#rumimirazoey

Sat in her pjs and on the couch, Zoey continued to laugh as the liquid in the bright pink can in her hand fizzled and settled. “What were you expecting me to do?” she asked her older members. “Take a swig of this soda and not—“ The violent sound of Mira ripping one herself interrupted the start of Zoey’s lame excuse.

Rumi gasped from beside the taller girl, sat crisscross on the floor herself but not surprised.

A sly smirk played at the corner of Mira’s mouth. She shrugged, indifferent to her noise and Zoey’s previous comment. “ If you’re going to do it, at least do it right. Your burp was lame.”

“It was not!”

“Okay!” Rumi laughed, holding out her hands as if the option would stop them. “We are not about to have a burping contest right now. The penthouse already smells different with all the foods and scents we've got going on.” She gestured to the coffee table and then the counter in the kitchen.

Both surfaces were covered with various instant ramen noodle bowls, plastic wrappers from convenience store goods—both savory and sweet—, many empty bowls of microwaveable rice, and, special for the coffee table, two large, halfway-eaten bowls of popcorn.

As for the kitchen counter, four candles of various note scents were lit or were under the candle warmers thanks to Mira’s comment of the place smelling like popcorn kernels, gochujang cupcakes, and burnt spaghetti sauce, thanks to Rumi exploding a package of instant spaghetti from the states.

Zoey said to remove the lid and add a paper towel on top but what she didn’t provide was the time appropriate to use when using her method.

The red sauce exploded everywhere.

“Again, not my fault!” Zoey claimed.

Mira snickered, grabbing a tiny cookie from the opened plastic container Rumi and Zoey just had to get because tinier food is cuter.

… it is but she won’t tell them that.

“It’s partly your fault. If you’re going to give us your tried and true methods on foods you used to eat in your childhood, you shouldn’t leave anything out. Especially when the queen of overheating is cooking it.” Mira gave a pointed half-glare to Rumi. Her narrowed eyes of judgment held just as much warmth as her teasing lips.

Rumi scoffed, the soft glow of her patterns underneath her hoodie glowing brighter. She also reached for a tiny cookie, the satisfying crunch of the pastry settling her rising embarrassment. “It’s not my fault either. The instructions were on the lid Zoey told me to throw away. This was my first time cooking that— how was I supposed to know where the instructions were and what not to do and what not to listen to in regards to Zoey’s advice?”

“Because you’re supposed to read the instructions beforehand, Rumi!” laughed Mira. Rumi only shook her head beside her with her cheeks puffed up and her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “That’s what you’re supposed to do any time you cook something new. Read the instructions, keep the instructions. Refer to them as you’re cooking the food, refer to them as the food is cooling; that’s common knowledge.”

“Actually,” chimed Zoey from the couch, who was sprinkling crushed-up and dry instant ramen noodles into her mouth, “that sounds like the Mira-Way. Exact tee when cooking, go with the flow, and hope for the best in every other aspect.”

“No,” countered Mira with an accusatory finger. “That sounds like the Zoey Way.”

“Pah-lease! I make plans. I have a whole notebook of plans!”

“Which you then disregard when your planned plan doesn’t go exactly as planned,” Rumi teased with a mutter, stealing a few more of those tiny cookies because wow. They are really good and are the kind of cookies that don’t get stuck in the divots on your teeth because of their crunchiness.

Zoey scoffed. She turned her back to Rumi and Mira, who only watched with amused eyes and snacks in their hands. Zoey huffed. Then she “hmph”ed. Then she crossed her arms over her chest like a dramatic ten-year-old before showing her bare face back to the girls. “You guys are mean.”

“Mhm.” Mira patted her upper thigh, to which Zoey crawled off the couch and finally sat with Mira and Rumi on the floor, by the edge of the couch instead.

Zoey settled herself against the short edge of the L-shaped part of the couch, her back to the cushion and her legs over Mira’s lap. She held out a cupped palm to Rumi, who was about to sprinkle a couple of cookies into her hand, but Mira blocked her off with a bladed hand. “No.”

“What?” Zoey pouted up at her in protest.

“No. You’re not going to get cookies after you just called us mean.” Mira didn’t give her another glance. She grabbed her own soda that was previously forgotten on the other side of her body and took a quiet sip.

Zoey’s eyes caught Rumi’s puzzled gaze. Her mouth was ajar from randomly being stopped, but her eyes were searching Mira for a sign of teasing, mischief, pulling Zoey’s leg just to see her squirm, but when she couldn’t find any, her eyes found Zoey’s.

Rumi shrugged meekly from Mira’s opposite and plopped cookies slowly in her mouth, as if eating some could get her in trouble, too.

“Plus,” Mira added a satisfactory sigh as the cool liquid went down her throat. “I told you to sit in my lap, and you’re sitting next to me. What am I supposed to make out of that, hm?”

The muscle pumping in Zoey’s chest stopped when Mira’s honey-brown eyes met hers. Mira’s gaze held a seriousness in them, not the one she would use when she gave her playful deadpan remarks or the one she used during practice when a move wasn’t manifesting in the way she wanted it to. This gaze was different.

This gaze told Zoey that Mira could smell her nerves coming off her split-colored pjs. This gaze told Zoey that whatever lie or excuse she mustered, Mira could call her out on it.

A single twitch of Zoey’s arm told Mira what she wanted to know; if she was successful in her teasing, it would knock Zoey down a few pegs and get her to someplace calmer. A place she could hold and foster her.

Not because Zoey was too much, she could never be, but because Mira really wanted to hold Zoey as the day began to fade outside their windows while the three of them were in their comfy pajamas. Of course, Mira couldn’t admit that out loud, not out of the blue, when Zoey and Rumi were off giggling over failed Just Dance levels and singing random English songs.

She could only ask and give her request when the mood was right, and as it turns out, if she didn’t create the mood herself, she was never going to get the opportunity to. That was driving her mad.

A coy smile broke Mira’s poker face, and the two girls beside her could swear they heard a quiet giggle from her, too. “I’m kidding,” laughed Mira. “But seriously. Come here.” She pulled Zoey onto her lap so now the smaller one was resting against her chest, and her feet dangled onto Rumi’s legs. “You too.” Mira didn’t give Rumi a chance to respond or react before she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her flush to her side.

With the girls invading Mira’s space, as they now suspected what she wanted all along. Mira grinned and nudged her head towards Zoey. “You can give her some cookies now.”

A chuckle rippled out of Rumi. She shook her head as she grabbed the tub of mini cookies and held them out in Zoey’s direction, internally deciding the cookies in her palms were too warm and maybe a little damp from anticipating Mira’s next move earlier. “You’re a piece of work, Mir.”

“What?” She laughed. Zoey grumbled from her lap, taking a few cookies and eating them. “Why? Because I like to mess with you guys?”

“No,” Rumi responded with a few floating chuckles, “because you think you have to mess with us and walk around a suspiciously placed bush to get what you want.” Rumi didn’t have to see Mira’s face to see the slight falter in her cocky facade, the sudden tightness of her lips, and the way her fingers played with the waistband of Zoey’s pants. Rumi often didn’t need to look at her girls to know their reactions or to gauge what they’re feeling or thinking; she just knew.

When she mentioned this “skill” of hers in an interview, the fanbase described her behavior as just being a leader or having “leader” duties, and while that may be some of it, it wasn’t all of the reasons.

Rumi loves her girls, way more than she thought she did at least six months ago. She watched them because she wanted to get to know them, to see what made them tick or what made them smile to themselves. She wanted to know how they acted when they thought no one was watching.

She could see the slightest change in the glossiness of Zoey’s eyes and knew that meant she was upset with something she wasn’t allowing herself to feel at the moment. She could tell when the middle of Mira’s eyebrows creased that she was either in deep thought or couldn’t fathom the new information given to her or revealed in her head.

Rumi knew the girls and their hidden behaviors so well, she almost forgot she had hidden behaviors too. She wasn’t aware of the girls watching her when she thought no one was, until a few months ago. But that’s a different revealing and unpacking of emotions for another time.

“If you want us close to you and you want to cuddle or something, you can just say that,” Rumi continued as she placed the container of cookies back on the table. “You don’t have to wait for the right time or convey your need in a joke because that’s when you think we’ll be the most receptive.”

Mira scoffed in quiet amusement, her eyes flickering to anywhere but Rumi’s and Zoey’s eyes—even if Zoey is looking up at her with those dark brown eyes and cheeks so full of cookies. Her heart clenched to not witness the sight. “That’s rich coming from you, Rumi.”

“Oh, why?” She hummed, resting back on her palms with a smirk she’s not trying too hard to hide. “Because I did the same? Yeah, so I’ve struggled with saying things at certain times and want things to be perfect when I’m revealing information, but if last year taught me anything, it taught me that there’s no perfect time and to say what I want so, yeah,” she hummed again, eyebrows raised in a sweet challenge as Mira’s eyes locked onto hers. “Maybe it is rich coming from me, but at least I’ve grown from it. I can say, ‘Zoey, I want some cuddles. Come sit on my lap'.” She held out an arm for Zoey, her lackluster effort of hiding her smirk forgotten as the younger one with crumbs on her face lit up at the demand.

Zoey’s eyes sparkled between Rumi and Mira, an amusement only Zoey can foster as she watched the two girls go into a playful toe-to-toe together. And an additional plus, Rumi was winning. She could tell by the twisted, flustered purse on Mira’s lips and the warmth growing on her cheeks that she was trying so hard not to show by pulling her shoulders to her ears.

Zoey crawled out of Mira’s lap and sat on Rumi’s with a mischievous chuckle that one would describe as “gremlin-like”.

“See?” Satisfied, Rumi patted Zoey’s thigh twice. “I just asked, and look, Mir. She’s right here. On my lap.”

Curses ran through Mira’s mind as Zoey snuggled up to Rumi, giggles flowing through her like water, and Rumi holding her like she’s her everything, which she is, but the smug look in Rumi’s eyes, the eye contact she refused to break, stirred something dark and competitive.

Smug Rumi wasn’t a rare sight to see. She’s often found in variety shows while they’re doing games, in the shadows of demon-hunting, and seen on her face when she tells the demons how everything’s going to go down if they’re the talkative type. However, Smug Rumi during romance, that’s a sight Mira’s not exactly used to .

Rumi’s still figuring out her role with the girls in a romantic sense. Heck, they all are. At first, Mira and Zoey took the lead in instigating romantic movements or conversations like handholding and asking each other out on dates, but now that it’s been at least six months, their prior roles are evolving, changing. Changing into different dynamics that haven’t yet been explored. At least, until now.

Zoey, ever the lover of romantic tension and wanting to see what happens next without intervention, felt the need to intervene. Maybe it was a part of her that didn’t want this playful banter to turn into an actual argument or maybe it was the sort-of welcomed uneasiness stirring within her since she seemed to be the topic of conversation, but she didn’t want this conversation to go to a place neither of them had explored or felt comfortable exploring yet.

Mira’s scowl, something that wasn’t exactly angry or pleased, ticked off her need.

“Hey,” Zoey gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I know where we can put this energy. We can put it into a game of Twister!”

Rumi shrugged, smug smirk nestled into a smile on her face. “That sounds okay with me.” Her gaze remained unchanged from Mira’s.

“I’m not moving,” seethed Mira. Her face grew uncomfortably warm, she wanted to peel the skin off her face and replace it with a more stoic, cool expression, but in trying to do so would confirm that Rumi got—was—getting under her skin. She wasn’t. She couldn’t. Not in this way.

“Daw,” Rumi playfully mocked Mira with a feigned pout. “Why not? Afraid I’ll win?”

Zoey rose a brow. Win? Was there anything to win at this point or did she miss something? Or was this her girlfriends’ twisted way of exhibiting tension because one of them(Mira) had difficulty saying what she wanted, and the other(Rumi) wanted her to, yet the first one(Mira) refused to prove anyone right, even if it meant falling on her butt like a fool in the process?

“Of course not,” Mira replied. Her effort to save face was being betrayed by the bright pink on the top of her cheekbones. “I don’t feel like moving.”

“Oh, really?” Rumi wrapped her arm around Zoey’s waist, pulling her up higher on her lap while Rumi sat up herself. Zoey turned around so her back was pressed to Rumi’s chest, an accidental but grateful new seating position to admire the view of a blushing Mira. “Then what do you want to do, Mira? You can use your words this time. Tell us what you’re truly feeling, and I promise we can grant it for you.” Rumi’s tone, at first, was complacent and teasing, like the hare poking fun at the tortoise, but as her sentence continued, her voice and eyes softened. She wanted Mira to express herself in any way she could. She wanted her to know that she and Zoey were a safe place to express vulnerable needs and wants, just like they did with her last year and earlier this year.

Mira hated it yet couldn’t help but be thankful for it all at the same time.

With her sweaty palms rubbed against the thighs of her fuzzy pajama pants, the same pants she didn’t want to put on earlier, yet is thankful for in this moment, she took a stilling breath. “Okay.” The sound of her quiet voice somehow drowned out the sound of the growing nightlife below them, the breaths of the two girls beside Mira even quieter as if they were afraid their own noise would startle her into silence. “I would like us to…”

Zoey and Rumi sat straighter in their seats, leaning forward to hear what their beautiful visual had to say.

“…I would like for us to cuddle, maybe. Have a cuddle pile sort of thing,” Mira admitted, palms rubbing over her clothed knees. “I don’t know why I do— okay, that’s a lie. I know why I do, but I’m embarrassed to say it.”

Zoey found herself crawling off of Rumi’s lap, the other girl removing her arm around her for a more seamless transition. “Mira.” Zoey’s hand found her arm and rubbed her fingers over the smooth fabric. A sensory win for her, a comforting win for Mira. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. We’re here for you, no matter how silly you think your reason may be. Remember when you caught me crying on the balcony and you were scared something bad had happened?” The other stifled a nod, Zoey continued. “Well, nothing bad happened, remember? I was crying over this kid laughing over oranges in the grocery store, and even after teasing me, you didn’t call the reason I was crying stupid. You comforted me and helped me through it either way. That’s what we’re going to do for you.”

It was hard to have walls up around Zoey and Rumi when they have the ability to tear them down faster than they were put up. They both have that skill; they all do for each other. No secrets yet, still respecting privacy and knowing each other deep and long enough to know when a secret has to come out for the greater good of the secret holder.

Mira guessed that was her role at the moment: Secret Holder. Although withholding the reason why you want to cuddle your girlfriends as the sun goes down, watching some sappy drama isn’t exactly a secret. More so, an unfulfilled wish that the girls are trying so desperately to fulfill. Plus, if Mira looked at it this way, revealing the why behind what she wants now may help her in the future when she gets into another of her withdrawn, or dare she even say shy, moods. It could get easier with time… maybe.

Rumi joined Zoey on Mira’s opposite side, also using her hand to help her coax through. “Okay,” Mira stated once more. She moved her hands from her knees to theirs, a deep breath releasing itself from the bottom of her belly. “I want us to cuddle because I miss you guys”—she held up her hands before the two could interject questions on “how she could miss them if they’re right here”—“I miss prolixity and the innocent touches and skinship. We haven’t had that in a while and it’s not like us. Zoey’s always clinging onto our arms and Rumi, you’re always searching for our hands when we’re sat together alone, but with our schedules, we haven’t been alone, just us three, in a good while.”

Zoey nodded, her hand crawling up to Mira’s shoulder to give her a reassuring squeeze. “See, that wasn’t stupid at all. I’ve noticed the physical distance between us, too,” she admitted, chin now resting on Mira’s shoulder instead. “That’s why I was so excited tonight about our sleepover. We missed it a few times this month, and even when we did have that impromptu one two Thursdays ago, we all went to our own rooms before the sun went down! I mean, that’s not us. We stay up so late that not even trademarked Leader Rumi can guide us back to normalcy.”

Rumi let out a low snicker. Mira can’t tell when, but Rumi had mirrored Zoey’s positioning and had her chin on her shoulder too. “Delirious Zoey and Mira are quite hard to rein in on a good trademark Leader Rumi day, but you throw in my own deliriousness? Yeah, it’s not a pretty picture.” Mira had found an easiness in her body. A snicker of her own helped release the self-inflicted tension.

“Yeah, she’s like a drunken pirate.”

“I am not!”

Zoey laughed. “Drunken or not, going to bed before 7 isn’t like us on the days we reserve to hang out with each other. I missed us, too, Mira, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about it earlier. I didn’t have the words.” A soft, slightly crumby kiss was placed on Mira’s cool cheek and sent butterflies to her stomach. Rumi did the same with an apologetic hum, both hands giving squeezes to her shoulder.

“So, cuddle-bug,” Rumi couldn’t help but tease and ignore the grumble that came her way, “where do you want us to cuddle-pile at?”

“Couch.” Mira stood, dragging her girlfriends by the wrist. “Duh.”

Mira plopped herself in the middle. She didn’t give the two a chance to think or ask any questions about positioning before she pulled them directly on her, Zoey on her right and Rumi on her left. “Get the blankets,” she told Zoey, her head making a pointed nod to the two throw blankets crumpled by her feet. “And could you get the remote?” Mira asked Rumi. Both obliged, getting their respective items for the girl who wanted all the body heat and weight a human could possibly withstand on her.

With the drama selected and blankets pulled over bodies, Mira laid down. Zoey did too, Mira’s head resting on the top of her hip which caused Rumi to do the same with her head on Mira’s hip. In a sense, one would describe them as a cuddle train, not necessarily a cuddle pile, but the couch wasn’t big enough, and again, neither of them felt like taking the dreaded walk down the hall and into the closest room.

“Hey, look,” Rumi’s head turned towards the glass-paned wall. The sun had completely set behind the skyline of Seoul and leaving behind thick, rugged ribbons of dark blue clouds across the graying sky. “It’s past sundown and we’re still here.” Her lips spread into a warm smile that brightened up her cheeks and eyes, the growing dimness of the living room softening her features.

“Yeah,” Zoey decided to add, “on the couch. Watching a drama.”

“In a cuddle pile no less,” Mira hummed in content. She reached over to kiss the top of Zoey’s head before bending down to kiss the top of Rumi’s head. “Thanks, guys.”

“For what?” chimed Zoey.

“For the cuddle pile. For helping me say what I needed to say.”

“Oh, Mira.” The girl could hear the confidently sly smile from Rumi, “That was going to happen anyway. Both the cuddle pile and you learning how to say exactly what you want when you want it.”

Normally, Mira would say something snarky back. Ask a few questions about her plan, reasoning, and the motive, but right now, she didn’t care. In the end, all three of them got what they wanted: to be open with another, to have a cuddle pile, to stay together at least until after sundown. Although the three of them were sure they weren’t going to find the energy to get off the couch. Not after seeing Zoey struggle to keep her eyes open.

And so, Mira gave Rumi a respectful flick on her ear and bit back a grin when the other exclaimed in pain.

This is what she missed: holding her girls so tightly, there was no denying that they were hers and she was theirs.