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"Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!"
Mira's entire body stiffened when Rumi threw those hurtful words at her, but she was quickly snapped back to reality thanks to Zoey, who pointed out the rapidly growing tear atop of the train tunnel.
Mira's focus shifted, and it took every ounce of willpower she had to focus on the demons, and not the words Rumi had spat at her.
No hesitation, no reluctance.
Rumi said them simply because she knew it would hurt her.
Even if she tried to stutter out a hasty apology afterwards.
It didn't matter.
Because it hurt.
~~~
For as long as Mira could remember, she's been an outcast.
From her family, from her peers, from all of society, really.
She's been told her entire life that she's a liability.
She's quick to anger.
Quick to mistrust.
Quick to throw scathing words.
Quick to pretend that scathing words don't affect her.
But they do.
Everything affects her.
She's just better at hiding it than most. Much, much better.
A byproduct of her childhood, no doubt.
Anything she did, her brother did better. He got praised for everything. He was the golden child. He could do no wrong.
Perfect grades, perfect posture, perfect demeanor, perfect outfits, perfect dream job.
Everything he did was perfect.
Meanwhile, she couldn't do a single thing right.
Her grades were too low, her posture was never correct, her demeanor wasn't becoming of a lady, her outfits were inappropriate, her dream of becoming a dancer was childish.
Mira learned very early on in her life that she was never going to be good enough for her family, so she just…stopped.
She stopped following their rules, she stopped caring about whatever they wanted her to do, she stopped trying to impress them.
Instead, she developed an exterior so thick it was practically impenetrable unless Mira herself revealed her feelings. An exterior that was made for cutting others down before they could do it to her, something her parents were experts in, specifically when it came to her.
So, it was no surprise to her that when she turned eighteen, she was kicked out. She was a disgrace to their family, and she’d never amount to anything.
She didn’t bother with a response, the duffel bag she’d packed years ago in preparation slung over her shoulder as she walked out into the drizzling rain.
And she certainly didn’t bother looking back.
She goes to a hidden, back-alley bar she’s been frequenting since she was fourteen, duffel bag swinging from her shoulder and taking a seat in the barstool next to her as she waves the bartender down.
It’s this very same bar where her life—surprisingly—doesn’t shatter into pieces.
~~~
Mira’s knuckles are slightly tense around the strap of her bag as she wordlessly steps out of the car, taking in the sight of the vast compound in front of her.
“Welcome,” Celine—the very same Celine from the very well-known Sunlight Sisters—says, gesturing to the home in front of her.
In the doorway stands a girl who looks to be about Mira’s age. Purple hair in a tight braid that's so long it reaches her heels, dark brown eyes filled with cautionary excitement, lips quirked up in a nervous smile as she shyly waves at Mira.
Mira doesn’t acknowledge it. She looks to Celine for guidance, stiffening slightly when Celine’s hand rests on her shoulder.
“Mira, this is my daughter, Rumi. She’s been chosen by the Honmoon to be a Hunter, same as you.”
Her eyes track back to the girl in the doorway—Rumi, she thinks—who is now fiddling with the sleeves of her cropped sweatshirt, legs pale and exposed in the moonlight due to the shorts she’s currently wearing.
Mira’s lips purse, even as her heart flips in her chest. “Can’t wait,” she drawls out in a tone that indicates the exact opposite, and she brushes past Rumi into the house without a second glance.
~~~
Mira grunts as she’s slammed back into the mat for the fifth time that day, glaring up at Rumi and shoving her outstretched hand away as she gets up on her own, storming toward the bench and angrily wiping the sweat that had gathered off her face and the back of her neck.
“You need to adjust your stance,” Rumi offers without any prompting, having followed Mira to the bench. “You’re favoring your right side when you throw punches. Center yourself, and you won’t find yourself being thrown off-balance.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Mira shot back, irritation lacing her tone.
She pretends not to notice the way Rumi flinches at her words. She takes a swig of water, adjusts the wraps on her hands, and heads out to the center of the gym. "Again."
She takes Rumi's advice.
She doesn't hit the mat for the rest of their training session.
Rumi's wise enough not to mention it, of course, but the smile she tries to conceal, the pride in her eyes, says it all.
Mira ignores the flutter in her chest.
~~~
Mira's footsteps are quiet and nonexistent as she makes her way to the kitchen. It's 2 AM, and she can't control the way her hands tremble even as they're clenched into fists.
She exhales sharply as she digs through the cabinet for a glass, cursing when it almost slips through her fingers. She catches it before it can hit the floor, and she sets it back down on the counter, knuckles white around the porcelain as she takes deep breaths, hair hanging in front of her face, acting as a shield from the rest of the world.
"Mira?"
Mira stiffens up at Rumi's voice, jaw clenching as she fights the urge to simply flee.
"Is...everything ok?"
Mira can sense Rumi approaching, so she turns to face her, lips pursed together as she feigns nonchalance. "Couldn't sleep."
If Rumi notices the way her body is taut with tension and the way her knuckles grip the counter desperately, she's kind enough not to mention it.
"Me neither," Rumi admits, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. Her eyes dart around nervously before she seems to steel her nerves, looking directly at Mira as she gives her a shy smile. "Come with me?"
Mira's brow arches of its own accord, but she doesn't protest as she silently follows Rumi. Rumi leads them outside to the balcony overlooking the compound, only to then climb up the drainpipe along the side and go to the very top of the roof.
"Coming?" Rumi asks, looking down at Mira with a hint of amusement.
Mira huffs at her and wordlessly follows Rumi up the drainpipe. She's not as graceful climbing up, nor does she make it look quite as effortless as Rumi, but she manages.
Rumi sits on the edge of the roof, patting the spot next to her. "This is where I like to come when everything is overwhelming. The city, the people, everything looks so...small. It..."
"Makes you feel big. Like you matter more when everything else is smaller than you," Mira finishes absentmindedly, fingers twining through the strings of her sweatpants before releasing them, only to repeat the cycle, a continuous movement that soothes her frayed nerves.
She catches Rumi's surprised glance, lips parted, and thinks she'd like to know what they feel like against her own.
As quickly as the thought appears, she banishes it from her mind, and she looks back toward the city, fingers still idly playing with the strings of her sweatpants.
"Exactly," Rumi breathes out, and Mira doesn't need to look at her to know that Rumi is staring at her, that she's being admired with quiet appreciation, that Rumi, for once in her life, is understood in a way she hasn't been before.
Mira neglects to tell her she feels the same.
Instead, they sit in silence, which isn't awkward enough that they feel the need to fumble over words, grasping at straws for a conversation that never needed to be started.
It's rather comforting, and for once, Mira doesn't feel the need to push Rumi away, to throw callous barbs and insults at her like she has these past two months.
But Mira breaks it anyway, with two words she's never felt the need to say to anybody in her life before. "I'm sorry."
Rumi's surprised expression appears once more when the she turns to face Mira. "I—umm, sorry? For what?"
Despite every instinct, every nerve screaming at her to shut up before she ruins everything, she speaks, voice soft in a way she hasn't allowed it to be in a long time. "Take your pick," Mira replies with a wry smile as she looks up at the darkened sky, currently glittering with stars.
Rumi exhales sharply, as if she's unsure what to do with the information, as if she's unsure what to do with Mira's vulnerability. She doesn't respond for what feels like hours, and Mira's armor sharpens to its finest point once more.
"You know what? Forget I even said anything. Goodnight," she says, agilely hopping to her feet and beginning to head toward the drain pipe, face burning with embarrassment, shame, and stupidity.
She knows better.
She should've known better.
Before Mira can even take a step, Rumi's hand is wrapping around her wrist. Gently, as if she's afraid if she grips Mira's wrist too tight, it'll scare her off.
But it doesn't.
It shocks her into stillness, and it takes her a second for the buzzing in her ears to be replaced by the soft, earnest voice of Rumi.
"Don't go. Please."
Mira turns her head to look at Rumi, hesitating before reluctantly giving her a short nod.
Rumi breathes a quick sigh of relief, still holding onto Mira's wrist as she sits back down, patting the same spot next to her.
Mira ignores the pang of disappointment she feels when Rumi finally releases her wrist, and takes the spot next to her once more, their legs dangling over the edge of the roof as they fall into silence again.
"Thank you. For apologizing, I mean. But there's no need," Rumi says, her words soft, spoken with an understanding that puts Mira at ease.
Mira clears her throat, her fingers finding the drawstring of her sweats as she searches her mind for a response. "I just...I didn't want you to think that I hated you," she finishes, and she recognizes how simple—how lame—her words are, but she doesn't know any other way to express herself. "Because I don't. Hate you, that is."
Mira steals a glance at Rumi, unsure if she's said something wrong.
Rumi's face had gone pale, eyes shimmering with tears, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she sucks in a sharp breath, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face.
"Rumi...?" Mira prods gently after a bit of time passes without a response.
Rumi instantly shakes her head, a half-hearted chuckle escaping as she instantly wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. "Sorry, I'm sorry...I—sorry," Rumi says weakly, a tremor peeking through her voice despite her attempts to hide it.
Mira's brow arches slightly at Rumi's attempt to be nonchalant. "Do you...want to talk about it?"
Rumi instantly shakes her head, waving Mira off. "No, it's fine. I'm fine."
Mira's head tilts as she takes stock of Rumi's words. She doesn't fully believe them, but she's kind enough to give Rumi the courtesy of letting it slide. She nudges Rumi's shoulder with her own, the first non-violent contact that's been initiated between the two of them. "I don't believe you, but I won't push. I'll be here when you're ready."
Rumi blinks once, twice, three times before Mira's words seem to lodge themselves into her brain. "I—thank you."
Mira notices how Rumi sags with relief, her words escaping breathlessly and gratefully.
"Did...did you wanna talk about what's bothering you?"
Mira stiffens, curling her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her shins as she stares out at the city, blanketed in moonlight.
"Only if you want to, of course. I don't want to push."
The corner of Mira's mouth quirks up as Rumi throws her own words back at her. "Smooth."
Rumi giggles, and suddenly all Mira wants to do is make her laugh for the rest of their lives, however long or short they may be. "I try."
Mira bites back the flirtatious retort on her tongue about how she's succeeding, shaking her head slightly to rid herself of the thought. Her gaze flits between Rumi and the view before her as she tries to gather her courage. "I know I'm not the easiest person in the world."
Rumi feigns shock, a hand over her heart as she gapes at Mira with ridiculously wide eyes. "No."
Mira fights the smile that tries to force its way onto her face, but based on the way Rumi practically lights up, she's failing miserably. "Shocker, I know."
Rumi nods, biting her lip to stifle her giggles. "It really is."
Mira swats her arm for the comment, nose scrunching up when Rumi sticks her tongue out at her. "My entire life, I've been told that I'm a liability. And for a while, I believed it."
Rumi straightens up at the serious tone Mira's voice takes on. She doesn't say anything, doesn't try to take over the conversation with pity, doesn't try to rush her to get her words out. She allows Mira the space to speak, and it makes it that much easier to admit to Rumi what's been weighing on her mind.
"That is, until I met you and Zoey. You haven't pressured me to change who I am, to change how I act, what I wear, you haven't put me further down when I'm having doubts or overthinking, regardless of if its about idol life, the choreography, or about being a Hunter. It's kinda stupid and cliche, I know, but with the two of you...it feels like I have a family. And I don't want to lose this feeling. I don't—I don't want to lose you or Zoey. I'm scared—terrified, really—that you'll get sick of me or want me to change who I am."
Rumi's hand makes its way to Mira's which is now resting on the tiles of the roof, and she squeezes it reassuringly. "That won't happen."
The certainty with which Rumi says it, the casualty of it, as if she hasn't just loosened the vice that's taken hold of her heart and held it hostage since she first met Rumi, quickly followed by Zoey, makes tears spring to Mira's eyes.
Rumi hesitates before placing her arm around Mira's shoulders, and she tucks Mira into her.
Mira doesn't resist. She falls into place at Rumi's side, like it's where she's meant to be, and rests her head on Rumi's shoulder, soaking in every ounce of comfort as she swallows back her tears.
"For what it's worth, I'm afraid of losing you and Zoey too," Rumi admits softly, fingers idly tracing circles on Mira's shoulder. "I've never felt a connection like this to anyone before."
Mira's unsure if they're including Zoey in this part of the conversation, but she exhales softly anyway, eyes tracing over every detail of Rumi's face up close. The slope of her nose, the flecks of gold within her eyes, the shape of her lips. The image sears itself within Mira's brain, a permanent memory now, as she burrows closer to Rumi's warmth. "Me too."
~~~
After that night on the roof, something shifted between her and Rumi.
She’d have to be blind as a bat not to notice.
Little smiles—smirks on Mira’s part—during sparring sessions, playful jabs during meals, leaning into one another during couch time, casual brushes of hands or nudges of shoulders.
Her favorite, though?
Their rooftop meetings.
At first, it was an occasional thing. Whenever one of them couldn’t sleep, the other would find them up there and simply sit with them.
Soon enough, the occasional rooftop meetings became a nightly thing.
They’d sneak lots of blankets and pillows up there, Mira would provide snacks because Rumi was always hungry, and Rumi would stew some tea because she knew it helped to calm Mira after a stressful day and long nights.
For once, Mira felt like she didn’t need to prove that she was worthy of someone’s love, because she was already more than enough.
It felt nice.
Then, as quickly as this new bond between them formed, it started to shatter.
Rumi started pulling away.
She did her best to act as though everything was normal, but Mira could tell.
She’d always been scarily good at reading people.
Especially when it came to the two girls she loved.
No matter how much Rumi denied that anything was wrong, Mira could tell.
Rumi stopped seeking her out for private conversations, stopped seeking out affection from her, stopped sparring with her.
Mira tried not to take it personally, but Rumi’s flimsy excuses for her change in behavior only added salt to her already openly bleeding wounds.
“I can’t, I have a vocal lesson.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a training session with Celine today.”
“Can this wait? I’m going to be late to a meeting.”
Mira never pushed Rumi about the topic, but even if she wanted to talk to Rumi, it was practically impossible for her to catch her alone.
If this was her way of keeping Mira from talking to her, there was no doubt in her mind that Rumi was suceeding.
It hurt.
She hated to even think the words, but it was true. She’d finally gathered the courage to bring her walls down enough to let someone climb over the hardened exterior, only for her to climb back down the second she got to the top.
Slowly but surely, the vice grip on her chest returned, its noose even tighter than it had been before she’d unloaded on Rumi during that one fateful night atop the roof.
Mira had taken to sitting out on the roof on her own, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea she’d made for herself, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stares out at the city, neon lights burning bright and paving the cement alongside the moonlight from way above.
Even though Rumi was pulling away from her, when she was up here, she felt closer to her. Like if she closed her eyes, she could feel the warmth emanating from Rumi’s body pressed up against hers, their breaths soft and quiet compared to the rest of the hustle and bustle that came floating up to them from the streets of Seoul.
Mira doesn’t show it, but she’s slightly startled by the appearance of Zoey. She reaches a hand out without hesitation, helping Zoey with the last few steps up to the top.
“So this is where you disappear to when you get all moody,” Zoey muses as she unceremoniously plops down directly next to Mira.
Mira’s brow arches as she studies Zoey. “How did you know I was up here?”
“I tracked your location,” Zoey replies cheerfully, holding her phone up for emphasis.
“I don’t have even have my phone with me.”
Zoey gives her a sheepish smile in return. “Oh…I, umm—“
“Was it Rumi?” Mira’s jaw clenches, Zoey’s silence all the confirmation she needed. “Why are you here, Zoey?”
Zoey's unfazed by the sharp tone Mira uses, which only makes her hackles rise even more. "I wanted to check in with you. Obviously, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but I've noticed that things between you and Rumi have been...strained? Celine noticed it too, but it's not really surprising to me that she knows since Rumi makes it a point to only spar with her now. Which is like, ouch, we're right here and we're your team, not Celine even though she's your adoptive mother and she's the one that's been training the three of us and took you and me in without hesitation."
Mira blows out a breath at Zoey's mini-rant. "I'm not sure what you want me to say, Zoey."
Zoey's knowing gaze pierces through her soul. "How about the truth?"
"Which is?"
"A multitude of things, but I think number one on my list is how you're completely and totally head-over-heels in love with Rumi."
Mira doesn't acknowledge Zoey's statement.
"How long?"
"How long what?"
Zoey gives her a look, and Mira sighs, shrugging one shoulder as her gaze remains plastered to the city. "From the moment I met her, I knew she was going to change my life."
Zoey hums in response, head tilting to naturally rest on Mira's shoulder. "I'm sorry she's so oblivious."
Mira snorts, resting her head against Zoey's as the two of them admire the night life of the city. "Me too, Zo. Me too."
~~~
Mira's heart doesn't hurt quite so much anymore.
She's accepted that she and Rumi won't be as close as they once were, but Zoey more than makes up for it.
Whether it's with snacks, turtle documentaries, stocking up on her favorite tea, or late-night cuddle sessions on the couch, Zoey's presence is a comforting and welcome change of pace.
It lessens the ache.
She still feels wanted, worthy of love, just not by the girl she was initially expecting to feel it from.
So it's no surprise to her that eventually, she also ends up falling for Zoey.
Lucky for her, Zoey was already there.
Mira was just playing catch-up.
Even though she's there now, the two of them come to the conclusion that they don't feel complete without Rumi.
Though they have no idea how to convince a girl who pulls away when she gets too close, a girl who pulls away from their touch even though she so clearly wants it, a girl who hides behind turtlenecks and sleeves and who won't go to the bathhouse with them, that they're in love with her.
They're not sure, but they'll figure it out.
One day.
One day, they'll be complete.
For now, they cling to their friendship with Rumi, and hope that one day, they'll be able to confess the truth of the love that they feel for her.
~~~
Any hopes Mira had of being with both of her girls shattered the second those horrid words escaped Rumi's mouth.
"Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!"
She thought she'd been hurt by Rumi before.
That was nothing in comparison to the hurt she's currently feeling.
After they get off the train, after they go back to their penthouse, Mira doesn't waste a second. She changes out of her sweater into a cropped t-shirt, slings her dance bag over her shoulder, and leaves their shared floor to head down to the dance studio.
She ignores Rumi's gaze, the soft whispers of conversation being exchanged between her and Zoey, and heads to the elevator. She takes it down to the dance studio, where she spends hours revising and improving the choreography for "Takedown."
Mira's not sure how much time passes while she's in the studio, how long she goes without taking a single break, but when she does, she's drenched in sweat, chest heaving with ragged breaths as she swigs down water like there's no tomorrow.
No matter how hard she dances, how loud the music is, how much her body aches, she cannot shake Rumi's words from her mind.
They rattle and echo in her brain, making her groan in frustration, fingers snagging on the knots in her hair as she tries to tame the frizzy, sweaty mess.
She growls and quickly gives up, pulling her hair fully back and up into a messy bun. She starts the music again, tries to lose herself in the rhythm, but it's next to impossible.
Rumi's words play on repeat, making her collapse to her knees and let out a blood-curdling scream, fists slamming into the wooden flooring of the studio as her chest heaves. Her knees will most definitely bruise, but it's an afterthought in comparison to the pain that's currently rattling through her heart.
She winces as she instantly sees the elevator lights turn on, and she knows that within seconds, her peace will be disturbed.
Sure enough, not even a full minute later, Zoey and Rumi come tumbling out of the elevator, tripping over themselves to get to her.
"Mira!"
"What happened?! Are you hurt?!"
Mira grunts as she's practically tackled into a hug by Zoey, Rumi hovering nervously above her. Her hands are outstretched like she wants to do the same as Zoey, but she remains in place as Zoey's hands flutter about her body, looking for signs of nonexistent injuries.
"I'm fine," she grunts out, reaching for her towel to wipe some more of the sweat away.
Mira hates the concerned look in Zoey's eyes, the worry furrowed between her brows. She reaches up to poke that same furrow, a smirk on her face. "Really, Zo. I'm fine. You didn't have to rush down here like that."
Zoey looks affronted, hurt and concern shimmering through slightly wet eyes. "Yes, I did. I heard you scream, and I—I thought—"
Mira's defensiveness instantly melts, and she reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Zoey's hair, her thumb lingering on her cheek and running over the skin soothingly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Zoey leans into her touch, lashes fluttering as she exhales softly. "It's fine. Next time you decide to scream like that, it better be because you're actively dying."
Mira chuckles, eyes soft with love as she stares at Zoey. "I'll keep that in mind."
Zoey leans in, kissing Mira with reverence and care, making her sigh into it, her thumb still stroking over the smooth skin of Zoey's cheek.
Zoey pulls away after a moment, resting her forehead against Mira's as she speaks in a quiet voice. "I love you, you idiot."
"Right back at you," Mira says, a bit of rasp in her tone.
Mira chuckles and ducks out of the way, avoiding the swat to her shoulder with practiced ease, like she's done it before—and she has.
Rumi clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck as she looks at everything in the room except for the two of them. "Sorry to interrupt, but are you sure you're alright, Mira?"
Mira's cheeks are flushed bright red as she realizes Rumi's witnessed this soft, tender moment between her and Zoey, but she can't hide the way her tone shifts into a more stern, cold version than the one she used when speaking to Zoey. "I'm fine, Rumi."
Rumi seems to deflate, noticing the change as well. "If you want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen," Rumi mutters, but her voice wavers, having lost all confidence.
Mira acts as though she doesn't notice, studiously avoiding Zoey's gaze as she feels those eyes piercing into her with disappointment. "I'd rather not," she says, her tone clipped.
Rumi nods, fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie, her socked feet padding softly over to the elevator as she continues to avoid looking at her and Zoey. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night."
"You too."
The air is filled with an unspoken tension, Zoey's eyes darting between the two of them, her bottom lip caught within her teeth. As soon as the elevator doors close behind Rumi, Zoey's head whips around to look at Mira, who is pointedly ignoring Zoey's gentle, prodding gaze.
"Can we not talk about it right now? Please?"
Zoey's breath hitches at the way Mira's voice cracks on the word " please. " She doesn't speak at first, helping Mira up to her feet and gently leading her to the elevator that is now silent, indicating Rumi made it back up to their shared living space. "You're going to have to talk to her eventually," is all Zoey offers as she clambers into bed with Mira—fingers running through Mira's slightly damp hair after Zoey helped her shower and change out of her sweat-filled dance clothes—as Mira's head rests against the crook of her neck.
"I know," is all that Mira offers in return.
~~~
After all of it, Mira wants nothing more than to collapse into bed with Zoey and forget absolutely everything.
Unfortunately, Zoey does not share her brilliant idea.
Instead, she drags Rumi and Mira by the hands and sits them down on the couch, the two of them on either side of Rumi, who has her arms wrapped around her waist, like if she curled up enough, she could vanish into the cushions.
"We need to talk."
Both Mira and Rumi let out soft groans at Zoey's words, and conviction with which she says them. Once Zoey puts her mind to something, there is absolutely no way to stop her from achieving what she'd set out to do. Her current goal, it seemed, was to corner them into conversation.
"Can't this wait until tomorrow?" Rumi asks, and Mira silently agrees.
"Nope!" Zoey proclaims, looking between the two of them. "You two have been clashing for months now, and neither of you have the guts to be the first to broach the tension. I'm sick of it, so I'm intervening. I officially declare this an intervention."
Mira exhales sharply while Rumi curls even further in on herself.
"I'll be in the kitchen, and I will tackle you where you stand if you try to leave without speaking to one another," Zoey says, hopping to her feet, squeezing Rumi's shoulder as she passes and dropping a kiss to the top of Mira's head before she skips off.
Mira huffs out a chuckle, shaking her head as she watches Zoey saunter out of the living room and to the kitchen. She turns her attention back to Rumi, and is instantly met with Rumi's famous I'm-about-to-go-on-an-apology-spiel-expression. Combined with the way her lip is quivering and her eyes are already wet with tears, Mira knows she's about to go on a tangent. So before Rumi can even open her mouth, Mira reaches for her and pulls her into a tight hug, her head resting on top of Rumi's as she cradles the Rumi close.
Rumi's body instantly starts quivering, and Mira's hand finds the divot of Rumi's back, rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin as Rumi sobs against her chest, gasping out apologies with every breath.
"It's ok, Rumi. Just breathe. I'm right here," Mira murmurs, her voice low and soothing, her heart aching for Rumi as she pushes her own feelings aside to comfort her.
"I'm sorry. I—I lied to you, I—I made you feel like—like I didn't trust you. I shouldn't—shouldn't have snapped at you on the train—I never—never should have said that to you—I love you—I love you so much—I'm sorry," Rumi stutters out, tears staining her cheeks as she looks up at Mira, knuckles trembling as they cling to the fabric of Mira's jacket.
Mira reaches up to cup Rumi's cheeks with her hands, the pads of her thumbs, tenderly wiping away the tears that are falling. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Rumi. I forgave you the second we reunited on that stage."
Rumi's lower lip wobbles, and she sucks in a sharp breath as her eyes dart between Mira's. "I don't—I don't understand. How can you just forgive me? I hurt you the most. You tried to talk to me, to be there for me, but I kept pushing you away. I promised you that I wasn't keeping anything from you. I lied directly to you. So how—how can you say you forgive me?"
Mira's eyes remain soft as she gazes at Rumi, her thumbs still wiping at Rumi's tears. "Because I'm in love with you."
Rumi's lips part in surprise. "Oh..."
Mira searches her eyes for any hesitation as she leans in closer. When Rumi doesn't shove her away in disgust, she kisses her like she's wanted her for years—and she has. She pulls away, hands still cradling Rumi's cheeks, and gives her a small smile.
Rumi's eyes flutter open, eyes alight with delighted surprise. " Oh, " she breathes out.
Mira's brow arches in amusement. "That's all you have to say?"
Rumi's grin is sheepish. "Well, there is something else on my mind."
The corner of Mira's lips quirk up in a smirk. "What is it, baby?"
Rumi's face flushes a pretty shade of pink at the nickname, and it gives Rumi the courage she needs to lean forward in order to kiss Mira again. "I've been wanting to kiss you since Celine first brought you home."
Mira hums against Rumi's lips. "Is that so?"
Rumi nods, her hands coming up to wrap around Mira's neck, holding her close, voice soft, breathless, and filled with nothing but love. "Want to know something else?"
"What?"
"I want to keep kissing you for the rest of my life."
For once, Mira doesn't feel the need to hide the fact that she agrees with Rumi's statement. "Me too."
And the three of them do.