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Zoey’s pretty sure the puzzle is winning.
The screen keeps flashing the same useless hint, and chat has started suggesting things she already tried, which is honestly rude of them.
Mira sits in the chair beside her, tablet balanced on one knee, scrolling fast and calling out anything Zoey misses.
“Chat says you’re overthinking it,” Mira says. “Which is… not helpful, but consistent.”
Zoey groans. “Rude, but fair.”
Then the questions shift.
Not about the game. About Rumi.
Mira squints at the screen. “Okay, people are asking what Rumi does when you stream.”
Zoey blinks. “Huh?”
She glances off-screen without thinking. “Do you play?”
Rumi answers from somewhere behind them, voice lazy. “A little. Kinda.”
Zoey frowns. That answer lands wrong. Too careful. Like she’s trying to keep expectations low.
Mira tilts her head. “That is not an answer.”
Rumi pokes her head into view, already defensive. “What? I’m not bad or anything.”
Zoey pauses the game and turns in her chair, really looking at her now. She knows that tone. The please don’t make this about me tone.
She catches Mira’s eye.
Just a second. A quiet exchange.
Mira’s expression softens immediately, like she clocked it too.
Zoey turns back to Rumi, voice gentler. “We’re not judging, babe.”
Rumi presses her lips together. “…still feels like judging.”
Mira stands, slower this time. “Okay, but what if it’s just for fun. Super short. No pressure.”
The chat lights up about it. Rumi takes one look and groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Only for a bit. For the fans.” She sounds annoyed, but Zoey can see the soft smile on her face anytime she gets to interact with the fans.
Zoey watches her disappear down the hall and feels that familiar, stupid warmth bloom in her chest. The kind that always shows up when Rumi does things even when she’s nervous about them.
⸻
When Rumi comes back, she’s wearing a headset.
Not a cute one. A serious one.
And she’s carrying a mouse that looks… very expensive.
Zoey blinks. “Since when do you—”
“Don’t,” Rumi mutters, already plugging it in. “Don’t ask questions.”
She sits on the edge of the couch, elbows on her knees, shoulders rolling once like she’s settling into her body. Focus sliding over her features, quiet and sharp.
Zoey shifts in her chair without realizing it, angling closer, eyes glued to her instead of the screen.
The match loads.
And Zoey’s brain kind of… stalls.
Rumi’s voice changes when she plays. Still soft, but steadier. Confident in a way she doesn’t always let herself be out loud. And only ever when they were on missions or just before a show.
“Two right—hold—okay, now, push—nice shot—rotate, rotate—”
Her fingers move fast, precise. Mouse clicking in sharp little bursts, keys tapping in rhythm. She leans forward when things get intense, jaw set, eyes narrowed in concentration.
Her team listens.
They win the round.
Zoey barely registers the noise from the stream.
She looks over at Mira without meaning to.
Mira’s staring at Rumi.
Not in a shocked way. In a quiet, almost reverent way. Eyes wide, mouth parted just slightly, a soft flush creeping up her cheeks like she forgot she was being perceived.
Zoey’s chest does a weird little flip.
All Zoey can think is, me too.
Rumi calls out another position and Mira blinks, clearly forcing herself to remember where she is.
Zoey grins to herself and looks back at Rumi, who is, frankly, being extremely unfair right now.
⸻
After the match, Rumi finally exhales, pulling the headset off and leaning back like the tension just drains out of her all at once.
Zoey’s there immediately, sliding in beside her, arm slipping around her waist, feeling the heat of her through the hoodie.
Mira reaches over Zoey’s monitor, telling everyone that she’s sorry but they have to go, before clicking end stream.
The room goes quiet in that soft, ringing way it does after headphones come off.
Mira comes to the couch and settles on Rumi’s other side, resting a hand on her shoulder. Casual. Steady. Like it’s always been there.
“You said a little,” Zoey murmurs into Rumi’s hair.
Rumi huffs. “I didn’t say how little.”
Mira gives her shoulder a small squeeze. “Okay, but… that was kinda cool.”
Rumi ducks her head. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” Mira says softly. “Just… impressed.”
Rumi hesitates, then shrugs, eyes dropping now that no one else is watching. “I just played a lot after training. Back when it was mostly just me and Celene. It was… easy. Put my headphones on, stop thinking about everything else.”
Zoey feels that settle in her chest. Not sad. Just… tender.
“That makes sense,” she says quietly.
Mira’s hand stays warm and steady on Rumi’s shoulder.
Rumi leans back into both of them without really thinking about it. “It helped me relax. I didn’t have to be anything.”
Zoey presses a kiss into her hair, slow and gentle.
“You don’t always have to be anything now either.”
Rumi’s fingers curl into Zoey’s shirt. “…yeah. I know.”
Mira snorts quietly. “Also, for the record… chat thought you’d play Stardew.”
Rumi lifts her head, pretending to glare. “I do like the cows.”
Zoey laughs, soft and helpless, and pulls her closer.
Mira shakes her head, smiling. “Of course you do.”
And for a minute, it’s just the three of them on the couch, the hum of the equipment cooling down, Rumi warm and real between them, no cameras, no expectations.
Just them.