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The first time Rumi notices that something is happening, two months have already passed since the three of them somehow saved the world as they know it. They are all lounging on their couch, long-forgotten snacks laid out on the coffee table and a documentary running on the TV as background noise. The day is nearing its end, and the entire loft is bathed in a lovely golden glow.
Rumi doesn’t know when she had dozed off exactly, only that – and she smiles at the thought – there definitely wasn’t a blanket laid on top of her when she did. She doesn’t want to open her eyes just yet, wanting to bask into the warmth and leftover heavy-lidded-ness of a good nap for a little longer. She’d forgotten how good it felt, to really rest. To allow this to herself. She breathes in, and her lungs actually feel full.
Her senses are slowly coming back to her as she fully wakes, and that’s when she hears it. Soft, quiet giggles from somewhere else on their ridiculously long couch.
Now, the sound of laughter in itself is definitely no stranger in their shared loft. That’s not what makes Rumi curiously open her eyes. It’s the quietness, the tenderness. It’s so familiar, and yet it holds something that Rumi doesn’t think she’s heard before. When her gaze lands on the opposite side of the couch to her, she thinks she understands.
Mira is laying on her back, head resting comfortably on the armrest, with both of her arms wrapped securely around Zoey, who is splayed face down and almost entirely on top of the taller woman. Their legs are tangled into each other’s, the lyricist’s chin is planted atop the other’s collarbone and she stifles a quiet giggle into Mira’s neck at something the latter whispers complicitly into her ear. Long and neatly manicured fingers are playing mindlessly and tenderly with wavy raven hair. Rumi has to blink a few times at the sight.
The three of them have been physically affectionate with each other for years, the intensity of their double life as demon hunters strengthening their bonds like nothing either of them had ever known. So really, the display should not strike Rumi as unusual at all. If anything, Mira and Zoey’s relationship was the strongest out of all of them, with all the time they’ve spent together while Rumi was hiding away. But something about the moment made her feel like she was spying on something intimate, something she wasn’t supposed to see.
They speak in hushed voices, probably in order to not disturb the sleep they think Rumi is still deep into. But the half-demon has the queer impression that they would still be like this if she wasn’t here with them at all. Like a quiet bubble, like a conversation even the air in the room was shying from in respect of their privacy. Zoey’s eyes are positively gleaming with joy, her face is slightly flushed, and her smile looks entirely glued to her face, unable to deflate. Mira is much the same, or as far as Mira criteria go anyway. Rumi can see a constant, soft smile on her too, and her sharp eyes are fixed on the smaller woman with more tenderness than she’s ever seen from her.
Rumi has seen her friends cuddle before. This is different. This feels different.
She feels a little bashful at the sight, and she wonders how much of this she has missed. She wonders how long this has been going on for, and where it began. She wants to know all of it. Now that she knows that this, whatever it is to them, is there.
Rumi can’t hold back her own smile. She closes her eyes again, and pretends to sleep until her bones ache for her to switch to a different lying position, just so that the two women can bask in the moment for a little longer. Only then does she pretend to wake.
It’s as if a dam had broken. As if now that Rumi had taken notice, the signs were everywhere, blaring in her face. It doesn’t happen constantly, but just often enough for her to feel silly for not seeing it sooner.
It manifests in small ways. Stolen looks, brushing hands, private laughter and shy smiles. The love that they hold for each other – because that is what it is, love – spilling out and overflowing with every breath taken. And it makes so much sense that Rumi is almost mad that she hadn’t thought of it prior to actually witnessing it. She cannot imagine them otherwise now that she knows, now that it’s laid out in front of her; Zoey and Mira, Mira and Zoey.
They’re preparing for their upcoming comeback. Nothing has been officially announced yet, but they’re all itching to get out of hiatus and get back on stage. This leads them to the dance studio, with the demo of their title track on repeat in the speakers as they try to figure out the choreography. Mira is leading the process, as always, facing the mirror as she tries to get a good feel of the beat and find the fitting sequence of movement for each verse. She’s razor focused, and the other two know to let her be as she gets through the first stage of brainstorming.
Rumi watches from the other end of the room as Zoey stares. She’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall, with her legs bent comfortably in front of her. Her face is resting into her hands, elbows supported by her knees, and her attention is focused solely on the main dancer; eyes half lidded in what Rumi can only define as pure, dreamy adoration. Her eyes follow Mira’s moves with full allegiance, having seemingly tuned out everything else entirely. This lasts for a while.
Zoey seems to eventually take notice of her own… absence, eyes suddenly opening wide in realisation out of nowhere and a furious blush expanding from her cheekbones to her neck before she aggressively tears her eyes away from Mira. She seems to try and physically shake the tunnel vision away from her head before hiding her own face in her hands with a tiny, high pitched and strangled shriek. This is when Rumi understands that whatever is happening between them, still lies in the unsaid. It hasn’t turned into anything more yet, hasn’t been spoken out into existence.
And Rumi is elated, really, because that means she gets to see it happen. She gets to see it grow.
Zoey is staring intently at a point in the ceiling now, cheeks still flushed and puffed out in embarrassment. She is so focused that she doesn’t notice the glance that Mira sends her way through the mirror once the song ends, almost mechanically, like her eyes were automatically driven there. But Rumi notices.
This continues for a while, growing slowly but steadily. Naturally. The comeback promotions come and go before they know it, and Rumi continues to watch.
One morning, Mira and Rumi are both in the kitchen, still drowsy and lazy from sleep, waiting for the coffee pot to boil. Rumi is getting the side dishes out of the fridge mechanically and setting up the rice cooker, while Mira chops up vegetables for the rolled omelettes as the pan heats up. The girls clearly take breakfast very seriously.
It happens really fast, so fast that had Rumi been digging into the fridge just a second longer, she may have missed it entirely.
Zoey comes into the kitchen as the last omelette is nearly done, much like usual. Her pajama top is twisted weirdly, one of the legs of her slacks has ridden up to her knee, and her naturally frizzy hair is falling wildly. If it had been any other morning, she would have probably mumbled a “good morning” around a jaw-tearing yawn, entirely unintelligible, but still enough to get a response from the two other band members.
This time, something entirely different happens.
And it happens so casually that nothing less would’ve made sense, really.
Zoey approaches Mira, feet dragging behind her and eyes still blurry with sleep. It all follows in a smooth, casual motion, like she’s done it every morning before. one of her hands settles on top of the taller woman’s shoulder while the other reaches up to cup her cheek, and Zoey leans on her tippy toes. She kisses Mira on the corner of her mouth, a short press of lips, nothing more, before leaning away wordlessly and making her way toward her usual seat at the kitchen island as if she hadn’t done anything unusual.
Mira is frozen in place for a few seconds after that, eyes wide and staring at Zoey in disbelief, then seems to simply blink it off. A small smile makes its way onto her face, a real smile, and stays there even as she finishes up with breakfast without a word. Rumi realizes then, after remembering to breathe, that this had been it. They’d just finally breached the unspoken limit the two hadn’t dared cross yet. It wasn’t anything grand, no elaborate speeches and confessions, no gestures or plans or surprises… It didn’t need to be. It couldn’t have been, really. Not with them.
She has to consciously refrain from cooing or shrieking in glee and ruin the moment, but god does she want to. Her entire body is pulsing with joy and love for her best friends. Her best friends who love each other. She barely remembers how to walk properly when she goes to put everything from the fridge onto the counter in what she hopes is a normal pace. She feels her heart beat out of her chest the entirety of the meal after that because holy fuck, her best friends are in love. They’re in love, and now they’ve finally acknowledged it for the first time
She can’t even be upset about all the third-wheeling she’ll have to endure now that the gate is open at last because, if you really think about it, she has already been doing quite a lot of that for who knows how long.
Mira and Zoey, Zoey and Mira.
It feels like everything has finally clicked into place, truly.
They have breakfast, the day goes on as normal. And so does each and every day after that. Except, glances are no longer stolen, and smiles are not as shy as they once were. And it’s not like they were holding back before, but now they know they don’t have to, which is very different.
Rumi’s heart is full. She may not have been there to see their feelings sprout, but she did get the privilege of seeing them bloom; she would not trade it for the world. She loves her girls to the moon and back, and she knows they feel the same for her.