Chapter Text
Zoey came crashing down on top of Mira with a dramatic flop that shook the couch cushions.
“Miraaaaaa…” she whined, the word dragging out like she had been holding it in for hours. She buried her face into Mira’s chest as if the world outside could be erased if she just pressed hard enough.
Mira, lounging half-sprawled with a book balanced loosely in one hand, didn’t even flinch at the sudden weight. She slid her fingers into Zoey’s jet-black hair, carefully undoing the two sloppy space buns that had been holding on for dear life since morning.
“Long day?” Mira asked quietly, voice smooth like honey.
“You have no idea.” Zoey’s muffled groan buzzed against her collarbone.
There was a pause. Just the sound of Mira’s fingers working gently through her girlfriend’s hair, the strands catching slightly before falling loose around Zoey’s face. Zoey sighed like a cat getting head scratches, but it didn’t take long before her restless thoughts spilled out again.
“Do you think we’re being too much with Rumi?” Zoey grumbled, rolling her cheek so her words came out against Mira’s shirt. “Like, I’m getting super impatient. I can’t keep pretending this isn’t killing me.”
Mira hummed, thoughtful, her hand slowing as she tugged gently at a knot. “I think we could lay off… just a little. But I know exactly what you mean.”
“I can’t even tell if she likes us!” Zoey suddenly shot upright, her voice louder, hands gesturing dramatically before she flopped right back down again with a groan.
Mira smiled faintly at the burst of energy. “I think she sees herself as… a homewrecker,” she murmured, half to herself. “Or maybe she just doesn’t want a relationship because she thinks she doesn’t deserve one.”
“I hate all those theories.” Zoey pouted, grabbing at Mira’s hand like a child. “I hate how we sleep in separate beds. It feels wrong. She’s there, right there, and we’re… not.”
Mira hesitated, twisting a lock of Zoey’s hair around her finger. Then, slowly: “I have a question.”
Zoey perked up. “Yeah?”
“Do you ever think it’s weird how Rumi is so modest, so traditional most of the time… and then, when we go out, she dresses like she’s about to ruin lives on the runway?”
Zoey tilted her head, squinting. “I mean… that might just be internalized ideas of what it means to be feminine, Mira.” She shifted so her chin rested on Mira’s chest, blinking up at her.
“I know,” Mira admitted, staring at the ceiling like the answers might be there. “But it’s odd. I’ve overheard her talking with Jinu. From what I picked up… she actually enjoys being feminine. Like she likes the art of it. But the switch between private and public—it feels like she’s hiding something.”
Zoey tapped her fingers against Mira’s ribs. “You should be careful if you do ask her about it. Rumi isn’t exactly… open.”
Mira groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “She’s like an open book, but the pages are blank, and the ones with writing are in some ancient, impossible language.”
“Exactly.” Zoey purred, proud of the metaphor.
Then—like the universe had a cruel sense of humor—the elevator dinged.
Rumi shot out first, sprinting to the kitchen like the building was on fire, Jinu hot on her heels. The sight was so absurd it nearly knocked Zoey off Mira entirely.
“You have to take care of yourself!” Jinu shouted, already circling the kitchen island.
“I just fucking went out to dinner with you and your friend! What more is self-care than that?!” Rumi barked back, mirroring his movement so they stayed on opposite sides.
“That’s not because you wanted to—it’s because I had to bribe you and practically carry you out of the penthouse!” Jinu’s voice cracked from the effort.
“Oh please,” Rumi snapped, her purple hair flashing as she whipped around the counter, “I think you forget how self-care I am. I have a skincare routine that would make gods jealous, I shower so many times a day most people would say I have OCD—”
“You do have OCD!” Jinu groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like she was giving him a migraine. “I don’t need a therapist to tell me that.”
“I’m literally doing amazing! I work out, I take care of my skin, I eat, I exist as a contributing member of society—” Rumi listed off proudly, counting on her fingers.
“Surviving is not self-care,” Jinu whined.
“So fucking is!” Rumi growled, narrowing her eyes.
“That’s like saying sex is self-care.” Jinu threw his hands up.
Rumi smirked wickedly. “I’d argue sex is very much self-care, and an incredible dopamine booster.”
Zoey choked on a laugh. Mira rolled her eyes but was clearly suppressing a smile.
“Says the kinked-up freak,” Jinu shot back without missing a beat.
“PLEASE,” Rumi shrieked, “says the faggot!”
“A FAG WHO TAKES CARE OF HIMSELF!”
“Please. If it’s not me doing your bidding, it’s your fucking boyfriend,” Rumi sneered.
“Don’t bring Abby into this!” Jinu snapped, eyes flashing.
Before anyone could blink, Rumi bolted out of the kitchen, sprinting toward the living room. Jinu chased after her, but she darted around the couch, always keeping it as a barrier between them.
“Guys, maybe we calm down?” Zoey tried, voice light but nervous.
“Shut up, Zoey,” Jinu mumbled.
“HEY!” Mira shot up, glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Watch your mouth before I remind you how I outrank you,” Rumi snapped, squaring her shoulders.
“Big threats,” Jinu hissed.
He lunged, but his foot caught on the rug. He went down face-first, groaning into the floor.
“What was that?” Rumi mocked proudly, standing over him.
“Why can’t you just be easy?” he groaned.
“Because I want to rot in bed with Derpy, read my book wall, and get high. THC is my baby,” Rumi said matter-of-factly.
Zoey stifled a laugh into Mira’s shoulder. Mira muttered, “That’s actually kind of fair.”
“You know what?” Jinu scrambled up, grabbing his phone. “I will pull the ex-girlfriend card.”
“You wouldn’t.” Rumi’s jaw dropped.
Jinu grinned and hit the contact labeled: Super fucking freaky dinky dyke.
“Hello?” Aiko’s voice rang out, instantly sharp. “Why are you calling me, Jinu? Is everything wrong?”
Rumi froze, eyes wide, then dove—literally tackled Jinu to the rug in a tangle of limbs.
“She won’t take care of herself!”
“LIES, LIES I TELL YOU! HE LIES!” she shrieked, scrambling to pin him down.
“Rumi,” Aiko said flatly on speaker.
“Oh my god, can everyone get off my ass!” Rumi groaned, finally getting Jinu face-down, straddling him with a triumphant grin.
“Stop being a brat,” Aiko said without an ounce of sympathy.
“You take his side?! What the fuck!” Rumi yelped.
“To be fair, he’s right and you’re wrong. I’m not obligated to pick your side in public anymore,” Aiko replied coolly.
“Low bar. Both of you.” Rumi tightened her grip.
“Just let me brush your hair and talk to you, Jesus Christ!” Jinu begged, muffled into the rug.
“Rumi, you’ll hurt him!” Zoey squeaked.
“I say he deserves it,” Mira muttered darkly.
“Mira.” Zoey shot her a look.
“I want frozen grapes and cold tea,” Rumi announced suddenly, like she was negotiating hostage terms.
“Fine,” Jinu wheezed. “But you have to sit still and stop being a brat.”
Rumi smacked the back of his head. “Call me that again, see what happens.”
He groaned but nodded. She let him go, standing up and dusting off her leggings like nothing had happened.
Jinu hung up the phone, smug like a man who just won the Olympics.
“Don’t,” Rumi said instantly, raising a hand to cut him off. “You played dirty calling her.”
“I may hate her, but she’s useful,” Jinu barked, still grinning.
Zoey collapsed sideways against Mira, whispering, “I swear, living here is like free premium drama.”
Mira’s lips twitched. But her eyes stayed on Rumi.