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The living room was too quiet. For once, the three of you weren’t practicing, weren’t streaming, weren’t doing anything but sitting in the aftermath of another brutal day of promotions. Rumi sank into the couch with her phone in her hand, scrolling through fan comments with that serene little smile that always made Zoey melt.
But tonight wasn’t about practice or livestream chaos. Zoey and Mira had a plan. Well, “plan” was a generous word. It was more like Mira saying we’re doing this tonight or I’ll combust and Zoey nodding way too fast because her chest felt like a shaken soda bottle.
Mira’s thigh brushed against Zoey’s on the couch, and Zoey took it as her cue. Her fingers fidgeted against the hem of her hoodie as she blurted:
“Rumi, we… need to tell you something.”
That earned a glance, and then Rumi’s full attention. Her eyebrows lifted, curious. “What’s up?”
Zoey looked at Mira, wide-eyed like a deer in stage lights. Mira gave her that don’t chicken out now glare and then just… said it. Because of course she did. Mira was like that—sharp edges and straight shots.
“We like you,” Mira said, calm as if she’d just asked for the remote. “More than friends. We’re together, yeah, but… we want you too. If you want us.”
For a full second, Rumi just blinked at them, expression unreadable. Zoey’s stomach plummeted. Maybe Mira had gone too blunt? Maybe Rumi thought this was some stupid inside joke?
“…Huh?” Rumi finally laughed softly, and that stung more than Zoey wanted to admit. “Okay, very funny. Is this some kind of prank? Or—what, did I miss a TikTok trend?”
Zoey scrambled forward on the couch, hands waving in panic. “No! No, it’s not a joke, Rumi, swear on my turtle plushie! We’re serious!”
Mira nodded once, gaze unwavering. “Dead serious.”
That’s when Rumi froze. She looked between them, like she was searching for a crack in the façade, some glimmer that they were teasing her. There wasn’t any. Just Mira’s steady stare and Zoey’s nervous little smile trembling at the edges.
And then—her face burned . Like, red all the way to the tips of her ears. She choked on some sound halfway between a laugh and a gasp, scrambled to her feet so fast the blanket fell off her lap.
“I—I need a sec!” she blurted, voice higher than usual.
“Rumi?” Zoey squeaked.
“Yeah! Just—uh—don’t… move!” And then she bolted down the hall, practically slamming her bedroom door behind her.
Silence. Mira stared at the door, then at Zoey. “Did we just get rejected without words?”
“No,” Zoey whispered, but her voice wasn’t convincing anyone. “Maybe? Oh my god, Mira, what if we—what if we ruined everything?!”
Mira muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like “we didn’t,” but even she looked a little uncertain as she leaned back, arms crossed tight.
Rumi was not rejecting them. She was currently lying on her bed, face buried in a pillow, kicking her legs like a teenager in a drama.
They want me. Both of them. Not just Zoey’s sunshine warmth or Mira’s quiet devotion— both.
“Oh my god.” Her voice cracked on the whisper, half-laughing as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling like it had answers. Her cheeks ached from smiling too hard.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was the responsible one. The leader. The one who kept everything stitched together when the world tore at the seams. They were supposed to lean on her, not… want her.
Her hands shot up to cover her burning face, muffling another squeal that sounded dangerously close to a giggle fit. Stop it, Rumi. Act normal.
But her brain was gone. Utterly gone. Instead of rational thoughts, she was flooded with memories—the ones she kept locked away because they hurt too much to dwell on.
Zoey draping her jacket over Rumi’s shoulders that winter night, grinning like the sun itself. Mira sitting beside her after that brutal rehearsal, wordlessly offering her water and a hand on her knee, like saying I’ve got you without asking anything back. The way they both looked at her during their last encore stage—like she was more than just their leader, like she was home.
She bit her lip so hard it almost hurt. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered to the empty room, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I really can’t—” A laugh burst out before she could stop it, and then she was laughing into her pillow, hopeless and giddy, because this wasn’t just happiness—it was terror wrapped in joy.
What if I mess this up? What if I’m too much? What if they realize I’m not the person they think I am?
Her heart thudded in her ears, but under the panic was something louder—something fierce and certain: I want them. God, I want them so bad.
It took Rumi ten full minutes to gather the courage to stand up, smooth her hair, and take a breath that didn’t sound like a dying kettle. Her hands were still shaking when she opened the door.
In the living room, Zoey was pacing like an Olympic event, words spilling in frantic bursts: “—what if she hates us now, Mira? Oh my god, what if she moves out? What if she moves to Japan ? People move to Japan when they want a fresh start! What if—”
“Zo.” Mira’s voice was tight but calm, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the hallway. “She’s not moving to Japan. Stop spiraling.”
Then they both froze, because Rumi stepped into view.
Her face was flushed, hair slightly messy, and her hands were clenched into fists like she was bracing for battle. But her eyes—her eyes were shining in a way neither of them had ever seen.
“You two,” she said, voice soft but steady, “are absolutely insane.”
Zoey made a noise that might’ve been a squeak. Mira raised an eyebrow, masking the flicker of fear in her chest. “So that’s a no?”
“No,” Rumi blurted, then flushed harder. “I mean—yes. I mean…” She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “God, I’m bad at this. What I’m trying to say is—I… want this too. You. Both of you.”
Zoey’s gasp could’ve powered a city. She launched herself across the room so fast Mira barely caught her own grin breaking through.
“Wait, really? REALLY?!” Zoey shrieked, tackling Rumi into the biggest hug imaginable, wrapping arms and legs like a starfish. Mira joined with more composure—rolling her eyes, muttering you’re both ridiculous —but her arms circled Rumi from the other side, grounding the chaos in quiet strength.
And there Rumi was, sandwiched between them, heart pounding like a drumline, laughter bubbling in her chest as tears pricked her eyes. Not from fear. Not anymore. From relief so deep it hurt.
She buried her face in Zoey’s shoulder, Mira’s hand sliding up to cradle her head, and whispered the truth that had been locked in her ribs for years:
“You two have no idea how much I love you.”
And for once, she let herself believe she deserved to be loved back.