#interlude

I originally only had the first two but enough people asked for a check in on Inkyfern, so here's a short of Posythorn doing some mediating!

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As soon as their front door closed, Mira moved. Zoey’s reaction time was just fast enough to reach out and grab Mira’s hand, halting her in her stride to the door.

“Mira, no.”

Sad, heartbroken and panicked eyes snapped to her. Mira wiggled her hand, attempting to free it from Zoey’s firm grip. “We—She—We can’t let her just walk away after that, Zoey. I—She might not…what if—” Mira tripped over her words, her voice shaking with each syllable.

Zoey understood her. She was barely holding herself back from following Rumi. The urge to body ram the door gripped her heart painfully. She would break the door down piece by piece and chase Rumi across half of Seoul if she thought any good would come of it. 

She would’ve implored Rumi to stay, if she hadn’t seen the sheer panic, fear and guilt in Rumi’s eyes. Amongst the cyclone of emotions there, she saw the thin thread barely holding her together. One small tug and it would break. Rumi would become unravelled in front of them and they wouldn’t be able to find a needle to stitch her back together.

They agreed: Rumi’s healing comes first. 

“She asked for space, Mira.” Zoey said, keeping her tone gentle and calm despite her internal panic.

Mira tried to free her hand again. Zoey’s grip was welded iron, unmoving. “How—How are you—Why aren’t you freaking out more? You saw—You heard her—” 

“I did.” Zoey affirmed, “And believe me, I’m as upset as you and I want to—” Zoey sucked in a deep breath. “Mira, you saw her expression. If you were Rumi right now, feeling everything she was, would you want us chasing you after you asked for space?”

Mira stopped her attempt to free her hand. Zoey felt Mira’s fingers tremble, noted how tight her jaw had become and the way her chest stopped heaving, becoming as still as the ocean on a windless day. The pain on her face lessened, a flicker of understanding crossing her eyes.

Sensing Mira had become less combative, Zoey guided her to the couch. Her chest tightened when she looked at the space Rumi vacated so quickly that it felt like all the warmth inside Zoey had been ripped from her. She pushed the echoing pain aside and settled down beside Mira, steadfastly holding Mira’s hand. 

Mira rubbed the bridge of her nose, guilt passing over her face and settling in the furrow between her eyebrows. “I should’ve heard her sooner. Checked in more often. I got so wrapped up in her and making Rumi feel good that—that—We were meant to go at her pace and instead…”

Zoey shook her head, “It wasn’t just you, baby. We both…I mean, we did check in with her right? Between each stage.”

Mira’s lips turned down into a frown, “We could’ve done more.”

“We stopped when she tapped.” Zoey swallowed thickly, trying to replay the moment leading up to Rumi disengaging from them and spot any sense that Rumi wanted to stop sooner. 

Her mind was too foggy, she couldn’t pin point any specific moment before the tap. Rumi’s posture had been open, welcoming. Her sighs and moans were soft and breathy.

Zoey absentmindedly touched the edge of her jaw where Rumi’s fingers had tapped her consent to lift her shirt.

Through the fog, she spied a darkened patch. Pushing towards it, Zoey heard Rumi’s soft moans, her gasps and hitched breathing. She felt the ghost of Rumi’s throat under her lips, the rumble of her voice, catching harshly, the whispered start of word: “St—”

The entirety of Zoey’s body went cold with realisation. She—She tried to—She wanted them to—They didn’t hear or listen. Zoey didn’t hear her. All her blood drained from Zoey’s face. She dropped Mira’s hand. She cupped her mouth, trying to muffle the gasp that fell from her lips.

Mira’s head snapped to her, eyes widening. “Zoey?”

Zoey shook her head. They failed her. She was too wrapped up in her own desire that—Oh god. Zoey’s stomach twisted into an ugly knot.

“She—She tried.” Zoey whispered, her voice catching over the last word, hot tears springing to her eyes. “Before…before she said and before she tapped…she tried to stop us…but I didn’t hear her.” A sob left her. “What if she doesn’t come back?” 

The question ripped Zoey’s heart into two. Zoey prided herself on her ability to read people and their emotions. She was always so attuned to how others perceive her or how she affects them. How could she not have…She let her arousal consume her and cloud any thought over Rumi and her comfort. And now, now Rumi might not reach out to them.

What if Zoey’s inaction has sent Rumi away?

Mira gathered Zoey in her arms as more sobs left her, growing in volume and power. Mira began to rock Zoey, quietly soothing her. 

She failed.

“She—She wanted to stop and I—I didn’t listen and—and—” Zoey tried to speak through each hiccup and cry of pain. 

Mira repeated Zoey’s words from moments before back at her. “It wasn’t just you, aegiya.” A kiss pressed to the crown of her head. “Don’t blame yourself for this. We were both there.”

Zoey fisted the material of Mira’s shirt, dampened by her tears. “W-what she said…at the door…I’ve never heard her so…angry.”

“I know.”

“We caused that. We made her snap at us. She won’t come back.”

“She will.”

Zoey lifted her head from Mira’s chest, “How do you know?”

The corner of Mira’s lips twitched into a sad smile. “I don’t,” She admitted, “I believe she will.”

“How?” Zoey implored, gripping Mira’s shirt tighter.

“Because…if that were me…I would come back. You were right, I wouldn’t want you to follow me. But once I had the space to work through it all, to process…” Mira swallowed, tears appearing at the corner of her eyes. “I love you both, so much that it hurts sometimes. But leaving you, that would hurt until my dying day. I wouldn’t turn my back on something that makes me feel so good, wanted, loved because I struggled to come to terms with the idea that I deserve it.”

“You’re not her, though.”

Mira wiped away a tear on her cheek. “I’m not, but…I…I see a lot of who I was in Rumi; who I still fight against being now. Sometimes, I think I don’t deserve you or Rumi. I saw that in her, after she snapped at us. It’s why I wanted to go after her. I needed to tell her that everything she was thinking was wrong. She does deserve us and so much more. More than I can give her, alone.”

Mira’s arms squeezed Zoey, pulling her in closer. “You and I, we will show her. We’re a team.”

Zoey wiped a damp cheek against Mira’s clothed shoulder. “I thought we already did.”

“We do. I think there’s so much Rumi is battling that it’s going to take more than just affirmations from us. There’s a blockade stopping our words from sinking in.”

Memories of Rumi’s broken, crumpled body after she told them about the fire invaded Zoey’s mind. Her body shaking uncontrollably, curled in on itself. The fear in her eyes when they saw her scars. Her broken words of “My fault…” echoed in Zoey’s head. Blame, so much blame. 

Rumi blamed everything on herself. The fire, her scars, even her reaction after her orgasm, stammering out how they did nothing wrong, it was her, all her. 

It wasn’t. 

So much of Rumi’s self conscious behaviour and thought processes tied back to the fire and that one small, should be inconsequential, action of plugging in an appliance. 

“We need to show her your research, Mira. If she comes back—”

“When,” Mira interrupted, arms squeezing Zoey once more.

“When she comes back. She needs to know the truth. I think…it might help.”

Mira kissed Zoey’s forehead, “I think so too.”

A morning and an evening passed with no word from Rumi. Zoey and Mira worked together, gathering all the information they could on the fire, the court case, the verdict. Any and everything they thought Rumi would need to finally realise that she was not to blame.

Maybe, just maybe, it would help Rumi. Maybe it will part enough of the blockade, to get them and their words through to her; she’s not broken. She’s not damaged. She’s living. Just like everybody else.

When a message popped up in their group chat the following morning asking for them to come over, Zoey and Mira dropped all plans for the day.

buying flowers: ❌