Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts with a bang. 

Literally. 

Zoey coughs up a cloud of purple smoke, watching with a sad pout as the pentagram she made on the floor of her room is swallowed up by flames before disappearing entirely. 

“Aw man,” she mumbles to herself. “That took all day.”

It wasn’t supposed to go up in flames. It was supposed to… well, she isn’t exactly sure what it was supposed to do. Just that it wasn’t that. Probably. She picks up the small book from her side, veined with purple. Her eyebrows knit together as she flips through to the page she had managed to decode and she sighs. 

She did everything right—waited for a waning crescent moon, ate nothing but meat for three days. She even made a sacrifice for this. She followed the instructions to a T! Well, she had used flames of the Honmoon instead of flames blessed by Gwi-Ma to boil the mugwort the ritual called for. And her self-sacrifice was just a hair plucked from her (sparse!) lashes. But Gwi-Ma is dead, and she was not about to cut a piece of her own flesh off for a silly little ritual. She had to improvise!

She pushes up from her knees with a defeated sigh. Maybe it was better that it didn’t work. Mira would probably kill her if she found out Zoey was still messing with the little book of demon pranks she’d stumbled upon during one of their hunts. It had been a terrible experience for everybody when Zoey accidentally turned Mira’s hair blue for two days, and she really didn’t need another week of burning glares and silent treatment that was as much punishment for Mira as it was for Zoey. 

“Zo?” Rumi’s muffled voice comes through the door. Zoey bolts to her feet in a panic, rushing to gather all the incriminating materials and shove them under her bed. 

“Just a second!” She calls. “I’m naked!” She winces as soon as she says it, but she has no time to wallow in the stupid excuse. Instead, she runs over to open the window, waving her arms around madly as if it will help push the lingering stench of demonic smoke out of the room faster. 

She runs back to her door when she feels confident most of the smell is gone, trying to even out her breathing for a minute before she finally swings it open. “Hey, Ru,” she says, looking terribly not-casual with the way she leans against the door. 

“Uh, hey,” Rumi says slowly. “What are you… doing?”

“Me? Nothing. I wasn’t doing anything,” Zoey rushes out. 

Then Rumi crinkles her nose, taking a quick sniff of the air. “Were you burning something?”

“Oh, that?” Zoey laughs. “That’s just, um, the incense I brought back from Japan. Never getting that again, am I right?”

Rumi nods, slow and awkward as she takes in Zoey’s flushed appearance. “Oh… kay. Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you about practice tomorrow.”

Zoey’s eyes widen. Shit, shit, shit. She can’t say no. She never says no to anybody coming in her room. She prays to Hunters past that she had remembered to hide everything that could incriminate her in her little study on demon culture—which is how she justifies it to herself—and lets the door open wider. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Come in, come in.”

“Wow, it really smells bad in here,” Rumi says, face pinched in disgust. “What kind of incense was that?”

“Oh, you know,” Zoey laughs again, a nervous rush of giggles. “The bad kind, I guess. What did you want to talk about?”

“Uh. Right. I know you have vocal lessons before dance practice, but I was wondering if you could cancel them so we could add the extra hour to practice. Filming got pushed up and I think we could really use...”

As Rumi talks, Zoey catches sight of the little glowing book peeking out from under her bed and her eyes widen comically. She snaps her attention back to Rumi when she realizes the girl is done speaking. “That’s fine!” Zoey says immediately. “Totally fine, no worries, anything you need, okay, love you Rumi, bye!”

And then she moves with the intention of pushing Rumi out of her room, not really caring about how strange she looks anymore. As long as Rumi doesn’t find out what she’d been up to. She puts her hands on Rumi’s shoulders and begins to steer her toward the door. 

“What—Zoey? Are you o—”

She doesn’t get to finish asking, because both of them freeze. It feels like time stops for a moment, the edges of their vision goes blurry, splotchy, colour exploding before their eyes as the world comes to a halt. And then a squeezing sensation, like the very molecules that make them up have pulled apart and rearranged themselves, compressing and expanding. 

And then it stops. 

Zoey gasps a sharp lungful of air, body heaving with the weight of it like she’s just risen from the dead. She clutches at her chest, feels her heart beating straight out of it. 

“What the hell just happened?” She groans. And then her eyes widen again, because the voice that comes from her throat is not her own.  

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, she turns her head to the side, bracing herself like she’s preparing to be punched. 

“No fucking way,” she breathes in that same, familiar tone. Because she’s looking at herself. 

“Zoey,” her own voice comes, low and deadly in a way she’s never heard it before. “What did you do?”

Rumi somehow manages to sound intimidating and full of authority even in Zoey’s sweeter voice, even when she stands inches shorter than Zoey—Rumi? Zoey? 

Zoey gulps. 

“Um, well. You see.”

“Choi Zoey,” Rumi groans, putting her hands on her hips in a way that’s decidedly less scary when it’s contained in Zoey’s own body. “Don’t tell me you were playing with that stupid little demon book again.”

Zoey ducks her head, almost sidetracked by how much further away from the ground she is in Rumi’s body. “Okay,” she murmurs. “I won’t tell you.”

“Zoey,” Rumi absolutely whines now, and—yeah, that sounds more like Zoey. “I thought you promised Mira you wouldn’t touch it anymore.”

“I can’t help my thirst for knowledge, Rumi!” Zoey whines back. “I just, like, need to know. Everything!”

Rumi throws her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she groans. “Oh my god,” Rumi sighs. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll fix it,” Zoey promises. “I’m sure there’s a reversal spell, curse, thing somewhere in the book!”

It’s almost awkward, learning to walk in Rumi’s body. She stumbles for a moment, catching Rumi’s arm to steady herself. “Woah. You have long legs.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t swap with Mira, then,” Rumi says mirthlessly. Zoey flashes her a sheepish grin. 

“Zoey? Rumi? I’m home.”

Shit. 

“No,” she whispers. “No, no, no.” The world is going to end. In approximately 5 minutes when Mira wanders into her bedroom to greet them. She grabs Rumi’s—her—shoulders in a death grip. “Rumi, please.”

And it’s like Rumi can read her mind. “You aren’t serious.”

“Please,” Zoey almost cries. “Please don’t tell Mira. She’s going to kill me.”

“Zoey,” Rumi says, face stretched out in exasperation. “You want me to pretend to be you. In front of Mira? She’s never going to buy that!”

“We know each other better than anybody!” Zoey tries to reason. “We could make it work. Just for one day, while I figure this out. Please,” she begs again, tries to add little puppy dog eyes and the pout that always wins Rumi over. It doesn’t seem to have the same effect when it’s Rumi’s own face that she’s looking at. And yet—

“Fine,” Rumi grumbles. “But you get exactly 24 hours before I tell Mira everything.”

The door creaks open then, and Mira peeks her head inside. “Hey, didn’t you guys hear me?”

Zoey and Rumi look at Mira dumbly for a moment before they start speaking over each other. 

“Oh, must’ve been talking too loud—”

“No, yeah, totally, we were waiting for you—”

Mira looks between them for a long moment, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Okay…” she says, then, “Zoey, were you burning something in here?”

Zoey gulps audibly to stop herself from answering, nudging Rumi subtly in the ribs until the girl stutters out, “Oh! Right, uh, yeah. Incense. Super bad incense. My mistake.”

“Why are you guys being so weird?” Mira asks bluntly, finally standing up straighter and crossing her arms over chest. Her face morphs into one of brewing anger and Zoey thinks, it’s over. She knows. “Did you finish my chocopies again?”

Relief floods her body like a drug and she sighs. “No,” she chuckles. “I learned my lesson last time—I mean, Zoey learned. Right, Zoey?” She rushes out. 

Rumi is already nodding. “Yup, never doing that again.”

“Right…” Mira says. “Well, I’m going to shower. Just wanted to let you guys know I was home.”

“Okay,” they both chirp in sync. Mira shoots them one last confused glare before turning around and heading to her own bathroom. 

Zoey nudges Rumi again, gives her a pointed look in Mira’s direction. 

It’s only a little bit evil, the way she grins when Rumi cringes at herself. “Uh, love you, Mimi!” 

“Uh huh,” Mira calls back, easy, casual, the most normal interaction they’ve had all evening. 

The two girls only relax once they hear her door click shut. “I can’t do this,” Rumi says immediately. “I can’t be you. You’re so different from me!”

“No way,” Zoey dismisses with a quick wave of her hand. “You’re super sweet, Rums. You just have to let it out. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she marches over to her bed and pulls out the book that was halfway beneath it, “I have a curse to break.”

And then she’s gone, marching confidently from her own room and straight into Rumi’s. On the bright side, this could be fun!

Rumi has always tried to have patience. It was a requirement that came with her half-demon heritage. She had to control her frustration and anger or else risk exposing her little—huge—secret to the world. So, she learned how to cope. Some ways healthier than others. 

Now, she paces trenches into the floor of Zoey’s room, chewing her nails to nubs with no regard for how upset Zoey will be about it once they switch back. How is she supposed to be Zoey? Cute, sweet, loveable, hyperactive Zoey. 

Sure, they have their similarities, but Rumi has always envied Zoey’s easy way of existing. How she always has a joke on the tip of her tongue, a hug ready to give or a hand ready to hold. How she barely has to think twice before acting. How she loves so freely and openly that it sends Rumi’s heart into a frenzy. There was no way Rumi could replicate that. And that doesn’t even take into account the Mira of it all. 

Mira could read them both like a picture book. Rumi is sure that Mira will take one close look at her and know they’re lying, and the idea of lying to Mira again, of somehow hurting her, twists her guts into knots. She thinks Mira could even be putting the pieces together now as she showers, connecting the dots that even Rumi herself is having trouble understanding. 

No, she can’t do this. She has to tell Zoey the deal is off, that she’s sorry but maybe Zoey just needs to simply face Mira’s wrath and let it be over with. She’s just about to do that, hand on the doorknob of Zoey’s room when a soft knock comes from the other side. 

“Zo? Can I come in?”

Shit. 

Rumi looks around the room like she could somehow escape this, whining when she realizes her only option is Zoey’s open window. Maybe… no. 

She’s fine. She can do this. 

She pulls the door open slowly, trying her best to smile when she sees Mira on the other side. “Hey,” she says, “I was just going to get some water.”

Mira smiles at her, and Rumi immediately feels it. How different it is. Softer, sweeter. Not meant for her. 

Mira lifts the water bottle in her hand and steps gently past Rumi. “You can have some of mine.”

“T-thanks,” Rumi stutters out, and then resists the urge to facepalm right then and there. Seriously? She pops open the lid on Mira’s water bottle and takes a swig to hopefully fix her dry throat, though she thinks no amount of water could save her now. “Did you need something? Can’t sleep?” She asks, hoping that she sounds even a fraction as caring as Zoey does. 

Mira looks at her in confusion then, stopping halfway to the bed as she turns around. “You said you wanted to watch a movie tonight.”

Shit. 

“Oh yeah!” She chirps. “Sorry, must’ve slipped my mind. Rumi was talking my ear off about practice earlier, you know how I get.”

It seems to work, because Mira only gives her a small chuckle before grabbing Zoey’s laptop and settling into Zoey’s bed like it’s her own. By the time Mira types Zoey’s password in and opens Netflix, Rumi is still standing dumbly by the door. 

Mira laughs when she looks at her, holding the blanket up and scooting back just slightly. 

“C’mon,” she urges. “Get the lights on your way.”

And Rumi is so totally, unbelievably fucked right now. Because, sure, they’ve all shared beds and they’ve all cuddled and they’ve all had movie nights. But Rumi has had an inkling that there’s been something more going on between Zoey and Mira for a while now, and the way that Mira is looking at her—looking at Zoey—only seems to confirm her suspicions. 

She could strangle Zoey. Honestly. 

How is she supposed to act normal around Mira? What if Mira tries to kiss her? Oh god, even the thought makes Rumi queasy. Not out of disgust but… but something else she’d rather not think about. Because she’s had her suspicions, yes, but she still has yet to grapple with the strange coil of jealousy that had sprung up around the same time that she noticed the shift in her best friends’ dynamic. 

Maybe not jealousy. Maybe envy. Or sadness, or longing, or a million other words that Rumi really can’t unpack right now while she’s forcing her legs—Zoey’s legs—to make the trek toward Mira and slide into bed in front of her. This is fine. Cuddling is fine. Her and Mira have cuddled hundreds of times over the years. There’s nothing to feel weird about. Rumi definitely doesn’t shiver when Mira’s chin tucks against her shoulder. She doesn’t feel her stomach flip when Mira’s hand wraps around her waist.

Of course not. 

She lets Mira pick the movie, which is probably suspicious in itself because Zoey always has an opinion on what movie they should watch. But her brain is mush, and she’d rather not risk picking a movie that Zoey would never choose and set off the warning bells in Mira’s head even more than they already have. 

In true Mira fashion, they wind up watching some dark, suspenseful mystery that Rumi for the life of her cannot understand the plot of. Still, she tries to focus, tries to pay careful attention to every piece of dialogue and every miniscule detail from the lighting changes to the extras in the background. Anything to distract her from the way Mira is absentmindedly rubbing circles into the skin of her—Zoey’s—stomach. 

And then it happens. 

It’s light, at first. So light that Rumi thinks she imagined it, barely more than a breath against the nape of her neck. She tries her best to keep her breathing steady, to ignore the way her stomach is fluttering madly. But then she feels it again—a firm, sure press of Mira’s lips against the back of her neck. 

She jolts. And then she flushes a brilliant shade of red that’s masked by the darkness of the room. Mira makes a questioning noise in her throat and Rumi’s stomach drops. 

“Ticklish,” she supplies, because Zoey is. Rumi already knew that, but she can feel it now, the way her skin is more sensitive, more responsive. 

She feels Mira’s laugh come out in a gentle puff of air and she shivers as it travels down her spine. But Mira doesn’t make another move to kiss her again, and Rumi can’t tell whether she’s disappointed or relieved. 

(Relived, of course. She’s not a creep, she knows this isn’t her own body, that Mira doesn’t know who’s actually in her arms. Disappointed, maybe, that she’ll never feel this in her own skin.)

The movie reaches its climax and all the pieces are beginning to fall into place and Rumi thinks she’s in the clear, that the kiss had only been a one-time thing and Mira wouldn’t try it again. But the universe is no kind thing, and just as the end credits roll, she feels those lips again, feels Mira’s thumb rubbing more purposefully against her now, just above her bellybutton. 

Rumi squirms at the feeling, trying to figure out how to deter Mira as naturally as possible. 

“You okay?” Mira murmurs into her neck. The circles on her stomach stop, Mira’s arm tightening its grip on her waist instead. 

Rumi nods. “I’m just… super tired,” she says, hoping she sounds disappointed enough for Mira to not have her feelings hurt. She risks glancing over her shoulder, breath catching in her throat when she sees the way Mira’s eyes soften at the words. 

“You had an early morning,” Mira hums. “Get some sleep.”

The smile Rumi gives her is real. She can’t help the affection that seeps through her panic. Thinks that, through the jealousy and all the other complicated emotions she may feel, it’s reassuring that her two best friends are so sweet to each other. So clearly in love. 

She tries not to think about the way her heart twists at the realization. 

“G’night,” she murmurs as she turns her head back to settle against Zoey’s pillow, breathing in the smell of her and Mira mixing together. It’s as comforting as it is painful. 

“Night, Zo.” And with a kiss to her cheek, Mira relaxes into her back. The steady grip around her waist doesn’t falter until long after Rumi falls asleep. 

Morning comes quietly. Rumi wakes to the feeling of Mira’s arm tucked beneath her head, pink hair tickling her face and she hums for a moment. It’s blissful, calm, until distantly, Rumi wonders why Mira had chosen to sleep in her bed. 

Wonders why her pillow feels so different. Why the soft glow of the sun is coming from the wrong side of the room. 

She sits up with a gasp, looking at her small hands and stifling a dizzy groan when the events of last night finally bulldoze through her peaceful, sleepy haze. She shoves her face in her hands as she remembers it all, feels the ghost of Mira’s lips against her neck as she shudders in embarrassment. 

This cannot be my life, she thinks to herself. 

“Mmm, Zoey?” Mira grumbles, voice low and raspy with sleep. Her eyes are barely open, glasses still perched on the bedside table as she lifts her arms over her head in a stretch. Rumi thinks she’s sort of like a cat, the way her whole body sprawls out, lithe and flexible before curling onto her side and looking up at Rumi. “You okay? Why d’you look like you’re gonna hurl.” It’s a sleepy mumble, only half coherent while Mira rubs at her eyes. 

“I’m fine!” She says, voice shrill and most definitely not fine. “Just a little nightmare.” What an understatement. “You can go back to sleep.”

Mira hums, curling even closer until she can wrap her arms around Rumi’s waist, tucking her head into her side. “Need to be up soon anyway. Do you wanna talk about it?”  

And it’s so genuine, laced with so much concern and affection that Rumi feels bad for lying at all. She’s shaking her head before she realizes. “It wasn’t serious,” she promises. “Just a stress dream. I was about to be eaten by a hamburger.”

Mira snorts, and the sound makes Rumi’s stomach flutter pathetically. 

“Only you would dream about shit like that,” Mira murmurs, finally tearing away from Rumi and letting her breathe. She reaches up to stretch again, letting out a groan of satisfaction as her shoulders pop in all the right places and Rumi tries not to make it obvious, how she averts her gaze from the expanse of skin that results from Mira’s already tiny shirt rising up and up.  

When she finally feels like it’s safe to look, her throat bobs at the amused, knowing smirk Mira has on her face. Stupid, she thinks to herself. You’re so unbelievably stupid. 

She’s luckily—luckily being a term used lightly—saved from her embarrassment when the bedroom door bursts open and Zoey—Rumi—steps inside, shining as bright as the sun. Literally. Her patterns are glowing. Rumi’s eyes widen at the sight, at the bubbly grin on Zoey’s face as she moves closer to the bed. 

“Morning, sunshines,” she all but sings. And Rumi could kill her, because in what world would she act like that?

“Why are you so happy?” Mira groans when Zoey squeezes her in a hug. “And why are you glowing?”

“Oh!” Zoey squeaks, finally looking down at her body and catching sight of the patterns that glow a brilliant shade of god along her arms. “I’m just excited for today.”

“Excited?” Rumi asks slowly. 

“Yes,” Zoey nods emphatically, grin still in place but slightly calmer now, slightly more like the real Rumi. “I woke up with a song in my head and I think I could come up with a sick rap verse for it.”

Mira scoffs out a laugh at the words. She nudges Rumi in the ribs gently. “Careful, Zo. Rumi’s trying to steal your job.”

Rumi catches the way Zoey’s eyes widen slightly at the realization, and then she sits up straighter, suddenly a perfect image of Rumi herself. “I could never. Zoey is a lyrical mastermind. I aspire to be like you, Zoey.”

“Relax,” Rumi grumbles, rolling her eyes at the words. 

“That was, like, crazy glazing, Ru. She’d more likely fuck you if you just ask nicely.”

“What?” Both girls snap in unison, but Mira is already threatening to rip at the seams with laughter. Then she sets her evil sights on Rumi. 

“Are you denying it?” She challenges, eyebrow raised in a way that makes Rumi’s breath stutter. 

“Uh—wh—no!” She squeaks. She tries to remind herself that Mira is teasing Zoey, not her, but that’s a dangerous stream of consciousness to follow, because then she begins to wonder—why would Mira tease about that? Why would it be something to cause embarrassment for Zoey? Did it hold some truth, maybe, in some small way?

No, she groans internally. It’s wishful thinking at best. She saw how Mira looked at her—at Zoey. Last night. The two of them have a good thing going. Why would either of them ever been wanting for more, for Rumi of all people?

“No, you aren’t denying it?” Mira pushes further, and even Zoey is looking at her now, cheeks pink with embarrassment but eyes almost… curious. 

“No, I am denying it!” Rumi finally snaps, but it holds no real bite coming from Zoey’s sweet voice. The way she clenches her fists and slams them against the mattress comes off more cute, more petulant than anything real. 

Mira only chuckles softly at the sight of her and Rumi can do nothing but sigh. “You’re so mean to me,” she mumbles, and it really does sound like Zoey. Like the kind of quiet complaint Zoey would make in response to some simple teasing. 

“I’m so mean that I’m going to cook you two breakfast?” Mira asks, finally getting to her feet as she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, perching her glasses on her nose. 

Finally, Zoey is pulled out of her strange stupor, eyes brightening at the prospect of Mira’s cooking. Rumi can already see the excited chatter that’s about to spill from her lips, mouth opening to say something likely along the lines of please make pancakes, I owe you my life, can I kiss the chef?

Rumi shoots her a withering glare while Mira’s back is turned to them and she watches Zoey slouch, clearing her throat dejectedly. “I’m actually, uh, just going to have a coffee.” 

And what? Why would she say that? Her glare turns into exasperation and Zoey shrugs, hands gesturing wildly as if to say what was I supposed to say?!

Mira scoffs, eyes still fixated on her phone as she moves toward the doorway. “You’re going to eat something, Rumi, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

Rumi ignores the way her stomach flips at the words, at the gentle, knowing authority in her voice. She waits until Mira is a safe distance away before lunging for Zoey and slapping at her own shoulders. “Why did you say that?” She whispers harshly. 

“You were giving me a scary look! I didn’t even know I could look like that!”

“I just didn’t want you to answer so Zoey-ly! You were so weird!”

“Oh,” Zoey laughs. “Like you weren’t weird, Little Miss Stuttering Mess?” 

Rumi huffs in indignation. “You—what—how was I supposed to respond to her?”

“I would have laughed it off,” Zoey says haughtily. Rumi genuinely laughs in her face. 

“Right… right,” she chuckles. “That’s why you started glowing pink, right?”

Zoey gasps. “Not fair. You’re like a walking mood ring.”

Rumi can’t help the laugh that escapes her at that. “Yeah,” she sighs. “You need to control that, by the way. Or wear sweats and a hoodie to practice today.”

“No way,” Zoey grumbles. “It’s gonna be like 30 degrees. I’ll just be super chill, don’t worry.”

Zoey and super chill have probably never been used in the same sentence by anyone other than Zoey herself, but Rumi only gives a resigned shrug. Whatever. She’ll handle whatever comes of today later, when she’s back in her own body. 

And then, suddenly, memories from last night pop up in her mind and her eyes widen. She’s shoving Zoey again before she can help herself. 

“Ow,” Zoey winces. “What was that for?”

“You couldn’t have warned me about your little movie night plans with Mira last night?” Rumi hisses. 

Zoey’s eyes go blank for a moment, and Rumi can visibly see the cogs turning in her brain, the exact moment that recognition sparks. And then Zoey ducks her head in embarrassment. 

“Oops. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Oops?” Rumi squeaks. “Oops? That’s all you have to say?”

Zoey shrugs helplessly, hands out as if to prevent Rumi from causing her anymore bodily harm. “It’s just a movie night,” Zoey reasons. “We have those all the time.”

Rumi looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Zoey,” she starts, like Zoey cannot be serious. “She was trying to… do stuff with me.” She’s sure her cheeks are a blazing red now, only deepening with the way Zoey’s eyes widen in understanding before she bursts into a fit of terrible giggles. 

“Oh my god, Rumi,” Zoey says through a gasp. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even consider that.” Rumi watches as Zoey wipes a stray tear from her eyes. “Just… tell her I’m on my period or something, if she tries again.”

She can’t believe Zoey is just brushing over it. Sure, Rumi has kind of sort of known about the two of them for a while, but she expected Zoey to be a little bit more embarrassed by the way Rumi got her confirmation. 

“So, are you two like…” dating is what she wants to say, but the word congeals into bile in her throat. She swallows it down and looks at Zoey expectantly. She already knows the answer, obviously, last night was confirmation enough. But the sad, self-hating part of her needs to hear it. Maybe that could be enough to help her move on from her stupid feelings. 

“No,” Zoey says simply. Rumi’s face scrunches in confusion and Zoey smiles at the sight. “We aren’t official or anything. We’re… waiting.”

The pause in her sentence is weighted, something thoughtful lingering between the words. Rumi tries not to dwell on it. 

“Right,” is all she says. “But if she gets handsy again I may or may not tell her about what you did.”

“No,” Zoey cries immediately. “She knows I don’t like doing anything on my period! She’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Distantly Rumi thinks about what a terrible friend she must be, that the prospect of Mira leaving her alone sends a wave of disappointment through her body. 

They get through breakfast without any major slip-ups. Mira usually spends her early morning meals scrolling on her phone and sipping on her scalding coffee, and Zoey and Rumi pretend like they’re starved, scarfing down the food in record time before they rush off to get ready for the day. 

Aside from the fact that Rumi squeezes her eyes shut while she showers and dresses, feeling like seeing Zoey’s naked body is something of a violation, the morning goes smoothly. 

The real issue arrives once they get to the company building. 

Dance practice. They hadn’t considered the struggles of dance practice in bodies that aren’t their own. 

They’re scheduled to film for their new music video in a few days, so they really only had to learn bits and pieces of the choreography. Just the parts that would be showcased in the video. It’s a relief, because Rumi thinks if they had to run through the entire song with the rate they were going at, they would probably die. 

“Hold on,” their instructor’s voice comes. “Rumi and Zoey, why are you mirroring your moves?”

Mira is flushed and panting, turning from where she stands front and centre as she rests her hands on her hips. “I thought we had this down,” she says between breaths. 

Zoey and Rumi murmur out their apologies. They do have this down. They’ve been practicing for days. They could probably do the routine in their sleep. But the muscle memory works against them now as they continue to move along their own pathing. Not each other’s. 

“Sorry,” Rumi says, knows Zoey is always quick to apologize. “I just get confused at this part.”

“We’ll get it next time,” Zoey promises. “Let’s run it from the top?” It’s not as confident as Rumi likely would’ve said it, but she can respect Zoey’s attempt to take the lead. 

They do, in fact, get it on the next try. They don’t dwell on the fact that their faces are twisted in concentration as they try to recall and replicate the other girl’s moves, timing, flow. Their instructor nods in satisfaction before immediately telling them to go again, and again, and again, until Rumi and Zoey can relax into it, can finally almost keep up with Mira. 

“Great,” their instructor says, clapping her hands together. “I think we can call it.”

Rumi collapses into a pile on the floor and reminds herself to make Zoey do more cardio at the gym. She never feels this exhausted after a few hours of dance practice. 

Zoey, on the other hand, looks as alive as ever. “Really?” She hums. “Maybe we could just go one more time to tighten up the—”

“No,” Rumi groans, laying completely on her back as she pants heavily. “Please, no.”

Mira chuckles from above her, thrusting a water bottle towards her with a wide grin. “You gotta get your stamina back up before comeback season is upon us, Zo,” and then a pause before her eyes turn mischievous. “I could help.”

She hears Zoey squeak from somewhere next to her, and then her eyes widen at Mira. Was she flirting with her? Right here?

Rumi does her best to tamp down her embarrassment, rolling her eyes at the other girl as she sits up to take the water bottle from her hands. “I’ll be fine for the comeback, thank you very much.”

Mira only smirks, and it’s infuriating. Before Rumi can make a very Rumi-like remark, something to wipe the smugness off Mira’s face, Bobby comes waltzing through the door. 

“Hi, girls,” he sings. 

“Hi, Bobby,” they all echo in unison. 

“I hope dance practice went well. Rumi, are you ready to go?”

Rumi turns to look at Bobby in confusion before her eyes dart to Zoey who looks equally confused. Where was she supposed to go?

And then it hits her. 

The meeting. Rumi kind of wants to smash her face into the floor, because in the rush of quite literally swapping bodies with her best friend she forgot about the meeting. An important meeting. About comeback schedules and their upcoming tour and other things that Rumi needed to discuss with a few of the executives. Zoey is looking at her with these big, pleading eyes, like she wants Rumi to somehow save her from this. 

Rumi’s brain works overtime, trying to think of how they can get out of this. “Can I go too?” She asks, which she figures is believable enough. Zoey is always wanting to tag along to things, even boring meetings. 

Bobby winces at the question. “Zoey, you know I love you,” he starts softly, “but you and Mira can be somewhat… disruptive in meetings like this.”

And Rumi already knows that, which is why she attends most of their meetings alone. 

Mira only snorts. “True.”

She sees Zoey bristle in silent offence off to the side and it breaks through her panic for a moment, makes her smile a little. 

“Fine,” Rumi says, even pouts for good measure. She is such a good Zoey. 

“Uh, I need to go to the bathroom first,” Zoey says, looking at Rumi with wide eyes and gesturing subtly to the door. 

“Oh, me too,” Rumi mumbles, ignoring Mira’s confused eyes as she darts into the hallway after Zoey. 

Zoey locks the door behind them, pacing back and forth in her spiraling state. 

“I can’t do a meeting, Rumi,” she says. “What if I say the wrong thing? What if I make the wrong decision?”

Despite Rumi’s earlier panic, she can’t help the way her heart constricts painfully at Zoey’s insecurity written clear as day on her face. Part of her forgets, sometimes, that Zoey worries so much. That even after all these years she has a hard time viewing herself as a representative of HUNTR/X. As if that title can only fall to Rumi as the leader or Mira because she holds all the confidence in the world. 

“Hey,” Rumi says gently, she puts her hands on Zoey’s shoulders to hold her in place. “You can do this,” she promises. “You know our schedules just as well as I do. We’ve discussed the things we really want to do for promotion, and you know we’ll love whatever else you come up with. If they give you a hard time, Bobby will be there to take your side.” Then she pauses, letting her hand cup Zoey’s cheek. It’s almost strange, caressing her own face, but she thinks the softness in Zoey’s eyes is not her own, is something that can only belong to the other girl, and it’s enough for her to push aside her unease. “I trust you,” she hums, and that seems to do it. 

Tears well up in Zoey’s eyes before she wraps Rumi in a tight hug. “Really?” She mumbles into Rumi’s shoulders. 

“Yes, silly,” Rumi laughs, ignoring her poor, fluttering heart. So not the time for that. “You’re just as capable of making decisions for the group as Mira and I. Maybe you’ll even like it. And then you can start handling the boring meetings for me.”

Zoey pulls back with a scoff at the words. “Okay, don’t push it.” But her voice is lighter now. It’s filled with her usual warmth, and Rumi takes it as a win. “I got this,” Zoey says then, mostly to herself. 

“You got this,” Rumi echoes. Zoey turns and swings the door open, a new, determined set to her jaw as she marches up to Bobby who stands just down the hall and loops her arm through his to pull him along. 

“Why were you guys in the same bathroom?” 

Mira’s voice behind her makes her jump. She spins on her heel, eyes wide like she’s been caught. Mira pushes off the wall, locking her phone and tucking it into her pocket as she approaches Rumi. 

“What? Oh, the other bathrooms were too far.” Which is technically true. It wouldn’t be the first time Zoey has insisted on going in together, promising to plug her ears so she wouldn’t hear Rumi peeing. 

Mira squints her eyes for a moment. “Hmm,” she finally hums. “Let’s go home? Bobby said the meeting might run long and he’ll give Rumi a ride back.”

The idea of being with Mira for an indeterminate amount of time, alone, with the whole penthouse to themselves makes her gulp. But she nods anyway, holding out her hand for Mira to take the way Zoey always does as she lets Mira lead her toward the elevators. 

She’s so screwed. 

The drive home is short and sweet. Mira tells her about a new band she’d discovered a few days ago and Rumi doesn’t have to pretend to be Zoey to listen enthusiastically, give her excited feedback on how much she loves them when Mira plays a few of their songs for her. It’s not until they get in the elevator that Rumi really feels any sort of panic. 

Because as soon as the doors slide shut, Mira is wrapped around her. Arms hanging loose and comfortable and familiar around her—Zoey’s—waist, chin tucked between her shoulder and her neck. 

“I’m exhausted,” Mira complains softly, breath skirting over Rumi’s skin in a way that makes her shiver. 

“Same,” Rumi says, tries to relax into the touch just enough to not feel like a stiff piece of wood. 

She’s always known that Mira can be clingy. Her and Zoey always tease the girl for it, call her a tsundere and a baby and all different types of names just to make her blush and scowl. Rumi’s been on the receiving end of that clinginess for years. But something about this feels different, like Mira’s been looking for something her whole life and has found it in the crook of Zoey’s neck, in the gentle weight of Zoey in her arms. 

Envy rears its ugly head again, misplaced and undeserved. She can’t help but think that she wishes Mira would hold her like this. Wishes she could hold Zoey like this, too. Wishes she could be part of this soul-tied intimacy that she’s gotten glimpses of in the past 16 hours. 

She forces it down and away immediately. Even just that much attention is more than she’s ever allowed herself to give these feelings in her life. She knows this is a slippery slope of pain and suffering, because she’ll be back in her own body by tomorrow, hopefully. And then she’ll have to pretend that she has no idea just how deep the oceans of Zoey and Mira’s love for each other really runs. 

When the elevator dings and the doors open up to their penthouse, Rumi lets out a quiet breath of relief as Mira makes the first move to untangle herself from Rumi’s back. 

“I’m gonna go, uh, shower,” Rumi says quickly. She just needs some time to herself, to rid herself of these thoughts and be far, far away from anywhere that Mira can touch her. “I feel gross from practice.”

Mira hums at the words. “Okay, me too.”

Rumi nods at her before rushing toward her room, having to quickly detour back to Zoey’s when she remembers. She closes the door to Zoey’s bathroom behind her, contemplating for a moment before locking it. She doesn’t know if they shower together or what, but she’s absolutely not risking that. No way. 

She ties Zoey’s short hair up before stepping into the scalding water, letting it distract her for just a moment. But, of course, it can only do so much. 

Because with her eyes shut tight, her mind runs rampant. She can’t help but think about Mira, about Zoey. Can’t help but wonder if Zoey looks at herself through Rumi’s eyes and sees what Rumi sees. If she feels it all, living in Rumi’s skin. Feels Rumi’s heart rate spike whenever they’re too close, feels her throat close up when either of them look at her for a bit too long, a bit too softly. Rumi wonders if Zoey will know, once they switch back. If she’ll finally understand everything that Rumi has tried so hard to hide over the years and if she knows now, that Rumi’s love for them is something unfathomable. 

The thought is like a rock stuck in her throat. 

She scrubs her hands over her face a few times before lathering herself in Zoey’s body wash and trying not to linger on the familiar smell. 

By the time she finishes showering and changing, Mira has already made herself comfortable on the couch. Rumi panics. She knows Zoey would probably slot herself next to Mira immediately, would have a list of videos to show the other girl as they cuddled into each other, but Rumi really doesn’t know if she can handle that right now. 

She racks her mind for an excuse. Anything to prolong the inevitable, to protect her stupid, fragile heart. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks. “I can make ramyeon.”

Mira shakes her head slowly, eyes taking Rumi in with a certain type of softness in her gaze but also… something else. Something that makes Rumi shift her weight between her legs nervously. 

“I wanted to show you something,” Mira says, lifting her arm and gesturing for Rumi to sit there. 

God, she’s so utterly screwed. 

She climbs meekly onto the couch, settles against Mira’s side as best as she can while her body trembles with nervousness. Mira’s arm drapes lazily over her shoulder and it takes everything in Rumi to not let out a shaky breath at the feeling. 

“What did you want to show me?” She asks as loudly as she can manage, which is still embarrassingly quiet. If Mira notices, she’s kind enough to ignore it. 

Instead, Mira shifts just slightly so she can put her phone up between them, opening her camera roll to click on one of the most recent videos there. “Wanted your opinion on this,” she hums. “It’s not, like, finalized or anything. It’s just something I’m working on.”

Rumi recognizes the hint of nervousness in her voice, the way she always sounds when she shows them a new routine for the first time. She lets her own internal struggle fade to the background, all of her attention focused on Mira now, on reassuring her, reminding her why she’s the main dancer of one of the biggest girl groups in the world. 

“I’m excited,” she says, honest, and herself, and she thinks Mira even blushes at the words. 

Then she clicks play, and a smooth, unfamiliar beat fills Rumi’s ears, but her attention is all on Mira in the centre of the screen. She moves slow at first, fluid movements that Rumi’s eyes can’t help but follow along the screen. She moves like water, all grace and poise. Rumi can feel her heart beating faster, in time with the music. Then the music begins to crescendo, instrumental transforming into something more magnetic, pop elements peeking through. 

And Mira is a supernova. Her movements are clean, precise, each step holding so much power that Rumi can almost feel the tremors through her own body. It’s sensual, how she moves to the beat like she’s dancing with the notes. Rumi’s mouth feels dry, watching Mira slide down to her knees, flip her loose hair back as she looks at herself in the practice room mirrors. 

The music continues, slowing down again, but on-screen Mira moves toward the camera to cut the video off and Rumi feels like she can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” she whispers, eyes wide, chest rising and falling just a little bit too fast. 

“Oh?” Mira echoes, amusement swirling in her voice. “That’s all?” But long gone is the nervous insecurity. In its place is a smug smirk, eyeing Rumi—Zoey—like she knows exactly how she feels right now. 

“That was… you were… hot.”

She kind of wants to shrivel up and die. The words had tumbled out of her before she could stop herself, and Mira’s laugh is teasing and a little bit cruel. 

“Thanks, baby,” Mira drawls, and Rumi bites down on the inside of her cheek at the name, feels something eerily close to arousal burning in her gut. But these looks, these words are not for her. She knows that. She feels like an intruder on this moment. 

“Wh-what’s the choreo for?” She asks, desperate to change the subject, to get Mira’s heated stare off of her face. 

Mira hums, lazily twirling a strand of Rumi’s hair around her finger. “I was thinking maybe… for my solo?” She says it slow, tentative, gauging Rumi’s reaction. 

Rumi gasps immediately, tension forgotten as she shifts to face Mira properly. “Seriously?” She asks, unable to contain her excitement at the words. “You’re really going to do it?”

Zoey and Rumi had been trying to convince Mira to make her solo debut for years, but Mira always chose to spend her free time on modelling and the occasional acting gig. Which was fine, obviously, except for the fact that they were both dying to know how Mira would choose to execute her own music outside of HUNTR/X, and if the little snippet Rumi had just heard was anything to go off of, Mira might actually kill people as a soloist. 

“Relax,” Mira laughs lightly, though her cheeks have lit up in a sweet blush that almost makes Rumi want to coo at her. “Nothing is set in stone yet. I’m just… considering it.”

Rumi hums at the words. It’s good enough for her, for now, and she settles back against the couch comfortably. The excitement from Mira’s news has settled her nerves enough for her to relax into Mira’s touch. Until, of course—“So, you think I’m hot, huh?”

Suddenly, Mira is too close. She breathes the words out against Rumi’s ear just as she tugs softly on the lock of hair that’s wrapped around her finger and Rumi can’t help the way her eyes flutter at the feeling. She clears her throat, then, trying to get a rein on her wild emotions. 

“W-well, um, yes, obviously. That’s, like, an objective fact,” she stutters out. 

Mira pulls back just enough to look at her, eyebrows raised gently in amusement. “Is it?” She asks, breath hot against Rumi’s face as Rumi nods dumbly in agreement. “Good to know,” she murmurs, and then she’s leaning in, slowly, carefully, and Rumi is panicking because what the hell. 

This can’t be happening. She squeezes her eyes shut like it might just make her disappear, and finally, with what little strength she has left in her jelly body, she turns her face so Mira’s lips meet her cheek. Mira deflates, and all the charged tension is sapped from the air. Mira drops her head to Rumi’s shoulder with a sigh. 

“Zo, did I… did I do something wrong?”

Rumi feels her chest squeeze in on itself painfully at the confusion and hurt in Mira’s voice. 

“What?” She rushes out. “No, no!” She promises, scooting back until she can look at Mira’s face, and her heart breaks at the sight of the girl, dejected and worried. “I’m just on my period,” she tries, though it sounds exactly like the excuse it is and Mira’s face becomes even more crestfallen once it’s out between them. 

“You won’t even kiss me,” Mira says quietly. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday, and I’ve been waiting for you to come to me on your own time but… if I did something to upset you then just tell me, please.”

God, Rumi really does find a way to ruin everything. Because she knows Mira. Even if it’s not in the same way Zoey does, maybe, she knows the girl like the back of her hand. She knows that, despite Mira’s non-chalant exterior, she’s sensitive, perceptive. She should’ve tried harder to be like Zoey, to be better than stupid little Rumi. 

“Mira,” she says, almost pleading the other girl to look at her. “You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you did. And I’m sorry for… for being weird. I just,” she pauses, tries to find the right words. “I haven’t been feeling like myself,” which isn’t exactly a lie. “It’s not your fault.”

Mira seems to soften at the words, at the small amount of honesty Rumi is able to give her. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Mira sighs then, letting her head rest against the back of the couch as she looks down at Rumi. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. I should’ve waited until you were ready to talk.” And then Mira looks away, lips pursing like she’s not sure if she should say what she’s about to. Rumi watches in fascination as a blush blooms harshly over her cheeks. “It’s just—it’s been a while, you know.”

Rumi laughs at the words despite the way her cheeks redden and her heart twists at the implication. “I know,” she murmurs, even though she didn’t. A little white lie to placate Mira.

Mira shifts then, reaches down to take one of Rumi’s hands in hers once they’re facing each other. “Is this about Rumi?” She asks carefully. Rumi’s heart drops to her ass. “Because you guys have been kind of weird around each other. And I know you’ve been stressed about the whole… situation with her, which is why I haven’t been bringing it up. But it’s okay, you know,” Mira promises. “We’ll talk to her eventually.”

Rumi feels like she can’t breathe. If she felt like an intruder before, she feels absolutely filthy with deceit now. Because they’ve been talking about her, about something that they clearly plan to confront her with, and Mira is saying these things to Zoey in confidence. Rumi isn’t supposed to hear this, these words are not for her. 

“Hey,” Mira mumbles, picking up on Rumi’s rapid breathing and wide eyes. “Hey, it’s okay, Zo,” she promises again. Zoey, Zoey, Zoey. Because that’s who Mira is talking to. Because she has no idea that it’s Rumi sitting next to her, Rumi that she wraps in her arms with all the care in the world. “We’ll all be fine, no matter what.”

Rumi feels like a fraud as she melts into the touch, lets Mira’s comforting words consume her despite knowing they’re not even meant for her to hear. She doesn’t know how long they stay there like that, just that her eyes are beginning to droop with the exhaustion of dance practice and of the emotional turmoil she’s been steeped in since last night, and that Mira’s arms are so warm around her. In the end, she’s helpless in the fight against the sleep that tries to overtake her. 

She wakes to the sound of a camera shutter going off and a blinding white light in her face. 

“Shit,” she hears her own voice hissing. Her eyes blink open blearily to the sight of herself—of Zoey—fumbling with her phone. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly as two pairs of sleepy eyes blink back at her. “You guys just looked so cute, I wanted a picture for my lockscreen.”

Mira is too dazed to question why Rumi would want a picture of them sleeping for her own lockscreen when Rumi’s had the same lockscreen for the past year and a half—some random dog she had seen on the street and allegedly “bonded” with. 

“How was the meeting?” Rumi asks, voice barely more than a creaking groan as she sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. 

“It went so well.” Zoey is positively beaming now, looking between the two girls with bright, crazy eyes and—wow, does Rumi really look like that when she talks about work? She thinks she maybe needs to calm down, just a little bit. “Guess who finally convinced the uptight old geezers to let us film one of those videos where we react to thirst tweets?” 

Mira snorts out a laugh that turns into a wide yawn. “Damn. What happened to respecting the people that invest in us?”

Zoey barely even stumbles over her words as she waves Mira off. “Doesn’t matter right now,” she says dismissively. “And I got them to agree to those teaser videos that Ru—I mean, that I really wanted to do. You know, the vlog style ones?” Zoey’s looking at her as she says it, smile wide like she’s waiting for praise. 

“Yay,” Rumi says in her best excited voice. Her heart warms at the thought of Zoey prioritizing one of her ideas even though she had been so nervous about the meeting. “You did great, Ru. What else happened?”

Zoey keeps chattering away excitedly, and Rumi tries her best to listen, really. But she can’t help noticing the way Mira hangs on to every word Zoey says. It’s almost as if Mira knows it’s Zoey talking, the way she’s gravitating toward the other girl almost subconsciously, eyes soft and warm and still so sleepy. Rumi’s stomach churns. She thinks the two of them truly are fated, meant for each other, would find their way to the other in every lifetime. 

Because surely there’s no way Mira is looking at her like that. Rumi can’t remember ever seeing that look on her face directed at herself. Sure, there’s been times where she’s caught Mira staring at her—but that was just because Mira zoned out, or there was food on her face, or something. 

Right. She won’t let herself be delusional about this. 

“Shit, it’s already 7?” Mira’s voice suddenly cuts through the haze of her self-loathing. “I wanted to go for a run before dinner.”

“Oh, you should go!” Zoey says. “We can order something when you get back.”

Mira looks between the two of them for a moment before nodding to herself. “Okay,” she shrugs. “Neither of you want to join me?”

Rumi would usually take up the offer, but there’s only an hour left until her 24-hour rule for Zoey is up and her skin itches with the need to be back in her own body, to see if Zoey has figured out a solution. 

“No way,” she says, which is a typical Zoey answer, so Mira accepts it well enough. 

“I’m exhausted from that meeting. Mentally. You go,” Zoey says right after and Rumi thinks she sees Mira’s face fall in disappointment at the response. She refuses to dwell on it. 

Zoey flops next to her on the couch and they try to not make it obvious that they’re waiting impatiently for Mira to leave. Rumi scrolls on her phone and obnoxiously shoves it in Zoey’s face every few seconds to show her a new video and Zoey tries her best to contain her giggles at Rumi’s acting. Rumi definitely doesn’t let her eyes linger on Mira’s long legs when she emerges from her bedroom in her running shorts, hair tied up in a ponytail and headphones hanging around her neck. Definitely not. Even though she could. Even though this might be the last time Mira wouldn’t look at her strangely for her ogling. 

“I’ll be back,” Mira calls as she makes her way toward the elevator. 

“Be safe!” Zoey calls, and Mira shoots her a thumbs up before the doors slide shut. 

They hold their breath for another minute, until they’re sure Mira is well and truly out of the vicinity before Rumi turns to Zoey with a plea on her lips. 

“Please tell me you figured it out.”

Zoey looks excited for only a moment before she deflates. “Well, I might have an idea. But it also might not work. But it could!” She says quickly. “I was reading through the same section of the book in Bobby’s car and—”

“How were you reading a demon book without making Bobby suspicious?” Rumi cuts in quickly. The last thing she needs right now is for Bobby to start asking questions about anything demon-related. Questions that she would have to figure out how to deflect. 

“Oh, I just told him I needed to rest my eyes and vocal chords and then sat all the way in the back of the car,” Zoey shrugs. “The princess treatment thing you have going on is really useful. I might take a few pages out of your book next.”

“My—what—I don’t get princess treatment,” Rumi denies vehemently. 

Zoey smiles smugly. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Rumi bristles at the nickname—a pre-debut taunt from Mira that had unfortunately spread to Zoey like a virus that still plagues her years later. 

“Just tell me how you’re going to fix this,” she grits out, ignoring the glee in Zoey’s eyes. 

“Zoey. I feel stupid.”

The words are muffled around the bundle of fluff that Zoey had shoved in her mouth a few minutes ago, pulled from one of Zoey’s favourite stuffed animals. Rumi almost felt bad watching her cut it open, muttering about how this was the closest to the flesh of a loved one that she was willing to get. Almost offered up a chunk of her own arm, but the thought of putting that in either of their mouths immediately shut her up. 

“Just a minute,” Zoey says as she finishes closing the circle of salt around herself, a twin to the one that Rumi stands in. 

Rumi huffs, pulling the fluff out of her mouth for a moment. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Rumi! Put that back right now. You’re going to ruin it.” Zoey glares at her until Rumi begrudgingly puts the stuffing back in its place. And then, “I’m not sure. But it’s all we have to work with, so.”

Zoey stands up straight once she’s satisfied that the circles are perfect and that they match each other, and then she fills her own mouth with teddy bear guts. “Okay,” she mumbles to herself. She pulls the little book from her pocket and recites some strange words that Rumi can’t bother to understand. 

Rumi squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for that same, life-altering sensation that had overcome them last night. She waits a beat, and then two. And then she groans. 

Her eyes open and she feels a pang of hopelessness when she sees herself still standing in front of her, Zoey’s eyes squeezed shut as she rocks impatiently on her heels. She pulls the stuffing from her mouth completely, grimacing at the little bits of fluff that get caught on her teeth. 

“Zoey,” she sighs. 

Zoey opens one eye slowly, then her shoulders sag in defeat when she realizes it didn’t work. 

“I’m sorry, Rumi,” she murmurs after freeing her own mouth. Rumi watches as she scuffles through her salt circle, effectively breaking it. “We’ll tell Mira when she gets back. I’ll tell her it was all my fault and that I made you lie, don’t worry.”

“Zo,” Rumi says softly, guilt overtaking her. Damn her and her soft spot for the younger girl. “It’s okay. I chose to go along with it. It’s not just on you.”

“Please don’t be nice to me right now,” Zoey pouts. “We both know I was stupid a-and impulsive,” she emphasizes. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Rumi promises. “We’ve dealt with worse than a little bodyswapping.”

Zoey tries for a smile but it barely reaches her eyes. 

“And now we can work together to fix this. We’ll work better as a team,” she says, full of confidence that she doesn’t have. 

Truthfully, she’s terrified at the prospect of never being able to switch back. But Zoey is kicking herself enough for both of them, so Rumi figures it wouldn’t be productive to share her worries right now. She really does believe that they can reverse the curse somehow, eventually, especially with Mira’s help. Once the girl gets over her inevitable anger, maybe. 

As if she’s been summoned by Rumi’s thoughts, they hear scuffling out in the hallway, the sound of Mira’s door opening and closing. Zoey’s eyes widen, and Rumi thinks she looks so scared that, if she was in her own body, Rumi would’ve surely folded by now, promised Zoey one more day to fix things and stay in Mira’s good books. 

“Alright,” Zoey finally sighs once acceptance has settled in. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rumi purses her lips thoughtfully as she shuffles slowly behind Zoey to the door. Part of her is also terrified, because this means Mira will find out that she has been in Zoey’s body for the past 24 hours. Mira will realize that all the soft touches and almost-kisses had been with Rumi. That her vulnerable affection and gentle care had been stolen by Rumi, like an unwilling parasite in their relationship. Would she be mad at Rumi? Would it change things between them? Would she convince Zoey to finally confront her about whatever it was they had so clearly been discussing about her?

She’s so lost in her head that she barely registers the sound of Mira’s door opening again, the way Zoey braces herself as she places her hand on the doorknob of her own room. 

And then time stops. Molecules shrink and stretch and rearrange themselves. Rumi sucks in a breath, so deep that it hurts. 

Suddenly, her own hand is on the doorknob and she’s three steps ahead of where she had been just a moment ago. A few inches taller, feeling less alien than she had all day. She risks glancing down at her hands and breathes a sigh of relief. She never thought she would be so glad to see her patterns in her life. 

Behind her, Zoey—real Zoey, short and sweet and wonderful in her own skin—squeals in excitement. 

“Oh my god,” Zoey says through a grin. “It worked!”

But Rumi’s gut tells her it wasn’t the teddy bear’s insides or the salt. She pulls Zoey’s phone from her pocket, glancing at the time with a humourless laugh before tossing the device at the girl behind her. 

“Or it was just a 24-hour curse,” she says. Regardless, she’s back in her own body. She’s safe. Mira never has to know that Rumi knows about her and Zoey’s little secret. 

“Hey, did you guys figure out where you wanted to order fr—what the hell is this?”

Mira has her head peeking through the cracked door, eyes darting over the salt on the floor before fire fills her gaze, lands hot and scalding on Zoey’s guilty face. 

“Zoey,” she says slowly. It’s almost funny, how Zoey looks behind her as if the real culprit is hiding behind her curtains. 

“Oh, hey, Mira,” Zoey chirps. “Did you have a nice run?”

Rumi stumbles back to allow Mira fully into the room, wincing when she sees how upset Mira looks. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t touch that demon book again,” Mira says. “I—tell me you didn’t do anything stupid,” she nearly begs. “Do you know how dangerous that thing could be? What if the next curse isn’t some—some way to make someone’s toenails grow longer? What if it really hurts somebody?”

Rumi thinks that she definitely was hurt. Maybe not physically, but hurt all the same. 

When she glances back at Zoey’s glossy eyes, Rumi already knows what she’s going to do before the words leave her mouth. 

“It’s my fault,” she says, ignoring the confused noise Zoey lets out at the admission. She felt the little book in her pocket as soon as they had returned to their own bodies. She pulls it out now, showing it to Mira nervously. “There’s something in here about reading other people’s minds. I thought it would be funny to try, so I convinced Zoey.”

Mira’s mouth opens in surprise. She looks between the two girls for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to absorb the information. Rumi wonders if she’s imagining the way Mira’s anger softens once she processes the words. “Rumi..?” She asks dumbly. “You… What?” 

Rumi can only shrug helplessly. She feels like whatever Mira has to say to her will be worth it, if she can save their relationship from the strain of Zoey’s mistake. 

“Children,” Mira finally mutters. “I’m living with children. Give me that,” she says, grabbing the book from Rumi’s hands. She turns on her heels to march out of the room. “We’re burning this thing. Tonight!”

Zoey runs after her. “Can we at least eat dinner first?”

And Rumi rocks on her heels in the aftermath of the storm that makes up Zoey and Mira, trying not to mourn a love that never belonged to her. 

They eat in silence. Mira turned on some adult animated series that none of them find particularly funny, angrily stuffing her face with bites of pizza. She would occasionally mumble something under her breath about idiots, and reckless, and am I the only sane one here?

Zoey and Rumi sit meekly in one corner, a generous distance away from where Mira quietly fumes. They exchange a glance once they finish eating, standing up to clear their mess while Mira stays fixated on the show that’s only halfway through the latest episode. They nearly tiptoe into their own rooms after, leaving Mira to cool down in peace. 

Rumi throws herself onto her bed with a satisfied groan. She’s so glad to be back in her own body, to not have to deal with any of the weird quirks that came with being Zoey. Like the random burping, the ache in her back that came from Zoey’s refusal to properly do her warm-up stretches most days. 

But she also feels… lost. Mira’s words from earlier haunt her thoughts. She can’t focus on anything but the way she had said the situation. What did that even mean? When would they tell her, if ever? How long have they been discussing her without her knowing? 

It makes her skin crawl, makes her patterns glow a soft purple despite her typical careful control over them. 

The secrets are piling up again, Rumi collecting them like jagged pieces of shattered glass. She lied to Mira about being Zoey, then lied again about the reverse curse ritual. Now she has to lie to them both, pretend that she doesn’t know they’re waiting to possibly ruin her life. 

And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the feelings of it all. The sticky, unavoidable feelings that had sprouted from Rumi’s chest years ago, left laying in wait for Rumi to finally act on them. And now she never could. Not that she would have even if the bodyswap didn’t happen. Even if she had never seen firsthand what love looked like between her two group mates. Her best friends. Her best friends that she is hopelessly, pathetically in love with. 

She sits up straight. She can’t do this anymore. She can’t keep waiting and waiting. She needs to ask Zoey about what Mira meant, about what they were waiting to discuss with her. She needs to know what about her is causing Zoey so much stress. 

There’s a surge of determination flowing in her veins, pushing her heavy feet forward and out of her room. She hears Mira’s TV show still playing softly in the living room and silently hopes the girl stays glued to the screen for just a little while longer. Just long enough for Rumi to get some answers. 

She knocks quietly on Zoey’s door, low enough not to wake her if she’s sleeping. 

“Come in!” She hears through the piece of wood and then she hears her heartbeat in her ears. Maybe she had half-hoped that Zoey would’ve dozed off by now, and Rumi would’ve gone back to her room pretending that she had tried and that it was just poor timing and then they could all forgot about this. 

Instead, she pushes Zoey’s door open gently, steps inside before shutting it before her. 

“Hey,” Zoey chirps, spinning around in her desk chair. “What’s up? Miss being in my body already?”

The joke eases Rumi’s tension just a tiny bit, and she rolls her eyes. Zoey’s bed is soft as she perches herself on the edge. Her knee bounces impatiently and she’s horrified to see that her patterns are still glowing that faint, barely noticeable purple.

“You okay?” Zoey asks slowly, rolling her chair closer until she’s almost knee-to-knee with Rumi. She puts a comforting hand on Rumi’s leg to cease the agitated shaking. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rumi lies. “It’s just, um, earlier today when I was with Mira…” she trails off for a moment, wondering if she should really do this. If it’s worth it, rocking the boat and being the one to bring this conversation to light. It’s not like Mira and Zoey had been acting any differently around her lately. Maybe whatever they had to say wasn’t bad at all. 

But maybe it is, and that question will continue to gnaw at her day by day until she’s nothing but bones. 

“Uh oh,” Zoey murmurs. “Did she kiss you?”

“What?” Rumi nearly screeches. “No, Zoey. God, no, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Zoey only hums at the words, concerned eyes turning curious as she observes every inch of Rumi’s face. Rumi burns red under her careful eyes, unsure of what Zoey is looking for, what she might find. Will she see that Rumi had contemplated it? Had wondered what it would feel like? Will she hate her for it, a little bit?

“Okay,” Zoey says slowly. “Then what is it?”

This is it, she tells herself. There may be no going back from this. She swallows a lungful of air, trying her best to hold Zoey’s gaze with her own. 

“She just mentioned the, uh, the Rumi situation to me—to you, technically,” Rumi quotes the words with a wince. She watches Zoey’s eyes widen in understanding but she can’t seem to shut herself up. “She didn’t say anything else, just that you shouldn’t worry about it. And I wasn’t going to say anything at all but I didn’t want to keep another secret from you. And I just wanted to say that, um, if you needed to talk to me, you can do it.”

Zoey looks like the words are processing slowly, like sap dripping from a tree. She nods along shallowly to Rumi’s words, barely comprehending them. 

“That’s… all she said?” Zoey asks. “Just that I shouldn’t worry about the Rumi situation?” Rumi nods, timid and awkward in a way she’s never felt with Zoey before. Then Zoey sighs, relaxes back into her chair with a smile. “I think we need to talk to Mira.”

“We—what?” Rumi asks dumbly. “She’s gonna find out that—” 

“I know,” Zoey interrupts gently. “It’s okay. I’ve been feeling guilty about lying anyway. And this is more important.”

More important? Rumi almost wants to scream. This is more important than something that required Rumi to pretend to be Zoey for 24 hours? To be subjected to Mira’s love and affection in a way that she’d dreamt of for years just to have it all taken away? What the hell could be more important than that. 

But Zoey is already moving towards her door, sticking just her head out and calling, “Mimi! Can you come here?”

“I’m still mad at you both!”

“Please,” Zoey whines, and it only takes another few seconds before they hear the TV shut off and Mira trudging her way toward the bedroom. 

“What?” Mira asks, trying to sound disinterested despite how easily she had caved. 

“I think we need to talk. All three of us,” Zoey says. 

Rumi watches as they share a look with each other. Some hidden language that Rumi must’ve forgotten to learn somewhere between hiding her patterns and hiding herself. Even this, she thinks, is proof of how good they are together, something she could only ruin. 

Mira seems to soften, then. She walks into the room and takes a seat next to Rumi, leaving just enough space for her to be comfortable. Zoey drops back into her chair, and the pensive look on her face only makes Rumi worry more about what this conversation will entail. 

“First,” Zoey says. “I have a confession. Rumi didn’t ask me to do a dumb demon curse,” she says to Mira. “I was messing around with the book last night and… uh… Rumi and I sort of, kind of, accidentally swapped bodies. But we’re back to normal now!”

The room fills with silence. 

Rumi can hear blood rushing through her ears, eyes darting between Zoey and Mira as she waits for one of them to speak and then—

“What?” Mira asks. “You… swapped bodies?” She repeats. “As in. You were Rumi all day. And Rumi was… you.” It’s not a question. Mira’s mulling the words over as she speaks them, trying to make sense of it. 

She looks to Rumi for clarification, and Rumi can feel her patterns burning against her skin now. She nods once, short and concise. Realization dawns on Mira at that exact moment, and then her own cheeks flush. 

Despite Rumi’s absolute fear of ruining everything, she thinks it’s quite cute. 

“Look, I was stupid, you can be mad at me for as long as you want and I will do anything to make it up to you including burning the little book,” Zoey promises. “But, um, we have more pressing matters at hand. You accidentally told Rumi about the situation.” She gestures to Rumi vaguely, and Mira nods with a sigh. 

“Can one of you tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” Rumi snaps. Her fear and embarrassment is being outweighed by her annoyance at how long they’re dragging this out. “If you guys are upset with me then just say that.”

Mira and Zoey share a look of confusion before turning to Rumi immediately. 

“Why would we be upset with you?” Mira asks. “Other than, you know, for lying to me on Zoey’s behalf.”

“I don’t know!” Rumi says, shrugging helplessly. “What else could you guys need to talk to me about?”

“Rumi,” Zoey starts gently. “Look, you know how I told you that Mira and I aren’t officially dating yet? That we’re waiting?” She looks at Rumi softly until Rumi realizes she’s waiting for a nod of acknowledgment. “Well, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”

“We didn’t want to just, like, shove it in your face,” Mira says then. “Kind of like what we’re doing now, but oh well.”

“We want you,” Zoey blurts out in a rush of words. And then she claps a hand over her mouth, and Mira chokes on her own saliva, and Rumi looks between the two of them like she’s absolutely, completely lost. 

“Zoey,” Mira hisses. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! She just looked so confused, I felt bad,” Zoey frowns. 

“Listen,” Mira starts with a sigh, running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. “What Zoey is trying to say, is that we’ve been discussing it for a little while and we feel like… we didn’t want to pursue our own relationship until we tried talking to you. Because we both care about you a lot.” Rumi watches as Mira scratches the back of her head with an awkward shrug. 

Rumi’s expression hasn’t even twitched. Her lips are parted just slightly, as if she can hear better like that. “You guys… wanted—what?” She asks when she finally gets her bearings. “My blessing?”

“What?” Zoey shrieks. “Oh my god,” she whispers into the palm that she smushes against her face. “This is not how I expected this conversation to go.” Then she sits up straighter, something like fierce determination overcoming her features. Rumi wonders if she learned that from her time in Rumi’s body. “Rumi,” she says, all serious and firm. “Mira and I have feelings for each other.” And Rumi almost feels like they’re trying to humiliate her at this point. 

“I know that,” she says, slightly defensive, slightly hurt. 

“Right,” Zoey nods. Mira leans back on her palms, amusement lighting up her face as she watches the conversation unfold. “We kissed for the first time like, a month before we found out about your patterns. And we’ve been unofficially seeing each other since then.”

“Okay…”

“And we’ve had lots and lots of conversations about our feelings. And you came up… a lot.” Zoey looks at her, then. Her eyes are wide, almost pleading for Rumi to catch on. “Like, a lot. And eventually we realized we both… also… have feelings for you.”

Rumi feels like she can’t breathe. Surely they aren’t serious…

Mira hums, then. “We’ve been trying to figure out the right time to tell you. And to let you know that there’s no pressure, if you don’t feel the same.”

“Zero pressure!” Zoey echoes. “If you don’t like us like that it’s, like, fine! We won’t be awkward about it. Right, Mira?” 

“Mhm.”

Rumi thinks, then, hard. About Zoey and Mira, about them together, how easily they fall into place next to each other. How good they look together, how well their personalities complement the other’s. And they have feelings for her?

Both of them?

“Are you guys joking?” She mumbles out. It sounds more insecure than she had intended. A sorry question that would surely make anybody pity her. It makes something ugly churn in her gut. 

“Ru,” Zoey says quietly, moving onto the bed to wrap an arm around Rumi’s waist. Her hold is loose enough that Rumi could squirm her way out of it if she wanted to, but Rumi stays, soaks in the warmth even now. “We wouldn’t joke about that.”

“We’re serious,” Mira chimes in, letting her hand rest gently on top of Rumi’s. “We didn’t want to make anything official between the two of us without you. Unless you don’t want that,” she adds. “If you don’t then… we’ll figure it out from here.”

“And you don’t have to answer right now,” Zoey promises. “I know it’s a lot. And, um, you probably have a lot to think about. So just, like, sleep on it. For one day or maybe ten or however long you need. We won’t rush you.”

“I want it.”

Silence again. She hears Zoey’s breath hitch, feels Mira’s fingers curl ever so slightly more around her knuckles. 

“I still don’t… It is a lot,” she says. “But I’ve wanted this. For a while. I didn’t—I don’t think it was even a possibility for me to consider that you guys felt the same.”

It still doesn’t feel like a possibility. It still feels unreal. Like she’s going to wake up and this would all be some vivid, demon-curse induced dream that would be cruelly ripped from her grasp in her consciousness. Her vision is a bit hazy around the edges, and her head spins until she’s dizzy. She thinks if she tried to stand up right now she would fall flat on her ass. Her eyes dart all over the floor, looking anywhere but at the two girls that slowly press closer into her sides with each moment that passes. 

“Rumi, have you seen yourself? Who wouldn’t want you?” Zoey asks, trying to be gentle but the teasing still slips through—familiar and welcome. 

“Yeah,” Mira snorts. “What happened to you being everybody’s type?”

“That didn’t include you guys!” Rumi whines. She can hear their muffled giggles so much closer now, but she still can’t bring herself to look at them. 

“So, do you mean it?” Zoey asks them, voice soft yet still thrumming with barely-contained excitement. “You… like us?”

Rumi’s eyes fall shut at the question, heart hammering in her throat. A small, irrational part of her brain wonders if she should take it all back, if this is all some elaborate joke despite their reassurance. That they’ll hit her with the punchline once she fully submits to the bit. 

But then she finally looks at them, patient and willing and hopeful, and her breath stutters at how vulnerable they look. The air is charged with bated breath and weeks and months and years of unspoken emotion. Feels like the tiniest spark would set them all ablaze. 

“Yes,” she mumbles. “I like you both… A lot.”

It’s quiet again, the silence softer now as they all take in the new revelation. 

And then, “told you.”

Mira’s smug voice is like a cold breeze in a heat wave. 

“Whatever,” Zoey grumbles. “I just didn’t want to assume.”

“It was kinda obvious,” Mira says, but her smirk is softer, more affectionate as she looks down at Rumi. 

And then the words register in her brain. 

“Obvious?” She chokes out, slightly offended. 

Mira shrugs, reaching up to tuck some of Rumi’s loose hair behind her ear. “It’s not a bad thing,” she promises. Rumi blushes at the action despite the half-assed scowl on her face. “But… since you were in Zoey’s body all day, I guess a lot of things make sense now.” Something heavy lies under Mira’s words, and Rumi barely has time to wonder what she could be hinting at before—“Can I finally kiss you, then?”

Rumi’s eyes widen at the question, heart nearly leaping out of her throat, and Zoey only makes an evil sound of delight from next to her.

“You aren’t, um, you aren’t mad that I lied?” Rumi stutters out if only to prolong answering Mira’s proposition. The yes burns desperately in her lungs. 

Mira smiles, a confident, lazy thing that sends heat rushing through Rumi’s body. “I guess it’s also my fault,” she shrugs lightly. “I should’ve known something weird was happening with you two. Zoey never turns down a post-movie orgasm.”

Zoey’s giggles stop abruptly, and the noise that comes out of Rumi’s mouth is mangled and strained. Mira only grins at them, flashing her teeth in a way that should be criminal. 

“So?” Mira prods. “Can I?”

Rumi thinks for a moment, that this can’t possibly be real. But she nods softly, licking her lips unconsciously when Mira’s eyes immediately dart down to them. The hand on her own slides up just barely, grip tightening on her thigh as Mira leans closer and closer and—

“Oh.” The soft sound of wonder comes from Zoey, just as Mira’s lips press to Rumi’s, just as every colour in the universe explodes behind Rumi’s closed eyelids. Bolts of lightning strike down her spine, warmth rushing from her head to her toes and everywhere in between. She pushes against Mira without realizing it, idle hand coming up to cup Mira’s jaw. She basks in the soft sigh Mira lets out at the feeling, something like confidence sprouting in her chest. 

She feels the bed dip as Zoey shifts, leaning toward both of them with a whine on the tip of her tongue. “Hey, when is it my turn?”

Mira reaches her free hand out to push Zoey’s face away gently, pulling back only an inch from Rumi’s lips to mumble, “you can wait. Think of it as punishment for using that stupid book again.”

Zoey sits back on her heels with a pout but doesn’t argue any further, content to watch. 

When Mira presses their lips together again, Rumi feels the soft weight of Mira’s tongue against her lips and is almost mortified when she lets out a whine. A whine. 

She pulls back, hands flying up to her face to hide it in her mortification. “God,” she whispers to herself. 

When she peeks between her fingers, Mira is all smug grins and casual bravado, but beneath it all—affection. Pure and raw and so deeply rooted that Rumi nearly gasps. Has Mira always looked at her like that? 

“You okay?” Mira asks her softly, and Rumi nods too fast for it to be anything other than desperate. But Mira only chuckles gently, reaching up to pull one of Rumi’s hands off of her burning cheeks to intertwine their fingers. “I think someone else is feeling left out.”

Zoey nods immediately. “Extremely left out,” she emphasizes. And then she’s leaning forward, soft hand wrapping around Rumi’s jaw and tiling her face toward her. Her eyes are so big, Rumi thinks with a sigh. Wide and adorable and looking at her with so much care and excitement that Rumi could melt under the attention. “Can I kiss you?” She asks despite the way Rumi is almost trembling with want beneath her. 

“Y-yeah,” Rumi stutters out. Zoey is a beam of sunlight in her bedroom, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yay!” She cheers in a way that pulls a snort from Mira and another bout of butterflies from Rumi. 

Then Zoey is kissing her, soft and sweet and gentle, and all the air is sucked from Rumi’s lungs, making her dizzy. It’s considerably shorter than her kiss with Mira, with Zoey pulling away to speak before Rumi is ready to let go. Rumi follows her blindly as Zoey pulls back, and the only things that stop her are a hand on her chest and a breathless giggle against her face. 

“You’re so cute, Ru,” Zoey giggles again, darting forward to press one last peck to Rumi’s lips, leaving her reeling. 

Rumi falls backward then, back landing hard against Zoey’s mattress with a thump as she covers her face with her arms and bunches her knees up closer to her. 

“Are you shy?” Mira asks, and it almost sounds like it pains her, how cute Rumi is. Rumi feels her stomach churning, sick with affection, dizzy from the attention. She could probably hurl. 

“Aw, Mir, she’s so cute,” Zoey nearly squeals. “Can we keep her?”

And they’re teasing her. Of course. Rumi lets out a long whine at the words, and that only makes them giggle harder. She feels her lips quirk up at the sound despite her heart throbbing painfully in her chest and the way she can’t really feel most of her limbs. 

“Are you gonna let us see you?” Mira prods. “Or will you stay like this for the rest of the night?”

The mattress dips again as Rumi feels both girls laying down on either side of her. She lets her arms sag, peeking out at them when she’s able to open her eyes. 

“There she is,” Mira murmurs. “You look pretty when you’re embarrassed.”

“Mira,” Rumi complains. “If you keep teasing me I’m never going to be able to act normal about this.”

Mira’s eyebrow arches like a challenge. “Oh?” She hums. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Zoey laughs from Rumi’s other side, reaching up to interlock her fingers with Rumi’s. “Mira’s acting tough,” she whispers placatingly. “When I first kissed her she couldn’t look at me for two whole days after.”

The words pull a laugh from Rumi, and when she turns to look at Mira, the scowl on her face makes her smile grow even wider. 

“Whatever,” Mira huffs. She wraps an arm around Rumi’s waist—that same, familiar, easy type of intimacy—and leans her head on her pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “And we’re still burning that stupid book.”

They fall quiet then, the only sounds in the room are their soft breathing and then gentle rustling of fabric against Zoey’s sheets. And then Mira hums curiously to herself. 

“So… when you guys had to shower and stuff while your bodies were swapped, did you… y’know…”

“Mira,” they gasp in unison. Zoey reaches over to smack Mira’s arm and Rumi’s hands go up to her face again in humiliation as the girl next to her shakes with laughter. 

“What?” She says through her chuckles. “It’s a serious question!”

“No,” Rumi groans, almost mortified at the prospect. 

But then Zoey pauses in her assault on Mira, looking at Rumi with a pout. “You didn’t even, like, think about it?”

“What? Zoey—I—How—No. That’s like, weird and creepy,” her voice comes out shrill in her ears, piercing through the room. “And non-consensual, by the way!”

“Okay, but what if I gave you consent?”

Rumi chokes at the question, at the way Zoey lowers her voice just a little bit and traces along one of the patterns on Rumi’s stomach. Rumi lets out a strangled squeak of a sound, cheeks going up in flames. 

“You’re gonna kill her, Zo,” Mira teases from her other side. 

“Fine.” Zoey sighs. She shuffles closer to Rumi, then, draping her arm over her waist just above Mira’s. It’s almost overwhelming, having them both so close. Having both of their undivided attention. Then she feels Zoey’s lips pursing to press a gentle kiss to her neck and she nearly whimpers at the feeling. “Cute,” Zoey whispers, and Rumi can feel her smiling against her skin. But Zoey doesn’t push anymore, simply settling herself comfortably against Rumi, face tucked between her shoulder and her neck. “Goodnight,” she says dreamily. 

“Nope,” Mira says. “I told you we’re burning the book tonight.”

“Miraaa,” Zoey complains. “Tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” Mira insists firmly. “I’m not risking you waking up with any bright ideas on how to steal it tomorrow.”

“…Fine,” Zoey begrudgingly agrees, pulling herself away from Rumi and out of the bed in a flash, like if she were any slower she would change her mind mid-way. “Let’s get this over with. 

“Goodbye, little book of horrors,” Zoey says sadly.

A fire is lit in a small metal bin. They stand around it, in their pajamas, out on the balcony connected to Mira’s room as if they’re truly at a funeral. 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this.” Zoey holds the glowing book in her hands, cradles it like something precious. “Thank you for the memories, the good times and the bad. And for finally giving me two hot, wonderful girlfriends.”

“Girlfriends?” Mira asks, eyebrows raised in amusement. 

Zoey shrugs. “Eventually,” she says with all the confidence in the world. “Soon, right?”

Both pairs of eyes are on Rumi, who smiles at them, at how silly all of this is. At how much love is filling the space between the three of them. 

“Right,” she echoes. 

Then Zoey tosses the book to the flames, barely able to watch as the heat licks at its pages before Mira quickly shuts the lid over it, just before there’s a small boom from inside the drum. And just like that, another chapter in their life comes to a close. 

“Why do you even have this?” Zoey asks as Mira drags the drum back to the corner of the balcony. 

Mira shrugs. “I like to burn stuff sometimes. It’s therapeutic.”

“Oh,” Zoey hums. “Nice.”

“Let’s go to bed?” Mira says, then. Looking between Rumi and Zoey almost shyly. 

Zoey grabs onto one of Mira’s clenched hands immediately, and Rumi watches as the other hand unfurls like an invitation. They’re waiting for her, she realizes. Like they’ve waited for her all this time. 

An inexplicable surge of adoration rushes over her then, as she grabs onto Mira’s fingers and nods. “Mira’s bed, though,” she says. “It’s the biggest. And the nicest.”

Mira hums triumphantly. “Told you that you should’ve gotten a bigger bed,” she says to Zoey.

“I didn’t know I was going to have two girls sleeping with me on a regular basis back then!”

“You need to be prepared for anything, Zo.”

Rumi listens as they bicker back and forth, warmth and excitement humming in the very marrow of her bones as they lead her to Mira’s room. 

They’ve shared a bed countless times. They’ve spent a million hours cuddling, talking about everything and nothing. But Rumi had spent most of that time hiding—first her patterns, then her insane, all-consuming feelings. 

Now, she climbs into the space they’ve left for her in the middle of Mira’s gigantic bed. She lets them cling to her like barnacles, melting into their touch in a way she’s never realized she had been denying herself of. And she sleeps better than she has in her entire life.