy little bodies had always given Mira the creeps. She’d rather fight just about anything else, save water demons.

“Talked you into–” Rumi cleanly sliced through a demon in Zoey’s blind spot. “Talked you into destroying the Honmoon?”

“She was ready to end the world for you!” Zoey betrayed Mira’s darkest and gayest secret.

“The fuck, Zo!”

So quiet Mira barely heard it over the rush of the train and the muffled shrieks of the demons, Rumi’s breath hitched and she let out an incredulous, “Um, what?” Rumi stared between Mira and Zoey.

Mira stumbled as the train dipped into a turn, then she lunged to drag Rumi back from the demon that collided with her hip. Rumi used the distance to stab through its head and righted herself.

Rumi gasped, her eyes widening comically. Mira turned to see what had caught her attention and nearly shat her pants. The little drones had swarmed upward like a cloud, obscuring an enormous ogre. Its club was twice Mira’s height and about an inch from her face, mid-swing.

Rumi could tank hits no problem. Zoey wasn’t far behind, and she bounced back from most blows with ease. Mira? There was a reason her weapon was designed to keep enemies at a distance, a reason she never paused in the heat of battle.

Mira was a glass cannon.

“Aw shit.”

The club came down, and Mira desperately tried to twist out of the way. Blinding pain shot through her as a jagged spike clipped her shoulder, and she was sent rolling across the train. Shit. Fuck. Ow. This was really going to fuck up her choreography tomorrow.

“Mira!”

Mira tumbled off the edge, and she choked as someone caught her by the back of her sweater. This was humiliating. And so fucking painful. She clawed her way back up with her good hand and hoped none of the passengers saw her dangling like a pinata off the side of the train. Already she could feel the Honmoon twist its too-warm threads through the injury, an agonizingly slow onslaught of burning heat wrapping around and through her. It honestly hurt more than getting hit by the stupid club.

Mira’s shoulder wrenched painfully as strong arms wrapped around her chest and pulled her up. “Shoulder, shoulder, fuck!” Mira cried as Zoey hauled her onto the roof of the train.

“Sorry!” Zoey ripped her hands free. Then Mira started sliding off the edge again, and Zoey had to lunge for her, apologizing frantically.

Once safely on the train, Mira caught her breath. Zoey stood a few feet away, lashing out in clear panic at any demons that tried to draw close to Mira. Rumi was a blur of motion ahead, her precise movements cleaving through the horde with ease. Mira watched as Rumi drew her arm back in a familiar motion, and she despaired as Rumi proceeded to hurl her sword like a javelin. Rumi blanched as it predictably sailed through four demons and kept going off the side of the train. Just. Why.

Mira should probably get up and help them, because they were obviously a mess without her. Why were all three of them so useless when fighting in pairs?

Mira felt a bit like she was adrift within the Honmoon’s overwhelming flood worming through her veins, and she was so, so tired. Still, her girls needed her right now. Mira steadied herself to stand, but her hand skidded out from under her. It took a second to realize she had slipped in her own blood. Oh. That probably wasn’t good. She tried again.

Mira managed to rise halfway when a shockwave drove her to back her knees. It rumbled through her, less feeling than noise. Mira’s body vibrated with the force, and she was pretty sure her insides liquified. An instinctive terror, deep and primal, gripped her neck in an icy chokehold. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to die. She had never been more certain of anything in her life. She was going to die holy fuck she was gonna die–

It sounded like the world was falling apart, and Mira felt every second of it reverberate in her fucking bones.

After what felt like eternity, the endless roar eventually tapered off, and Mira’s senses came back slowly. The hot metal of the train pressed against her forehead. Wind tugged at the miraculously intact bun in her hair. Her contacts itched at her eyes as tears spilled down the bridge of her nose, and everything ached. Her shoulder burned with the fiery healing of the Honmoon. She saw Zoey’s sneakers to her right, Rumi’s to her left.

Mira slowly uncurled from the fetal position she had at some point assumed, and finally, as her hearing started to clear, she heard nothing but the high-speed train rushing quietly over the tracks. No muffled demon screams through faceless mouths. No humming of soul-forged weapons. No battle. Just the train and the frantic breathing of her friends beside her.

Mira blinked away tears and sat back, mindful of just how fucking much she hurt. Rumi’s leg provided a solid support.

A faceless demon fell limply at Mira’s feet. Zoey’s shinkal was in its head before Mira could blink, and she was dragged back a good three feet as Rumi’s hand suddenly snaked around her waist. Through the dissipating smoke, Mira saw large, familiar paws.

Derpy sat, looking a little forlornly at the spot where he had apparently dropped the demon. Directly in front of Mira. When did–

Mira looked past Derpy, and she was surprised by how intact the battlefield was. Where Hunters’ weapons banished demons near-instantly, whatever had gotten to them here had left them in… chunks. They were gradually fading into smoke, some faster than others. The ogre looked particularly gnarly, as if something had savaged its club arm with prejudice. For a moment, Mira wondered if Rumi had somehow done this.

Then Mira looked back to Derpy, who was fastidiously licking his claws clean. She looked to the slowly disintegrating carnage.

“What?” Mira croaked.

Quietly, Zoey said, “I think we found out what Derpy eats.”

“What?” Mira repeated. She hissed when Rumi pressed a wad of fabric to her shoulder. After a moment, Mira realized it was Rumi’s hoodie.

“Wait, Rumi.” Mira slapped at Rumi’s bare arms, patterns on full display in a dorky plant pun shirt. “Put your shirt back on.”

That hadn't quite been what Mira meant to say, but she hoped the message came across anyway. Rumi obviously wasn't ready for this level of public exposure, and this was a really stupid and unnecessary way to out her patterns to the world.

That, and Mira felt a bit like the cartoon sprout on the shirt declaring, 'beleaf in yourself!’ was personally mocking her.

“If you bleed out,” Rumi said, her voice thin with poorly repressed anxiety, “I will murder you.” She pressed down on Mira’s shoulder with an uncomfortable amount of force, and Mira couldn’t help but think they should probably renew their first aid certifications.

“Ditto,” Zoey said, audibly swallowing down panic as she rolled her fingers in an erratic beat against her leg.

“You can’t do that.” Mira grunted as Rumi manipulated her shoulder with the finesse and dexterity of a greased gorilla. “You’re my beneficiaries. It’ll look bad.”

“Shut up, Mira.” Rumi sat back on her haunches to glare at Mira, but it looked a lot more like staring with wide eyes. “That’s not funny.”

Mira hadn't been joking, but she really hurt too much to argue. She also thought Rumi and Zoey were overreacting, since the Honmoon was already threading through the wound. Mira forgot how weird this was, and her thoughts were oddly floaty even as slow-moving fire seared her veins. It'd been a long time since she was the injured one.

Rumi tied the now soiled hoodie into a makeshift sling, and Mira didn’t have the heart to tell Rumi that wouldn't really do shit for her shoulder. Mira let Rumi bungle through whatever farce of triage this was supposed to be because the Honmoon was doing all the important work. At the moment, Rumi just seemed like she needed to feel useful so she wouldn't flip out. Mira was happy to oblige.

“I think you’re okay,” Rumi said, and like, Mira could have easily told her that. Rumi took a long, slow breath in, then let it out in a sigh, some of her tension going with it. “No broken bones, so you should be healed by next week.”

“Next week?” Mira cried. Rumi couldn’t be serious. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow. My choreo will look so dumb with one arm.”

Zoey gently rapped Mira on the head and squinted down at her in disapproval. “Shoulders are not a good spot to get hit.” Zoey crouched next to Mira and latched on to her good arm. “It could’ve been, like, really really bad.”

“Well, I didn't choose it,” Mira grumbled, then looked to Rumi for backup.

Rumi did not back Mira up. “You're lucky that thing didn't get an artery,” Rumi scolded.

“I think it might've got the little one,” Mira said absently, not knowing if arms even had arteries. There had been a lot of blood though, which probably wasn't helping with Mira’s shot focus at the moment. Did they have juice in the fridge? That's what you were supposed to have for blood loss, right? Mira hoped they had some on hand, because she didn’t want to drink any of Rumi’s stupid lukewarm tonics. They were grape flavored.

“Oh, it was just a little artery,” Rumi snarked back. “That makes it fine.”

A squeeze to Mira’s arm had her turning back to Zoey. “Mira,” Zoey said gently, “I don’t think you know how arteries work.”

Mira pulled a face at Zoey and decided to ignore that very accurate assessment, mostly because she was still mad at Zoey for her blatant betrayal.

“Rumi,” Mira said, “seriously, your arms–”

“Fuck it.” Rumi said, a little too high pitched to be casual. “It’s fine.”

“Language,” Mira replied on pure contrarian reflex. Zoey shot her a warning glance and shook her head. Which, yeah, Mira did know that had been a stupid thing to say. She didn't need Zoey’s help with that.

“Mira, really not the time.” Rumi’s glare was almost convincing now. Then her head shot up in sudden alarm. “Wait, the passengers–”

“I’ll check,” Zoey volunteered immediately, practically vibrating with tense energy. She squeezed Mira’s arm one last time before standing. Zoey shook out her shoulders, then casually tumbled over the edge of the train like a goddamn circus acrobat.

“Where does she get time to practice all her flips?” Mira wondered aloud. She also wondered where her filter had gone, because the only thing on her mind should have been the passengers. Mira hated how her thoughts all felt a bit smothered and out of reach as the molten energy of the Honmoon oozed through her. This was so gross.

Rumi eyed Mira with concern and didn’t respond.

No more than a minute later, Zoey used her shinkal to dig harmlessly into the train and climb back up a full car ahead of them. Had she been using her weapons to crawl along the side of a moving train like a gecko? What the fuck, that was so cool. Why couldn’t Mira’s weapon do that?

“I think it’s okay.” Zoey called out as she got her feet under herself, and Rumi sighed in profound relief. “I can’t tell if anyone’s missing in the first car, but no one’s panicking. That’s probably good, right?”

As Zoey made her way back to Mira and Rumi, she gave Derpy a conspicuously wide berth, which seemed silly to Mira. There wasn’t exactly a lot of space up here, and Derpy wasn’t going to knock anyone over. Even if he did, they had jumped out of an exploding plane two weeks ago. They’d be fine.

Mira thought she should really thank Derpy if he had been the one to help them, though it still seemed too surreal to be true. He just looked so innocent as he curled into a tight ball and looked over sadly. Mira tried to reach out to invite him over, and Rumi apparently took that as her cue to dart under Mira’s good arm and drag her to her feet unceremoniously.

Mira was both embarrassed she was being lugged around like this and grateful she didn't have to worry about keeping her balance on a moving train. Much as the gesture made her feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy things, Mira really just wanted to tell Rumi that she was perfectly okay and didn’t need to be babied. Then Rumi stepped into Mira’s space even further, and Mira held her breath. What was going on? Why was Rumi basically pressed up against her boobs holy shit Mira was not okay–

With little fanfare, Rumi used the leverage of Mira’s wrist to duck, grab her leg, and haul Mira over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“What the shit!” Mira couldn’t even get out of this stupid position because Rumi had her only working arm and one of her legs locked in a tight grip. Rumi was lucky Mira’s favorite punching arm was currently incapacitated and trapped beneath a useless hoodie sling, or else this would have gone very differently. “Put me down, Rumi. I can fucking walk!”

Rumi didn’t bother to reply as she made slight adjustments to her hold and squared her shoulders. Mira was intensely aware of just how wrapped around Rumi she was and how much she would normally be freaking out about it. Right now, though, she was too annoyed and in pain to really care beyond wanting to get down right the fuck now.

Zoey sidled up next to Mira, and she was actually at eye level for once thanks to Mira’s new status as a sack of potatoes. Mira scowled at the wide, shark-like grin that was spreading across Zoey’s face. Mira already knew Zoey would be no help here.

Mira tried appealing to reason. “Rumi, my legs are fine, and I’m not even bleeding anymore.” At Rumi’s skeptical side-eye, Mira tried again. “The Honmoon is doing its thing, which, fucking ow. How do you guys stand this?”

Zoey huffed, and it was the closest thing Mira had heard to a laugh so far. “I forgot how much of a baby you are about Honmoon healing.”

“It fuckin’ burns, Zo,” Mira said, trying to make eye contact with Derpy and hoping he could help her get out of this. He peered back at her, ear tilted inquisitively. Apparently his connection to the Honmoon didn’t extend to telepathic communication, which was a huge bummer. “I can be a baby about it if I want to.”

Mira dragged her eyes back to Rumi. Even through the haze of pain and burning magic and complete mortification, Mira could see the way she kept glancing over her shoulder and flinching every time the patterns of her bare arms brushed against Mira. Which was kind of stupid since Rumi was actively engaging in carting Mira around like an invalid.

“You really didn’t need to bloody up your hoodie,” Mira said, a little breathless from having Rumi’s shoulder dig into her ribcage.

Rumi tried to catch Mira’s eye, and Mira had to tilt her neck at an awkward angle to let her. “Mira, it’s fine,” Rumi said unconvincingly. She sighed, and her next words were more sincere, if a lot quieter. “You’re more important.”

Mira ignored Zoey’s soft cooing behind her.

Mira also knew she’d probably be doing celebratory backflips under normal circumstances. At the moment, though, the most she felt was a small warmth in her chest, one that thankfully didn't make Mira want to scream and roll around on the floor to smother it like the Honmoon did. The rest of her, though, was consumed with raw humiliation at flopping around like a dead fish on Rumi’s strong shoulders.

Still, it seemed like Rumi was just sidestepping Mira’s very valid concerns. “Rumi, you are actively freaking out.”

“Please stop talking,” Rumi said through a tight jaw. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Seriously, you–” Mira almost rolled backwards off Rumi’s shoulders as Rumi suddenly surged forward. Like, okay, geeze. Mira knew she was terrible at dropping a topic that needed addressing, but Rumi didn’t need to manhandle her over it.

It took a Mira a long moment to realize Rumi wasn’t just trying to derail her. Derpy had slunk over to join them, and now Rumi and Zoey were actively keeping their distance from him. That was so incredibly rude after he had basically saved the day.

Well, even if Rumi and Zoey weren't going to show their appreciation, Mira would. She lolled her head over Rumi’s back. “You’re a good boy,” Mira told Derpy quietly. Derpy’s sad plodding steps gained some life, and he turned those big eyes on Mira with clear adoration. Mira tried to convey her gratitude back through gentle eye contact, but she had no idea if he got the message.

“Mira!” Rumi chided.

Zoey looked at Mira like she had just declared her intention to marry Jinu.

Mira didn’t know why they were being so weird about him, especially Rumi. Rumi and Derpy were friends, and Derpy was a good boy. He hadn’t ever done anything wrong to either of them. Was she seriously still mad about Mira using their friendship thing with Derpy? Rumi shouldn’t take it out on the poor tiger, since Mira would admit it was completely her fault this time.

Thinking back on the admittedly stupid sequence of events that brought her here, one particular thought nagged at Mira’s attention. “So why did the world go all… bad?”

Rumi and Zoey exchanged a worried glance. They probably thought they were being sneaky, but Mira saw it. It wasn’t hard on account of their faces being right fucking there. God, Mira wanted out of this stupid carry so badly.

“Uh, in general?” Rumi asked as the train passed into a tunnel.

Well, fuck. Time to get off where they wouldn’t attract attention.

“No, on the train. Like–” Mira winced as Rumi jumped down directly onto the track and her shoulders dug painfully into Mira’s sternum. Even with the Honmoon cushioning their fall, it still hurt like a bitch. “Like the sound. I think my bones melted a bit.”

“I thought it was just really loud, and, uh, really terrifying,” Zoey said, and she steered them both toward a maintenance path in the dim lighting of the tunnel. “But, you know, a tiger’s roar can cause disorientation.”

Mira always appreciated Zoey's animal facts, but she didn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“Blood loss probably didn’t help,” Rumi muttered darkly. That was a good point. “He was also standing right over you.”

“Who was?” Mira asked before she really started to put the pieces together. She glanced back at Derpy, who had followed at a distance, his stripes shining brightly against the darkened tunnel. “Wait, that was Derpy roaring?”

Mira knew that Derpy was fierce and majestic, and she had realized he was an unfathomably powerful being since the very beginning. That said, it was one thing to see him play with the threads of the Honmoon like yarn, and it was a completely different thing to realize he had what, eaten a horde of demons? Incapacitated her with sound?

Mira processed the revelation that her tiger friend was kind of fucking terrifying. Her surprise lasted for maybe a few seconds before she remembered he had always been terrifying. “Why are you guys freaking out, then? He helped us.”

Rumi eyed the tiger with surprising wariness. “You didn’t see what he did.”

Zoey visibly shuddered.

Okay, these overly dramatic morons were definitely exaggerating. Even at his scariest, Derpy was still, well, kind of derpy.

Slowly, the realization dawned on Mira, and she was not amused. Zoey’s speechlessness was a dead fucking giveaway here. Were Rumi and Zoey seriously messing with her? She was injured, for crying out loud! Injured and probably going to miss their entire choreo practice window. Mira got no respect around here.

“Ugh, whatever.” Mira was so fucking done with today, and the sun had barely even risen. She pushed against Rumi in earnest now they were on solid ground. “Now put me down. Are we calling a car or what?”

This alleyway sucked, and the driver needed to hurry up. At least Mira was on her own two feet, but that was a low bar for silver linings. While her head had cleared a bit with the worst of the initial healing done, that just meant she was grumpier and even more aware of how much her stupid shoulder hurt. She was also pissed that they were going to miss their whole choreo slot. Stupid demons and their stupid timing. Everything felt stupid right now.

Mira had no idea how the three of them might come across to outside observers, but it couldn't be anything good. She took in the fact that her dried blood was conspicuously coating her very white sweater, as well as smeared all the way down the back of Rumi’s arm where she had carried Mira. They all looked like they had stepped out of a slasher film, and definitely not as the surviving protagonists. Even Zoey hadn’t escaped it, but she was by far the best off between them.

Thank god for the mountains of NDAs and background screenings and possibly unethical loyalty tests Bobby and Celine insisted on for their staff. The poor driver was probably going to think they were fleeing a crime scene. Mira could see the headlines now, ‘Huntr/x Commits Murder, Search for Victim Ongoing.’

The shadows of the alley should have been more than enough to conceal them from a passing glance. Despite this, every person that walked by had Rumi jumping out of her skin and clutching her own arms. This in turn set Zoey to over-the-top reassurances that everything would be fine, which made Rumi worry that maybe things wouldn’t be fine, and the two kept feeding each other’s nervous energy as Mira quietly stewed off to the side. Probably the only reason Rumi and Zoey hadn’t just melted into puddles of anxiety was that Mira had finally convinced Derpy to stop following them and go do… whatever it was Derpy did when they weren’t hanging out. Eating demons was a genuine possibility, apparently. Served them right for interrupting Mira’s dancing time.

Mira sighed and let her head fall back against the questionably clean brick of the wall behind her when she remembered it was her turn to do laundry. Why the fuck did they wear white to a hunt? She wished they could just foist their shit onto an actual cleaning service, but Huntr/x consistently sending in clothes covered in blood and god knows what else would absolutely leak.

Seriously, it wasn't even seven in the morning. How the fuck was the day already this bad? At least it couldn’t get worse from here.

“So.” Rumi broke the tense silence. “Are we going to talk about the destroying the Honmoon thing?”

Mira spoke too soon. She vowed never to tempt fate again, because fate obviously loved mocking her.

“I can’t,” Mira whined, hoping Rumi would drop it. “I’m injured.”

“Right.” Rumi’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “And when Zoey said you were ready to end the world?”

“For you,” Zoey chimed in, the traitorous little goblin.

Rumi face did something, seemingly caught between shock, utter confusion, and exasperation.

“Oh, ow,” Mira said dramatically. “My shoulder.” She glared at Zoey over Rumi’s head.

By sharing Mira’s honestly kind of deranged secret, Zoey had broken girl code. Zoey shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the high treason she had committed. Then she had the audacity to fucking wink at Mira.

Mira did not appreciate this meddling. At all.

“Mira, you can't end the world.” Rumi said it like it was a silly impossibility, like she was telling a little kid they couldn’t have the moon for their birthday.

Zoey snorted. At least she believed Mira could end the world, even if she was on thin ice right now.

“If you don’t get sealed into the Honmoon, I won’t have to,” Mira grumbled, offended by Rumi’s lack of faith in her.

Rumi raised a dubious eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She started to say something else, then paled. “Wait, Zoey, were you actually being serious?”

Zoey’s answering grin had Rumi paling even further. Rumi slowly turned back to Mira. “She… she wasn’t serious, right?”

Mira didn't bother to reply, since the answer was obvious.

Rumi gaped at Mira.

Mira glared right back.

“Mira, you can't end the world,” Rumi repeated, this time with incredulous disbelief.

Mira tried to wrestle down the defiant part of her that felt like that was a challenge. She failed. “Don’t give me a reason to.”

A familiar nondescript car rolled up, passenger door positioned perfectly for discreet entry. Zoey immediately raced toward it.

“Wha–” Rumi sputtered as Mira started for the car. “Mira, no!”

Mira groaned, watching Zoey slide across the bench of the backseat and wanting nothing more than to join her. Mira knew they needed to address this, but she did not have the emotional or physical stamina for any conversation at the moment.

“Rumi, I need a shower and to sleep for like, three years. We’ll talk later.” Mira gestured for Rumi to take the middle seat because she really didn’t want her injury squished next to either of them. This way her good shoulder would be the only one in danger of the usual stupidity that tended to follow them as a group.

Rumi hesitated. “Mira, I–” She searched Mira’s face, then her eyes locked on the ruined hoodie serving as an ineffective sling. “Yeah, that’s– It can wait.” Rumi made a point of leaning in to make unnecessarily intense eye contact, which did nothing to help how dizzy Mira was already feeling. “We are going to talk about this,” Rumi said sternly, then she gently tugged Mira toward the car like she couldn’t walk herself the last two steps.

Safely tucked in the car, Rumi leaned all the way across Mira to shut the door for her. Mira melted at the tenderness of the gesture and tensed from just how tightly pressed together they were in that moment. It was a rather uncomfortable mix of reactions, but the whole thing would be so much more pleasant if Mira didn't feel like gross little slugs made of magma were creeping along under her skin. It genuinely felt like the Honmoon was being bigoted toward Mira in particular, fed up with the sheer amount of queerness in her soul. She didn’t know why the Honmoon’s healing had to be such a fucking homophobe about it all.

“Seatbelts!” Zoey called out as Rumi withdrew.

Mira leveled a flat look at Zoey, who was the absolute worst about remembering her seatbelt. Usually it was Rumi issuing the reminder, if not trying to do it for them. Mira kind of wondered what fucked up stories Celine might have instilled in Rumi to make her so adamant about it.

Speaking of, Mira saw the exact look in Rumi’s eye that said she was about to treat Mira like a toddler again. Not today. Mira quickly grabbed the seatbelt, then regretted everything because holy shit. Why did she decide twisting around was a good idea?

Rumi and Zoey quietly watched Mira struggle to complete a basic task. Rumi hesitantly asked, “Do you want me to–”

“No!” Mira snapped. She continued to struggle, but she was going to fasten her own goddamn seatbelt if it killed her. Mira glanced over at the raw concern on both their faces and felt bad. “Sorry,” Mira said brusquely. “No, thank you.” She gracelessly wrestled the seatbelt into the fastener, and she didn’t even feel proud of the accomplishment. She kind of just felt like shit in general.

The smallest of mercies was that the driver was completely ignorant to Mira’s current uselessness. With the backseat soundproofed and windows blackened, they didn’t have to worry about what they said. If Mira was forced to be uncomfortably human for the time being, she refused to let anyone see other than Rumi and Zoey. By the way Rumi sagged bonelessly into the seat despite being squished in the middle, Mira knew how much the privacy meant to her, too.

The car rumbled along, its slow speed and meandering turns proving the driver was taking the time to loop around and make certain there was no connection between that alleyway and the Huntr/x headquarters. The low vibrations of the engine drained the last of Mira’s adrenaline-fueled focus, and she found herself sinking lower in her seat with each passing moment.

“Hey, Mira?” Zoey said quietly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rumi took up Mira’s hand gently, and the steady way she watched Mira said as much as Zoey’s words.

“Oh, uh.” Mira cast about for the appropriate response to the raw vulnerability in front of her, knowing that this was a fragile and important moment between the three of them. In her exhaustion, she came up short. “You too.”

Ah, yes. A brilliant and emotionally intelligent response. Mira would berate herself more over sounding like a brain-dead moron, but she was starting to suspect it might just be her default state.

Rumi leaned over to Mira and murmured, “You can sleep, if you want.”

“I’m good,” Mira said, fully recognizing she was probably going to pass out soon anyway.

Mira was faintly aware of Zoey chattering to fill the silence. It was as comforting as the warmth of Rumi at her side, and both were a nice distraction from the Honmoon’s apparent prejudice against Mira with its slow creep of molten energy through her shoulder.

“Mira!” Zoey craned her neck to make eye contact, and Mira had to blink herself into a vague imitation of awake. “Help me out here. Rumi needs another affirmation.”

“No, I don’t.” Rumi smiled, clearly amused with whatever nonsense Zoey was engaging in. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

Zoey made some sort of wiggly gesture at Rumi. “You made a big step, that’s something to celebrate! Come on, Mira, it’s your turn.”

Mira had no idea what they were talking about, but she could affirm Rumi. Mira was good at noticing things about Rumi.

“Your face is pretty.” That seemed like a good one. Everyone knew that, and Rumi should really acknowledge it more.

Rumi’s hand spasmed in Mira’s. Mira looked down in surprise because she didn’t even remember when they had started holding hands. Had she latched on when she dozed off? Apparently it wasn’t enough for Mira to obsess over Rumi every waking moment of the day if she also managed it in her sleep.

“No, Mira,” Zoey said, true laughter slipping out for maybe the first time since rehearsal. “About her patterns.”

“Oh.” Well, at least that was an easy affirmation, especially now that Mira was looking at them. “Those are pretty, too.”

“That’s not–” Zoey giggled to herself. “Close enough.”

“‘M gonna sleep,” Mira announced, feeling like it was important to let them know she had changed her mind. She didn't want them to think she was rude for ignoring them.

Rumi laughed softly, although it was strained. Mira really hoped Rumi and Zoey could just stop worrying, but Mira knew that wasn’t in their natures. Mira always freaked out whenever they got hurt, but it just felt wrong when it was directed at her. She didn’t know what to do with their annoying hovering or tense silences, especially since she would be fine in like a day. Still, it eased something in Mira to see how much they wanted her here, even though she was kind of a useless sadsack at the moment.

Laughter was the last thing Mira heard as she drifted off. The blanket of Zoey’s voice and Rumi’s presence finally let her feel safe enough to succumb to the exhaustion of the day.

Mira’s awareness came back in slow starts as she was bundled out of the car and into the elevator in the garage. She blinked against the uncomfortable itch of her contacts, irritated she had fallen asleep while wearing them. Her shoulder still burned, but the short rest had actually seemed to help. Either that, or she was just getting used to this bullshit.

Rumi and Zoey bracketed Mira on either side as the elevator rose smoothly upward. The promise of a shower and a long nap was irresistible, but something more pressing had Mira shaking off the last of her tiredness. As Rumi’s bare arm brushed against her, Mira realized something incredibly important had shifted.

“Rumi.” Mira’s voice was rough with sleep, but she projected as much sincerity as she could regardless. “I want you to know I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, uh.” Rumi’s cheeks pinked adorably. Her hand drifted to her wrist, trying to pull down a sleeve that wasn’t there. “For what?”

Zoey beamed and gave Mira a huge thumbs up.

“You used the elevator.” Mira was proud of her for the patterns thing too, but this was big.

Zoey buried her face in her hands and laughed in pure exasperation.

Rumi blinked. “What do you–” She scowled as the elevator doors opened up to their wonderful, wonderful home. Mira made a beeline for her bathroom, and Rumi called after her, “I’ve used the elevator before!”

Mira didn’t say that the only times Rumi ever used the elevator were when she was really upset. The Golden premiere was just the latest example, and Mira hoped that the stupidity of getting herself injured didn’t rank so high on Rumi’s scale of inner turmoil.

Rumi collected emotional trauma like a dragon hoarded treasures, and Mira did not want to be another shiny bauble of devastation on top of the pile. Much as she’d love to be a knight for the coolness factor in this metaphor, Mira knew better. Her heart sang out to be the stupid princess just chilling in the dragon’s lair, banking on the off chance that the dragon might be a pretty girl, too.

Mira shook off the gay turn to her thoughts, well used to steering herself back on track after daydreaming about Rumi. Mira really needed that nap, but she wasn’t about to sully her bed or the couch with all this nastiness from the hunt. A shower was priority number one, and the rest could follow.

As Mira slipped into her bathroom, she shut the door with a bit more force than necessary. She probably shouldn’t have, but she didn’t want to run the risk of either Rumi or Zoey inviting themselves to help her wash her hair or some equally stupid shit she was perfectly capable of. Mira was sick of being treated like she was incompetent.

Except, after painfully struggling with the stupid hoodie sling and her sweater, Mira admitted to herself she might be a little incompetent at the moment. She still wasn’t about to accept Rumi and Zoey treating her like a baby, though. She could do just fine on her own.

Mira managed to twist the ridiculous hoodie sling around so she could actually see what she needed to untie, then stared in disbelief. How many fucking times did Rumi knot this thing? What the fuck, did she fucking braid it in the middle? How did she do that there were only two sleeves. Hand itching to summon her woldo, Mira eyed the hoodie and did the mental calculations of how much Rumi actually liked this one.

The answer was unfortunately a lot. Fuck. Mira resigned herself to one-armed detangling hell. Whenever she finished this, this hoodie was going to be Mira’s hoodie because Rumi obviously didn’t appreciate it enough. Rumi could ask to borrow it if she needed it. Finally freed after far too long, down the hoodie went into Mira’s laundry hamper.

The cold shower felt amazing against the awful burn of the Honmoon, so it was all worth it in the end. The real trouble, though, was her hair. Mira wished she had just swallowed her pride and asked for help earlier, because the whole ordeal took three hours.

Three fucking hours just to wash Mira’s stupid fucking hair, and she ended up having to do it in the fucking sink while sitting on a dumb little stool. This was so stupid, and now she was fucking tired again why. By the time she had finished, she arrived to a note in the kitchen telling her she wasn’t allowed to join Zoey and Rumi for the golden hoop rehearsal, which was fucking bogus.

Mira had also completely forgotten that was a thing, or she would have rushed that stupidly long hair cleaning. Their full technical rehearsal wasn’t until tomorrow, and Mira would admit she had a little bit of tunnel vision for her own choreo sections. Still, it was unfair to shut Mira out from this. Like, her shoulder was injured, she could still give input!

The note may have also said some sappy shit about how much they loved her and were going to miss her, but Mira refused to read it too closely because she kind of wanted to be angry right now. Anger was easy. Mira nursed her irritation at being left home as she went about her stupid fucking day confined to the tower.

The first order of business was to pass out on the couch, which honestly wasn’t so bad. The rest of the day sucked, though.

Bobby answered Mira’s furious texts with incredibly supportive but firm reassurances that no, they did not need Mira to come in, and it would be best if she rested. Mira had no idea what Rumi and Zoey had come up with for an excuse, but it was probably stupid. Bobby then sent a gentle request to inform him next time they decided to collab with a wildlife organization so he could vet their credentials. Mira’s eyes glazed over a bit as he immediately sent profuse apologies in case his previous texts came across harsh. Feeling entirely too exposed, Mira set her phone on silent and chucked it into a random kitchen drawer once the texts veered into how proud Bobby was of her for making difficult but necessary work-life balance choices.

The less said about Mira’s one-armed attempts to navigate the kitchen after that, the better. She did eventually get the kettle working once she remembered she needed to put water in it, and really, that was the kettle’s fault for not being easier to use. The most she would let herself acknowledge about the rest of it is that she got her instant ramyeon opened. Eventually. There may or may not have been a knife involved, which was a poor decision all around.

Trying to practice her choreo to get a feel for how dumb it would look with one arm was also a disaster, and Mira would never, ever tell Zoey or Rumi how that particular mirror in the dance studio broke. Everything felt difficult, and after a certain point, Mira just gave up.

Mira lay stretched out on the living room carpet. There was nothing to do but wallow in her own thoughts, and the more she thought the less Mira wanted to perform tomorrow. She didn’t want to think about all the awful things that might happen to Rumi, so Mira opted not to think at all. She stared at the ceiling, dozing in and out as the Honmoon did its best to remind her what it might feel like if she replaced her blood with boiling oil.

The quiet pneumatic hiss of the elevator doors had Mira tensing, and she tried to stealthily become one with the carpet. She hoped Rumi and Zoey would just pass by in their exhaustion without noticing Mira lounging in the middle of the room like weirdo.

Mira could never be so lucky. Zoey walked directly into the living room and immediately started laughing at Mira’s odd position. Mira tried to project normalcy and obviously failed. Then Rumi trudged in and stumbled over Mira’s shins, which, ow.

“What the– Mira?” Rumi blinked tiredly down at Mira, and Mira tried very hard not to look guilty because she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. “Why are you on the floor?” Rumi asked, brow furrowing in concern.

“It’s where I do my best moping,” Mira said, employing her sharpest sarcasm despite it being completely true. “How was it?”

Zoey’s laugh faded as she flopped onto the couch and buried her face in a pillow. “Ugh. Tomorrow's gonna be a disaster.”

Mira perked up. “That bad?”

“Don’t sound so excited, Mira,” Rumi said, voice low as she carefully stretched out her back.

“You look wrecked.” Mira didn’t think a basic run through or two should have Rumi this tired. “Are you sure the hoop isn’t too much for your voice? I can’t imagine the breath control you need for that thing.”

“Her singing is fantastic,” Zoey’s muffled voice said. She lifted her head from the pillow and rested her cheek against the sofa, eyeing Rumi accusingly. “She’s tired because she made them run through the flying section eight times before she was happy.”

“Eight?” Mira knew she should have gone with them. Even if her arm didn’t work, she could have at least harassed Rumi into being reasonable.

“I need to make sure I have it down,” Rumi argued, but her tone was more subdued than combative.

“I mean, it did look great,” Zoey said encouragingly. “Wish you had been there to see it, Mira.” She waggled her eyebrows with gusto.

Mira couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated faces Zoey was making, and she felt warm as Rumi joined in the laughter, too. “Why don’t you guys go change?” Mira suggested. She raised an eyebrow at Zoey. “Or have we decided against a pre-show sleepover already?”

“Never!” Zoey declared, energy returning. “But we have to follow protocol.”

Mira eased herself into a sitting position and nodded back solemnly. “Always respect the protocol.” She glanced up and sent Rumi a reassuring smile when she saw the furrowed brow and slight hunching of her shoulders. “And Rumi needs to learn it.”

Zoey gasped. “Rumi.” She clasped her hands together, eyes practically sparkling. “You’re gonna love it.”

While Rumi’s initial tension at the mention of a sleepover had eased, she still looked unsettled. “I’ve had sleepovers with you guys before,” she said, but her confident tone was betrayed by the way her eyes sought out Mira’s questioningly.

Mira placed a hand on Rumi’s calf, the only safe and most importantly platonic piece of her that she could reach. “Yeah, but pre-show sleepovers are an event with Zoey. You’ve always insisted on an early bedtime before show days.”

“And we should all have a full night’s rest tonight.” Rumi was obviously aiming for stern, but a smile threatened to break through anyway.

“Aw, come on Rumi,” Zoey cajoled. “We’re building a couch fort. Are you really gonna make Mira do all the tall person work?” Zoey gestured at Mira, and Mira already felt insulted by whatever was about to come out of Zoey’s mouth next. “Just look at her.”

Mira had great instincts.

Rumi looked at Mira, and Mira tried very hard not to appear pathetic with her disheveled hair and designated moping spot on the carpet. She wasn’t sure what Rumi saw when she looked at her, but Mira did feel all sorts of mushy things about the way Rumi’s eyes softened.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Rumi said neutrally. Mira’s fuzzy feelings died a swift and disappointed death. Rumi laughed quietly, presumably at whatever offended melancholy she read on Mira’s face. “Oh, why not? Let’s ruin our sleep schedules.”

Mira thought maybe Rumi and Zoey were spending too much time together. Zoey’s behavior was obviously a bad influence.

“Yes!” Zoey allowed herself only a brief victory dance before she hopped up and ushered Rumi toward the hallway. “First point of sleepover protocol: relaxy time. This one might be hard for you, but we believe in you.”

Mira laughed as she heard the fading sound of Rumi’s indignant protests that she did too know how to relax.

Before long, Zoey and Rumi returned, changed into their pajamas and looking ready for phase one of any good sleepover. Mira stubbornly hauled herself back onto the couch cushions and curled her feet up, refusing to spend the night in the middle of the floor. Without looking up from her phone, Zoey plopped next to Mira’s good side, presumably looking for a long and hopefully boring playlist to watch. Rumi dropped an armful of snacks on the coffee table and settled on the couch to Mira’s other side. Mira felt a soft, easy gratitude that Rumi was taking deliberate care not to jostle her shoulder.

Mira also wondered how Rumi consistently made gutter chic look amazing. Mira was pretty sure there were holes in every hem of both Rumi’s fuzzy pajama pants and her shapeless, faded tank top. She looked like she had deliberately chosen the most ratty articles of clothing she owned, and yet she was still pretty. As the visual who had to work so hard to be ‘the hot one,’ Mira felt like this was a bit unfair.

Zoey eventually put on a playlist of shorts about deep sea fish, much to Mira’s dismay. She should think they were awesome, but something about their too-many teeth and alien habitat disturbed Mira deeply. The one on the screen could almost have passed for an eel, if eels were made out of skulls and nightmares. Mira shivered and curled up tighter as its eyes lit up the ocean in an eerie red glow that its prey couldn’t see.

To Mira, no horror movie had ever made her feel quite as unsettled as the creatures of the depths.

Mira’s focus slid over to Rumi, and she didn’t like the parallels she saw. Both Rumi and the nightmare fish were competent hunters, for one. They were both disturbingly adept at navigating a darkened environment only they could see. Perhaps most damningly, the fish even had light-absorbing skin, the same way Rumi’s patterns swallowed any light cast upon them.

If Rumi was half water demon, it might actually be a deal breaker. It was kind of earth shattering that Mira had finally found something that might well and truly be her hard line. She really didn’t think she could cope with it if Rumi started to smell like rancid squid whenever she got scared.

Mira ignored the pathetic part of her that immediately started coming up with potential workarounds and compromises.

A warmth on Mira’s calf halted her thoughts completely. She carefully glanced down, and there Rumi’s hand was, resting casually on Mira’s leg like it had any goddamn right to be there. Mira darted her eyes up to check, and Rumi was seemingly enraptured by the aquatic horrors on the screen.

What the fuck. What the fuck. Rumi had to know she was doing this, right? What even was she doing?

Mira valiantly did not hyperventilate, but it was a near thing. She felt her heart race as she realized with no small amount of mortification that Zoey had been right. Rumi was using their physical boundaries to figure out her own, and right now Rumi was imitating Mira’s earlier platonic calf-touching to the letter.

This did not feel platonic at all.

Mira stared at the hand on her calf and flipped the fuck out. Quietly.

Should Mira say something? Would that hurt Rumi’s feelings? Did Mira even want to say something? Not with Zoey here, at least, but Mira did not trust her and Rumi’s ability to communicate nonverbally. It almost always ended in even more gay shit happening to her, and Mira just couldn’t handle that right now.

Oh god, did Rumi just move her thumb–

Mira’s impending heart attack didn’t have long to fester, with ringing bells and a ripple of the Honmoon announcing Derpy’s arrival. Zoey thankfully paused her awful playlist. Rumi’s head jerked up, then she scrambled up onto the back of the couch behind Mira as the tiger rose from the ground smoothly, Sussie in tow. Mira felt both relieved and heartbroken at the loss of contact, then she berated herself for freaking out about a hand on her lower leg. She was such a loser it wasn’t even funny anymore. Mira took more than a few calming breaths, trying to will down her blush before Zoey or Rumi noticed.

Derpy draped his heavy head across Mira’s knees and dropped a slobbery greeting card into her lap, eyes wide in adoration. She scratched behind his ear and fought down a grimace at the damp card, not wanting to hurt Derpy’s feelings. He had kind of saved the day, after all. Mira could put up with a little tiger drool.

The horrific little bird hopped over to Zoey, who beamed as the nightmare creature dropped some trinket into her hands. Zoey reached into her pocket, and she retrieved a polished bead to give in exchange. Did Zoey just carry shiny things on the off chance the bird might show up? Even in her pajamas? Mira regretted ever introducing them. Those two would probably bring a curse down on someone’s bloodline together, giggling all the while.

Mira glanced up at Rumi, who was poised like a demented spider on the back of the couch above her. Rumi looked torn between making as much distance as she could from Derpy and hovering over Mira’s injured shoulder. While Rumi often perched up high in weird spots, this was definitely a new one.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Mira asked, gingerly picking up the soggy card between her thumb and forefinger. Gross. She tried to pass it up to Rumi, who looked about a second from somersaulting backwards off the couch.

“I can’t draw my sword,” Rumi whispered, her face wan and horrified.

“What?” Mira turned toward Rumi more fully and winced as her shoulder burned anew. “Sorry, why do you need your sword?”

Rumi stared wide-eyed at her own empty hand. Mira slapped the slobbery greeting card into it to distract her.

Rumi recoiled, dropping the card and nearly tipping off the couch. “Mira!” Rumi wiped her hand down the back of Mira’s shirt.

“Why would you do that?” Mira tried and failed to twist away from Rumi, her movements sorely limited. Could the stupid Honmoon just fucking hurry up already? Mira was done with being injured now.

“Why would I–” Rumi sputtered. “You did it!”

“Rumi, I thought we weren’t lying anymore.” Mira leveled a disappointed look at Rumi.

Rumi started to respond, indignant flush down to her collarbones, before narrowing her eyes at Mira. “Why are you trying to distract me from the fact that I can’t draw my weapon?”

It was worth a try. At least Mira could reassure Rumi that nothing was wrong. “Derpy does that sometimes,” Mira said, kind of worried the pressure was finally catching up to Rumi. “Freaked me out too the first time it happened.”

“He what?” Rumi whisper-shrieked. Oops. Apparently that made it worse.

“Really?” Zoey asked, interrupting whatever evil things she and the bird were discussing. “How?”

Mira started to shrug at Zoey, and then her shoulder felt like it was on fire again holy shit why did she do that. Mira gingerly slumped back against the couch, feeling rather sorry for herself.

“Might just be the Honmoon, who even knows how it works anymore,” Mira groused. Derpy nudged his nose under Mira’s good hand, and she obliged him with chin scritches. It was the least she could do after he saved their bacon.

When Derpy finally got his fill of petting and flopped to the ground, Rumi cautiously sank to sit on the back of the couch like a lunatic, one leg pulled up behind Mira’s shoulders and the other foot resting on the seat, where her butt was supposed to go.

Mira let her head fall back, and she stared up at Rumi and her rapidly dwindling sanity. “Seriously,” Mira said, concern growing. “What’s wrong?”

“Mira,” Rumi whispered frantically, leaning a bit too close to Mira’s ear, “he eats demons.”

“So?” Mira felt like she was missing something as she tried not to squirm away from the warm breath at her ear.

Rumi shoved her empty hand directly in front of Mira’s face, palm up. When Mira just stared at it, Rumi made an insistent noise and waved her hand a little.

Mira squinted up at Rumi, confused and exhausted. Did Rumi want to hold hands or something? She didn’t have to be so aggressive about it. Mira kind of felt like it was rewarding bad behavior, but if Rumi needed to hold her hand, then Mira would hold her hand.

Oh shit, this was exactly what Mira had done to Rumi earlier in front of Jinu. Mira was a terrible role model. Still, she reached up and gently grabbed Rumi’s hand. If she had been unintentionally modeling not-so-acceptable behavior, then this was kind of Mira's own fault.

Rumi let out a strangled laugh. “Mira, no, that’s not–” Rumi pulled their joined hands out so her forearm filled Mira’s vision. It was a very pretty forearm, but Mira was beginning to think her threshold for pretty was nonfunctional when it came to Rumi. “My patterns,” Rumi said, exasperated.

“Okay?” Mira said. She trailed her hand up to wrap her fingers around the patterns at Rumi's wrist. Rumi wheezed like a deflating balloon.

Zoey and the bird watched them bumble through basic interactions with disturbingly identical looks of raw fascination. Mira had no doubt that if there was a notebook in Zoey’s hand, every second of this conversation would have been recorded for future torment.

Zoey caught Mira’s eye. “Rumi thinks she might be on the menu.” Zoey spoke slowly, like Mira was somehow supposed to just magically know these things.

Mira looked at Rumi’s patterns under her fingers, then at Derpy, who rolled onto his side and pressed into the couch beneath Mira’s legs, chuffing happily and not looking hungry in the least.

Mira came to the abrupt realization that Rumi wasn’t crazy. That was a relief.

“Oh,” Mira said. “That’s dumb.”

Rumi was just being a moron. That was nothing new, though.

“What?” Rumi cried. “How is that dumb? You have no idea what he did!”

“Well, you’re not a demon, so that’s one thing.” Mira was getting pretty fucking sick of Rumi’s and Zoey’s attitudes. The joke hadn’t been funny to begin with, and it definitely wasn’t funny now. Like, did Rumi seriously think Mira was dumb enough to believe Rumi thought of herself as a demon?

“But does he know that?” Rumi’s voice raised in pitch.

Oh. That was maybe a valid concern. If the Honmoon might not know the difference, Mira could see where Rumi might draw that conclusion. Mira was still appalled by Rumi’s lack of faith in Derpy’s judgment, though.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Rumi,” Zoey said, but she sounded unsure of her own words. She looked hesitantly between Rumi and the tiger. “He only ate the bad demons, right?”

“Knock it off, you two.” If Mira’s math was right, the little guy might as well be a national treasure. “Derpy saved, like, three hundred people today.”

“Seriously?” Zoey reeled back in clear surprise.

“Three hundred?” Rumi breathed, face pale. “There were that many on the train?”

“Uh, at least.” Mira tried to find an issue with her numbers, but she was pretty sure about this. “Anywhere between three and four hundred. It’s not like it was rush hour.”

“How do you know that?” Rumi looked at Mira like she was an alien species.

Mira was extremely concerned. “Rumi, please tell me Celine taught you basic algebra when she homeschooled you.”

Rumi flushed and looked away. Mira was about three seconds from calling Celine up to yell at her when Zoey chimed in, “I learned algebra, and I couldn’t have told you that.”

Mira raised a taunting eyebrow at Zoey. “That doesn't count. You learned American math.”

Zoey giggled at the pun, then bristled at the insult to the American education system. “Mira, we don’t use different math.” Zoey paused and seemed to give it real consideration. “Actually, I think I slept through most of eighth grade algebra and still passed.”

Mira felt like her point was made for her.

“I learned math,” Rumi muttered defensively. “I just never liked it. Singing and sword fighting were much better.” As her cheeks reddened, Rumi snatched up the card from Jinu and opened it, clearly using it as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“Look, if you’re actually worried Derpy’s gonna eat you–” Mira realized she didn’t have any followup. “Just, uh, don’t be.”

Zoey laughed at Mira’s inability to string a sentence together. “Mira, I don’t know if ‘just don’t be scared’ is the best advice.”

“I’m not scared,” Rumi denied despite her utterly ridiculous position on the back of the couch saying otherwise. “I’m… assessing the risk of the situation.”

“I just mean you’re safe,” Mira said. She tried to peer over the open card in Rumi’s hand, but it was near incomprehensible. Mira may have learned traditional calligraphy, but that writing was traditional. It had even been stamped in place of a signature. “He hasn’t eaten Jinu in like 400 years, and that guy sucks.”

“Oh, well, I guess it’s safe if you say so,” Rumi said sarcastically. She saw Mira squinting at the card and turned it toward her. “Here. It says good luck, and that he can’t wait to see me on stage tomorrow. Does that sound like someone who sucks?”

“Yes.” Mira glared at the stupid card. “It sounds like a threat.”

“Maybe he’s trying to be friendly?” Zoey hedged. Sussie had perched on her head like a hat, and Mira wondered what the bird’s obsession with headwear was all about.

“It’s polite to answer either way,” Rumi said, and that definitely sounded like a holdover from Celine. Rumi carefully climbed over the back of the couch and walked backwards, keeping both Mira and the tiger in her sight. Mira turned as much as she was able and rested her chin on the back of the couch to watch whatever insane spectacle this was about to be.

Rumi impressively navigated the tripping hazard of the steps up to the kitchen, then reached blindly into a drawer. She paused and finally looked down at what she was doing. “Mira, why is your phone in the silverware drawer?”

“Why are you looking for stationary in the silverware drawer?” Mira deflected, not actually having an explanation for that one.

“I didn’t know that’s what it was, I was looking for the other one.”

Zoey sighed with the weight of one pulled from couch symbiosis far too soon. She reluctantly peeled herself up from her clearly cozy spot, then shuffled over to the kitchen. From seemingly thin air or possibly a pocket dimension in the dishwasher, Zoey produced one of the many stationary packs she had stashed around the tower and passed a greeting card and pen to Rumi.

“Thank you,” Rumi said, smiling brightly at Zoey.

Zoey grinned back and hopped onto a stool at the kitchen counter. She peered over Rumi’s card as she deliberated. “So what are you gonna write back? Ooh, tell him you’ll kick him in the shin again if he’s a jerk tomorrow!”

“Zoey,” Rumi groaned. “I can’t be rude.”

“Why not?” Mira threw out. “It works great for me.”

Rumi huffed out a laugh. “Come on, you guys, let me figure this out.”

“Tell him to break a leg!” Zoey said excitedly. “He can’t object to that.”

“Brutal.” Mira approved. Not what she would have normally expected out of her, but Mira respected Zoey’s savagery when it wasn’t pointed at her nonexistent love life.

“Wait, why?” Rumi stared at Zoey as if finally seeing the chaotic violence that was oh-so-poorly restrained by cheerfulness. In Mira’s opinion, the cheerfulness made it worse. “Zoey, that’s awful!”

Zoey tilted her head and looked between them. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong with that?”

Rumi dragged her blank card away from Zoey. “I’m not going to tell Jinu to break his own bones!”

If Rumi wouldn’t do it, Mira would love to volunteer.

Zoey looked taken aback, then she started laughing openly. “How have you never heard ‘break a leg?’”

Rumi exchanged look with Mira. Mira would have shrugged, but she had learned her lesson already, the warning burn of the Honmoon a constant reminder of how stupid her day had been.

“It's bad luck to wish someone good luck on stage,” Zoey explained between giggles. “So you do the the opposite. That might only be in English, though.”

Mira felt vindicated about her interpretation of Jinu’s well wishes as a genuine threat. She had no idea why these morons didn’t listen to her more.

“Okay, no,” Rumi said, stifling her own laughter. “I’ll just write a regular thank you and good luck. That’s neutral, right?”

“Write good luck in English,” Mira said, feeling a rather vicious smile spread across her face.

“I don’t know how fluent–” Rumi stopped as Zoey descended into more giggles. She glanced between Mira and Zoey, obvious confusion in her eyes. Then Rumi blinked in sudden realization. “Oh my god, Mira. Stop encouraging me to threaten him!”

“Worth a try,” Mira said, snickering to herself.

“Ugh, whatever.” Rumi scrawled out a quick note, and Mira admired her ability to be so decisive in her words. That would have taken Mira a lot longer to write.

Rumi marched over to Mira and held the card out directly in front of her face as if Mira were Derpy, just eagerly waiting to deliver their next stupid message to fart-boy. “Here,” Rumi said when Mira didn’t immediately take the card.

“Uh, Rumi?” Mira was starting to get concerned about Rumi’s sanity again. “I’m not putting that in my mouth.”

“What? No!” Rumi waved the card around like that would somehow tell Mira what was expected of her. “Give it to Derpy!”

Oh. That made more sense.

“Why can’t you do it?” Mira asked just to be difficult, knowing full well that Rumi was having some sort of crisis about their sweet little tiger friend secretly being a badass.

“While I don’t think he’s going to eat me,” Rumi glared pointedly when Mira opened her mouth to snark back, so Mira let her finish. “I’m not putting my hand near his mouth.”

Honestly, that was fair.

“Okay,” Mira said.

“So you need to–” Rumi looked at Mira, nose wrinkling cutely. “Wait, you will?”

“Sure.” Mira shrugg–what the fuck why did she keep doing that. Mira kept her reaction down to a wince, but goddamn.

Rumi didn’t seem to notice Mira’s self inflicted pain, which was probably for the best. “You,” Rumi narrowed her eyes, “will give Derpy the note to Jinu?”

“Yeah, why not?” Mira had been planning to do that. Now, Rumi’s scrutiny was kind of making Mira want to fuck with her on principle. Maybe she’d just confiscate the card until Rumi and Derpy made up properly.

“Okay, I don’t trust whatever this is.”

Well shit, if Mira acted up now, it was Rumi’s own fault for not trusting her in the first place.

Mira eyed Rumi. “I’ll do it only if you walk over here and hand it to me like a normal person.”

From the kitchen, Mira heard Zoey quietly whisper, “Mira, no.”

Rumi either didn’t hear Zoey’s warning or wasn’t smart enough to heed it. “You can reach it from here just fine.” Rumi put a hand on her hip and held out the card, and Mira’s mouth went a little dry at the command in her posture.

Mira studiously ignored her own gay shit and incredibly fucked up authority complex for the moment because she didn’t need that right now.

“It hurts to turn around,” Mira said, and she wasn’t even lying a little bit. “And to raise my arms.”

“It does not,” Rumi said, staring down at Mira. Then, a little quieter and a bit more worried, she asked, “Does it?”

Mira said nothing and waited for Rumi to make her choice. And like, Mira kind of felt bad about making Rumi concerned, but Mira was also genuinely unsure of how easily she’d be able to grab that card without feeling like she had set herself on fire.

“Fine.” Rumi sighed. “But you’re giving it to him.” She walked around the couch, making a point of not hesitating as she drew closer despite the pinched look on her face. Mira watched her feet carefully.

Mira wasn’t proud of her next action, but she did it anyway because she still had no idea how the hell healthy communication was actually supposed to work. It took way too much time, and Mira’s methods were better, anyway.

As Rumi’s next step came down, Mira snagged the greeting card and swept her ankle, tripping Rumi into the soft carpet next to Derpy.

If Mira had even the slightest misgivings about Derpy's intentions, she would never have risked Rumi’s safety like this. Mira knew it would be alright, though. She was an expert in a few things, each hard-earned through years and pain, but all of it paled next to Mira’s expertise in loving Rumi. Mira knew what loving Rumi entailed, it was etched in her bones and blood and brain and probably always would be. Which was why Mira knew, without a single doubt, one simple truth.

Derpy loved Rumi, too.

Looking at the raw betrayal on Rumi’s face, Mira realized she probably should have just said that.

From behind her, Mira heard a muffled, “Why?” from Zoey, who sounded like she might be trying to hold in more laughter. “Words, Mira. Please learn to use them, or I’m gonna go prematurely grey.”

“You could pull it off,” Mira said, refusing to break eye contact with Rumi as she stared her down.

Rumi made to stand and opened her mouth to justifiably yell at Mira, but Derpy quickly rose to his feet and loomed over Rumi’s head. Mira and Rumi exchanged a quick panicked glance, and Mira was ready to dive between them if she had actually miscalculated here.

Derpy pressed his nose to Rumi’s hair. Rumi remained perfectly motionless as she stared at the giant mouth full of crooked fangs not two inches from her head. A tense moment of still silence passed. Then, Derpy sneezed directly in Rumi’s face and tipped over sideways, trapping her legs beneath his bulk.

“Agh!” Rumi cried, wiping at her face. “Mira, why?”

“What?” Mira was still very much on edge but glad she didn’t accidentally get Rumi eaten by a tiger. “I didn’t sneeze on you!”

“It’s your fault,” Rumi accused, “so help me!”

“How?” Mira said, feeling a little panicky. She had really fucked up here, and she didn’t know how to make it better.

Zoey casually strolled in with a damp dishcloth and handed it over to Rumi. “Sometimes,” Zoey said contemplatively as she sat back down on the couch, “I worry that you guys don’t need me. And then something like this happens, and I’m not worried at all.”

“We’ll always need you, Zoey,” Rumi said between face scrubbings. She held up the towel sheepishly. “Case in point.”

“We’d be lost without you,” Mira said teasingly, but she meant every word.

“Aw, you guys,” Zoey waved them off, visibly pleased.

Normally, Mira might be worried at this sort of sudden vulnerable outpouring. She also knew for a fact that being needed wasn’t something central to Zoey’s happiness. Mira probably had the monopoly on that one, if she was being honest with herself. Zoey feared not being valued, and Mira doubted Zoey would ever voice her deepest fears unprompted.

It had escaped Mira for far too long, but she had finally learned Rumi’s poison as well. Rumi feared not being accepted. Looking at Rumi’s conspicuously bared patterns in her threadbare tank top, Mira wondered how much of her boldness was driven by relief of not hiding and how much might be a direct challenge. Mira knew well that the fastest way to test someone’s sincerity was to push them too far. It was also the fastest way to drive people away before they could cause hurt. Mira hoped for Rumi’s sake that it was because she simply felt safe.

Derpy gently pushed his head under Rumi’s hand. She initially stiffened, but she began to relax as he remained still, rumbling contentedly all the while. Mira cheered internally when Rumi finally started petting his forehead, then winced when he practically bowled Rumi over in search of more attention.

“Okay, okay!” Rumi laughed at the tiger’s antics and pushed away his enormous head to get some breathing room. “I’m sorry, Derpy. I know you’d never hurt us.” At this declaration, Derpy butted against Rumi’s shoulder as if admonishing her for her temporary stupidity.

With Derpy and Rumi reconciling, Mira dreaded when they had to send him back to that smelly jackass. She contemplated just throwing the greeting card away while Rumi was occupied. Jinu didn’t deserve mail, especially after his thinly-veiled threats to Rumi. Mira stared at the greeting card in her hand, and ever so slowly, an idea brewed within her.

With how horrifically shitty the day had been so far, this might just make it all worthwhile.

“Hey Zoey,” Mira said, actively fighting to keep a straight face, “can you go grab the package in my dresser? Top drawer on the left.” If this worked, it was going to be incredible.

Zoey seemed to catch on immediately as she glanced from the note to Derpy. “Wait, is it–” Zoey practically bounced in excitement. “Ooh, this is a terrible idea.” She sounded thrilled about that fact and made for the hallway.

Rumi looked between them suspiciously, but she kept petting Derpy as he greedily demanded more affection from his captive audience.

Zoey returned quickly, giggling to herself. She passed Mira a cat toy, the small plush banana still in its store wrapping. Mira grinned along with Zoey, then she waved Rumi’s note at Derpy.

Derpy rolled himself off of Rumi’s legs and bounded over to Mira at the sight of the greeting card. It was cute how excited he got about mail, even if the recipient sucked.

Rumi stood and stretched, then seemed to register the cat toy in Mira’s lap. “Mira,” Rumi asked, adorably baffled. “What is that?”

“Drug banana.” Mira felt like it was pretty self-explanatory.

“What?” Rumi stared at Mira like she had finally lost it. Living with these two, it was bound to happen eventually.

“Drugnana!” Zoey crowed. “It’s catnip!”

Rumi blinked stupidly, then looked from the newly dubbed Drugnana to Derpy and back again. She paled. “Do not give the demon-eating tiger catnip,” Rumi started backing out of the room. “Are you nuts?”

“Maybe,” Mira said. She placed the note onto Derpy’s waiting tongue. Then, cursing her stupid fucking arm yet again, Mira tore open the toy’s wrapping with her teeth despite Rumi’s protests. Zoey cheered.

For the first time since meeting the bird, Mira saw a devious smile creep onto Sussie’s face as she alighted on Derpy’s head. Mira didn’t even know beaks could do that. Honestly, the nightmare creature might not be so terrible if she agreed that tormenting Jinu was objectively funny.

Mira offered the Drugnana to Derpy as he began to sink through the Honmoon. He sniffed it once, twice, then his pupils blew impossibly wide.

Oh. Well. Mira had hoped it would, but she hadn’t actually expected that to work. She glanced nervously at Rumi, who was watching, shoulders tensed, from halfway down the hallway.

This was probably a bad idea.

Derpy snatched the toy, and Mira had to jerk her hand back to avoid the snap of those enormous teeth. He fell into the void of the Honmoon, less a ripple than a cannonball, faster than Mira had known he could move.

This was definitely a bad idea, but it was Jinu’s problem now.

Chapter Text

Less than a minute after sending Derpy off to harass Jinu, Mira heard bells. Rumi immediately got up from her reclaimed spot on the couch and retreated to the hallway without a word. Zoey cackled like the agent of chaos she was.

Derpy, catnip toy still caught in his fangs, wobbled unsteadily up through the Honmoon. He seemed to have trouble pulling his last paw out of its threads and tugged at his back foot. Derpy staggered as he suddenly popped free, then he curled his limbs under himself in a tight loaf. He stared blankly into space, a new greeting card slipping out of his open mouth.

Mira reached for the note carefully, mindful not to aggravate her shoulder. She peeled open the card, smearing the still-damp ink. Scrawled across the paper by what looked like an improperly loaded paintbrush was a simple, ‘Why?’

Frustrated her genius plan was so easily derailed, Mira threw the card as far as she could. It fluttered to the ground two feet away.

“This was a bad idea, Mira,” Rumi said, peeking worriedly around the corner. Mira knew that, and she really didn’t need the reminder.

“Did I break him?” Mira asked, concerned she had just royally fucked up. Again. Derpy didn’t look so good.

Mira cautiously reached out to the docile tiger. When her fingers grazed his cheek, Derpy burst into sudden motion, head twisting wildly over his back. His front and hind legs seemed to disagree about which direction to go in, and he skittered backwards diagonally before launching himself full speed toward the kitchen.

“Oh fuck,” Mira said, regretting every life choice that had brought her to this point.

Why did Mira keep letting herself think? It was obviously a cursed endeavor.

“I told you,” Rumi said, then hid behind the corner again.

Zoey rushed to pry the soggy card off the ground. “Can’t we just return to sender?”

Zoey approached the thrashing tiger. She bravely pressed the paper to his teeth, but Derpy refused to open his mouth, jaw clenched tightly around the rather sad looking Drugnana.

“You need to write a new one!” Rumi called from just inside the hallway. She sounded a little too amused for Mira’s taste.

Derpy abandoned Zoey to race across the couch, sending cushions flying. He stopped abruptly a few feet away from Mira, and his wide, dilated eyes fixed on her, gaze vacant and unnaturally dark. Derpy crouched, shoulders low and fluffy butt wiggling side to side.

Mira stared back at the consequences of her own actions, and she learned nothing.

On pure ingrained instinct, Mira narrowly missed being clotheslined by a several hundred pound tiger by rolling off the sofa and under the coffee table. She hissed as her shoulder pulled painfully, searing heat roiling through her veins.

Mira looked to Rumi, who did not seem appropriately alarmed at Mira’s predicament. Rumi leaned against the hallway threshold, arms crossed and fighting a smile. For being so worried that Derpy might be tempted to eat her, she sure was casual about him racing around like a maniac.

“Rumi, help,” Mira deadpanned, annoyed at her nonchalance. “I’m injured.”

Mira was also annoyed by how good Rumi's arms looked in her ratty-ass tank top, her patterns framing her muscles in a way that made it difficult to think straight. How the hell did she look like a freaking goddess when Mira was pretty sure her clothes had been liberated from a dumpster at some point? It was unfair how effortlessly hot Rumi was.

Rumi’s smile widened as Derpy clambered onto the coffee table Mira was taking refuge under. “This is your own fault, Mira.”

Well, that avenue was a bust.

“Zoey,” Mira called as various bags of snacks began to fall from the table, pushed by a curious paw, “get the stationary!”

“On it!” Zoey saluted energetically, and Mira heard Derpy’s weight shift above her. The tip of his striped tail draped over the edge of the table, quivering with anticipation.

In an impressive display of athleticism, Zoey slid under Derpy’s belly the moment he pounced for her. He landed behind her, skidding face first into the fridge. Zoey bounced up to her feet next to the counter and snagged the discarded pack of stationary. As Derpy rounded on her and tried to take a playful swipe, Zoey vaulted back over the counter and hurled three greeting cards at Mira like cartoon ninja throwing stars.

“Ow,” Mira groaned as she was pelted by high-speed cardstock with pinpoint accuracy. “Why did you throw them so hard?”

“Can't help it if I’m just that good!” Zoey cartwheeled away from Derpy’s next clumsy pounce, and Mira knew she was just showing off now. Seriously, their schedules were usually packed. When did Zoey get the time to practice all her acrobatics?

Mira also had no idea how both Rumi and Zoey could constantly run around those stupid steps to the kitchen and not break their necks. Mira had experienced more than one close call in the morning shuffle to retrieve her coffee, and she was starting to suspect the Honmoon actually favored them over her.

Mira contemplated if she should quit while she was ahead if a tangibly divine force disapproved of her life choices. She gave it maybe three seconds of thought before she bristled at the idea that the Honmoon might be trying to tell her what to do. No one could tell Mira what to do. Mira resolved to be even more queer out of pure spiteful defiance.

Derpy started climbing up the Honmoon like some sort of spiritual curtain. Mira tried to ignore the chaos unfolding as she smoothed a slightly dented greeting card flat on the carpet, using the other two cards to help pad her writing surface. Shit, where was that pen Rumi had? Mira cast her eyes about the couch and the kitchen, but the writing utensil was nowhere to be found.

“Rumi, get me something to write with,” Mira pleaded as Derpy slid back down the Honmoon and stumbled toward the living room, rubbing his cheek along the ground and couch alternately. “Your room is closest.”

Rumi visibly hesitated. “I, um, only have gel pens.” She tapped her fingers against her arm in a soft beat, betraying the worry she felt under her composure.

Did Rumi think Mira would make fun of her or something?

“That’s fine,” Mira tried to say reassuringly. She stiffened when Derpy’s focus zeroed in on the coffee table.

“I don’t know. It’s just–” Rumi said, oddly reluctant. “I don’t want them to get ruined.”

“Seriously?” What exactly did Rumi think Mira was going to do with them? How would she even ruin a pen?

Rumi frowned, and her shoulders tensed in familiar defensive stubbornness. “They’re special, Mira.”

Did Rumi not have any normal pens?

A loud thud above Mira had her flinching, and Derpy began patting the underside of the table blindly.

“I’ll take you to that fancy art store you like,” Mira offered, feeling a bit frantic as she ducked a paw larger than her head. She had been planning to invite Rumi to make up for the earlier train incident anyway, so this was as good a time as any. “Just please go get me a pen.”

Rumi considered Mira, eyes narrowing. “You won’t leave early because you’re bored?”

Was Rumi haggling while Mira was being menaced by a high tiger? What the hell had Zoey been teaching her?

“I promise I’ll stay and test different ink colors with you.” Mira rushed out, dreading the future shopping trip. She would hate every second of it, but Mira did always keep her word.

Rumi’s answering smile was undercut by the calculating gleam in her eye. “And we can get gejang after?”

Mira stared at Rumi in disbelief. This was sadistic, and Mira fully blamed Zoey. “You’d make me eat raw crab?”

“I don’t know, Mira.” Rumi raised a brow, seemingly unaffected by Mira’s plight. “Don’t you think someone who had my back would want to get gejang with me?”

Hearing Zoey laugh uproariously from somewhere behind her did nothing to ease Mira’s suspicions about exactly who taught Rumi how to use blackmail.

Mira’s hiding spot was suddenly exposed, the coffee table scraping sideways through the carpet as Derpy launched himself upward. He latched onto the Honmoon midair and twisted his head to make extremely alarming eye contact with Mira.

“Yes, fine, whatever you want!” Mira scrambled back under the table, cursing the burn in her stupid fucking shoulder all the while.

Rumi's whole face lit up, and Mira had to blink away her momentary stupor at how pretty she was. “We’re getting dalgona too,” Rumi said brightly. “Be right back.”

Derpy crashed back down on the coffee table and rolled off the side, enthralled with the shocking revelation that he did, in fact, have a tail.

Wait, Rumi wanted raw fermented crab with pure sugar for dessert?

“There’s something wrong with your taste buds!” Mira yelled at Rumi’s quickly retreating back.

Zoey crawled under the table next to Mira, three ballpoint pens between her fingers like shinkal. She wiggled them pointedly.

Mira felt a little stupid. Zoey stashed pens and paper around the tower like a squirrel preparing for an otherwise illiterate winter. Mira had just promised to subject herself to a painfully boring shopping trip and questionable food choices for literally no reason.

At least it would make Rumi happy. Mira’s heart felt warm and mushy about that because she was a pathetic little wretch deep down.

“Did you accidentally negotiate your way into a date because you drugged a tiger?” Zoey asked, caught between laughter and disbelief.

Mira grabbed for the pens, but Zoey held them just out of reach. If Mira had use of both her arms, these morons wouldn’t be getting away with such disrespect. “Don’t get my hopes up,” Mira grumbled. “Rumi just hates shopping alone.”

“Uh, yeah,” Zoey said, “but usually she makes a point to invite both of us.”

“She probably will invite you.” Mira made a sudden lunge for a ballpoint, but Zoey was too quick. “It’s not a date.”

Zoey smiled widely, lording her pen superiority over Mira. “It definitely sounds like one.”

Mira glanced over to assess the current level of danger, and Derpy seemed to thankfully be occupied with batting at thin air instead of harassing her for now.

“How does comparing identical shades of purple for three hours followed by raw crab and sugar sound like a date?” Mira could think of so many different ways she would love to spend the day with Rumi, and exactly none of them would have followed this trajectory.

“Mira,” Zoey said, dangling the pens in front of Mira’s face. “You like gejang.”

“Only the spicy kind, and you know she’s gonna steal some of mine.” Mira grimaced and gave up on Zoey's pens, since she obviously wasn't going to share. “I’ll have to get the soy sauce one.”

“Aw,” Zoey said, probably reveling in Mira’s imminent suffering, “that’s so cute.”

Mira grumbled at Zoey’s continued taunting, then sighed. “We both know she doesn't feel that way. Plus, it’s just… too weird to be a real date.”

Zoey regarded Mira silently for a long moment before replying, “To be fair, you’re both kinda weird.” Zoey poked at Mira’s side with a capped pen. “In a good way.”

Mira privately felt like she was the least weird of the three of them, but she also recognized that wasn’t saying much.

“Ugh.” Mira let her head drop to the soft carpet. “Why couldn’t she ask for, like, a normal boba date?”

Zoey patted Mira’s back reassuringly. Or mockingly. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“Is someone going on a boba date?” Rumi asked, scooching under the coffee table on Mira’s other side. She held a pen in one hand and tucked something off to the side with the other.

“No!” Mira tried to sit upright in a panic and smashed the back of her head against the table.

At the sudden noise, Derpy startled and leapt ten feet into the air, arcing into a twisting backflip. He landed just behind the couch, peeking over the armrest with wide eyes and twitching whiskers.

Gentle fingers probed at Mira's aching skull. “Are you okay?” Rumi asked. Despite her stifled laughter, Rumi’s voice was laced with sincerity and concern.

“Wow, Mira.” Zoey laughed openly, delighting in Mira’s self-inflicted misfortune. “You’re kind of a mess today.”

Mira ignored the both of them because it was rude to laugh at her pain.

“Welcome to the hideout, Rumi,” Zoey said cheerfully while discreetly tucking her pens out of sight. “We might have to live here forever, but at least there’s snacks.” Zoey snagged a bag of shrimp puffs that had fallen from the coffee table.

“Derpy will let us out,” Mira muttered, thoroughly embarrassed by both this entire sequence of events and her complete failure to act like a normal person in front of Rumi. Mira eyed the tiger, who whipped his head around to stare at things only he could see before lunging sideways and savaging a couch cushion. “Eventually.”

Mira was so fucking dumb sometimes. Why did she think it was a good idea to give an impossibly powerful creature psychedelic drugs?

“I can calm him down,” Rumi said, radiating determination. “I have a secret weapon.”

Mira snorted as she took in the comically serious expression on Rumi’s face. “Our brave and fearless leader,” Mira said dryly. “You sure he won’t eat you?”

“He hasn’t used his claws once.” Rumi rolled her eyes as if she hadn’t been losing her mind over Derpy just ten minutes ago. “He was being gentle with you guys.”

Mira could see Derpy just past Rumi’s shoulder as he violently shredded a couch cushion. He bit into it viciously and eviscerated the fluff with his powerful back legs.

“That’s gentle?” Mira was starting to suspect Rumi’s ability to assess danger was wildly skewed. “Please don’t endanger your life by being stupid.”

“Yeah, that’s Mira’s thing,” Zoey said, hanging over Mira’s back to get a better look at the tweaking tiger. Mira scowled once she actually processed the insult, but she had no easy way to shove Zoey off of her.

“Well, if I do die, I want you to water my calathea,” Rumi said, clasping Mira’s hand and regarding her seriously. The light dancing in her eyes gave away just how funny Rumi thought this stupid situation was. “It’s on a schedule.”

Mira had no idea what a calathea was, and she was kind of terrified of being trusted with the responsibility. “Rumi, stop talking about your death as if you were taking a vacation,” Mira pleaded, breaking eye contact to stare at their joined hands.

Considering the very real possibility Rumi might just disappear tomorrow, Mira didn’t think she could handle this type of joking right now. She focused on the grounding feeling of Rumi's warm hand in hers, and she let herself admire the contrast of Rumi's richly patterned skin against her own.

“Maybe we should think about it like I’m going on vacation.” Rumi said, chuckling to herself. Her sense of humor sucked. “It’ll help us plan ahead.”

Mira might throw up if they kept discussing this. “When was the last time you took a vacation,” Mira deflected, hoping to derail the conversation. “And I’m pretty sure none of us have gone on a solo trip.”

“We are pretty codependent,” Zoey said, giggling. Not her too! Zoey rolled back off of Mira and gave Rumi a thumbs up. “I believe in you,” Zoey told Rumi, smile stretched wide.

Mira looked between them, feeling like the only sane person in a sea of stupidity.

“Mira, you write that note,” Rumi said. She squeezed Mira's hand gently before releasing it, then she reluctantly passed over her sparkly purple gel pen. While it was a poor substitute for Rumi's hand, it was surprisingly heavy. A steely look of determination came over Rumi. “I’m going in.”

Mira felt a bit dizzy when she recognized the expression on Rumi’s face. It was the exact same one she wore before she decided stripping was the best way to reveal demonic heritage. If Rumi started removing clothing again to somehow solve their tiger problem, the only one who would be incapacitated would be Mira.

Mira dropped the pen and caught Rumi’s wrist. “What did you mean by secret weapon?” Mira asked, panic building in her chest.

Rumi winked.

Mira felt faint. Please, no.

Rumi freed herself from Mira’s grasp and shimmied out from under the coffee table. Rumi reached down, and Mira felt a split second of sheer terror that Rumi was going for her pants this time.

Rumi thankfully did not go for her pants. Instead, she stood tall, brandishing the metal wastebasket from her room like a warrior’s shield.

Mira blinked, feeling extremely out of her depth. She had no idea what was going on anymore. Maybe Rumi really had cracked, but at least she was keeping her clothes on this time.

Tearing her eyes away from Rumi’s continued descent into madness, Mira took up the pen again and started writing insults to Jinu, desperate to shunt her tiger problem on someone more deserving. Mira got through a basic ridiculing of his intelligence before she paused, staring at the pen in wonder.

“Mira?” Zoey asked, eyeing her warily as she snacked on shrimp puffs. “Why are you looking at the pen like that?”

Mira didn't have the words to answer Zoey because holy shit, this pen was amazing. It wrote so smoothly it felt illegal. The richly-colored ink flowed freely across the cardstock, and not a single skip or blot marred its path. The weight of the barrel was perfectly balanced, sitting in Mira’s hand like it was meant to be there. The glitter was iridescent. Mira might be in love.

As Mira had a spiritual awakening over the world’s most incredible pen, Rumi approached Derpy. She carefully placed the wastebasket a few feet in front of the tiger like a sacrifice to some unknowable god. She slowly backed away three paces, and Derpy prowled toward her, matching step for step. As he neared the metal bin on the floor, Rumi’s serious look of concentration broke into a mischievous smile.

Derpy's paw hit the wastebasket, and it gently tipped to the ground. The tiger froze, muscles tensed rigidly. Mira could practically hear his neck creak as he turned to look at the fallen bin with slow, stilted movements. Derpy placed an enormous paw on the basket, then he started trying to drag it back upright, seemingly entranced.

Derpy stared into the wastebasket as though it held the infinite cosmos, enraptured by supernovas only he could see. Mira felt a bit like she understood him in this moment. The fundamental truths of her world had been destroyed and rewritten in sparkly, purple ink.

The moment the ink was dry enough not to smear, Mira folded the card shut and passed it up to Rumi’s waiting hand. It took Rumi a few tries to drag Derpy’s attention away from the wastebasket, but he eventually turned big, somewhat vacant eyes on the card.

Derpy opened his mouth for his favorite activity of being a mailbox. Rumi placed the card then deftly snatched the plush banana from his teeth. Seemingly unbothered by Rumi’s thieving ways, Derpy warbled happily and oozed back into the Honmoon, smoother than before but still not quite right.

“I’m confiscating the Drugnana,” Rumi said, hand on her hip. “You two can’t be trusted with it.” She paused, then seemed to have a full-body cringe. “That name sounds so stupid when I say it.” Rumi gingerly held the soggy plush toy away from her body as she made her way around the couch.

“Rumi,” Zoey said, somewhere between gentle and disappointed, “you named a magic, demon-eating tiger Derpy.”

“It fits!” Rumi called from somewhere in the kitchen. She returned shortly and reclaimed her spot at Mira’s side, apparently deciding they were all just going to live under the coffee table now.

Mira cradled the pen in her hand, then reverently passed it back to Rumi with only slight hesitation. “It’s fine or whatever,” Mira said gruffly. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Fine?” Rumi held the holy relic to her chest protectively. “Just fine? It’s incredible.” While Mira completely agreed with Rumi here, her pride would never allow her to admit it. “See if I let you borrow my pens again.”

“Is the pen that good?” Zoey asked skeptically.

Mira tuned out of what she knew was going to be a drawn out debate on the merits of functional, reliable, and replaceable pens versus whimsical, sparkly, and fun pens. Mira still found it kind of hilarious that Zoey fell on the utility side of this argument, but it was only because Zoey was constantly writing.

As the good-natured bickering of Rumi and Zoey washed over her, Mira decided she was so done with today. She was ready to just fall asleep face first in the carpet. It wouldn't be so bad, really, sandwiched between the two people she loved more than the world.

Bells rang out again, and Mira mourned for the peace she could have had. She looked up to see enormous yellow eyes directly in front of her face. Derpy tried to shove his giant head under the coffee table with them, only succeeding in stretching the skin of his forehead back and making his eyes look demented. He opened his mouth, and yet another card slid off his tongue and fell to the carpet with a quiet squelch. They should probably invest in waterproof cards and ink if this was going to be a regular thing. That, and a good steam cleaning for their carpet.

Mira stared at the card in front of her nose and contemplated if she even wanted to open it. She decided no, because fuck Jinu and his low-effort messages. He didn’t deserve Mira’s attention.

Rumi reached for the card anyway, and Mira had to tamp down the urge to snap at her fingers like some kind of feral cat. If Rumi wanted to read Jinu’s stupid love notes, that was Rumi’s problem, and that was fine.

Zoey sighed, and Mira recognized the amused exasperation in the sound. That one was almost exclusively a sigh directed at Mira, since Rumi usually got the ‘why did no one teach you common sense’ sigh.

Mira considered if maybe they were a little too codependent. She probably shouldn’t be able to tell how Zoey and Rumi were feeling by just their various hums and sighs, and Zoey probably shouldn’t be able to tell when Mira was suppressing the impulse to bite someone. Then again, avoiding healthy communication in this household was basically a sport. They had to compensate somewhere.

Rumi barked out a surprised laugh and covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook with barely suppressed glee as she looked at the dumb card.

Mira narrowed her eyes. Jinu was about as palatable as hotdog water and twice as bland. What could he have said that was so funny?

Rumi wordlessly slid the card in front of Mira, snorting adorably as she tried to muffle her laughter. Jinu had taken more time with this response, and his characters were legible, if ridiculously old fashioned. Mira read the note over once, then a second time. She calmly came to the decision that she was going to murder Jinu.

In neat, bold brushstrokes was the message, ‘I can’t read this. Were those supposed to be words?’

Frustrated, Mira shoved the remaining blank greeting cards toward Rumi and her incredible pen. Mira thought about it for a moment more, then she took the cards back and gave them to Zoey instead. Her insults would be far more devastating.

Zoey’s delighted snickering proved Mira made the right choice even as Rumi turned wide, sad eyes on her. Mira felt a cold sweat gathering on her neck, which would almost have been nice against the fiery healing of the Honmoon if Rumi wasn’t looking at her like that.

Rumi needed to stop that right the fuck now. Mira didn’t even know what Rumi wanted from her, but she didn’t think she could say no to anything under this kind of assault. Mira tried to avert her gaze, but Rumi was right there. Mira could feel the puppy dog eyes boring into the side of her head.

“You don’t trust me to write the note?” The lack of hurt in Rumi’s plaintive tone betrayed her intentions. This wasn’t about trust. This was about payback.

Mira glared at Zoey, who pretended to be too involved in writing to notice. The furtive look and widening grin Zoey sent her way only solidified Mira’s suspicions about meddling.

Mira allowed herself a quick glance over at Rumi, and it was a terrible decision. She was the picture of hurt dejection, and Mira instinctively wanted to comfort her.

“It’s Zoey’s turn,” Mira bit out with more aggression than the situation really warranted. She just didn’t know how to process emotions with those pretty eyes locked on her so fully. “It’s not about trust,” she tacked on, hoping she hadn’t actually hurt Rumi’s feelings with her stupid misplaced anger again.

“Aaaand, done!” Zoey declared proudly. Practically every inch of the card was covered in writing, and Mira’s eyes widened at the sheer strategic genius of the insults and foul language scattered throughout the message. It was a veritable poem to how much Jinu sucked.

“This is art,” Mira told Zoey with absolute sincerity and vindictive pleasure at how much that scrawny weirdo would hate this.

“What?” Rumi blinked herself out of the brain-meltingly sad look she had been subjecting Mira to. Mira didn’t have any time to feel relief because Rumi leaned in close, pressing tight against her uninjured side and peering over Mira’s shoulder. “Do I want to know what that says?” Rumi asked suspiciously.

Mira flipped the card shut and shoved it into Derpy’s mouth before Rumi could see, panicked at both the sensation of Rumi plastered against her and the prospect that Jinu might never receive this masterpiece of emotional warfare. Taking the sudden mail delivery in stride, the tiger gave a muffled croon of delight. He began to descend through the Honmoon with Mira’s hand still in his mouth.

“Derpy, no wait–” Mira tugged her hand free just as Derpy’s chin sank beneath the ground, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing as the Honmoon probably had it out for her, Mira didn’t trust that it wouldn’t just eat her arm or something.

“You better hope that doesn’t ruin our alliance with Jinu,” Rumi said flatly.

At Zoey’s exaggerated look of innocence, Rumi snorted in amusement. That wouldn’t normally be a problem. It also wouldn’t have been a problem this time if Rumi hadn’t coincidentally blown her breath directly into Mira’s fucking ear.

Zoey, chin in her hand and smile on her face, watched Mira silently freak out over completely benign human contact. “Rumi, I think sending a drugged, demon-eating tiger might be the bigger insult,” Zoey said.

“So, what step of the protocol are we on?” Mira asked quickly, wanting to just move on from this incident and pretend none of it ever happened.

Zoey gracefully took the change in topic for what it was. Sort of. “We were on relaxy time, but then some people decided to drug a tiger.” Zoey rolled out from under the table with a huff.

“Can’t imagine who,” Mira deadpanned. As she tried to keep her fluster from Rumi’s continued forced proximity under wraps, it took a moment to register the blatant hypocrisy being thrown her way. “Wait, you willingly participated!”

Mira could hear the smug grin in Zoey’s voice when she replied, “Yes, I’m some people.”

“So what comes after, uh, relaxy time anyway?” Rumi asked, finally giving Mira some space and shuffling out from under the coffee table.

“The best part, but we have some work to do first.” Zoey made for the hallway and called over her shoulder to Rumi, “You get Mira upright, and I’ll get the supplies. Ooh, this is gonna be amazing!”

Mira pulled a face at Zoey’s back for suggesting she needed help, and Rumi extended a hand to her. Mira warred with herself for a moment, torn between wanting to hold Rumi’s hand again and letting Rumi treat her like a useless invalid. Practicality won, and Mira accepted the help with only minor grumbling. Except instead of bracing Mira as she climbed out like any sane person would, Rumi just dragged her out from under the table by the arm.

“What the fuck, Rumi,” Mira muttered into the carpet as she was pulled along like a limp sack of potatoes. There was a renewed burn in her shoulder, but it was admittedly not as bad as it would have been if Mira had tried to crawl her way out of there. Regardless, they really needed to brush up on how to properly handle injuries. It was becoming increasingly clear how overreliant they were on Honmoon healing to deal with it and let them ignore the consequences.

“You alright?” Rumi asked with only mild concern. Mira grunted and gave her a thumbs up, too tired for much more. Rumi laughed softly. “Well, that’s good to hear,” she said teasingly.

Mira sat herself up against the foot of the sofa, then she groaned in despair as she heard bells again, what the fuck. Rumi shot her a questioning look as a sleepy-looking Derpy slowly squeezed himself out of the Honmoon. Mira braced herself for more unnecessary chaos even as Rumi casually went about tidying up the room, seemingly without a care in the world. Mira envied her peace.

Derpy snuffled gently at Mira’s injured shoulder, and she was grateful for how gentle he was about it. He really was a good boy, and it was absurd to think otherwise. The tiger sat back and opened his mouth expectantly, new card resting on his tongue.

Mira sighed and accepted the dumb and slightly soggy note from Jinu. She flipped it open as Derpy climbed onto the couch behind her. Mira frowned and turned the card over, confused. Did Jinu send a blank card?

That lazy bitch didn’t even try to respond to Zoey’s masterpiece? Fucking loser.

Mira also felt a little offended on Derpy’s behalf. Intelligent as he was, it seemed like maybe he couldn’t read. That was through no fault of his own, though, and only an asshole would take advantage of that. Jinu had obviously been lax in his caretaking duties, so it seemed like it might be up to Mira to fill this basic gap in Derpy’s education.

“Sorry about the catnip,” Mira told Derpy, catching the one eye that was trained on her. The other eye seemed to be staring intently at the coffee table, but she was pretty sure he was listening anyway. While Mira couldn’t reach behind herself to pet him without feeling like she had stuck her arm into a furnace, he was more than smart enough to understand her apology. “Hope you had fun, at least.”

Mira also hoped that Derpy made Jinu’s life a living hell for a few minutes. It was only fair given what she had just gone through, self-inflicted as it may have been.

Derpy rumbled contentedly and stretched his full length across the sofa behind her. He somehow contorted himself into a pose that looked both horrifically unpleasant and sinfully comfortable, and before long he was softly snoring. There were very few things Mira wouldn’t give to be him right now, sleeping the night away without a care.

As Mira turned her attention back to Rumi, she saw Rumi tucking away her phone. If Mira hadn’t been such an obsessive weirdo when it came to her, she might have missed the minute sag to her posture. Rumi went about straightening up as normal and fussing at Mira every time she tried to get up to help. Rumi seemed fine, but recent events had uncovered that she was kind of an expert in appearing fine on the surface.

With the room tidied, Rumi made her way over. She gave Derpy’s forehead a gentle pet, and he barely even stirred, his snore deepening. Rumi settled onto the floor beside Mira’s good side. “Huh,” Rumi said, looking at the carpet in surprise. “This is actually pretty comfortable.”

“If you didn't think it was comfortable, why’d you sit here?” Mira asked lightly, hoping Rumi might just talk about whatever was bugging her. It’d certainly make things easier, but Mira unfortunately knew her better than that.

“You looked lonely.” Predictably, Rumi took the opportunity to tease Mira instead of just fucking talking to her.

“Obviously not with Derpy to keep me company.” Much as Mira wanted to charge ahead and demand Rumi open up, it wasn't like that had ever really been effective. Mira opted to tease Rumi right back, “Are you sure you weren’t missing my positive affirmations?”

“Sure, that’s why I came over here,” Rumi said sarcastically. Knowing Rumi’s usual style of back and forth, Mira waited for the next jibe. Nothing came.

Mira eyed the minute distance between them warily, wondering if it was best to just let this play out. Rumi hadn’t run for once, and it was entirely by choice. She was obviously upset, but she was here, letting herself seek some form of reassurance instead of shouldering the weight of the world silently.

“You okay?” Mira asked, apparently unable to help herself.

Rumi sighed, tipping her head forward into her knees. So that was definitely a no. Few things could cause such a quick turnaround in behavior, and Mira didn’t like that it had come immediately after Rumi had checked her phone.

Rumi had precious few contacts as it was, and it didn’t take the convoluted genius of Zoey Logic to put the pieces together. Accompanied with the mounting evidence of Rumi’s rock-bottom self-esteem, Mira’s heart twisted at the painfully familiar picture it formed.

Celine loved Rumi, that fact was undeniable. It had also become crystal fucking clear she had hurt Rumi. Deeply.

Mira took a deliberate, calming breath before deciding to just broach the topic anyway. Letting it fester would do them no good, especially with the pressures of the Idol Awards bearing down on them. She turned, bracing her arm against the couch behind Rumi to minimize the burning pull of the muscles at her other side.

Before Mira could open her mouth to speak, Rumi seemed to take her movement as an invitation to curl tightly against her. Mira stilled, staring at Rumi’s head on her collarbone.

Oh. Well. This was happening. Again.

Mira carefully wrapped her arm around Rumi’s bare shoulders, silently cursing the Honmoon with every insult in every language she knew as she felt the searing burn in her healing wound flare. This was unacceptable. Mira needed at least one arm for comforting Rumi here, and she wasn’t about to let the Honmoon stop her just because it had some divine vendetta.

As Rumi relaxed into her, Mira carefully asked, “What did Celine say?” She tried to keep her voice level despite the lingering pain, since any hint of hostility or accusations here would just drive Rumi to defend Celine on reflex.

Rumi startled abruptly, staring up with wide eyes, and Mira regretted broaching the topic so bluntly. Mira had allowed Rumi to come to her when she needed comfort, and then immediately shoved her into the deep end of emotional confrontation. Why did Mira always have to fucking push? She knew better. Why couldn’t she just let it be for once?

“How do you keep doing that?” Rumi said, much too loud for being a few inches from Mira’s face.

Mira drew her head back in surprise. Her mind caught on the how of Rumi’s question, which implied she wasn’t actually mad about Mira pushing.

“Uh.” Mira had no idea what she did wrong now, but she had apparently freaked Rumi out with it. Somehow. “What?”

“You keep just knowing!” Rumi sounded accusatory, which was absurd because who would ever accuse Mira of knowing things in this household?

“That Celine texted you?” Mira racked her brain to figure out where the fuck this had taken a turn into the incomprehensible. “Rumi, you have like four contacts, and I don’t think Bobby would have you this upset.”

Mira genuinely didn’t know if she was the incoherent one in the conversation, or if it was Rumi. The determination wasn’t exactly made easier by Mira’s lack of sleep or Rumi continuing to latch onto her despite seemingly being mad at her. What kind of fucked up argument did Rumi think she was having while still clinging to her side? If she had a problem with the way Mira's hands just seemed to gravitate to her patterns, Rumi had a really weird way of showing it.

Rumi blew out a frustrated breath. “Not that. What I– You just–” She grabbed Mira’s hand where it was draped over her bare shoulder, which explained literally nothing. “This.”

Did Rumi mean the constant cuddling thing? What the hell, Rumi was the one doing that! Rumi was using Mira’s every action as an opportunity to try and fuse into a singular being. What could that possibly have to do with Mira knowing things?

Rumi stared up with that unnecessary intensity of hers, and Mira still didn’t know how to function under that laser focus. She clenched her jaw, hoping it might prevent her from blurting out something incriminating. The longer Rumi remained silent, the more desperate Mira felt to break the tension of being stared down by an unfairly pretty girl at point blank range.

Zoey rounded the corner, juggling an overflowing tote bag of what Mira instantly recognized as couch fort necessities. “So I grabbed the essentials, Rumi! I’m gonna need you to–” Zoey paused when she saw whatever was going on in the living room.

Mira sent Zoey a frantic look, trying to convey that they could really use a chaperone. Mira needed emotional support and maybe a translator because what the fuck was going on.

Zoey narrowed her eyes as she took in the bullshit Mira had somehow managed to instigate this time. “If you need privacy, you get five minutes. You’re not getting out of our pre-show sleepover.” Zoey dropped her bag on the edge of the couch, fairy lights and clothespins threatening to spill free. She backed herself out of the room, completely ignoring the silent pleas for help sent her way.

Mira screamed internally as Zoey abandoned them, derelict in her supervision duties.

Zoey’s abrupt arrival and departure seemed to shake whatever had possessed Rumi. She blinked out of her intense stare and eyed the hallway. “Why does she think we need privacy?”

Mira didn’t really know how to process this sudden return to normal conversation, but she would absolutely take the out.

“Who knows?” Mira was at least sure it wasn’t for any untoward reasons, if only because Zoey didn’t think Mira had the guts to make a move. Mira fully acknowledged Zoey was right about that, but she still felt the blow to her ego.

Rumi huffed a laugh, and she settled back against the couch, leaning into Mira's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Mira studied Rumi out of the corner of her eye. “Are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

Rumi flushed and ducked her head, burying it in her hands. “Ugh, no.”

Well, alright then.

“And it wasn’t about Celine?” Mira was pretty sure that was what had set off the initial upset, but she had no clue about the rest of it.

“Not exactly? She wants to call in the morning,” Rumi muttered, not sounding enthusiastic in the least.

“You want backup for that?” This, at least, Mira knew she could offer freely.

Rumi peeked up at Mira with what looked like equal parts hope and dread. “Let me think on it?”

“Yeah, I–” Mira almost said she would have Rumi’s back, but caught herself just in time. They probably needed to talk out the train incident before Mira jumped right back in to making gay declarations. “I’ll be here.” Good enough, if still kind of gay.

“Thanks.” Rumi's voice was quiet, but she sounded much steadier.

“You know you can tell me if you’re not comfortable with anything I do or say, right?” Mira figured it was best to clear the air and hopefully prevent future instances of whatever that earlier interaction had been. “I won’t get mad about something like that.”

“That’s not–” Rumi sagged into the couch, which meant she pressed even further into Mira’s arm. Mira tried not to let her hand spasm like a weirdo, still feeling confused and a little overstimulated. Rumi averted her eyes, and her voice softened. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Can you do the same for me? All of this feels new, and I keep worrying I’m overstepping.”

Considering how tightly Rumi was pressed to her side at any given moment, Mira kind of suspected Rumi wasn’t worrying all that much. Mira still wasn't quite sure how to reconcile this seemingly new and cuddly Rumi with the rest of Rumi.

“Sure,” Mira agreed easily. Then, for some unfathomable reason, she decided the best thing to follow up with was, “I’ll let you know if it gets too gay.”

Oh, what? What the fuck had just come out of Mira's mouth?

Too gay? Too gay? What was wrong with her? Why did she keep doing this shit?

“What? Mira!” Rumi made to poke at Mira’s side, then seemed to think better of it with a glance across Mira’s collarbones. Mira briefly wondered what the fuck she was looking at before remembering her injured shoulder. Instead of taking advantage of Mira's ticklishness, Rumi settled for a stern look. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” Why couldn’t Mira just shut up? “It’s an important line.”

“What line?” Rumi asked in what seemed like genuine interest. She was evidently unaware that Mira was just employing her natural ability to become the stupidest person in the room the second a pretty girl got too close.

“The gay line, obviously.” Mira had no idea what she was talking about as she furiously tried and failed to wrestle back control of the autopilot running her mouth.

“There’s a gay line?” Rumi sounded more than a little alarmed about the possibilty. “How am I supposed to know where that is?”

Rumi’s sincere worry about finding the gay line probably would have been hilarious if Mira’s brain wasn’t undergoing an active meltdown. Between Rumi’s warmth at her side and her own inability to control her filter, Mira was rapidly forgetting how to act like a normal human being.

“Instinct,” Mira blurted out even as she felt the hole she was digging grow ever larger. She didn’t even think she had brought a shovel this time, she had just skipped straight to renting a backhoe.

“Instinct?” Rumi sat upright under Mira’s arm, bringing them face to face.

Mira felt genuine panic at this new position and desperately tried to follow whatever this conversation had become. Instinct? What fucking instinct? Mira stared into Rumi’s soft brown eyes, and like the absolute moron she was, Mira confidently said, “Gay instinct.”

At that, Rumi narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, and oh no Mira should not be looking or even thinking about anything in that vicinity when Rumi’s stupidly pretty face was right there.

“Okay, that’s not a real thing.” Rumi said, exasperated. She opened her mouth again, then visibly hesitated. Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Is it?”

Because Mira had no sense of when to quit, she kept right on trucking like an idiot. “Rumi, I can’t believe you’ve gone this long in your life without listening to your gay instinct.”

Rumi let out a surprised laugh. “You’re messing with me.” She smiled indulgently at Mira, and Mira swallowed, mouth suddenly dry at the raw fondness in Rumi’s expression.

Rumi’s assumption was also far kinder than the truth that Mira had lost her final tenuous grasp on rationality. “A little bit, yeah,” Mira said.

“So, what is the line of too much?” Rumi asked, somehow assuming that Mira would have a coherent answer despite all evidence to the contrary. “I get more confused every time I try to figure it out.”

“It’s different for everyone.” Mira kind of felt like she was cheating as she paraphrased Zoey, but good advice was good advice. “What might be too much for me might not be for you, right?”

“It makes sense, but I hate that I can’t just get a straight answer.” Rumi started giggling to herself. “Well, I guess I was never going to get a straight answer from you.”

“You’re a menace.” Mira privately delighted in being part of what very well might be Rumi’s first foray into queer humor. She didn’t even care if it was at her expense. “You don’t need more compliments, you need to be reined in.”

“You’d deny me my regularly scheduled affirmations? What would Zoey say?” Rumi sighed in mock disappointment.

“She’d say your hair looks gorgeous and accidentally compliment a demon.”

Rumi snorted. “I’m pretty sure she was complimenting your hair that time.”

“Well, no danger of that now.” Mira shook out the rumpled mess of her hair. “You’ve officially usurped my gorgeous hair title.”

Rumi studied her contemplatively. After a moment, Rumi said, “Turn around.”

That was not what Mira had been expecting. “What?” she asked, unsure if Rumi had actually wanted her to turn around or if this was just more weird banter.

“Turn around,” Rumi repeated, leaning into Mira’s space. “Let me braid your hair.”

Mira forced herself to freeze, worried that backing down here might read as rejection. “Rumi, it’s okay.” Mira did not want Rumi touching her hair.

“Zoey got to braid your hair today,” Rumi said, and the horrible puppy dog eyes from earlier returned.

Was Rumi pouting? What the fuck, that was incredibly unfair. How could Mira stand strong when that was pointed at her? This was playing dirty.

Mira refused to budge, thoroughly convinced this had to be another result of Zoey meddling. Sure, Rumi made playful puppy dog eyes and pouted on occasion as a joke, but never had it been so weaponized.

At Mira’s reluctance, Rumi brought out the big guns. “Please, Mira?” Rumi said, and oh wow there was not a single thing in the world Mira would say no to if Rumi said her name like that. “I never get to do your hair.”

There was a very specific, very gay reason for that. Unfortunately, Mira’s resolve disintegrated like wet tissue paper. She was only human, after all.

“Fine,” Mira’s voice cracked embarrassingly, and she felt her face warm in response. She stiffly and ungracefully turned her back to Rumi, both to give access to her hair and to hide the mortification written across her face. She cleared her throat, managing a somewhat normal, “Go ahead.”

Mira was glad she couldn't see Rumi’s face when she heard a quiet but excited, “Yes!” Mira just knew it would be too adorable for her heart to handle.

Mira folded her legs up to brace her arms, carefully balancing her injured shoulder as she waited for Rumi to start braiding. Mira did not shiver when Rumi ran a gentle hand through her hair, but it was a very near thing.

Mira froze as warm fingers brushed softly along the shell of her ear. Rumi gathered up her hair, the brief contact soothing and electric in equal measure. Mira wasn’t sure if she wanted to live in this moment forever or take a page out of Rumi’s book and hurl herself out the closest window to escape.

They sat quietly, Rumi deftly combing through her hair and Mira trying not to visibly sweat through her pajamas. This was probably some kind of gay war crime to inflict on a poor, pining creature, but Mira endured it with only minimal outward floppery. Hopefully.

Mira closed her eyes and prayed to the homophobic Honmoon for strength as Rumi’s ministrations caused soft tugs at her scalp. Rumi’s hand brushed the length of Mira's spine as she gathered up the strands of her hair, and Mira held her breath, not daring to move. She could tell that the low braid Rumi was crafting was nearing completion, if only because those dangerously warm hands were making their way down her back at a disappointingly fast pace.

Rumi hummed softly, and it was one of her hums of content concentration. Mira melted at the sound and decided that existing in the moment would do just fine. She basked in the proof that despite everything, despite the lies and hurts and fears, Rumi was here with her, was happy with her.

Much as Mira might have wanted more for her own sake, this was all she had ever wanted for Rumi.

Before Mira knew it, the blissful moment ended, Rumi’s efficiency and experience in braiding hair second to none. Rumi tucked the finished braid over Mira’s uninjured shoulder, and Mira damn near squeaked when Rumi’s hand incidentally skimmed across the column of her throat. Mira hoped to all things good in the world that whatever the fuck that reaction had been, it wasn’t actually audible to Rumi.

Mira took a few deep breaths before she allowed herself to face Rumi again, slowly shuffling into a more comfortable spot against the couch.

“There.” Rumi beamed proudly, thoroughly dazing Mira with the radiant happiness that shined from her. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” Unsteady. Unmoored. Hopelessly in love and terrified of tomorrow. “I’m good.” Mira ducked her head, feeling inexplicably shy. “Thanks.”

“Okay, it’s been more than ten minutes now, you two better be decent!” Zoey called from just inside the hallway. Mira wondered how long the little eavesdropper had been hovering there.

Like Mira would ever do anything indecent in front of Derpy. The mere notion was appalling. He was a noble beast and deserved the utmost respect.

Rumi’s bright smile turned sly. “When is Mira ever decent?” she called back over her shoulder.

What was that supposed to mean? Mira felt a bit betrayed by this treatment after their nice little moment.

Zoey cautiously peeked back around the corner, and she waved cheerfully when she caught Mira’s eye. Zoey tapped the tip of her ear, grinning widely.

Mira, huddled up and losing her mind over getting her hair touched by a pretty girl, took a long few seconds to figure out what Zoey was doing. Mira felt her face warm even further when she realized Zoey was pointing out that her blush had spread to her goddamn ears.

Through the years, Mira had held Rumi close plenty of times. She had guided Rumi’s hips through choreo. She had even woken up on Rumi’s chest the other day. In each excruciating instance, Mira had kept her composure. Here and now, though, Mira was falling apart simply because Rumi had braided her hair.

Why couldn’t Mira just be normal about things? Hair braiding was not something to get worked up over. Apparently, Mira’s heart never got that memo.

Why was she so pathetic?

Zoey took in Mira’s flustered state, then the braid at her shoulder. Smile fading, she looked from the braid to Rumi and back again. “Wait, were you guys just braiding hair?” Zoey sounded genuinely disappointed. “Mira, I expected more of you.”

“What, me?” Mira didn’t even know what Zoey wanted from her here. “What did I do wrong?”

“Never mind that!” Zoey stepped fully into the room, hands on hips. “You know what time it is.”

Mira felt her spirits lift despite being all the disrespect being lobbed her way. “Couch fort?”

Rumi looked between them skeptically. “We’re still doing a couch fort after all that?” Rumi gestured vaguely at Derpy on the sofa behind her.

“Rumi,” Mira gasped, scandalized. “The couch fort is sacred.”

“Okay, it is not a religious–”

“Couch fort,” Zoey chanted, cutting off Rumi’s futile objections, “couch fort!”

Mira joined in, nudging Rumi. “Couch fort, couch fort!”

Rumi kept her straight face for all of two seconds before she laughed. “Oh, alright. What do you need me to do?”

Zoey cheered, allowing herself a brief celebratory dance before she took on the air of a deeply unserious drill instructor. “Okay,” she said, pacing back and forth in front of Mira and Rumi. Rumi watched with rapt attention. “We have an important mission. Rumi, go get the pillows and blankets. I’ll grab the supports. Mira–” Zoey snatched the overflowing tote bag from the couch, “–don’t move, you’re on sheet duty.” Zoey upended the supplies next to Mira, burying her legs in a mess of tightly rolled sheets, clothespins, and tangled fairy lights.

Underneath all that seemingly chaotic energy, Mira was struck once again with how deliberate Zoey could be. She had found perhaps the one task Mira could do with one hand and actually be helpful, and she had made a point of not drawing attention to it. Mira really didn't know what she had done to deserve such wonderful people in her life.

As Zoey raced for her room, Rumi made no move to get up just yet. She helped Mira extract the fairy lights from the pile and wound them into a coil, worried crease to her brow. “Does she want specific pillows, or am I overthinking it?” Rumi asked, voice carefully low so it wouldn’t carry.

“She’ll be happy with whatever you bring.” Mira busied herself with finding the corners of the sheets, trying very hard not to think about how casually Rumi kept brushing against her legs as she gathered the clothespins into a pile. “You can steal some from my room if you want. That’s usually what Zoey does.”

“I’m not going to steal your pillows,” Rumi said. Then, a bit softer, “I’d hate to invade your space.”

Mira valiantly did not make a snarky joke about how much Rumi loved invading her personal space, but it was a near thing. Instead, Mira made deliberate, serious eye contact. “I give you explicit permission to steal whatever pillow or blanket you want from my room.” It was important that Rumi knew she was welcome. She was wanted in Mira’s space. This was as good a first step in that as any.

Rumi eyed Mira, lips quirking into a crooked grin. “Even the octopus?”

While Rumi could be trusted to take excellent care of other people’s things, Mira didn’t quite like the mischief in her smile. “You can borrow the octopus,” Mira allowed.

“Sorry you’re stuck here.” Rumi’s smile softened into something warmer. “I know you hate sitting still when you could be helping.”

That Rumi knew something so fundamental to her core filled Mira with all kinds of gooey feelings. “Sucks,” Mira said, the warning burn of her shoulder flaring as she barely stopped from shrugging again, “but it’s whatever.”

Mira was almost relieved at the return of her underwhelming wordsmithing ability. She had been a little worried over the past two days that she might have accidentally learned how to communicate effectively.

Rumi laughed softly, then they both startled at a clatter down the hallway. By Mira’s ear, that was unmistakeably Zoey carrying something taller than she was.

“I should go get those pillows, or Zoey might ban me from the couch fort,” Rumi rose from the ground slowly.

“She’d never do that to you,” Mira said solemnly. “Her punishments are more creative than that.” She carefully tucked away just how pathetically saddened she was by the loss of contact with Rumi.

Rumi snorted. “Like what, mandatory feelings time?”

“Rumi,” Mira hissed, “shut up. Do not ruin my pre-show sleepover with you guys.” Zoey was way to close to risk any chance of the accursed emotional processing. “I am not doing feelings time tonight.”

As if summoned by the promise of Mira’s emotional discomfort, Zoey staggered back into the living room, arms laden with a stack of long metal poles. “Did I just hear something about feelings time?” she asked, her grin wide and predatory.

“Of course not,” Rumi lied smoothly. She moved toward Zoey and the hallway beyond. “You think Mira would talk about it willingly?” Her fake laugh was indistinguishable from her real one, and that kind of terrified Mira.

Except, thinking back on the stupid conversation that had started this all, Rumi did have a fake laugh, and this was not it. Rumi glanced back at Mira and winked at her like a colossal dork. Mira’s momentary worries were banished in favor of mortification for finding something as lame as that attractive.

Zoey squinted at them in suspicion, muttering something under her breath. A pole tipped sideways in her arms, and suddenly Zoey was scrambling not to drop them all on the floor. Rumi lunged to keep the topmost pole from rolling off the stack. Mira rose on instinct to help, but both Zoey and Rumi whipped their heads around.

“No,” Zoey scolded at the same time Rumi demanded, “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog.” Mira eased back down, irritated. “Can’t fuckin’ tell me what to do,” she grumbled, doing exactly what Zoey and Rumi had just told her to do.

“So, what are these for?” Rumi liberated Zoey of the unwieldy stack and eyed them warily. “This doesn’t exactly scream cozy.”

“Structural support,” Zoey said, dragging the coffee table out toward the wall. “Dump them in the middle of the room for now, and we'll put them together after you get the pillows.”

Rumi blinked in surprise. “Couch forts need structural support?”

“They’re just clothing racks,” Mira threw in. “We put them on the outside of the couch and string sheets between them.”

“I guess I never realized how involved this is.” Rumi ferried the stack of poles to the middle of the living room carpet and deposited them gently.

“Isn’t it great?” Zoey herded Rumi toward the hallway. “Now off with you! Pillows. Blankets. As many as you can carry and then some.”

“That much?” Rumi asked hesitantly.

“Trust the protocol.” Zoey patted Rumi on the shoulder as if she was passing on great wisdom.

Rumi shifted her weight, looking a little lost. When they met eyes, Mira decided on pure impulse to return the world's lamest wink from earlier. She figured it was worth it when Rumi relaxed with a startled laugh.

Zoey turned her head to Mira and mouthed, ‘Gay,’ where Rumi couldn’t see. Mira gave Zoey's accusation the precise amount of attention it deserved, which was exactly none.

“Go, go go!” Zoey ushered Rumi out of the room, laughing. “I want a mountain of soft things from you, so get to it!”

With Rumi sent off on her mission, Zoey casually meandered back to the couch. She plopped down next to Mira’s legs and grabbed two sheets, getting started on another cobbled-together section of the couch fort canopy. Mira waited, fully knowing this was Zoey’s way of initiating an interrogation.

Zoey gave up the pretense of helping remarkably quickly. She rested her cheek in her hand, regarding Mira expectantly. “Okay, what did I walk in on earlier?” She tapped a steady beat into her knee, the most obvious sign that her brain was working to make connections Mira would really prefer she didn't. “I can tell you what it looked like, but that might put your useless bisexual brain offline for the night.”

Mira scowled at Zoey’s bullying, much as she had expected it. “It obviously wasn’t whatever you thought it was.” Mira lobbed a handful of clothespins at Zoey, who gasped in mock betrayal. “Rumi flipped out about something. We talked. She wanted to braid my hair. That’s all.”

“What did she flip out about?” Zoey leaned forward, clothespin retaliation put on hold for gossip.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Mira sighed and set aside the two sheets she had finished pinning together, then reached for a third to get started on. “She accused me of knowing things, except somehow it’s related to her constantly invading my personal space.” Mira was still trying to figure out the logic there.

“Invading your space?” Zoey tilted her head, her focus steady on Mira. “What do you mean by that?”

Mira knew this would just give Zoey more ammunition, but she could really use some help in figuring out Rumi’s weird brain. “She keeps misinterpreting everything I do as an invitation to crawl down my throat,” Mira reluctantly admitted.

Zoey gaped at Mira, eyes wide in disbelief. “You were kissing? Mira!”

Mira would forever deny the wordless, high-pitched shriek that escaped her.

“Why wouldn’t you lead with that?” Zoey grabbed Mira's ankle and excitedly shook it for some godforsaken reason. “I can’t believe you actually went for it! Wait, she went for it?”

“No!” Mira cried frantically, trying to head this off before Rumi got back. “I meant she keeps, like, hugging me? Or cuddling? Wrapping herself around me like a sad squid, I don’t know!”

Zoey sighed deeply, her shocked enthusiasm bleeding into resigned exasperation. “That makes more sense.” She patted Mira’s shin placatingly. “You’ll get there someday.”

“Zoey, no.” Mira chose not to address how patronizing she was being in favor of a much more pressing issue. “Do not put that in my head before a friend sleepover.”

Zoey laughed and continued to be unhelpful by not doing any of the sheet pinning. “There’s nothing friendly about the way you two interact.”

Mira’s heart threatened to go rogue at those words. She did not appreciate being fed false hope like this. “Seriously, stop. The way me and Rumi interact is basically the same as me and you.” As soon as she said the words, Mira recognized the utter stupidity that had just tumbled out of her mouth.

“Uh, no. No way, dude.” Zoey flicked a clothespin at Mira, which sailed over her head and landed somewhere deep in a snoring Derpy’s fur. “I braided your hair too, and it wasn’t a screaming rainbow fest of longing looks and gentle caresses.”

Mira nearly choked at Zoey’s creative interpretation of Rumi’s hair braiding technique.

Longing looks and gentle caresses?

Mira’s brain traitorously conjured the mental image of exactly that with Rumi. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering Zoey hadn’t actually been wrong. Well, at least about the gentle caresses part. Mira was pretty sure she would have noticed longing looks sent her way.

“Rumi wasn’t, I mean, I wasn’t–” Mira tried to find a coherent defense of their interactions, which honestly were kind of gay. Maybe Mira and Rumi did need a clear gay line. “I’m leaving.” Despite her words, Mira made no attempt to leave, mostly because moving fucking hurt.

Zoey let out an exaggerated sigh. “You can’t just run away from your gay problems, Mira.”

“I can try. I’ll get over her eventually, it’s just a matter of time.” Mira didn’t really believe what she was saying, but she kind of hoped it might be true.

Zoey started shaking her head in disagreement even before Mira finished speaking. “You’ve been in love with her since you got pinned by a demon and she banished it by punching it in the face.”

Mira remembered the incident vividly. She also remembered how she had bolted out of the room every time Rumi tried to talk to her for a week after. Rumi had apologized sincerely for treating her like she wasn’t a capable fighter, assuming that was the problem.

Mira had felt like too much of a dirtbag to correct her that, no, Mira was just finding herself unable to look at Rumi without feeling like she might combust. The most humiliating realization of the whole thing was that Rumi might also be the origin of Mira’s thing for muscles.

Despite the truth in her statement, Mira wasn’t keen on letting Zoey walk all over her. “Okay, love is a strong word.”

Zoey laughed at her in earnest, which was wholly inappropriate for the conversation. “It’s an accurate one!” She smiled at Mira, and Mira couldn’t actually tell if Zoey was trying to be supportive or teasing here. “We were sixteen. If you haven’t gotten over her by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Supportive and teasing, then. Zoey had range, at least.

Mira buried her face in her hand. She would never escape this. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to. How pathetic could one person get?

Rumi slowly shuffled back into the living room, steps careful as she peeked around the absurdly tall pile of pillows and blankets she was somehow balancing. Something in Mira’s heart warmed when she realized Rumi really had taken up her offer, recognizing a good number of the pink pillows in the stack. She was glad Rumi had felt comfortable enough to not only enter her room when she wasn’t there, but to listen to her and steal from the unreasonably large number of pillows Mira kept on her bed.

On second thought, maybe Mira shouldn’t be encouraging the codepency they all clearly suffered from.

Rumi wobbled her way into the room and tipped her haul onto the couch, much to Zoey’s awed delight.

“Rumi,” Zoey said with surprising seriousness, “You are always on pillow duty from now on.”

“Oh.” Rumi started neatly folding the blankets, seemingly unsure of how to react to Zoey’s statement. “I’ll do my best?”

Mira glanced between Zoey, who was nodding approvingly, and Rumi, who was focusing a little too intently on tidying the blankets. Mira wondered when the hell she had become the translator between them. “Zoey’s saying you did a good job.”

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Mira, I think Rumi knew that.”

Rumi clearly hadn’t known that if the growing smile and relaxing shoulders were any indication, but Mira didn’t think it was something Rumi would want her to bring attention to.

“Anyway, Rumi,” Zoey turned away from Mira and scooted herself toward the pile of metal poles in the center of the living room. “Come help me put these together. The sooner we get them done, the sooner we get to the real fun!”

Rumi hesitated, fuzzy blanket half-folded in her hand. Then she shrugged and dropped it back into the pile, moving to sit near the pile of clothing rack parts.

Mira made herself comfortable, stretching out her legs. If the position meant she could easily kick Zoey if the need arose, well, it was always best to be prepared. Zoey eyed Mira’s socked feet next to her and snorted, unimpressed by the subtle attempt to keep her in line. Across from them, Rumi smiled at Mira in greeting while Zoey patted Mira’s ankle blindly in acknowledgment.

As Mira took up the task of creating a giant super sheet once more, she was surprised by the lack of questions and metal poles shoved into her lap to deal with. Mira slowly realized Zoey intended to put the garment racks together with only Rumi’s help instead of letting Mira handle it like usual.

Mira felt a smile threaten to break across her face, understanding just how much of a disaster this was going to be. She settled back to watch them flail for once, hardly even bothered that she had been excluded from her normal sleepover duties.

Rumi sifted through the mess in front of her, becoming increasingly frustrated when she didn’t find what she was looking for. “Where are the instructions?”

They were in Mira’s room, tucked safely in her desk drawer. She had commandeered them the very first time Zoey proposed this couch fort construction style, knowing that the instructions would be immediately thrown out or otherwise lost.

Mira said exactly none of this, quietly stifling her laughter as she pinned another section of sheet together.

“Dunno,” Zoey said, squinting at the colored tape Mira had wrapped around the pieces to make assembly easier. “Who needs instructions when you have enthusiasm?”

“So we’ll put it together wrong, but with a good attitude?” Rumi asked dryly. She reached for two poles that most certainly did not fit together.

“That’s the spirit! As long as we’re having fun!”

It didn’t take long for things to devolve. Mira hummed How It’s Done under her breath while she listened to the beautiful sounds of two idiots spiraling without her help.

“This is witchcraft.” Zoey glared down at the poles she had been trying to brute force together. “I don’t know how, but these have to connect.”

No, they really didn't. Zoey was holding two identical pieces from two separate racks. Mira continued working on the sheets with one hand, feeling remarkably peaceful for how awful the rest of the day had been.

“These two have the same letter but they don’t fit.” Rumi futilely attempted to snap a caster into the topmost crossbar. She had evidently overlooked that wheels tended to go on the bottom. Rumi was at least trying to think it through, but the letters corresponded to the left and right sides of the clothing racks, not the connection points. “You use these for every couch fort?”

Zoey glanced up at Rumi, grinning with excitement for the future prospect of their couch fort. “Yeah, they work amazing to hold up the sheets.”

Rumi checked her phone briefly and blanched. “Does it usually take half an hour?” Mira had been momentarily worried that Celine was fucking up their good vibes again, so it was relief that Rumi had just been checking the time.

Mira briefly wondered if maybe she should stop obsessing over Rumi’s every tiny action. It’d probably be healthier for her blood pressure, if nothing else.

“No,” Zoey said distractedly, hand hovering indecisively between two poles that also didn’t fit the one in front of her. “Mira usually does it.”

Rumi looked at the mismatched parts she was holding, then at Zoey. “Why didn’t we ask her?”

Yes, why didn't they? Mira continued quietly minding her own business as the two morons talked about her like she wasn’t sitting a few feet away.

“She’s injured, Rumi.” Zoey didn’t even look up from the pieces in front of her, glaring them down as if that might somehow convince the clothing racks to assemble themselves. “It’s bad sleepover manners to make the injured work.”

Rumi squinted at Zoey, skepticism clearly written on her face. “Her shoulder is injured, can't she at least tell us how to put it together?”

Mira could, but she wasn't going to until they asked. Nicely.

“Come on, Rumi,” Zoey cajoled. “I’m sure we'll figure it out in no time.”

Rumi made pleading eye contact with Mira, but Mira wasn’t about to intervene. She was not going to give in just because Rumi set those big eyes on her again. Mira’s resolve lasted maybe half a heartbeat before she caved and gave Rumi the hint, “Orange to blue.”

Those things were dangerous. Mira really hoped tonight was a fluke and that Rumi wasn’t actually aware of the potency of her puppy dog eyes. It was far too much power to give a moron with zero common sense or self-restraint.

Zoey threw an incredulous look over her shoulder. “Orange to blue? Mira, are you messing with us?”

Mira took advantage of her strategic position to give Zoey that kick, although it was really more of a halfhearted nudge with Mira’s lack of leverage. Served Zoey right for questioning her system.

Zoey reeled back in mock outrage and brandished the metal pole in her hands, tapping it into her palm in warning. Mira rolled her eyes when Zoey failed to keep a straight face for even a fraction of a second.

“If you’re messing with me…” Zoey let the threat trail off, clearly having no real followup. She snatched up an orange taped pole and ineffectually tried to fit it to the piece in her hand.

Unfortunately for Zoey, she held the wrong shade of blue. Mira’s grin widened.

Rumi dropped the wheel, and she grabbed an orange-taped support bar, which clicked easily into the correct blue-taped crossbar she had been holding. She carefully set the joined pieces aside and surveyed the disassembled racks, brows furrowed in thought.

“Huh.” Zoey inspected the tape on her pieces more closely. “So is there a trick to it or something?”

Enlightenment broke across Rumi’s face. She slowly reached for two poles, and Mira really shouldn’t have been surprised she grabbed the right ones on the first try. Rumi matched a red-taped end to one taped in green, easily slotting them together.

Rumi looked at Mira with wide, sappy eyes. Mira felt a distinct sense of alarm suffuse through her at how sincere Rumi looked.

“What?” Mira asked, trying to set her sights on anything other than Rumi so she wouldn’t explode from nerves. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

With quiet fondness, Rumi said, “You do listen to me.”

Mira froze in place, entirely incapable of processing her emotions about those soft eyes and that soft tone being directed at her by Rumi.

Zoey stared in disbelief at the partially assembled clothing rack in Rumi’s hands. Her eyes only widened further when Rumi grabbed another piece and deftly matched a yellow-taped junction to a purple-taped support with barely a glance. “How are you doing that?” Zoey asked, baffled.

“Complimentary colors,” Rumi said, still looking right at Mira.

Mira felt her face warm further under Rumi’s steady gaze. So she had maybe learned some things from listening to Rumi ramble about colors, so what? Mira was bound to absorb some knowledge through osmosis, and in all honesty she had chosen this system to deter Zoey from trying to put the racks together by herself. That it drove Zoey a little nuts was just a bonus.

“How does that make any sense!” Zoey cried, shaking the pole in her hand like that might convince it to behave. “And why doesn’t this blue go with orange?”

“It’s cyan, Zoey, duh,” Mira said, mostly to be difficult and a little bit to distract herself from her own gay shit. She only knew it was cyan because Rumi had gone on at length about that one being ‘foundational.’ Mira didn’t actually remember why it was so important, but knowing its name was a pretty big win for her.

Rumi honestly looked a little crazed, grinning while she snapped together pieces of clothing racks with confidence, if not perfect accuracy. No one should be that happy about furniture assembly or color schemes, but Mira wasn’t about to bring her down.

Disgusted with Mira’s purposefully confusing system, Zoey dropped the cyan-taped pole and turned her back on the mess altogether, apparently deciding Rumi could handle it. Zoey instead grabbed for the other end of the sheet Mira was working on, and together, they quickly finished the Frankenstein super sheet.

The routine of it was familiar, but Mira reveled in the newness of having Rumi here with them. Knowing Rumi’s workaholic tendencies, this was unlikely to be a regular occurrence. Mira let herself bask in the fact that Rumi was here with them tonight, and she wasn’t going anywhere. It mattered.

In short order, the super sheet reached its full length and Rumi proudly finished assembling the clothing racks. As Zoey scampered over to show her the proper way to brace the racks on the outside of the couch and secure the sheet, Mira slipped away to go finish her nightly routine.

Mira immediately regretted her decision when she realized she left Zoey alone with Rumi. Who knew what horrible skill Zoey might pass on next? It was great they were bonding, but Mira really wished they wouldn’t bond over how to fucking blackmail her.

Mira rushed through her bedtime prep as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very quick with only one arm. She might have taken some time to feel all soft and mushy about the low braid Rumi had made for her, but aggravation eventually won out over fuzzy feelings as she raged at how difficult and painful it was to do mundane shit like changing her fucking clothes. Mira was so sick of the burn in her shoulder, and it hadn’t even been a day. She just wanted to sleep for a week and skip all the stupidity of the Idol Awards, Rumi being her weird self, and the molten hot healing of the Honmoon.

Mira returned to the living room feeling a little fresher and a lot more grumpy. She pushed down her irritation that Rumi and Zoey had evidently finished the whole fort without her, because honestly, Mira hadn’t felt like doing it at all tonight.

The couch fort construction wasn’t very impressive from the outside. Mismatched sheets stretched into a low tent over the couch, joined by crooked lines of clothespins at the seams. Mira snorted when she noticed precisely half of the couch fort was draped in neat rows of evenly-spaced fairy lights. The other half was buried in wild loops and coils. Dim spots of light wound haphazardly through the maze of clothespins, looking like the wires had been literally thrown across the room and allowed to rest where they fell. Mira was glad that Rumi and Zoey had figured out a compromise, even if it looked absolutely ridiculous.

Mira was also glad she had gotten Zoey that huge pack of LED string lights. Rumi could never know their first attempt at a couch fort had almost burned down the tower. Looking back, using tea candles had been a spectacularly awful idea.

Mira briefly contemplated leaving her glasses outside the fort on the coffee table for safekeeping. It was probably best if she could see considering the rare addition of Rumi to their sleepover shenanigans. While Rumi was generally a calming influence on her and Zoey, Mira and Rumi were functioning on a sleep deficit at the moment. Well, Rumi was always functioning on a sleep deficit, but really. That said a lot about her general lack of common sense.

Mira trusted Zoey with her whole heart and soul, but she also knew her. Having Zoey be the most lucid one among them meant rationality could dissolve in the blink of an eye, and Mira and Rumi would be along for the ride. Mira kept her glasses on, knowing that if she wanted to survive this she would need to see the warning signs in whatever horrific facial expressions Zoey was bound to make.

It was late. Mira was tired. The day had been spectacularly awful, and tomorrow wasn’t looking much better. Despite this, Mira couldn’t help but marvel at how happy she had felt these past few days. She wasn’t sure if it was the relief of Rumi’s lies laid bare or the shifting of the dynamic between the three of them, but something was changing for the better.

Mira silently flipped off the Honmoon, just so the stupid thing would know that she was the one who brought them together, accidental as it may have been.

Fortified and feeling entirely too sappy, Mira turned out the living room light. The room darkened, and the couch fort suddenly stood out like a beacon, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. She ducked past the draping sheet serving as a makeshift door to the fort, fully ready for the absolute disaster of a sleepover that awaited her.

Chapter Text

As she gently lifted the sheet on the threshold of the couch fort, Mira’s eye was drawn to the ethereal blue glow of Derpy’s stripes. The tiger was sprawled bonelessly across the sofa, his bulk threatening to spill him from the narrow cushions at the slightest shift. Thankfully, he seemed content to rest beneath the canopy of their fort for the time being, even as the tips of his ears brushed the sheets above with each of his deep, steady breaths. Blankets were carefully tucked around him and a trio of stuffed animals stood guard, Rumi’s worn teddy bear flanked by Zoey's meticulously clean frog plush and a familiar grumpy pink octopus. The soft little nest was presumably Rumi and Zoey’s way of including him despite his catnip-induced slumber.

Mira positively melted at the sight, and she wanted nothing more than to go join him and curl up on the couch. With the chaos of the evening settled, she was starting to feel her lack of sleep catching up with her. She kind of wished that they were just going straight to bed. Still, Mira wasn’t about to miss Rumi’s first pre-show sleepover extravaganza.

The fact that her first pre-show sleepover was before the terrifying unknown of the Idol Awards hung over all their heads, though none of them wanted to admit it. Zoey was an expert at keeping the mood light, but Mira could see through her easily. The slight crease to her brow that Zoey had sported all night betrayed that tomorrow weighed just as heavily on her. She and Zoey hadn’t discussed it explicitly, but they hardly needed to.

Neither of them wanted Rumi to be alone tonight.

More than a decade of distance and carefully crafted walls were being overcome, inch by precious inch. Two days wasn’t nearly enough time to counteract two decades of fear and hiding, but Rumi had already taken far more steps into the light than Mira would have imagined her capable. If Mira had anything to say about it, that tentative start would only grow with time. Every ridiculous affirmation, every hesitant truth shared, every instance of a hand extended and of comfort sought was another grain of sand willingly dislodged from Rumi’s walls. Like Rapunzel with distractingly shiny and purple hair, Rumi was reaching back and meeting them halfway. With a certainty born from years of loyalty and love freely given, Mira knew Zoey would be right beside her in coaxing Rumi over the parapets and into their shared space. They were finally getting to know Rumi. For real this time.

If nothing else, Mira felt confident Zoey would be on the same page about making this a fun experience, free of the pressures of the Honmoon and the Idol Awards. This night should be about Rumi.

The sheets stretched above her, the twinkle of fairy lights diffusing softly through the fabric and illuminating the space with a gentle glow. Mira drank in the sight of Rumi and Zoey, sitting cross-legged and side by side at the center of the couch fort, the two anchors of her world waiting for her. Sometimes it still felt impossible that they could even exist with how deeply Mira needed them in her life. Rumi and Zoey had dug their roots in deep, and to lose one of them would mean ripping apart the bedrock of her soul. Whatever it took, whatever the stakes, they would get through tomorrow. Together.

She really tried to be normal about it, but Mira had a feeling she still looked like an idiot as she stared at the way the warm light softened Rumi’s features and cast her patterns into stark contrast. Mira nearly felt breathless at the sight, save for how still Rumi was. She held her posture rigid and upright, a familiar defensive poise that had always reminded Mira of Celine. A glance at Zoey proved she was just as tense, her fingers tapping out a rapid beat on her knee.

The fuzzy feelings that suffused Mira dampened as she took in whatever standoff was happening here. She had thought it was quieter than usual, but she had never expected they might be staring each other down.

So maybe they weren’t on the same page.

Irritation washed over her. For fucks sake! Could the three of them not keep their shit together for five minutes?

Mira did not want to be the peacekeeper here, not the least because she was far more likely to make the situation worse. Careful emotional maneuvering had never been her forte. Accidental pattern reveal aside, it probably never would be. Mira had come to terms with that years ago, but it took so fucking long to handle things the Zoey Way. She would much rather swat both of them over the head with a magazine until they behaved.

“Everything alright?” Mira asked anyway, already knowing the answer. Might as well get this shit sorted out now. This was supposed to be a fun sleepover.

“Of course,” Rumi said smoothly even as Zoey grumbled out, “Obviously not.”

Mira rolled her eyes and picked her way across the uneven sea of pillows and blankets. She wasn’t about to just stand here hunched over like an idiot while these two fucked up the sleepover. Honestly. The least she could do was make herself comfortable if she had to deal with this bullshit. “Okay. What’s the issue?” she asked, folding herself onto the plush ground to complete their little circle.

Zoey opened her mouth, aggravation writ clear across her face. She seemed to think twice about what she had been about to say and shook her head. “Ask Rumi,” she said neutrally, face clearing into an unreadable mask.

God fucking damn it. Why couldn’t they just talk things out like emotionally healthy adults?

Maybe Zoey had been right about them needing therapy. Ugh. Mira sighed and turned to Rumi, wanting to get this over with. “The issue?” she prompted.

“Issue?” Rumi scoffed. “How is it an issue to discuss the awards tomorrow?”

Was that what this was about? This girl, honestly. Rumi would probably work herself into the ground with a smile on her face given half a chance. Mira considered the Rumi’s stubborn expression, then corrected probably to absolutely in her head.

Mira placed her hand on Rumi's knee, deeming it suitably platonic and unlikely to bite her in the ass later. She squeezed gently to grab Rumi’s attention. “Pre-show sleepovers are for relaxing before a performance day.”

Zoey muttered something that seemed to convey either frustration or agreement. Mira blinked stupidly at her, far too tired to parse which it might be.

Rumi eyed both of them dubiously. “How is it relaxing to avoid talking about our responsibilities?”

Well, shit. That was about the extent of what Mira was equipped to deal with tonight. How could she explain to a workaholic that work wasn't relaxing?

Mira exchanged a look with Zoey, who rolled her eyes and said, “Respect the protocol.”

Oh. That worked. Short, to the point, and pretty much guaranteed to break the tension. Thank god for Zoey, although it was telling that she had to step in to deescalate her own conflict.

“Respect the protocol,” Mira echoed, nodding. She held back a laugh at the flush that spread down Rumi’s neck, the loosening of her shoulders showing she was more exasperated than truly mad.

Rumi narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, bracing against her knees for balance. Her hand covered Mira’s, an electric point of contact between them.

Mira tried not to stare at the showcase of Rumi’s toned arms when she flexed them like that. Mira also tried to ignore how casually Rumi had placed a hand over her own, like Mira was an extension of herself, like she was someone to be leaned on and trusted. Mira failed on all counts.

Mira felt the soft rasp of Rumi’s calloused palm against the back of her hand, felt slender fingers that slotted against her knuckles like they were meant to be there. She compared the delicate curl of patterns on each of Rumi’s wrists to the powerful, looping designs wrapped around her forearms and biceps. The warm, dim lighting deepened the contrast, pouring them across her skin like ink. Rumi’s patterns danced under the glow of the fairy lights, an intricate network of brushstrokes designed to draw the eye.

“Is this an initiation?” Rumi’s voice filtered through the haze of Mira’s fascination. “Because it sounds like you’re recruiting me into a cult.”

Zoey snorted something close to a laugh. “A cult of learning how to relax, maybe.”

“For the last time, I know how to relax!” Rumi threw up those captivating arms, breaking the stranglehold they lorded over Mira’s attention.

Okay. So Mira might have zoned out a little there. She felt kind of pathetically sad about Rumi no longer holding her hand, and she desperately didn't want to show it. Falling back to teasing felt as safe as she could get. “Of course you do,” she said, withdrawing her lonely, cold hand to instead rest under her chin. “How do you relax, again?”

“The normal way.” Rumi had the audacity to act like it was a ridiculous question despite her answer making no fucking sense.

Mira saw the moment Zoey made the conscious decision to let the disagreement go. The corners of her mouth twitched, threatening to split into a grin. “What's the normal way?” Zoey asked innocently, her usual cheer returning with a vengeance.

Mira didn’t trust it. Judging by that sly look, Zoey was brewing something a little more potent than just harassing Rumi into relaxing.

“Uh.” Rumi looked hesitantly between them. “Sleeping?” The fact that it was a question said volumes.

“Sleeping isn't relaxing!” Zoey laughed brightly before seeming to give it real thought. “Wait, I guess it kind of is.”

Rumi shot Mira a triumphant look, which was completely premature.

If Zoey was going to be unhelpful here, then it was Mira’s turn to pick up the slack. “So how do you relax when you're awake?” She reached over to flick Rumi’s ear. “Talking about the Idol Awards does not count.”

“Hey!” Rumi jerked her head away at the admonishment, and a seemingly endless purple waterfall cascaded over her opposite shoulder. “It is relaxing to plan ahead. I’m going to be worrying about the Idol Awards all night if we don’t…” she trailed off, tilting her head curiously at Mira. Rumi's loose hair flowed with the motion, the gossamer strands capturing light like a river at sunset. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Had Rumi’s hair always been this pretty? Mira knew the answer was yes, but she was also starting to realize how absurd that hair color really was. “Your hair’s down.” Mira found herself saying, feeling extremely stupid and a bit dazed at the sight.

It was also ridiculously unfair that Rumi could have such a gorgeous, otherworldly shade without frying the shit out of her hair with dye. Mira would fucking kill somebody for that kind of awesome hair. No wonder it was so silky to the touch.

“Yours isn’t.” Rumi flipped the tail of Mira’s braid, a satisfied smile playing across her lips.

Nope. Mira was not letting her thoughts stray back into dangerous territory about this again. She was far too close to combusting at simple, casual touch for her to relive any mushy moments from tonight. She could just move forward like she hadn’t almost lost her goddamn mind at getting her hair braided.

Zoey snickered at Mira’s obvious fluster.

“I don’t know what you're laughing at,” Rumi turned to poke at Zoey, who rolled away from her while laughing. “You insisted I had to let loose.”

“Literally!” Zoey crowed, settling comfortably on her stomach. She grinned deviously in Mira’s direction, and Mira did not fucking appreciate this stupid meddling. Zoey tucked a large, squishy pillow under her chin. “And it looks great.”

“I know,” Rumi said smugly. Mira couldn’t even fault her for it. Her hair looked incredible out of its braid.

“So, Rumi,” Zoey said, adopting a stern expression. Her serious demeanor was completely undermined by the laughter in her tone and the enormous pink pillow under her chin. “Did you do your homework?”

“You gave her homework?” Mira was so ready for bedtime. Unfortunately, it seemed like she needed to stay awake to prevent these two from developing more terrible behaviors. “No wonder you two weren’t getting along.”

“We’re getting along!” Rumi insisted at the same time Zoey explained, “She needs to come up with her own positive affirmations.”

“How many affirmations are you going to make her do?”

Zoey pushed herself up dramatically, hand over her heart. “As many as it takes.”

Rumi smiled proudly. “I think I have a good one.” She drew out the pause, obviously reveling in the suspense. Like she was divulging some great wisdom, Rumi quietly and firmly declared, “I have a good work ethic.”

Mira snatched up a stray pillow to bury her face in, glasses digging uncomfortably into the bridge of her nose. She very pointedly did not scream in frustration, but god, did she want to. Why was Rumi like this?

Mira peeked up at Rumi’s incredulous, “Okay, what did I say wrong now?”

Zoey eyed Rumi. “We appreciate your work ethic–”

“I don’t,” Mira grumbled. “It’s unhealthy.”

“Excuse me?”

“You never answered me earlier,” Mira drawled, knowing full well that Rumi wouldn’t have an answer now, either. “When was the last time you went on vacation?”

“So, what else is on the protocol?” Rumi completely breezed over Mira’s question, the coward. She wasn't even subtle about it.

“Secrets,” Zoey said, evidently choosing to let Rumi run away from Mira’s brilliant observation. “Sometimes it’s fun to share something you haven’t told anyone.” Zoey paused, and her fingers took up a rapid beat on the blanketed floor beside her. “Uh. Not that you have to, it’s only if you’re comfortable with it, I mean, um, Mira! You start!” Zoey finished with a slightly pained smile, darting her eyes to Rumi pointedly.

Mira would love to help Zoey out. Really, she would. There was just one tiny problem with that. “I think I’ve told you literally everything, Zo.”

“Yeah, probably a little too much.” Zoey relaxed and kept half an eye on Rumi, who seemed more amused than anything by their little exchange. “Some thoughts are inside thoughts.”

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Mira had incredible self-restraint. Well, no, she didn’t really, but she had some. “I don’t overshare, that’s ridiculous. Give me one good example.” Mira immediately regretted issuing the challenge because truth be told, she overshared everything with Zoey. More specifically, she overshared everything she thought about Rumi.

Zoey opened her mouth, and that was enough of a cue for Mira to interrupt whatever humiliating thing was about to be aired.

“Actually,” Mira said quickly. Much too quickly. Zoey’s eyes narrowed, and Mira grasped for an out. “Rumi’s never done this, so she should go first. What’s something you haven’t told anyone?” Mira’s confidence quickly died as she voiced the question, words chafing like sand between her teeth. Of all the stupid fucking places she could have gone, why not ask the Queen of Secrets to just casually dig up some more of her potentially life-altering traumas? Fantastic idea, really. Mira now perfectly understood how Zoey had felt bringing this up.

Rumi blinked in surprise, and after only a brief hesitation she said, “I have patterns on my back, too.”

The apology Mira had been preparing died in her throat with an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. She had expected Rumi to push back, to withdraw. She had been counting on it, actually. Where was that stubborn defiance and refusal to open up? And of all the secrets Rumi could have divulged, why that one?

Mira desperately shoved her gay thoughts into a box. She did not need the mental image of Rumi’s patterns spanning the expanse of her strong back. She did not need to think about how the rich color of Rumi’s patterns might swirl in gentle waves along the contours and muscles Mira knew were there from helping Rumi through choreography.

“Thank you for telling us,” Zoey said, like a rational person who had a modicum of emotional intelligence. The sharp smile that spread across her face as she turned to Mira was a fucking warning, and Mira knew it.

Mira just needed to take a deep breath and say something normal, supportive, and above all friendly.

Her traitorous mind filled in the blanks, whispering of cut planes of muscle and broad shoulders. “How far down your back?” Mira blurted out, proving that she couldn’t be trusted to control her own mouth.

Oh god, no. Why the fuck had she said that?

“Oh god, Mira, no.” Zoey echoed Mira’s thoughts with disturbing accuracy. The added laugh was unappreciated, though. “Why would you say that?”

“What?” Mira instinctively pushed back despite fully agreeing with Zoey. “It’s a valid question!”

It really wasn’t.

“Just past my ribs.” Rumi sounded surprisingly steady, tension from her initial confession easing as she watched her friends squabble.

It took perhaps five agonizingly long seconds for Rumi’s words to catch up with Mira. It had been such a bad idea to ask. Images of patterns swirling past the curve of Rumi’s spine flashed across her mind’s eye. Friendly thoughts, Mira reminded herself. Keep it fucking friendly oh god just stop thinking about it.

In an ideal world, Zoey might have stepped in and smoothed over Mira’s inability to keep her gay, sleep-deprived mouth shut for once. Instead, Zoey looked like she might be trying to smother herself with her pillow. The shaking of her shoulders betrayed just how hard she was trying to hold back laughter at Mira’s self-inflicted predicament.

“If you were trying to hide them, why did you wear so many crop tops?” Mira said the first thing that she thought probably wouldn’t result in getting herself slapped. “Wasn’t that risky?”

Mira privately cheered at choosing something relatively harmless to say. She was locked in and ready for any response. Mira could and would be normal about this.

Rumi’s face flushed delicately, and she ducked her head in clear embarrassment. “I’m too hot.”

“I mean, yeah, but being hot isn’t everything.” Well, it kind of was in their line of work, but Mira was still thrilled to see Rumi’s usual confidence in her looks was starting to include her patterns.

Rumi’s blush deepened into an alarming shade of red, spreading from the tips of her ears and all the way down her neck. Mira ran back the conversation and immediately wished she could develop spontaneous amnesia.

Apparently, she could not be normal about this.

Mira decided she was just going to go join Derpy now and curl up into a ball. He was wise enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Maybe Mira could learn a thing or two from him.

“Excellent affirmation,” Zoey snickered and reached up to rub Mira’s back sympathetically. If Zoey was taking pity, the situation must have been unsalvageable. Mira tried to will time to reverse, but apparently her dumb magical girl powers couldn't help here.

Rumi predictably started flailing. “Wait, no, I mean,” Mira leaned back to dodge an errant gesticulation that would have gotten her backhanded across the throat. “It’s, ugh, you’re–” Rumi groaned in frustration.

“Tiger got your tongue?” Zoey teased. Mira grunted, offended on Derpy’s behalf. He would never.

“I mean I run hot!” Rumi blurted out, seeming to have finally figured out what she was trying to say.

Mira hadn't actually expected that response, but it made sense since cuddling Rumi was like having her own personal space heater. Her heart broke a little when she considered how much of their time was spent performing exhausting routines under dizzyingly hot spotlights and in stifling humidity.

“And you’ve been wearing full sleeves on stage?” Zoey asked with clear distress. Thank god she and Mira actually were on the same page for this one. “Rumi, that must be miserable.”

Rumi shrugged like her comfort wasn’t a fucking priority. Mira wanted to scream for very different reasons now.

“How do you stand it?” Mira demanded. “I’m usually melting by our second set, and you know I run cold.” Mira plucked at the long sleeve of her shirt for emphasis. Now that she thought about it, it might actually be Rumi’s fault the tower was always fucking freezing. She really should track down the thermostat at some point.

“I’m used to it,” Rumi said as if it wasn’t one of the saddest fucking things Mira had ever heard.

“You shouldn't have to be,” Mira bit out, furious at the way Rumi constantly put her needs last. If she wouldn't look out for herself, then Mira would just have to do it for her. Zoey would help. She was skilled at putting her chaos to work for the greater good of their little family.

“Does this mean we can ditch the jackets for Golden?” Zoey asked hopefully. “They’re kind of awful.”

Mira was glad Zoey was voicing it because the jackets were awful to wear, and Mira was too mad to say that in a reasonable way. They looked amazing, but Mira swore they weighed half her body weight in gold stitching alone. Not to mention the stiff fabric couldn’t breathe worth shit. Seriously, if they didn’t look so good Mira would have had words with the designer ages ago. Fashion shouldn’t have to be painful, but they didn’t always get the choice as idols.

Rumi didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Absolutely not.”

Mira took a deep breath. This wasn’t something she needed to get worked up over right now. There would be time to walk Rumi through valuing herself and her own needs. It was nothing that could be fixed tonight, and Mira could at least pick up where Zoey left off to lighten the mood.

“It wouldn’t be so bad. Imagine, me with one-armed choreo, you with your–” Mira very nearly said the word sexy and choked on her own stupidity. She thought quickly and landed on, “–your double hot patterns.”

Well, fuck. A cold sweat broke over Mira’s forehead and her face warmed uncomfortably. It could have been worse.

“Zoey would steal the show,” Rumi said, graciously letting Mira’s gay idiocy slide despite the pretty blush that crept down Rumi’s neck.

“I’d have competition.” Zoey's eyes danced with mischief. “We all know the gunshow would be popular with fans.”

Rumi huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll show off ‘the guns’ anytime soon.”

Zoey patted Rumi’s knee, and she smiled with genuine sincerity. “If you ever want to, we’ll support you.”

“Thanks,” Rumi said dryly. “I’m sure revealing my patterns will get a great reception.”

Mira wasn’t about to let Rumi get away with more unneeded self-deprecation. “Why not? The only people who know what these mean are Hunters.” Apparently too sleep deprived to follow appropriate boundaries, Mira traced her fingertips along the curving patterns that peeked past the strap of Rumi’s tank top. “Newsflash, the Hunters are already very aware of your patterns.”

“You sure about that?” Rumi covered Mira’s hand, trapping it against the patterns sprawled across her shoulder with a sly grin.

As her fingertips brushed the warm skin at the junction of Rumi's neck, Mira felt the strong, rapid beat of a nervous pulse. She allowed her thumb to linger at the hollow of Rumi's collarbone, the sensation of a heartbeat beneath her fingers serving as precious evidence of Rumi's existence, here under cobbled-together sheets and mis-matched fairy lights. Despite the quick thrum of Rumi’s heart, she didn’t shy away. She didn't withdraw. She held Mira’s hand, their twined fingertips brushing along the edges of her patterns. She let Mira memorize the rhythm of her pulse.

This heartbeat was evidence. That Rumi was was alive. That she was just as apprehensive as Mira and Zoey. That she was standing by them anyway.

For once, Rumi was staying. She was choosing to stay.

Breathless under the weight of Rumi’s softening stare and what tomorrow might bring, Mira hardly remembered what they had been talking about. It was difficult to bring coherent thoughts to the surface when her rough hand was held so gently against the soft expanse of Rumi’s skin, as achingly contradictory in its rightness as the beautiful contrast of Rumi’s sea-dark patterns beneath the warm glow of the canopy.

Mira startled out of her gay tangent when Rumi squeezed her hand. She looked at her expectantly, as if Mira had missed a step in their verbal choreography.

Oh fuck. They had been talking about patterns. And being a Hunter? Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. They had been joking? Maybe?

“I’m a fucking fantastic Hunter, remember?” Mira hoped leaning on her stupid comeback from last night would be relevant enough.

“Sure, Mira.” Rumi’s words were sarcastic, but her tone was so laced with affection that Mira forgot she was supposed to respond.

Zoey watched the two of them carefully, and Mira almost felt bad for referencing something Zoey had no context for. If she had the slightest inkling that Zoey might be feeling left out or like an afterthought, she would have changed course immediately.

As it was, though, Zoey was more than fine. She was in all likelihood committing Mira’s bumbling to memory for later mocking. An indulgent smile spread across her face, and she watched them with the same sappy expression she reserved for baby animal videos. Mira just knew Zoey was envisioning them as something ridiculous like dumb little kittens tripping over each other. Mira regained enough composure to stick her tongue out at Zoey, not willing to let her get away with the unvoiced insult.

Zoey, unimpressed, mouthed, ‘Get a room.’

Mira would have retaliated with a thrown pillow if her good hand wasn’t being held hostage. From the smug glint in Zoey’s eyes and the way her hand inched toward a soft pillow of her own, she knew it. Zoey knew it, and she found it hilarious.

With her eyes trained on the ground, Rumi was apparently oblivious to the standoff. Mira and Zoey froze in their antics as Rumi said softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I’ve wanted to tell you for years.” Her voice was steady, but her hand pressed solidly against Mira’s own as if it were a steadying anchor. “I was always told nothing could change until my patterns are gone.”

At the outpouring of honesty freely given, Mira wanted nothing more than to rage. She wanted to hold every bit of anger that Rumi deserved to feel, deserved to express, and offer it to her in a righteous fury. Mira wanted to pretend she didn’t know exactly who told Rumi that ugly phrase and that Mira didn’t share the same instinct at her core. Mira understood with perfect, aching clarity that centuries-old tradition had led them here, to the point where good intentions had cut deeper than malice. The origin of Rumi’s struggle with her patterns had never been clearer.

Our faults and fears must never be seen.

It was the foundation of their training, the foundation of their bond and career and duty. There was a fatal flaw in the logic, however, one Celine had apparently failed to acknowledge. Even in the miraculous scenario that Rumi’s patterns might disappear with the golden Honmoon, that didn’t change the fact that they were here now. Rumi couldn’t scrub them from her skin like smudged makeup or wait for them to fade like a bruise. They existed. They were an inextricable part of her.

Mira was having a hard time viewing the patterns themselves as a fault when Rumi had no say in the matter, but her anger wasn’t needed here. Rumi needed love and acceptance, and that, at least, would never be in short supply.

“But they’re still here.” Mira failed to keep the rasp of anger from her voice, but she continued anyway, desperate to help Rumi see it didn’t have to be this way. “And everything has changed.”

Zoey clambered over to them and gently took up each of their free hands, her movements slow enough that Mira’s shoulder didn’t so much as twinge. “Hopefully for the better?” Mira watched as Zoey placed her thumb with deliberate care along a pattern that snaked around Rumi’s wrist, a quiet acknowledgement and show of support rolled into one thoughtful motion.

Mira continued to be baffled by Zoey’s innate grasp of subtlety. It was a fundamental part of Zoey that could never be replicated. Still, Mira could probably benefit from taking mental notes on how not to be an emotional bulldozer.

Rumi seemed to give their words uncharacteristically thorough consideration, and Mira could practically see when Rumi held herself back from her usual decisiveness. Eventually, Rumi hummed, a low, thoughtful sound that filled the gaps between the three of them. “It feels better. The more you tell me it’s okay to show my patterns, the more I believe it,” she said. Her words rolled in a practiced cadence, almost musical in the quiet. Rumi must have given this a lot of thought, even before the sleepover. “The more I tell myself that, the more I believe it.”

Mira abruptly realized what this was. If she was right, then Mira would never doubt Zoey ever again for as long as she lived. “Are you saying the positive affirmations are working?”

“I think they might be.” Rumi grimaced. “Is that stupid?”

“It’s not stupid.” Zoey whispered, slow and soft, as if anything louder might startle Rumi. “That’s what they’re for.”

“The more you guys treat them like a part of me,” Rumi swallowed thickly. “the more I feel like they are. I shouldn’t–” she cut herself off and dragged her eyes over Mira’s face. “Thank you,” she said for some unfathomable reason.

Mira didn’t know what she was being thanked for specifically, but she smiled encouragingly. She really hoped Rumi couldn’t tell that she had no idea what she was talking about, since any ‘thank you’s should have been directed to Zoey first and foremost.

“I know I’ve said it,” Mira hesitated to voice the thought, but it felt better to be honest now that she could, “but I don’t think you’ve ever said they were a part of you.”

“They’re not– I didn't– It’s your fault,” Rumi accused, more fond than upset. “Both of you.” Then, quieter, “I guess things really have changed.”

“Good,” Zoey said simply. “I’m glad.”

Mira didn’t feel she needed to fill the silence. She held each of her dearest friends’ hands, and she marveled at the truth of Rumi’s statement. Things were changing at a rapid pace, had been changing over the past two days. They would continue to change, and Mira would face the unknown alongside the both of them.

Rumi bowed her head, and Mira had to strain to hear her next words. “If we don't seal the Honmoon, I’m scared nothing will change for Celine.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll be here by your side.” Zoey was fierce in her reassurance. “You're not alone in this.”

Mira couldn’t speak for Celine, but she could speak for herself. “We’re here for you.” Mira glanced over to give Rumi a wry smile. “Even when Celine is being a butthead.” The stifled laugh was worth Rumi’s subsequent glare. In all honesty, Mira would have done anything to wipe that look of desolation off Rumi’s face, and she would gladly offer any piece of her that might bring Rumi a sliver of joy. Rumi deserved nothing less.

“Huntr/x sticks together,” Zoey said, and it wasn’t a question. It was a challenge, one Mira was glad to meet with her own.

“Damn right we stick together,” Mira fired back. “No matter what.” She immediately realized her mistake and wanted to scream into one of the many pillows scattered around. She knew exactly what was coming next.

The smile that spread across Rumi’s face was saccharine sweet, and she said with heartrending sincerity, “Always.”

Zoey squinted at Rumi, and it was plain as day that she was calculating whether she could somehow blackmail Mira with this later, the fucking menace. Mira had no idea how Zoey figured out Rumi’s call and response thing was yet another one of her bizarre fuckups, but Zoey seemed to always know.

“Wow.” Zoey looked like the cat that got the cream as she withdrew to lean back on her hands, utterly relaxed and annoyingly self-satisfied. “Way to make it gay, you two.”

Could Zoey not turn off her gremlin energy for more than ten minutes at a time? Mira was about two seconds from just beating her up with a stuffed animal, injury be damned, when Rumi leaned heavily into her and hooked her chin over Mira’s shoulder. Zoey raised an eyebrow as Mira froze, all thoughts suddenly replaced with internal screeching.

“I think I must have crossed the line.” Rumi’s voice rumbled into Mira’s ear, and she swore her heart skipped several beats and went on hiatus without her. Was this what cardiac arrest felt like? Rumi sounded far too pleased with herself. She also sounded far too fucking close. “My gay instincts failed me.”

Mira choked on a surprised laugh. “Rumi! You’re gonna kill me, don’t–” more laughter swallowed her own words as she tried to gain regain her composure. What the fuck.

Rumi beamed, and Mira only knew that because Rumi had invaded her space so thoroughly that the apple of her cheek pressed against Mira’s neck when she smiled. “I think you’ll live.” The words felt like they were being spoken directly into Mira’s soul, which would probably have been more distressing if Mira could stop fucking laughing.

“I dunno,” Zoey stroked her chin, the picture of a wise scholar. “Mira’s been looking pretty faint ever since the back patterns thing.”

Mira’s choked laughter turned into choked outrage in an instant. “I have not. Don’t listen to her, she’s trying to steal my spot as the cool one.” Mira did not feel like the cool one at the moment as she forced herself to stay still, Rumi seemingly content to drape over her shoulder like a lazy cat.

“I’ve always been the cool one.” Zoey popped finger guns. She grinned wickedly, and Mira realized the little shit was mocking yesterday's lame attempt to cheer Rumi up. Zoey’s smile faded somewhat, and she eyed Rumi seriously. “Rumi, can I ask why you picked that as your secret?”

“It was the first thing I thought of that I hadn’t told anyone.” Rumi pulled away from Mira to sit upright. “Should I have picked something else? You’ve already seen most of them, I just–” She hesitated before steel overtook her apprehension. “I’m sick of hiding.”

Mira didn’t dare open her mouth. She had an equal chance of fucking this up as she did saying the right thing, so Mira took the option she knew would be welcomed. Slowly, she slipped her hand into Rumi’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. From the grateful smile she received in return, Mira had made the right choice.

“Anyone?” Zoey asked with uncharacteristic weight. “Not even–”

Rumi fidgeted with her free hand, avoiding Zoey’s eye. “I haven't told Celine about my patterns.”

“Uh.” Mira felt like she was missing something here. “She definitely knows about them.”

Zoey patted at Mira’s knee, a gentle request to let her handle this. “What do you mean?” Zoey probed gently.

“Here,” Rumi said, which explained exactly nothing. She pulled out her phone with her free hand and waved Zoey over. Mira still wasn’t sure where this was going, but she was more than willing to follow their lead.

The three of them crowded in close as Rumi cleared her notifications, leaving just the plain lockscreen to light the space between them. The time read three minutes past midnight. Rumi had set her background picture as one of Mira’s own favorites, a snapshot of their trainee days. In a mirror of their positions now, they huddled beneath that giant-ass tree near Celine’s home, the stones of the Hunters’ graveyard barely visible over the rolling grass hills in the distance.

It felt like a lifetime ago, looking at their younger selves.

“Oh.” Zoey broke the quiet as the phone dimmed. “Do you want to tell her?”

Rumi hummed in answer, as if that question had made any fucking sense.

Mira looked at their somber faces, still completely confused about whatever wavelength these two were on.

Seeming to realize Mira had no fucking clue what was happening, Zoey gently tapped the screen of Rumi’s phone, bringing it back to life. “Look again,” she said softly.

And Mira did. Her younger self was mid eye roll, a fond smirk on her face. Zoey grinned so wide she looked a little crazed, arm extended as she snapped the photo. Rumi had thrown her arms around each of them with a soft expression, not quite a smile but something relieved and content nonetheless.

Mira was ready to question the sanity of both of them when she saw Rumi’s arms in the photo. Her bare arms.

Rumi’s bare, unblemished arms in a loose T-shirt, thrown about their shoulders without a second thought. How long had it been since Rumi had been willing to initiate that contact? How many years between this picture and Mira’s stupid fuckup the other night had Rumi been worrying that her world would crumble if so much as a sleeve rode up? Mira had trouble pinpointing when Rumi had started wearing full sleeves, had trouble figuring out when the patterns had…

Oh.

“Celine doesn’t know how far they’ve spread,” Mira guessed. From what Rumi had already said combined with the picture, it seemed like the only logical conclusion.

“No,” Rumi said eventually, clutching Mira’s hand tightly. “I never told her.”

Mira knew the kind of poison the mind invented for itself when hiding from loved ones. When hiding from family. She knew how fear and self-loathing could overshadow all the good that may have been, leaving nothing but ruins and rot. Mira had found little worth salvaging in her own foundations, and it had been the right choice to start anew. For Rumi’s sake, if nothing else, she hoped there was something worth rebuilding with Celine.

“Does she need to know?” Zoey asked, ever steady, ever reasonable. She gently pried the phone from Rumi’s fingers and replaced it with her own hand. “It’s your body.”

Rumi fell quiet, deliberating. “She doesn’t need to know,” she finally settled on, “but I think I want to tell her anyway.”

“Do you know when you’d want to?” Mira bumped her shoulder against Rumi’s and stayed there, trying to project her support through proximity. This was how Rumi had sought comfort these last few days. The least Mira could do was offer it when needed, and she was more than capable of putting her gay shit to rest for the time being. Probably.

Rumi leaned back into her, and oh, Mira might have miscalculated. “When she calls tomorrow.” Rumi rested her head against Mira’s shoulder again. Definitely miscalculated. “It feels right. I don’t want to go into our performance without having her on board.”

“Whatever you decide, we’re with you.” Zoey leaned into Rumi’s other shoulder, and Rumi seemed to sag in relief. Mira caught Zoey’s eye and mouthed a thank you. Zoey preened.

“It’s weird looking back like that,” Mira offered into the silence, trying to think of anything other than how Rumi’s body melted into hers like the heat of a fire on a cold winter’s day. She tried to think about anything other than the way she wished she could stay in this instant, quiet and still and surrounded by love. “We were so young.”

“We look like babies.” Zoey cheerfully held the phone just out of Mira’s reach, and that really should have been a warning in itself. All fuzzy feelings fled when Zoey illuminated the screen again and cooed, “Especially Mira. Look at her wittle baby cheeks.”

Mira lunged for the phone with an indignant squawk, which was made extremely difficult by Rumi holding her in place like an ornery squid.

“Mira, stop. You’re going to reinjure yourself,” Rumi scolded.

“Again,” Zoey sing-songed.

“Fuck off,” Mira grumbled to the room at large.

“Oh, I know!” Zoey said, mischief lighting up her face. “Let’s take a new photo. One with Mira’s big girl cheeks.”

“With my fucking what?”

Rumi looked like she might be on the verge of tears from holding in her laughter. She took a deep breath, and to Mira’s surprise she nodded. “This is just for us. No one else,” she warned before she slung an arm around a giggling Zoey’s shoulders and dragged her over. Mira braced herself for the same rough treatment, hoping that her shoulder wouldn’t burn too badly. Instead, Rumi carefully wrapped her hand around Mira’s waist to pull her close.

“We’ve come so far since then. I want to keep moving forward with you,” Rumi said, painfully sincere, and Mira couldn’t help but stare at the both of them, grateful they could have this moment.

The sound of a digitized shutter rang out unexpectedly. Mira had no idea what kind of dazed look might be on her face as Zoey snapped the picture, but it probably wasn’t flattering. She peered over Rumi’s shoulder, and instead of cringing, she was filled with all kinds of mushy feelings at the sight.

Derpy sprawled across the couch in the background, and Zoey’s ability to include him so effortlessly was honestly impressive. Zoey looked happier than Mira had seen her in a long time with Rumi’s patterned arm thrown about her shoulders and her own hand making bunny ears behind Mira's head. Zoey's grin was wide and self-satisfied and matched by eyes that seemed to sparkle under the warm fairy lights. Rumi beamed up from the photo, slotted against Mira's side like a puzzle piece. Her hair spilled over her forehead and shoulders, framing her face and highlighting her effortless beauty. And Mira? A blush dusted her cheeks and a soft smile played at her lips as she looked at the two girls who formed her world instead of the camera lens. Mira barely recognized the expression on her own face.

God, she was such a sap. The picture was adorable.

“Send it to me?” Mira asked, quieter than she intended.

“On it!” Zoey said, slipping out from under Rumi’s arm with her phone in hand.

“What? Wait, give that back!” Rumi grabbed for the phone, but Zoey leaned back, snatching up a pillow to shove into Rumi’s face and tapping away at the device with one hand.

“Zoey!” Rumi’s voice was muffled and full of laughter as she wrestled free of the pillow. The relaxed set of her shoulders and the smile on her face said more than words could.

Zoey glanced up at Mira while valiantly fending off Rumi’s efforts to steal back her own phone. “I love this picture. I wanna frame it above the mantle.”

Mira snorted at the thought of the goofy image as an ornate portrait, gold filigree and intricate designs wrapped into an enormous and unnecessary frame. “We don’t have a mantle,” she said, inching away from the roughhousing. She was not about to let these morons drag her into this while her shoulder was still healing.

“Let’s build a mantle just for this.” Zoey dramatically framed her vision through squared fingers, which apparently centered on Mira’s face. “It deserves a place of honor.”

Rumi paused, retaliatory pillow raised. “Wait, how do you know my passcode?”

“I know everyone’s passcode.” Zoey shrugged and quickly ducked behind Mira for safety.

“That tracks.” Mira wasn’t exactly surprised, but what the hell? She was certain she had never willingly divulged her passcode to Zoey. If Mira didn’t implicitly trust her not to abuse the knowledge, she might even be pissed.

Rumi dropped the pillow and buried her head in her hands, laughing in clear disbelief. “That doesn’t explain anything!”

Mira placed a cautionary hand on Rumi’s thigh and shook her head when their eyes met. Some things shouldn’t be questioned when it came to Zoey.

Then she realized what she had done and stared down at her hand. Fuck. She could keep it together. She could. It wasn’t like she was touching anything inappropriate. It was just a thigh, and a lower thigh at that. More like a knee, really. It was fine.

She hoped that Rumi wouldn’t somehow weaponize touching Mira’s thigh at an inopportune moment, because Mira would, without a shadow of a doubt, die instantly on the spot. She had a very bad feeling it would happen anyway.

Zoey chuckled from behind Mira, and from the mocking sound she made next, it was obvious she was pulling a face at Rumi.

Rumi gasped in mock outrage, hand to her chest. “I saw that!”

“Saw what?” Zoey asked innocently, and from the sudden shift of blankets and that tone of voice, Mira knew it was time to go. She lifted her hand from Rumi’s thigh, then felt bad about just leaving like that. Mira patted Rumi’s leg once in farewell, her face threatening to burst into flames at her continued idiocy.

Rumi started to reach out to her, but there was no more time for Mira to overthink her every breath as Zoey launched into a tackle toward Rumi’s waist. Rumi dove to the side, narrowly dodging the ambush. Not wanting to get caught in the crosshairs, Mira scuttled out of the way of the two idiots as they proceeded to try and kill each other with pillows.

The brief scuffle ended with both of them flat on their backs, Rumi’s head on Zoey’s stomach and Zoey wheezing with laughter. Rumi held up her phone triumphantly, and Mira saw the new picture of their sleepover staring back at them from the lockscreen.

Zoey gently tugged at Rumi’s ear to catch her attention. “You’re not allowed to change that until the end of the sleepover.”

“Oh, I’m not allowed?” Rumi snorted and waved her phone vaguely in Zoey’s direction. “It’s my phone, you know.”

“So?” Zoey deftly tapped the screen, illuminating the newly set background picture. “Just look at how cute we are!”

Rumi stared up at her phone, long enough that it dimmed without further input. “You have a point,” she murmured, before eyeing Zoey with mock sternness. “Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” Zoey echoed, before she waggled her brows playfully at Mira. Something seemed to catch her attention as she looked from Mira to Rumi and back again, and her eyes widened in mischievous glee. “Complete the triangle, Mira!” Zoey made grabby hands at Mira, and an alarmingly smug grin split her face.

“The what?”

Zoey pouted, and Mira recognized the look on her face. That wasn’t a Zoey Look. The eyes were too wide, too watery, too sad. Suspicion roared to life as Zoey tried to hold in her giggles. Had Rumi fucking taught Zoey how to do her puppydog eyes? What the fuck had the two of them gotten up to today? First blackmail negotiation, and now this?

And why did it all center around tormenting Mira?

Zoey seemed to realize the puppydog eyes weren’t nearly as effective as they could be given Mira’s lack of hopeless pining over her. “The triangle,” Zoey huffed, acting like she was debasing herself by having to explain. “Didn’t you learn geometry?”

“Okay, you have no room to–” Mira’s words failed her when she realized exactly what Zoey was suggesting. She took in Rumi’s head resting on Zoey’s stomach, then to Zoey’s hands as she gestured to Rumi. Was that manipulative little cretin trying to get Mira to lay her head on Rumi’s abs?

What the fuck? Was Zoey trying to kill her?

“Yeah, Mira.” Rumi smiled, clearly pleased with being included in the joke this time around. “Complete the triangle.” Rumi patted her stomach like she wasn’t inflicting what felt like an active heart attack on Mira for the second time tonight.

Fuck. Fuck! The prospect of resting her head on those abs was out of the question, but if she refused she’d look like a complete weirdo.

Zoey took up a chant, grinning like a sadistic lunatic. “Triangle! Triangle!”

Mira refused to budge. “Now you two sound like the cult recruiters.”

“C’mon, Mira.” Rumi’s grin took on a petty, teasing edge, and Mira’s brain nearly short-circuited at the raw confidence Rumi exuded. “It’s protocol.” There was no shyness or hesitation in this moment, and it looked fantastic on Rumi.

“It is not protocol!” Mira blurted in a panic, her voice far higher than she’d ever admit.

“It is now,” Zoey snagged Mira’s wrist and tugged her over. “Get in here.” She grinned impossibly wider, and Mira started to feel like it was a deliberate threat display.

“You can’t just change protocol on the fly.” Mira found herself acquiescing against her better judgment. She wasn’t about to have a good attitude about it, though. “You’ll cause anarchy,” she griped.

Mira gingerly lowered herself to lay down perpendicular to Rumi, and she carefully let her head rest against the incredibly cut abs she knew rested just beneath the thin fabric of Rumi’s ratty-ass tank top. Mira held herself rigidly, not daring to let herself fully relax against the distressingly firm body beneath her head.

Her careful consideration and control were pointless. Zoey took the opportunity to plop her head down on Mira’s stomach, enthusiasm overriding any care for Mira’s poor fucking shoulder. “Zoey,” Mira groaned through a laugh. “What even is this?”

“It’s the triangle,” Rumi said matter-of-factly, the vibrations of her voice wrapping around Mira’s ears like a warm blanket of static. The soft floral scent of Rumi’s shampoo enveloped her, and it felt like coming home. As Rumi’s bright laugh rippled through the muscles pressed against Mira’s head and neck, she bit her tongue to quiet the distressed noise she felt bubbling to the surface.

Mira was acutely aware of how many of her senses were now consumed by Rumi.

This was a terrible idea. Why the fuck had she done this?

“–Mira?” Zoey’s voice drifted past Mira’s overloaded senses.

“Yup,” Mira agreed immediately, hoping she hadn’t broadcasted just how much she was freaking out.

“Really?” Zoey slowly looked up, and the amusement in her tone told Mira she had just fucked up somehow. The eyes that settled on her were deceptively bright, but it was no secret what they hid. Zoey was chaos distilled into human form, and right now she was intent on Mira’s suffering.

What the fuck had Mira just agreed to?

Zoey smiled sharply, and that was when Mira knew. She feared this expression like no other.

“Shit.” Mira instinctively grabbed Rumi’s wrist, her fight or flight instinct kicking in. If she needed to run, her best bet would genuinely be another stupid fireman carry from Rumi. She would easily swallow her pride and accept the humiliation to get out of this now. The biggest obstacle would be slipping out from under Zoey without getting caught, but Mira could probably manage it if she acted quickly.

Rumi darted her eyes down to Mira’s hand, then to search her face. “Are you okay?” Rumi asked, voice low. She gently extricated her wrist only to grab Mira’s hand properly, lacing their fingers together with tender, deliberate motions. “Is it your shoulder?”

No, it wasn’t Mira’s stupid fucking shoulder, and if Rumi kept doing adorable stuff like this then Mira was going to have a whole new problem. She was pretty sure her higher reasoning skills had shut down around the time her head touched Rumi’s abs, and now her emotional filter was being threatened by the delightfully warm feeling of Rumi’s gentle concern focused on her. If only it could overcome the deep, cloying dread of the moment.

“Mira,” Zoey said, craning her head to make steady, fear-inducing eye contact. She wore the smile of a predator spotting their vulnerable prey in the open. “I was just saying I heard you mention feelings time earlier.”

“That was Rumi!” Mira immediately threw Rumi under the bus because she was not engaging. “Make her do it!”

Rumi’s grip on Mira’s hand tightened until it felt more like a warning than a hold. “You said it too,” Rumi said indignantly, and the message was clear. If I go down, you’re coming with me. Which was fucking stupid because Rumi still didn’t know the emotional horrors that lay ahead.

“I did not.” Mira was also annoyed by the bald-faced lie. It looked like Rumi’s honesty streak had broken, and of fucking course it was when Mira could really use someone in her corner. “Like I’d be stupid enough to–”

Oh no.

Mira had said it. And Zoey had overheard because she always did.

“Fuck,” Mira whispered.

Rumi raised a teasing eyebrow. “You’d be stupid enough to f–”

Honmoon healing be damned, Mira slapped the hand of her injured arm over Rumi's mouth in a panic, twisting awkwardly as Zoey refused to be dislodged. Her shoulder screamed in protest, but Mira couldn’t bring herself to care about that. She knew with perfect clarity she would not survive hearing the end of that sentence.

Oh god why did Mira do that?

Why would Rumi try to say that?

“Language,” Mira croaked out weakly, the molten healing of the Honmoon making itself known with a dull roar. She slid her eyes back to Zoey, desperately hoping for some form of salvation. She should have known better than to seek refuge from her tormentor, and Zoey’s terrifying grin only widened at Mira’s general inability to act like a rational human being.

Rumi was trying to hold back laughter, and Mira could feel it on Rumi’s abs beneath her head and on Rumi’s lips because Mira still had her palm over her mouth holy fuck. Rumi snatched Mira’s hand away and held it firm. With a smile tugging at her stupidly pretty lips that Mira should really, really not be thinking about, Rumi said dryly, “So, it’s not your shoulder.”

Well, it kind of was now, but there were more pressing concerns. More important than the low, roiling heat in her shoulder was the soothing warmth of Rumi, the faint floral scent of her, the light, bubbling laughter that wrapped around Mira and made her feel whole.

This was too much. Mira did not have the bandwidth to deal with a touchy Rumi during feelings time. She did not have the bandwidth to deal with her head being on top of Rumi and both her hands held during feelings time. Absolutely not.

“Zoey, this is for conflict resolution, remember?” Mira heard the breathy desperation in her own voice, but she had bigger things to worry about right now. “Old rules shouldn't apply.”

Seeing the the twinkle in Zoey’s eye, Mira had the distinct sensation that she had unwittingly sprung a trap. “Well,” Zoey drew out the word, savoring Mira’s obvious distress, “didn't you two have a conflict earlier?”

Rumi’s face grew carefully blank, and it inexplicably pissed Mira off. She just didn’t have the emotional or intellectual capacity to deal with whatever Rumi’s newest crisis was right now. Mira opened her mouth to reject Zoey’s loophole before she realized she was being a fucking moron. Rumi’s newest crisis was the earlier conflict.

“We don’t need to do–” Mira caught herself before she could dig the hole deeper for once, mindful of her words, “–that to talk it out, Zo.”

Too quickly for Mira’s liking, Rumi said, “There’s nothing to talk out, anyway.”

“What? Of course there is.” Mira felt her irritation rise. Much as she appreciated Rumi on her side in avoiding feelings time now, she hated when Rumi tried to sidestep and pretend nothing was wrong. There would be days or even weeks of dancing around this stupid bullshit if they didn’t just sit down and talk like adults. “It obviously bothered you when I said our thing to Derpy.”

“So, what, now you want to do feelings time?” Rumi said it teasingly, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Stop saying it!” Mira hissed, far too late to prevent the inevitable. Zoey’s face lit up, and Mira slumped back in resigned despair. Which was an awful decision because it only brought her closer against Rumi’s abs and oh god why did she let herself get roped into this?

Zoey rolled off of Mira and out from under Rumi, snorting at the quiet protest as Rumi’s head fell against the blanket nest. Zoey settled on her stomach and kicked her feet behind her like she was having a juicy gossip session instead of actively and deliberately dragging emotional issues to the surface. “Well, I guess Rumi has to start, then.”

Rumi blinked in surprise, having foolishly underestimated the consequences of speaking the forbidden words.

“We’re not getting out of this,” Mira told her, feeling resigned to their fate. At the stubborn argument she saw brewing, Mira sighed. “Just trust me. It’s better to get it over with.”

Rumi studied her for a moment, and Mira flushed under the scrutiny. “I’ll give it a try,” Rumi said, then turned her head to face Zoey, seemingly trying to keep the rest of herself still for Mira’s comfort. Mira did not blush because she did not pay obsessive attention to little details like that. “I’m still not sure how this is supposed to work, though.”

“Start with something small that bothered you today,” Zoey said gently. “Just say it as an ‘I feel’ statement.”

“That’s it?” Rumi glanced over at Mira, casting unfair judgment on her. Sure, it might sound tame, but Rumi had no idea the forces she was meddling with.

“That’s it!” Zoey smiled dreamily, like the disarming little monster she was. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“No,” Mira grumbled, but she might as well have been talking to the void for all they acknowledged her.

“Sure? I feel…” Rumi trailed off and was silent for a moment. “Uh. I feel–” she stopped again, brow furrowing in concentration. As Rumi searched for something to say, her face ran through a gamut of emotions before finally settling on bewildered frustration. “Wait, why is this hard?”

Mira felt extremely vindicated.

Rumi thought for a long time before finally speaking. With a grimace on her face and her hand stiff in Mira’s, she bit out, “I feel like our thing must not matter to you much if you’d randomly say it to a tiger.” She ignored the quietly disappointed, “Rumi, no,” from Zoey and continued, “It’s supposed to be ours.”

Okay, Rumi really didn’t understand how feelings time was supposed to work at all if she was using it to throw out mean and unfounded accusations, and she definitely knew better than to talk that way about poor Derpy. Feelings time was supposed to center on Rumi’s emotions about the event, not her incorrect interpretations about Mira’s.

Regardless, Mira figured she’d just tell the whole truth if it was going to cause this much strife. What dignity did she have left? It wasn’t like the last dregs of her pride were worth hurting Rumi over. She propped herself up to make direct eye contact with Rumi, and the breath of fresh air free of her scent allowed Mira to say what she needed to.

“Of course it matters to me.”

Knowing she would need her full faculties to get through this without collapsing into a singularity of embarrassment, Mira gently extricated herself from Rumi, who let her go without comment. Rumi tightened her grip when Mira started to pull her hand away too, so she let it be, hoping Rumi couldn’t feel her racing pulse. She forced herself to look steadily at Rumi, heart seizing at the hurt in her eyes.

Well, fuck. No backing down now.

Quietly, Mira said, “I thought he was you.” She couldn’t help glancing over at tiger in question, and in retrospect, that had been such a stupid fucking assumption. Noble and sweet as Derpy and Rumi both were, they didn’t exactly share much in common beyond that.

No response followed Mira’s admission. She wasn’t sure what reaction she had expected, but the silence was incredibly uncomfortable. Far too long of a moment passed with Mira sweating through Rumi and Zoey staring at her blankly.

“What does that even mean?” Zoey broached the silence, her question abrupt and jarringly loud.

Mira cringed at the memory. “It’s a long and really stupid story.”

“We’ve got all night,” Rumi said unhelpfully. She was looking at Mira with an adorably scrunched nose, and oh god it was really not the time to get distracted over how cute that was.

Ugh. Fucking fine! Mira had just existed in a state of constant humiliation over the last two days, why not add another mortifying thing to the pile?

Mira stared at her and Rumi’s hands, glad that it was the only distracting point of contact between them. She tried to focus on the warmth of Rumi’s palm instead of what she was about to say, but for once, it didn’t actually work. Mira sighed and continued, “Remember the morning after you showed me your patterns?”

“Yes?” Rumi said slowly, brow furrowed. “That was literally yesterday.”

“I woke up to Derpy in your spot on the bed.”

“Uh, alright?” Rumi shuffled closer, genuine concern bleeding into her expression. “Are you okay? What does that have to do with anything?” Mira catalogued the dwindling distance between them with no small amount of trepidation.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mira saw the moment realization dawned over Zoey’s face. When it finally clicked, Zoey let out a fucking guffaw.

“I thought he was a demon at first, but they shouldn’t be able to get past the tower’s barrier.” Mira tried to sink into the soft blankets beneath her, feeling stupider with every word. She could do this. She could. She could power through for Rumi and just forget all of this ever happened. “And then I thought maybe…” Mira glanced up at Rumi sheepishly and said, “Maybe you had transformed?”

Rumi opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She stared at Mira as if she had just declared she was going to impose mandatory tutus in all their choreo practices. Eventually, Rumi managed a strangled, “What?”

Zoey’s laughter was practically shrieking now. Mira ignored her, as was proper.

Mira also felt she should defend herself somehow. “Why else would a tiger be in the bed?”

“I don’t know!” Rumi sounded oddly panicked. “You thought–” She blinked rapidly as if trying to clear her vision of Mira’s stupidity, futile as it might be. “You thought I was Derpy?”

Mira maybe shouldn’t have bothered defending herself. “Yes,” she said miserably.

“Mira that’s–” Rumi cut herself off with a confused hum. “I have no idea how to feel about that.”

Zoey obviously had no trouble with that, since she clearly thought it was hilarious.

“But then… Why did you say our thing to him?”

This was the part Mira had been dreading most. “I thought I had tried to pull my weapon on you.” She refused to look away even as Rumi’s eyes widened, even as it became more difficult to force out the words. “In the moment, I just wanted to reassure you that I never would. I said our thing, and it just… stuck.”

“But it wasn’t me.” The shock and confusion on Rumi’s face softened into something so incredibly tender that Mira felt her eyes start to water.

Mira buried her face in the blankets, if only to get a respite from that impossibly affectionate look directed her way. “I know that now,” she groaned, feeling much safer without being able to see Rumi and her stupidly pretty face.

Mira felt a stacatto beat at her ribcage and turned to see Zoey with her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. Mira knew her well enough to recognize she had put some vague clues together and was just itching for confirmation.

“So, that ‘until the end of time’ thing.” Zoey rushed out. “Mira, did you accidentally bind yourself to a demon-eating spirit tiger?”

“Maybe?”

Mira had kind of thought about the possibility, but she hadn’t considered it might be cosmically important or anything. Just stupid fucking luck. Either way, the only thing Mira was certain of was that Derpy was an excellent friend and a very noble and well-intentioned tiger. If she had to be bound in friendship to someone, she could have done a lot worse.

Zoey stilled, and she seemed to take in Derpy’s presence with a renewed fascination. “How?” She breathed the word like it was less of a question for Mira than the universe.

“I just told you how, I’m not going over it a second time,” Mira said, fully intending to never ever speak of this again.

“So you, what, took it in stride that I could turn into a giant blue tiger?” Rumi pulled their joined hands closer, staring at them for a short beat before glancing back at Mira, brow raised. “Mira, what the hell?”

“It still would’ve been you.” Mira kind of felt like her loyalty was being questioned here, even if she knew that wasn’t true. “Just… with the possibility of having kitten pictures.”

Rumi smiled in response, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Mira wondered if she had said something wrong. Again.

“What?” Zoey gasped. “Rumi, please tell me you actually can turn into a tiger. I need those kitten pictures so badly, you don’t understand.”

Rumi rolled her eyes. “Of course I can’t turn into a tiger, that’s insane.”

“Is it, though?”

“Yes, Zoey.”

“I’m right here,” Mira muttered, feeling perfectly sane despite the ongoing debate.

“Have you ever tried?” Zoey tossed a pillow toward Rumi’s face, which she caught with her free hand.“C’mon, please?”

“What?” Rumi laughed and threw the pillow right back. “No! Obviously, I’ve never tried.”

Zoey threw her hands up in feigned outrage. “Then how do you know?”

With a mischievous sparkle in her eye and a sly grin at Mira, Zoey leapt wholeheartedly into trying to convince Rumi to just try transforming, because what could it hurt?

Mira carefully schooled her face, hiding her elation at having somehow dodged feelings time participation. Well, sort of. Admitting to the Derpy thing might have been more emotionally taxing, but at least it was on her own terms. Mira pushed aside her lingering worries about tomorrow to savor the moment, thankful to have the two people she loved most in the world here.

Derpy stretched in his sleep, and she was surprised by how glad she was to have him here as well. If anyone had told Mira she would befriend and actually like a tiger just two days ago, she would have thought they were a jabbering moron.

“Mira.” Rumi’s voice pulled her attention back. Why was Rumi staring at her like that? “Thank you,” she said, gentle and full of emotion that Mira really wished she had context for.

Mira glanced at Zoey, who beamed encouragingly. Not exactly enlightening, but she’d take the moral support.

“Of course,” Mira said, thankful it didn’t come out as a question. On second thought, maybe it should have been a question because what the fuck was Rumi thanking her for? Mistaking her for Derpy?

Rumi nodded decisively, as if that was all she needed to hear. “I’m glad I was honest with you,” she said, and oh. Rumi had been thanking her for the other night, when Mira had somehow tripped facefirst into a confession about Rumi’s heritage. Mira wished she had the words to tell Rumi she didn’t need to thank her for just being a half-decent friend.

Rumi stared up at the canopy above, her eyes tracking the erratic path of lights through thin fabric. “Tomorrow, I’m going to be honest with Celine, too. No more hiding.” Despite her projected confidence, it wasn’t hard to see the shake in Rumi’s hands or hear the quaver in her voice.

Mira could read between the lines; Rumi wasn’t just creating monsters in her head. She was terrified of rejection, and she was trying to face that head on with her eyes wide open and her head held high. Rumi had always been the brave one, but bravery required fear. Mira had a sinking feeling that the evidence Rumi had laid out only lead to one conclusion. Rumi was petrified of the possibility that Celine couldn’t accept her for what she was now. Only what she might become if they sealed the Honmoon.

Mira didn’t know yet if that was an unfair read of Celine. Quite frankly, she didn’t fucking care. Her priority was sparing Rumi every ounce of heartache she possibly could, and if that meant reconciling with Celine, she’d do it in a heartbeat. If it meant fighting Celine in a deathmatch, Mira would do that too. Right now, though, it meant laying all of her awful mushy feelings out into the open. It meant telling Rumi the truths she needed to hear.

“Rumi.” Mira spoke from the heart. “We love you as you are.”

“Oh.” Rumi sat up, and she seemed more confused than appropriately accepting of Mira’s unconditional outpouring of support. Rude, honestly. “Why?”

Fucking what? The fuck did Rumi mean why? Had Celine really fucked up that badly in raising an emotionally healthy child? Mira silently moved the deathmatch up on her list of likely scenarios.

As always, Zoey knew what needed to be said when Mira was two seconds from screaming at an authority figure. “You’re you,” Zoey told Rumi. “That’s enough.”

Rumi looked like she had been struck by lightning, mouth gaping and eyes wide. “I meant why are you saying that right now, not why…” Tears welled over, and she seemed startled by them as she brushed them away from her own cheek.

It was instinct to rise and reach out for her, and Mira didn’t even have to look to know Zoey would be at Rumi’s other side. For all that Rumi was their leader, she was human. Her shoulders buckled under the weight of expectation, of duty, of never being enough. If she was finally willing to let Mira and Zoey stand beside her and hold up the sky, then nothing could ever convince them to leave. They held her close, Hunters and patterns intermingling in a tangle of limbs and tears, two worlds that had never been meant to intersect. And yet they had. Rumi was the living proof of that, and if tradition said that was wrong, then tradition could go fuck itself with a rusty spoon.

Rumi laughed wetly, holding both Mira and Zoey in a tight grip. “I have the best friends in the world.”

“Back at you,” Mira choked out, emotion caught in her throat and traitorous tears threatening to spill free. Zoey hugged them closer with a heavy sniffle.

“I’m accepted.” Rumi said quietly, reverently. She said it like it was a precious secret.

Mira met Zoey’s watery eyes, and oh god, were all three of them going to start sobbing? If Rumi said one more sappy thing–

“I’m loved,” Rumi said, and Mira had never heard her sound so awed. Rumi brightened like the sun peeking through clouds, brilliant and warm despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so happy to have met you both.”

Well, fuck.

“Are those–” Mira’s voice cracked, and a shaky laugh escaped her. This was so stupid. “Are those supposed to be affirmations?”

“Yeah,” Zoey’s whisper wavered, but it was airy with pride. “The best kind.”

At that, Mira bawled like a baby. At least she wasn’t alone in it.

Their gross and honestly ridiculous sobbing gave way first to delirious joking, then whispers and mumbles as they remained side by side in a couch fort warmed by the twinkle of fairy lights and togetherness. Crying was exhausting work, and it wasn’t long before their tears had dried.

It hadn’t been the picture-perfect sleepover. It had been kind of a fucking mess, really, but Mira wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She committed the sight of Zoey and Rumi laughing to memory, tear tracks cutting through the otherwise idyllic image. The imperfections made the moment all the more real, and all the more dear to her heart.

For once, as the soft atmosphere enveloped her in comfort and a profound sense of belonging, Mira was the first to fall asleep.