Archive of Our Own

Mikha has always known that she's different.

She's different in ways that are more than just most people's version of different. She's a girl that likes girls (girls are pretty and soft and intelligent, sue her). She doesn't like partying as much as her peers, which can get really frustrating when all everyone wants to do during the weekends is to get trashed.

The point is, Mikha is different in the most conventional of ways, regardless of how ironic that may sound. But, she's also different in very strange ways. Like, she's always had this ability to see translucent numbers floating above everyone's heads. She thought everyone could see them at first because she's been able to see the numbers since she can remember. The red-haired girl discovered that no one else can see them after all when all her playmates when she was younger abandoned her and called her weird names when she kept insisting on talking about the numbers.

Mikha has learned her lesson then that she's not like everyone else. Another thing she's discovered about herself? She heals pretty quickly. Like, unnaturally fast. She could be cast as the next Wolverine, and they won't even have to worry about CGI. She's always thought that movies and TV shows portrayed injuries a bit too dramatically because her injuries never last long. She's watched them go away in seconds, always fascinated with how her jagged, bloody skin closes up immediately, the torn edges of the cut closing along the seams effortlessly until no trace of it is left. Not even a scar.

She also found out the hard way that this is not the case for everyone. She watched in horror as her mother cut her finger while chopping up vegetables and remembers how it didn't stop bleeding right away. She was even more horrified when she noticed her mother wasn't freaking out, as if that is how it was supposed to be. She learns as she grows up that she didn't quite fit in with what many consider as what is supposed to be.

Mikha figures these abilities are what make her live her life the way that she does. She's careful and reckless at the same time. She has no regard for safety, always tripping on things and fearlessly getting involved in dangerous situations such as playing tackle football with the guys because she knows she could never get seriously hurt.

At the same time, she had to make sure to act accordingly when she does get hurt in front of people. She doesn't need anyone questioning why she can literally play with fire, burn herself, and be back to normal in the next second. She's watched enough sci-fi movies and Black Mirror episodes to know that someone like her - someone who has her abilities - is a main target for the government and their "scientific investigations."

Anyway, the whole healing fast thing is actually very useful. She's convinced she was born with two left feet, with the way she seems to be incapable of staying upright for long periods of time. So she's never minded that ability one bit. In fact, she's grateful for it. She's not sure she would be alive otherwise.

But the whole numbers thing on people's heads? She's spent all her life trying to decipher what it means, and it had all been in vain. Most people have zero. Every once in a while, she'll see a one.

She herself has a zero above her head. She's never seen the numbers change in real-time, so she doesn't have the slightest clue about what they could mean. She's tried guessing them before and hasn't been quite successful. The girl has mostly used herself as a reference.

It's not people's body counts because she's slept with at least three people, and her number stays at zero. It's nothing like how many times people have fallen in love or have been heartbroken because their parents' numbers are still at zeroes. To be completely honest, Mikha thought she'd given up on this whole figuring out what the numbers mean ordeal.

She's given up on them until now that is.

Right now, she's sitting in the middle of a lecture hall that's slowly filling up as college students drag their unwilling bodies up the hall's wide steps while trying to spot a familiar face or two in a room that seats over three hundred students. The buzz of students shuffling to their seats, greeting their friends, sipping their early morning iced coffees (really, Tiffany? A frappe? It's nine in the morning), and rifling through their bags surrounds her as she looks unblinkingly towards the front of the room where she assumes the lady in the pantsuit by the podium is the professor. Next to her is who Mikha would guess is her teaching assistant as she stands close by with a stack of what looks like the syllabus.

It's the first day of classes for the spring semester, and so most people haven't figured out which classes they could get away with skipping, which means every class is going to be filled near its capacity for the next couple of days. She's in a creative writing class, which she chose as an elective in her last semester as a senior, and she's barely holding her head up as she tries to power through her only morning class this semester when she spots her.

(Why a creative writing class has over three hundred people in it? Mikha has no clue. She took this class because she's only heard good things about the professor. She's also read a couple of her novels, and they've both been fantastic, and she had been eager to learn from her until she realized that it was a lecture hall class, which means she'll probably get little to no chance in getting to know her professor or even getting good feedback at that.)

But back to the topic at hand, Mikha stares wide-eyed as she keeps her attention near the front. The girl would have stood out in any crowd – a morena (yup, she’s a sucker for one) dark brown, wavy hair that plunges past her shoulders, enticing eyes that the red-haired can see from where she's sitting a few rows from the front, plump red lips, sharp jawline – her features are absolutely stunning, coupled with a body that’s skinny, possibly leanly muscled – the girl is simply breathtaking. She takes command of the room without the slightest bit of effort, and Mikha would be entranced by her at any other time.

Right now, however, she's entranced by something other than her physical beauty. The number on top of her head is a staggering 47. Forty-freaking-seven! Mikha has never seen a number so high. She thought she was over the whole trying to figure out what the numbers mean, but seeing this girl, the fascination is back and she's going to figure out what the number means if it's the last she'll do.

And if she gets the girl's phone number along the way, that'll work too, because damn, that girl is hot.

For the rest of the class, Mikha is barely able to keep up with the information as the professor explains how the rest of the semester is supposed to go, as she finds herself staring at the girl in the front. She figures – or at least she hopes – that everything's on the syllabus anyway. One thing she is able to glean from the barrage of first-day information sent her way is that there are approximately twelve TA's for this class, a mixture of undergrad seniors and grad students.

Apparently, the university is taking full advantage of acquiring one of the most well-known and accomplished writers of this generation as an associate professor and decided to dump a 300-student writing class on her. The professor has tried to remedy this situation by hiring twelve of her best students in the past as her TA's and she's decided to break up the class into sub-groups, each TA being in charge of the smaller discussion groups that will be held outside of the lecture time in order to help each student have better feedback and support for their writing projects.

Maraiah Queen Arceta or Aiah, she learns is the name of the beautiful girl in the front, is her main TA and will be in charge of supervising half of the groups, which includes her own sub-group, while the professor will be in charge of the other half.

Mikha crosses her fingers and prays to all the gods she knows that she's assigned to pretty morenas' group.

"...and you can turn to page 4 of your syllabus to find out which TA you are assigned to. It will have their contact number, office hours..."

The red-haired immediately turns to her syllabus and starts flipping to the right page, silently praying that she's in Aiah’s group, or at least she's in a group that would be supervised by her. She quickly scans the page and, of course, she's in neither. She doesn't know why the universe would be so kind as to assign her to the hot TA with the intriguing number on top of her head.

She sighs and slumps back down in her seat, utterly dissatisfied with the first day of school as she looks to the front longingly. She figures she'll just have to figure out another way to get in the girl's radar. At the very least, she really wants to know what these pesky numbers mean. Mikha isn't sure if she should be excited or terrified that the girl has 47, but one thing is for sure, she's definitely interested.

- - - -

Mikha has never been really good at planning things.

So when she thought she could somehow get to know Aiah because she is the main TA in her class, it hasn't quite worked out the way she wanted. It turns out, it's pretty hard to get to know someone in a 300-student class.

So Mikha decides she's going to show up in Aiah’s drop-in office hours instead, and she's even prepared a few "questions" she has on a writing assignment they were recently given. When she arrives at the door, she takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart and uses all of her willpower to raise a hand to actually knock on the door.

The girl hears a faint, "Come in," and after quickly straightening out her clothes, reaches out a hand to turn the knob and open the door gently.

She has to take another breath because she's met with Aiah bending down with her bum facing Mikha as the older girl is trying to rifle through some papers in the lower drawer of the file cabinet next to her desk. Wow, Mikha feels like some sort of hormonal teenage boy.

"Sorry about that, I was just looking for-" when Aiah stands back up and meets Mikha’s gaze, she freezes and her eyes widen in surprise. Mikha is about to ask if the girl is okay when she sees her facial expression immediately change to one that is stone cold – her plump lips purse in a thin line and her brows pinch together, her eyes turning stern. "How can I help you?" the brunette asks curtly.

Mikha swallows hard, her words dying in the back of her throat as her eyes flit around her, everywhere but those piercing eyes that seem to be boring holes into her. She doesn't know what she's done to cause this reaction, and if she weren't nervous before, she's feeling pretty terrified now, all of her pre-planned questions leaving her brain as she's left to fend for herself.

"Um- uh – well, my name's Mikha, Mikha Lim and um-" she has to clear her throat to clear the lump in her throat when she sees Aiah cross her arms and raise her eyebrow, her nerves growing by the second. "I'm in your elective creative writing class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays." She really doesn't know why she's struggling so much. Aiah seems to sense that she's two seconds away from having a breakdown and decidedly softens her features even if it's in the slightest bit, uncrosses her arms, and sends the red-haired girl a small, awkward smile.

"Okay, Mikha Lim. How can I help you?" she asks much more softly, although there is still a hint of hesitation in her tone as she sits in her desk chair and gestures for Mikha to sit across from her. Hearing her name fall from those lips sends Mikha’s mind reeling. The brunette’s voice is raspy and sexy, and she really shouldn't be affected this much by someone's voice, for crying out loud.

Mikha senses the change in the atmosphere and gathers herself enough to sit across from the girl, although she's still a little nervous. "Well, I was just wondering if I could ask for some help on our latest writing assignment?" she manages to get out through her nerves.

The brunette eyes her curiously before putting on a professional stance, keeping her tone steady and civil, but never venturing into friendly territory. "Have you asked your assigned TA?" Aiah knows this girl isn't on her sub-group because she's taken the time to learn the students in her discussion group, and she definitely would have stood out.

"Oh, um, actually no," Mikha chuckles while bringing a hand to rub the back of her neck.

“Well, I suggest you ask for your assigned TA's help first," Aiah replies. She starts shuffling papers in front of her to keep her hands busy and drags her eyes away from a deflating Mikha. "I do have a discussion group of my own and six groups to supervise overall."

"Oh yeah – of course," the red-haired girl nods as she stands up quickly. "Sorry for taking up your time and thanks for the advice," she internally cringes at how awkward that came out and shakes her head at herself, speed-walking out of the door before Aiah can even say anything.

- - - -

After that horrible afternoon when Mikha made a complete ass of herself in front of Aiah, the red-haired girl has been a bit more hesitant in befriending the girl. It also doesn't help that the brunette girl seems to be avoiding her at all costs.

Mikha would notice how the girl seems to never look her way during lectures and during the times that they would see each other throughout the campus, the brunette doesn't spare her a glance and she's pretty sure she actually saw Aiah look her in the eye, only to completely turn around and start walking in the opposite direction one time.

The red-haired girl knows that she's never been the smoothest talker when it comes to talking to girls, but she didn't think she was that bad. It's like the girl couldn't be around her, or she'll combust or something.

Every time she's tried to talk to her during office hours, citing her incompetent assigned TA as an excuse, Aiah makes sure to keep everything professional and curt, rarely ever smiling or letting her guard down.

It's tiring and quite embarrassing after several failed attempts at trying to be friends with Aiah, so Mikha decides that it's not worth it after all. So what if she never figures out what the numbers mean? So what if the pretty girl doesn't want to be her friend? She's an adult and she can take the passive rejection.

Or at least she hopes so.

Regardless, she's decided that if Aiah really doesn't want anything to do with her, then Mikha is done trying.

- - - -

Aiah lies awake on her bed as she stares up at her ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of Mikha. She remembers seeing the girl for the first time (again) in her office and having the breath knocked out of her chest, her heart picking up speed even as she could feel the sweat forming in her palms.

She was sure that she'd successfully moved away this time around, that she'd finally escaped Mikha. But of course, she’d failed so many times before, she really shouldn't have been that surprised. She’d learned a long time ago that it doesn't matter where she is or what she does, the brown-eyed girl always finds a way to be near her.

Still, she's trying to keep her distance. She knows getting close to the red-haired girl will only bring inevitable trouble, and her heart has gone through so much.

Deep in her heart, she knows this is a lost battle too. She's never been able to actually stay away before, and despite how many times she's gone through the heartbreak, she's never really truly prepared for when it comes. Aiah wonders how long it will be before she succumbs to the brown-eyed girl just like every other time.

It turns out she doesn't have to wait for long.

She's walking through the fifth floor of the university's library when she spots the red-haired girl that has plagued her thoughts (and dreams) for a few weeks (years) sitting at a round table by herself, several sheets of paper, opened textbooks, and a couple of coffee cups littering the large table. Mikha is sitting with her laptop open, her fingers hovering anxiously over the keyboard while she furrows her nicely sculpted thick eyebrows at the screen, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. Her red hair is in a wild bun, oversized glasses perched on her nose, and Aiah can't help but smile at the beautiful mess that the girl is at the moment.

It's almost ten at night, and she supposes as she looks around that the girl is taking advantage of the rare quiet time in the library. Most of the students are probably trying to catch up on some sleep after having just gone through the first round of major exams for the semester.

Aiah decides to sit a few tables over where she's not in the direct line of sight of the girl, but she could still covertly steal glances at the red-haired girl. She figures that she's always been drawn to Mikha in a way that she could never really control, so she doesn't feel too bad for watching Mikha out of the corner of her eye.

When she hears the red-haired groan for what feels like the hundredth time in less than half an hour, Aiah closes the textbook she's reading (she's read through the whole thing at least fifty times throughout the years anyway) and packs her stuff back in her bag before standing up and approaching the girl cautiously. She knows she hasn't been the friendliest person to the younger girl, and she's almost sure that Mikha probably doesn't want her help at this point.

She's proven right when she clears her throat and the red-haired girl glances up, her frown getting deeper at the sight of Aiah standing by her table.

"Um, can I help you?" the younger girl asks as she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms defensively. Aiah is really the last thing she wants to deal with right now. She's suffering from major writer's block on this new assignment they just received, and she doesn't have time to decipher why the girl who has avoided her all semester is coming up to her in the library at ten at night.

"I was just wondering if you needed help or anything?" Aiah says while eyeing the mess on the table, noting that most of the books and papers refer to literature and writing in general. "You look kind of anxious," she says unsurely as she shuffles in place and fiddles with the strap of her bag.

Mikha holds in the scoff that's begging to come out of her throat because this girl is still the main TA in her class, and she doesn't want to jeopardize her grades – she's having trouble with this huge assignment as it is.

She schools her face so it's not necessarily unpleasant, but it's not exactly friendly either. "Well, Aiah," she starts curtly. Okay, maybe the stress is getting to her a little bit. "As a matter of fact, I do need help, but I know you're busy and my assigned TA is actually an ass, and our hotshot professor, who's assigned to supervise my half of the class, is out of town, so," she shrugs bitterly. "Guess I'm out of luck."

"I could – uh," Aiah clears her throat again and stands up straighter. "Help you if you want?" she asks, unsurely, while the red-haired girl just narrows her eyes at her.

"Really? You aren't going to direct me to my TA, or I don't know," she pretends to think of something. "Run the other way?"

Aiah sighs. She sets her things down and sits across from the other girl, looking up at annoyed brown eyes with the most sincere look she can muster. "Look, I'm sorry for how I've been acting," she takes a deep breath while fiddling with her fingers in front of her. "I've just – it's been a rough few weeks for me and I just – I've been dealing with a lot of responsibilities – and," she pauses and looks up with a small smile when she realizes she's been rambling. "I'm here now if you want my help."

Mikha really shouldn't cave so quickly. This girl has been cold to her for no reason – well, as far as she knows, she hasn't done anything to warrant such treatment from the older girl – so, really, she should just get up and leave and maybe give this girl a taste of her own medicine.

But Aiah is looking at her with pleading eyes – damn those eyes honestly; why are they so powerful? - and she's looking a bit like a kicked puppy, and pretty girls that look soft and are into literature have always been her weakness, so…

"Sure," the red-haired girl sighs out, relaxing her posture to let the girl know that she means it. "If you're truly offering, it wouldn't hurt to have someone to kind of bounce ideas off of for this writing assignment we have," she returns the girl's smile.

"Okay," Aiah beams, and the way she lights up and moves her seat so she's next to Mikha is almost enough for the younger girl to forget about how the girl has been ignoring her in the past few weeks.

Aiah, as it turns out, is ultra smart. Like, she'd seamlessly figured out why Mikha was struggling while guiding the girl through the assignment in a way that doesn't feel like she's just giving away answers. The way she talks Mikha through the prompt and through the red-haired girl’s own ideas – helping her organize her thoughts and giving useful advice on how to draw inspiration from things close to her heart – Mikha feels like she's learned and gained skills she could use beyond just this assignment.

She's so happy that she couldn't help herself when they were packing up to leave closer to midnight. "Hey, would you want to go out sometime? My treat," she gives the older girl her most charming smile. "You know, as thanks for helping me."

“Well, it is my job, so," Aiah says offhandedly. She notices the red-haired girl deflate at her words, and she backtracks quickly. "I – I didn't mean it like that," she says right away. When Mikha still looks dejected, she meets the girl's eyes and gives her a soft smile. "Look, I really enjoyed helping you tonight, Mikha. I just – I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to go out, considering you know," she gestures in the air vaguely.

Mikha furrows her brows, adamant about this chance to ask the girl out. "But you're not my professor," she argues. "You're not even my TA."

“Yeah, I know," Aiah breathes while looking down. She doesn't think she'd be able to get her next words out if she continues to look into those deep brown eyes. "I'm sorry, I just – I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Okay," Mikha responds sadly. "It's fine, but, thank you for this, really," she gives the girl a sincere smile to let her know that she's grateful regardless.

"Anytime," Aiah responds with a smile of her own.

- - - -

It's not long before Aiah feels like kicking herself for not agreeing to go out with Mikha.

She's walking across campus, not really in a rush to go anywhere after having just finished another class where she's a TA too. When she spots the red-haired girl standing by the side of the courtyard. She's talking to some jock wearing a too-tight shirt (probably showing off his muscular build), a snapback that's on backward, basketball shorts, and sneakers that look to be about two sizes too big.

Mikha, for her part, seems to be politely entertaining the attention from the boy while Aiah clenches her fists tightly at the sight. Her eyes are boring holes into the side of the boy's head, and her body feels incredibly wound up with all the energy she's trying to suppress from coming out. When they continue to talk as if Aiah isn't ready to combust, Aiah decides to take action, briskly walking towards the pair.

She keeps her eyes on the pair up until she's nearby, making sure to make it seem like she hasn't seen them at all and strategically walks by Mikha, brushing her knuckles lightly against the red-haired girl’s hand, bracing herself for the inevitable spark.

She smiles to herself when Mikha yelps and jumps back, pulling her hand away from Aiah’s as if she's just been burned, which Aiah guesses is kind of what happened. This is their first contact in years, and she knows the first touch is always filled with so much suppressed energy that has been dormant from the lack of contact. Now that they've reunited, it's only understandable that the energy is discharged in one way or another.

"Oh, Mikhaela," Aiah says, feigning surprise. "I didn't even see you there. Are you alright?" she asks, her voice full of concern.

Mikha is clutching her hand and eyeing it suspiciously. "Yeah – yeah, I'm okay," she breathes out, confusedly. "Did you – did you feel that?"

Aiah fights the urge to smirk and keeps a passive face. "Uh, no? I'm not sure what you're talking about," she answers.

Mikha seems to shake out of her trance and lightly laughs at herself. "Never mind, it was nothing. I'll see you in class later?" She smiles at the girl when she nods and then turns to the jock, giving him a less sincere smile. "I actually gotta run, Q. I'll catch you later," she throws over her shoulder as she begins walking away.

"Oh uh –" the jock starts to say when Aiah cuts in.

"Yeah, she'll see you later, Quentin," Aiah says with a smirk while walking away herself, giving the boy a cheeky wave of her hand.

- - - -

During the next few weeks, Aiah and Mikha establish a sort of in-between kind of friendship where they see each other more often, maybe flirt every once in a while, but mostly talk about literature and writing. Mikha has taken it upon herself to visit Aiah’s office hours whenever she can, and the brunette had shown no kind of hesitation in welcoming the younger girl, unable to help herself in wanting to spend time with Mikha.

The semester comes and goes in a blur, Mikha passing her elective writing class with flying colors as she puts to use the many different types of advice Aiah has taught her when it comes to writing.

She's currently sipping on something alcoholic (she's stopped asking her best friend after the third cup) and happily walking through the campus courtyard where the end-of-semester bonfire is currently being held when she spots a familiar morena frame and she doesn't hesitate to meander her way through the crowd to approach the girl.

"Ooh, Ma’am Arceta. Isn't it a little past your bedtime?" There's a slight slur to her speech, and her smile widens when the older girl turns to her, her luscious lips curved in a small smile of her own as she eyes the girl in front of her, who's clearly had a drink or two (or probably more).

"You know, I think you forget that I'm only a few years older than you, Miss Lim," Aiah rasps through a slight laugh, and Mikha doesn't know if it's the alcohol or Aiah (it's probably both), but she's feeling a little bolder than usual, and the brunette girl's smile is doing things to her that aren’t quite appropriate.

"Hm, maybe it's because I try to tell myself you're too old for me," the girl responds with a smirk. "You know, to make myself feel better about you constantly rejecting me when I ask you on a date."

"Constantly?" Aiah asks amusedly. This time, her laugh is boisterous and unabashed, her head thrown back with her eyes crinkled, those cute tiny dimples, and her teeth shining proudly in the dim night light, and it sends a new kind of warmth through Mikha’s chest. She knows that beyond the haziness of her tipsy state, Aiah is stirring something within her – a quiet kind of hold on her that she finds herself powerless against.

It's the way those eyes so easily hold her captive, how it bores through her own and seems to reach deep within her, igniting a fire that starts at the base of her chest and sets the rest of her body ablaze as the burn spreads via her bloodstream, firing up her nerve endings along the way. It's how the girl's laugh carelessly wraps around her and comforts her in the simplest of ways, the way her smile is able to ground Mikha in the same instant that it takes her to new heights.

And the girl's presence – it's all-encompassing, and Mikha feels almost as if she's being constantly magnetized towards her.

It all feels very new and exhilarating, and at the same time – for a reason she can't exactly pinpoint – it all seems very familiar. Like she's met Aiah before, and she's felt this way in some other life.

She's brought out of her musings when Aiah’s voice delicately floats through the air, softly touching on her consciousness and bringing her back to the present.

"Lost you there for a sec," the girl is smirking at her, and she really just wants to kiss it off.

"Yeah, sorry," she shakes her head as if to shake her thoughts away. "What were you saying?"

"I said I don't think I was constantly rejecting you," the girl responds with an easy smile. "You've only asked me out, like, twice, so," she shrugs.

"So if I were to ask you out again, you'd say yes?" There's so much hope in her eyes that Aiah can't help but smile widely.

"How about, you sleep on it. Try again when your blood alcohol content isn't through the roof."

"Okay," the red-haired girl nods eagerly. "I'm going to ask you out again when I'm sober. I'm going to hold you to that," she says with a point of her finger and a faux-serious face.

"Counting on it," the girl replies. She wonders if she'll ever stop smiling around this girl.

Mikha doesn't miss a beat the next day, tracking down Aiah in her office early in the morning, armed with some pancakes, bagels and two cups of coffee, one with cream and sugar, the other just plain black, knowing that the older girl is spending the next couple of days cooped up in her office to grade papers in order to make the deadline for submitting final grades for the semester.

She keeps the girl company for a little bit, talking with her lightheartedly over the breakfast she brought and finally asking the girl out seriously. She leaves the office with Aiah’s yes and the brightest smile, her heart feeling as light as ever even as she feels slightly panicked as to where she's supposed to take the older girl. She hadn't really planned past asking her out, not completely believing that the brunette would actually say yes regardless of whatever noncommittal agreement they had the night before.

- - - -

"You're bringing me to the science building?" Aiah raises an eyebrow as Mikha takes ahold of her hand while using the other to push the main doors open. It's almost nine at night at the end of the semester. Aiah didn't even know the buildings stayed open after finals. "Wait," she tugs the hand holding Mikha’s, forcing the red-haired girl to stop in her tracks and turn back. "Are we supposed to be here?" she whispers while looking around cautiously.

Mikha only laughs and rolls her eyes. "Relax," she says with a smile. "I got you," she winks while pulling the older girl along once more. "Besides, I'm graduating in a couple of weeks. What's the worst thing they can do to me?"

"Mikha Lim!" Aiah responds in a panicked tone with her eyes wide.

"Oh come on, Aiah. Live a little," the red-haired girl replies, her tone carefree and full of mirth as she continues to drag the girl to the elevator, pressing the button to go to the top floor. When Aiah only gives her a disbelieving look as a response, she huffs, "I know a guy, chill."

"You might be graduating and moving on to a job outside of this school, but I still work here you know," Aiah points out.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll be fine," Mikha says as she continues to lead the girl outside of the elevator towards the end of the hallway. When they reach a door that says Staff Only and she pulls out a set of keys to open it, Aiah starts thinking about possible job prospects in case she gets caught sneaking into campus buildings at late hours doing God knows what.

Mikha starts climbing a set of stairs, and all Aiah can really do at this point is to follow the red-haired girl while hoping they're not actually doing anything illegal. Her protests die in her throat once the girl leads her through a door and out onto the rooftop.

The first thing she notices are the lights. There are lights everywhere she looks – fairy lights all around the railing that surrounds the rooftop, small paper lanterns secured on the ground, and candles on a table set for two, a dome food plate cover in the center, and wine chilling in an ice bucket on a smaller table nearby. There are also rose petals in almost every inch of the place.

She turns to the girl beside her and meets Mikha’s brown eyes – they're bright and happy – a wide smile adorning her face, the delicate contours of her features are beautifully highlighted by the subtle orange glow from the lights surrounding them.

"I thought it would be nice to you know," Mikha starts, her eyes shining with happiness, and Aiah’s heart flutters at the sight. “Let’s have our first date where we kind of first met. This can be like our thing – where our story starts."

Her words slam against Aiah’s chest with a staggering force, catching Aiah’s breath in her throat, the air in her lungs rushing out at a dizzying speed as she stands paralyzed, looking back at those bright, brown eyes. She's brought back to the many times Mikha has said the same thing.

Back to when she's said it forty-seven times before.

Where our story starts.

- - - -

Aiah smiles to herself as the young Mikha grabs ahold of her hand and merrily drags her through the town square, their barely-knee-length dresses, tight and fitting from the bust to waist and loose from the hip down, the soft silk cascading in gentle waves along their bodies as they skip to their destination. The girl's smile shines under the moonlight and the town's bright lights as she maneuvers her way through the crowd, Aiah following her like she's not meant to do anything else. She figures she'll always follow Mikha. In whatever setting. In whatever time period.

There's a sense of joy and rebirth everywhere in the city. More and more people are moving out of the farmlands and building new lives in the newly thriving metropolitan areas, each individual working towards a dream of their own – whether it's to gain wealth like never before or to simply own their very own Ford Model T. The Great War has been over for a few years now, and the economy has never been better.

Men and women alike feel more liberated. The women, especially, are taking their newfound freedom and running with it, not once turning back – sporting shorter haircuts and hemlines a few inches above the knee, not giving a care in the world about what is "proper" or "ladylike."

“Now, where in the world are you taking me, Miss Lim?" Aiah asks with nothing but fondness and mirth in her tone. Mikha, before her, turns back just for a second, sending the girl a cheeky wink and a wide smile before returning her attention to the front.

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, Miss Arceta," Mikha quips.

To the outside world, Aiah and Mikha are just two girls – two friends – having a good old time in the city, much like many of their peers. No one would even suspect that they had stolen kisses from one another in the mask of the night, or indulged themselves in sensual touches, lost themselves in passion in the sanctuary of their sheets.

No one would ever think they're on their way to being in love.

Aiah’s eyes widen when Mikha drags her to the entrance door of a dilapidated building, boards and metal bars nailed across shattered windows and rusted old paint peeling off the side of the walls. Mikha continues to lead her inside, through the dark hallways, finally stopping by the door near the end of a hallway in front of a burly man, his suit wrinkled where his ginormous arms are crossed.

He takes one look at Mikha and breaks into a wide grin, moving aside to open the door for the girls and silently gesturing for them to enter. Aiah continues to follow Mikha, and she's led to some type of basement.

It's not long before the smell of alcohol, the scent a mixture of gin and herbs and sweet syrups, permeate the air and Aiah finally figures out where they are. A speakeasy. Of course. Aiah laughs to herself as she remembers the first time (at least in this lifetime) she laid eyes on Mikha in some downtown, hidden pub. Mikha had been on her way to complete inebriation before Aiah found her and took her home, letting her sleep her drunk state off and helping the girl overcome her inevitable nausea the next day.

As she looks around, Aiah realizes it's more than just a speakeasy. There are jazz players by the side of the stage, the melodic tune of the blues and soulful music filling the air, the rhythmic beating of the drums, punctuated by the smooth sound of a saxophone, flowing freely through the air – all under the entrancing low lights, casting shades of violets onto the entire place. Everywhere she looks, Aiah can see people laughing and drinking and having fun. And it's every type of person. There are men, women, people dubbed as "sexual deviants," men dressed as women, women dressed as men – Aiah is enthralled. This is her world, she thinks to herself. Outside of the oppressive, dominant of their culture, here in the heart of Harlem, Aiah could be free. Aiah and Mikha can be themselves and love one another and just be.

Mikha looks at her with bright eyes and a soft smile, tugging her close by the hand she's holding and tightening her fingers in between Aiah’s own. Her voice is hopeful and filled with happiness, her heart light in her chest when she speaks.

"This is where our story starts," the younger girl beams at her.

- - - -

Aiah is brought back to the present when she feels Mikha tug at her hand softly, tethering her back to reality. She meets concerned eyes and barely catches the red-haired girl’s words as they fall from her lips softly.

"Hey, you okay?"

Aiah nods as she keeps the girl's gaze— because when she's looking at Mikha and she's holding the girl's hand, she is okay. The girl has always had that effect on her.

"Yeah," she says with a small smile. "So, how about that date?"

Mikha’s smile widens as she eagerly leads Aiah to the table, pulling out the chair for the older girl and her lips curving in a slight smirk at the way a light blush forms on Aiah’s cheeks.

Dinner goes well. They've done this whole first date thing forty-seven times after all. Well, forty-eighth now, Aiah guesses. Not that Mikha would know that.

Mikha’s brain might not remember falling in love with Aiah before, but her heart and the rest of her entire being – her soul– easily remember. She remembers in the way her body instinctively attunes itself to Aiah, responding to every smile, every tender gaze thrown her way, and feeling deep within her chest a kind of warmth that permeates her body, spreading through her veins and alighting her nerves.

She vaguely registers to herself that she should not be feeling this strongly on a first date.

Her heart shouldn't be beating this hard, the butterflies in her stomach shouldn't feel as out of control, and she definitely shouldn't feel this pull towards the girl – as if she was always meant to be with her.

They talk about a range of topics, exchanging a give-and-take on several issues, basking in each other's passionate minds and indulging in the way they seemed to have found a match in each other's stubbornness. For Aiah, it never gets old. She's as enthralled and as curious – as happy and as in love – as the first forty-something times she's been with Mikha. She figures this is why she keeps doing this – why she always lets herself fall despite knowing that it'll only be a matter of time now that they've found one another before they find them. All of it – the pain, the sadness, the agony, and even the loss – they're all worth it if Aiah gets to fall over and over with the love of her life.

They spend the night trading stories, teasing one another (in more ways than one), and exchanging gentle smiles and tender gazes as they try to prolong the night for as long as they can.

Aiah drives Mikha back to her apartment and after doing the whole dance of should-I-kiss-her-or-not in front of the red-haired girl’s door, the younger girl brings both of her hands to gently cradle Aiah’s face, looking into her eyes as she runs her tongue along the seam of her lips. Her thumbs lightly caress Aiah’s cheeks, and she gives the girl a soft smile that manages to completely hold Aiah captive before leaning in and touching her lips to the other girl's.

The kiss is light and soft and barely there, but it pulls all of the air out of Mikha’s lungs as she slides her hands around to grip at the back of Aiah’s neck, curling her fingers tightly, feeling like she needs something to hold onto – to tether herself back to the ground. They start out softly, just lips moving tenderly against one another as if mapping out each other's mouths for the first time.

It's not long, however, before Aiah’s hands fly to her waist as Mikha completely wraps her arms around the girl's neck, the kiss gaining momentum as they push and pull with their entire beings – desperate to be closer as they open their mouths to let each other in – it's a battle of tongues and lips and teeth and the red-haired girl swallows Aiah’s moans as they fight the growing burn in their lungs. The spark and subtle glow of heat that Mikha has been feeling all night, the embers that had been softly and quietly burning at the base of her chest – they've all culminated to this moment, fueling everything she's been feeling since she's first laid eyes on the girl and setting off explosions and fireworks and everything she's only ever read about.

Aiah pulls back in the slightest, leaning her forehead against Mikha’s as they breathe heavily, their breaths warm against each other's lips, red and swollen from all the biting, sucking, and nipping. "Good night, Mikha Lim," the brunette husks against the other girl's lips. They reluctantly pull away, and Mikha can't help but lean in for one last kiss from the older girl, placing her hand behind the girl's head once more, keeping her lips on hers and savoring the moment before she lets the girl go.

"Good night, Aiah" Mikha breathes out once she pulls away, biting her lip at how deliciously wrecked Aiah looks. Her hair is tousled from Mikha’s overeager hands, her dark irises almost hidden behind her dilated pupils, her lips swollen and a shiny red. The red-haired girl thinks she must look similar, and it's taking all of her restraint to hold back and not drag the girl to her room and take her all night like her body craves.

Aiah gives her one final dazed smile before she turns and walks back to her car.

- - - -

They go on a few more dates, each one going just as well as their first. They find themselves falling for one another easily, their hearts feeling the lightest they've ever been. There's security and trust and openness and genuine care between them, both of them looking out for one another and baring their souls without the slightest bit of reservation. This part has always been easy for Aiah – opening up to Mikha and handing her heart over to the girl.

It never seems to matter what time, period, or in what part of the world they find one another. Aiah has always felt powerless against the hold Mikha has over her heart. Every single time they meet, the brunette initially tries to avoid the red-haired girl, wishing that this might be the time that the girl would actually give up and leave her alone – and every single time, she loses that battle. She's never been really strong enough to resist the girl. She figures that it only makes sense because they're soulmates after all.

It's not long before they make it official a few weeks later. Aiah takes Mikha to their spot on top of the science building and asks her to be her girlfriend over the dinner she'd slave over that entire day. Mikha says yes before the girl even finishes her question. They go back to Aiah’s apartment and celebrate the new step in their relationship with stuttered breaths and exploring fingers, insistent mouths, and urgent touches.

And it's not long after that before they move in together, almost a year after they first started dating. Aiah is continuing her studies towards a doctoral degree at the university where they met, while Mikha has landed a starting job at a publishing house after graduation. She's been working in the place for almost a year before she finally submitted several drafts to multiple publishing companies, and after many failed attempts and straight rejections, one of her drafts has been picked up by a publisher, allowing her to finally start working on her first novel.

Even after doing this so many times before, Aiah marvels at the things that she continues to learn about Mikha, yet at the same time, no matter what time period they're in, the very core of Mikha’s being is the same.

She's just as kind-hearted, as silly, as bad with jokes, as endearing, as breathtakingly beautiful, and as intelligent as all the times Aiah has met her.

She's also just as stubborn.

Mikha walks into their apartment late at night after catching up with her long-time friend the whole day, and she sees Aiah sitting on their couch, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"I had to find out via your friend's Instagram that you went out of the city today?" Her voice is tired, and normally, Mikha would feel bad about it if she weren't so exhausted herself.

"My phone died. I'm sorry I couldn't let you know where I was right away," Mikha replies while walking to their kitchen, setting her bag down as she gets a glass of water. "I told you I was going to be out all day today."

"You didn't tell me you were going out of the city!" Aiah can't help but raise her voice as she stands up and walks to where the red-haired girl is. Her heart is hammering against her chest, her body tense with worry as she thinks about what could have happened. She can feel their presence. She's felt them for a while now, and she knows it's only going to be a matter of time before they finally find Aiah and Mikha.

"I didn't know we were going out of the city! Jho wanted to go out, and I just went along!" Mikha yells back. She hates fighting with Aiah, and she's so tired. She's been feeling tired a lot lately, and she doesn't really know what to make of it. Fighting with Aiah certainly isn't helping. "Do you want me to send you hourly updates of where I am? Would it make you feel better if you put a tracker on me?"

At those words, Aiah falters, and Mikha catches the flash of hurt that passes through her features. She didn't mean it, and she should probably apologize, but she's always been pretty stubborn, so she swallows the “I'm sorry” dying to come out of her mouth.

"Do you not care at all that I worry about you?" Aiah asks with a slight tremble in her voice. The anger in her tone is replaced by a sense of desperation. She wants to keep Mikha safe, but she can't exactly tell her why she's so worried.

"I've been living in this country all my life. I know how to look after myself," Mikha retorts as she stands and crosses her arms while Aiah looks at her with pleading eyes.

After a few tense moments of staring into each other's eyes, neither one of them backing down, Aiah relents and shakes her head before turning and walking away, and it tugs at Mikha’s heart. She deflates as she watches Aiah’s retreating figure and sighs to herself. Sometimes she wishes she wasn't so stubborn.

That night, they silently get ready for bed, working around one another. Where they usually would trade kisses here and there, they're strategically avoiding being too close to one another right now. The air is tense and heavy as they both get settled in the bed, their backs turned to one another. Sleep doesn't come easy for either girl.

Mikha’s day could not have gone worse. She woke up to an empty bed, Aiah leaving her a text that she had to come to work early, and that was enough to ruin her mood for the entire morning. One of her most favorite things is waking up next to Aiah, or to her gentle touch and soft morning kisses, but she figures the girl is still upset with her. She should really apologize. It's only been twenty-four hours since she last kissed Aiah, and she misses the girl immensely.

The rest of her workday didn't get any better. Her editor had been extra difficult today, and she couldn't concentrate enough to actually be productive. She walks out of their building at the end of the day with the worst mood she's had in a while, and when she gets outside and looks up, she sees Aiah leaning against her car. Her heart skips a beat, and her breath gets caught in her throat – just the sight of her girlfriend is enough to dissipate some of the stress she's feeling, the tension leaving her body in waves.

She schools her face to be neutral, however, and walks up to the other girl defiantly, crossing her arms when she gets in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

Aiah raises an eyebrow and responds exasperatedly. "Your car is in the shop, so I'm picking you up, obviously."

"I thought you were mad at me."

Aiah clenches her jaw and stares at the red-haired girl with piercing eyes. "I am mad at you, but I'm not going to let you commute when I can pick you up. So just get in the car, Mikha."

Mikha huffs and rolls her eyes but moves to open the passenger door when Aiah rounds the car to get to the driver's side. It's quiet in the car for a while, both girls still a little upset with each other but feeling content being in the presence of one another regardless of their current spat. Aiah, especially, had always taken comfort from just being around Mikha, being able to know she's here and they're together. She's learned to enjoy the little things over the years.

"We don't have to go tonight if you don't want," Mikha finally sighs out.

Aiah holds the scoff that's begging to come out of her throat, knowing that it wouldn't do them any good to get in another fight (even though technically, they're still in the middle of one), but she can't help the snarky response at the tip of her tongue. She's only human after all.

"So your parents can hate me even more?" The brunette replies without missing a beat.

"They don't hate you."

"Right, of course," she scoffs. Okay, maybe she doesn't have as much control over her emotions as she'd like.

"Fine. Whatever, we'll go to the stupid dinner," Mikha huffs while crossing her arms, glaring at the road in front of her.

"Fine!"

"FINE," Mikha whispers harshly.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to."

"Whatever," the brunette mutters, and although she hears the girl next to her whisper whatever mockingly, she decides one of them should probably act their age and bites her lip to prevent herself from letting out a retort.

They get ready in their bedroom for dinner in absolute silence once again. Mikha’s parents are business moguls in the hotel world, and so when their daughter, who they've always imagined would take over the business after graduation, decided that she'd rather pursue something she's actually passionate about (writing), they'd all but disowned her – in the subtlest, we-don't-want-our-rich-friends-to-know-we've-abandoned-our-kid way, of course.

This means that they left Mikha to fend for herself after high school, the girl having to find a way to fund her college studies and living situation without any help from her parents. They made it clear that if she wasn't willing to at least minor in business (which she wasn't because she has zero intentions of being involved in the family business), they were not going to give her a cent, including her inheritance.

This, however, also means that they still expect Mikha to attend certain functions to keep up appearances to her parents’ closest investors and join them for dinner every three months or so so they can all pretend that their family isn't in actual shambles. And because Mikha has always had a soft spot for her sister, Pat, who – bless her heart – has a natural affinity for business and had willingly taken up the hole Mikha had left in their parents' hearts, the red-haired girl is willing to sit through these God-awful dinners.

Because Aiah has been nothing but supportive of Mikha’s dreams, the brunette naturally did not get any type of blessing from Mikha’s parents – not that either of them really cares. They love each other too much to really care for the opinion of the red-haired girl’s estranged parents.

They're just about ready to leave the apartment when Aiah notices that her girlfriend is in front of their full-body mirror trying (and failing) to zip up her dress from the back. She rolls her eyes internally and fights the smile threatening to form on her lips when she walks up behind her girl and gently touches the girl's hand to let her know she's got it.

Mikha meets her eyes through the reflection, and her previously furrowed brows relax at the sight of the girl as the red-haired girl brings her hands back around to in front of her. The older girl presses a warm hand at the base of her lower back, her touch sending a slight shiver along Mikha’s spine, while Aiah’s other hand slowly brushes her hair across her back to bring it around to one side of her shoulder. The brunette then lowers a hand to move the zipper up, her knuckles lightly touching the red-haired girl’s bare skin and leaving a track of goosebumps in its wake as Mikha takes a subtle, sharp intake of breath.

Aiah holds her gaze the whole time, and Mikha notices the very slight upturn of her lips, showing a barely-there smirk. The red-haired girl stutters out a thank you before Aiah turns and starts heading out of their bedroom, smiling to herself at the way Mikha is as pliant as ever under her touch. She figures it's only fair because the girl has just as much, if not more, power over the brunette if she really tried.

Dinner with Mikha’s parents goes as expected – they're naturally condescending and quite obsessively insult Mikha’s chosen field of work every now and then, making comments about how she could have been heading a billion-dollar empire instead of working for other people. Mikha, for her part, is a feisty woman who wouldn't let anyone else walk all over her, except of course when it comes to her parents. She's always had this sense of unconditional gratitude for them, feeling like she owes at least part of what she's accomplished to her parents – she's lived a pretty privileged life after all, at least up until she had to go to college. So, she remains mute during most of dinner, and it doesn't help that Pat was unable to make it.

What does help, however, is Aiah’s presence. Because if Mikha adamantly refuses to defend herself, the brunette is more than willing to make up for it.

"Maybe if you didn't waste four years of your higher education pursuing some pipe dream, you wouldn't be struggling in the publishing house that hasn't given you anything in return for all your hard work," Mikha’s father quips when he finishes washing down his steak with a glass of red wine.

Mikha takes a subtle deep breath and is ready for a response that would take the attention away from her when she hears Aiah abruptly set her utensils down, the silverware clanking loudly against her plate, drawing the red-haired girl’s parents' eyes towards her.

"With all due respect, sir," Aiah clears her throat and defiantly meets Mikha’s father’s gaze, all stormy eyes and clenched jaw. "I wouldn't call anything Mikha has done a 'pipe dream,' as you so eloquently put it," she continues with a tight-lipped smile. "If you had taken the time to pay attention to your own daughter instead of obsessing over a shallow, pretentious image of perfection, you'd know that her work – poems, short stories, and even written commentaries – has garnered quite the impressive amount of awards throughout her undergraduate career."

The brunette smirks when she sees the man falter in the slightest, his pride preventing him from immediately responding. "And with no thanks from you guys, her own parents, she put herself through school, graduated with honors, landed a career she absolutely loves, and now," she turns to Mikha and her gaze turns soft as she smiles at the girl, who's looking at her like she's torn between thanking her and slapping a hand over her mouth. "She's working on her first novel and is on her way of letting the rest of the world know just how incredibly talented she actually is. Something I've known from the start, and something you've always failed to see," she ends as she turns her attention back to Mikha’s dumbfounded parents.

When the man looks as if he's about to throw Aiah out of his house, Mikha’s mother clears her throat and sends the couple a genuine, though slightly wary smile, before turning to her husband and laying a gentle hand over his own, drawing his fiery gaze away from the brunette. "Hey," she whispers to him, and after looking at each other silently for a few seconds, Mikha’s father swallows whatever he was going to say and proceeds to finish his glass instead. "Why don't we just talk about something that's not about work for once?" The older woman offers, and Mikha immediately backs her mother up, jumping at the chance to relieve the tension at the table.

The car ride back home is as quiet as the way to the dinner, but this time around, there's less tension in the air, and Mikha has a growing urge to take Aiah’s hand and hold it in her own, somehow let her know that she's thankful for the girl. That she's always appreciated how the brunette has never failed to put her first. She thinks she's lucky that she was able to find the girl in this lifetime as she watches her side profile being bathed by the night lights while they drive silently.

They get ready for bed and trade unsure glances when they get home. After using the bathroom for her nightly routine, Mikha enters their bedroom and realizes that Aiah isn't in bed yet. She notes the slightly ajar sliding door on one side of their room and sees that her girlfriend is leaning against their balcony's railing, looking like she's in deep thought.

Mikha follows the girl outside and leans on the wall, crossing her arms when she speaks. "Can you act like a normal person and actually be angry with me when you say you're angry with me?" Her voice is light, and Aiah can tell she's trying to fight off a smile before she even turns around.

The brunette turns and leans her back on the railing, crossing her arms and mirroring the girl in front of her as she raises an eyebrow. "I am mad at you. I don't know what you're talking about." Despite her words, there's a glint in her eyes that lets Mikha know that whatever it was they were fighting about, they're okay again.

The red-haired girl drops all pretense of teasing, and her eyes soften. She can't help but smile shyly at the girl in front of her. She makes her way to Aiah and brings her hands up to gently uncross the other girl's arms, and brings her own arms around the taller girl's neck, all the while keeping her gaze on her girl.

"I love you, you know that?" Mikha whispers as she leans in and lightly brushes her lips against Aiah’s. The taller girl instinctively wraps her arms around Mikha’s waist, and a wide grin forms on her own lips as all the tension she's been feeling in the last couple of days leaves her body, the mere fact of having Mikha close again enough to make her heart feel lighter once again.

"I love you too, baby," she says just as softly, before closing the miniscule gap between them and leaning in to properly kiss her girl, wrapping soft lips around Mikha’s bottom one. They indulge in the kiss for a few moments, re-familiarizing themselves with the feel of each other's lips and basking in one another's warmth before Mikha pulls back and leans her forehead against Aiah’s, eyes still closed in bliss.

"And I'm sorry," she sighs out. "I hate fighting with you, and I should have found a way to contact you."

Aiah pulls away and brings a hand up to tuck a few strands behind the girl's ear while smiling at her gently. "I'm sorry too. I could have handled the whole thing better."

Mikha feels like her heart is going to burst with everything she's currently feeling for the girl – she feels almost helpless at how much she loves this girl – her patience with Mikha, the way she protects her, her unconditional support – they're all proof that she must have done something in the past life to deserve somebody like Aiah. She leans forward and tightens her arms around the other girl and buries her face in the girl's neck. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Aiah runs a soothing hand on her back as she holds her just as tightly while she hums against the side of the girl's head. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she speaks up once more. "Is this the part where we have make-up sex?" the brunette asks cheekily, her lips turning up into a goofy grin.

Mikha laughs, and it's light and carefree, whole-bodied and absolutely endearing, the kind that lets Aiah know that she'll do this over and over if she gets to see Mikha this happy every single time.

And so they're okay again, and they continue to live in bliss, Aiah taking advantage of whatever time they may have left before they're found out.

It happens on a seemingly normal day.

They're both working in the kitchen, prepping their dinner side by side. Aiah is working on the stove while the other girl is cutting up some vegetables.

"Ow, shit," the red-haired girl hisses as Aiah looks up and sees Mikha dropping the knife on the counter and cradling a finger she's accidentally cut.

"Baby!" Aiah is right by Mikha’s side in an instant, gently taking her hand in her own and urging the girl to the sink to get the cut under running water. "Are you okay?" There's nothing but utter concern in her eyes.

The red-haired girl looks up at the girl beside her with an amused grin. "It's just a cut, babi," she smiles up at Aiah.

"Yeah, but it could – like – I don't know," the girl shrugs as she continues to focus on the other girl's finger. "Get infected or something," she mutters.

Mikha only shakes her head, but after a few moments and the cut hasn't gone away and the bleeding has only slightly subsided, she starts to crease her eyebrows. "Huh," she says to herself quietly, but the other girl hears her anyway.

"What?"

Mikha is taken out of her musings and looks up at her girlfriend’s worried eyes. "Nothing, it's just –" It's not like she can tell her. How do you tell your girlfriend of a year that you regenerate from injury abnormally quickly? "Nothing," she manages a small smile.

Aiah’s heart is beating out of her chest. She knows what's happening. She herself had scraped her knee the week before, and the cut had taken longer to heal than she's used to. Their kind isn't supposed to be as vulnerable to injuries. The only time they become weaker is when they've found their match and have been in close proximity to them for a while. Aiah estimates the time since she first saw Mikha in this lifetime and figures that the spirits after them are right on time, and she knows they've been found.

She wraps the girl's finger after a few more moments, and that night, she holds her girlfriend a little tighter and prays to the gods above that this time it'll be different. She knows it's a long shot, but having lost Mikha so many times before, all she can do at this point is hope.

- - - -

Mikha is waiting by the curb in front of her work building for Aiah when she finds the answer to her long-time question.

It doesn't register right away, and maybe she should have been paying more attention when a young man, dressed in dark pants and a matching black hoodie, one hand tucked into his sweater's front pocket and the other adjusting the strap of a small backpack, as he looks around nervously, briskly walks to the bank across the street, the number on his head a blinking zero.

The red-haired girl finally starts to get alarmed when her eyes get caught on how the number on top of his head then flickers for a few moments before switching to a one, and Mikha can't keep her eyes away. She's never seen the numbers change.

The man enters the bank, and a few moments later, Mikha hears the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. The man hurries out of the bank a few seconds afterward, panicked eyes and trembling hands as he hauls the bag over his shoulder more securely and runs for his life.

The red-haired girl ducks behind a car, the people around her doing the same thing, finding somewhere to hide until the police can get to the scene. Mikha brings out her phone and dials her girlfriend with trembling hands, managing to somehow let her know what she's just witnessed through her barely comprehensible panicked words.

And it's not until after they've spoken to the police, Mikha going through the motions in a state of shock as she relays what she remembers of the man entering the bank, not until they're safely back in her apartment, and not until Aiah tries to gently get her attention that she looks up at the girl she's fallen for, and her eyes land on the number on top of her head.

And her blood runs cold.

She takes a step back when Aiah tries to approach her, eyes as gentle as ever as tears form in Mikha’s eyes, the red-haired girl shaking her head lightly as she brings a hand to her mouth, thinking of a way to explain this. How her girlfriend's number could be forty-seven.

"Mikha," the girls asks softly, her soft features marred with worry. "Talk to me, baby. Please."

That snaps Mikha out of her stupor because this is the girl she's loved for a year. The girl that's been nothing but good, protective, and gentle with her. There's an explanation for this. There has to be. She wills herself to calm down, to take a deep breath, and steady her voice.

After gathering herself, she manages to talk with as much strength as she can muster.

"I'm going to tell you something about myself. Something I've never told anyone before," she breathes out, keeping Aiah’s gaze as the older girl continues to look at her with worry. "And in return, you have to explain something to me."

And so she tells Aiah about her ability to see the numbers. How she figured out from an early age that she's the only one who could see the numbers and had absolutely no idea what it could mean until recently. Until the bank robbery. How she doesn't know what to make of Aiah’s forty-seven.

There's a flash of recognition in Aiah’s eyes, and she looks at Mikha as if gauging something in her eyes before she nods solemnly and swallows hard. It's her turn to try to gather herself so she can explain herself. She can see how and why Mikha must be feeling apprehensive around her.

"Okay, I guess it's time that you know," she says seriously, and Mikha’s heart jumps in her throat. Because she can feel that something big is about to change, and she hopes that at the end of it all, her heart stays intact.

So Aiah tells her everything. She does it patiently and thoroughly. She's been expecting this day to come after all.

The girl explains to her in detail about how they're kindred spirits, a special kind of being that had started as one body— connected physically, spiritually, and in every bit of way possible. In the beginning, they shared a body, eight limbs, and two torsos, two hearts beating as one. Soulmates, as the modern humans call it. They're immortal and are meant to spend life as one soul.

And then the spirit hunters came about.

These spirit hunters were fallen kindred spirits. They had disgraced themselves in one way or another in the Spirit World and have in turn been struck apart, physically separating from their partners, breaking apart into two bodies and losing some of the power they once had while being banished from the Spirit World. They're forced to live immortal lives in the human world, unable to return to their home, so they spend their lives vowing to destroy what's left of the kindred spirits and breaking them apart just as they had been broken apart by the higher spirits.

Sometime after the Great Conflict of the Spirits began, a Higher Spirit rose above the rest, restoring the Spirit World with unprecedented power and saving what's left of the connected kindred spirits, providing a safe haven for them, away from the fallen spirit hunters.

There are, however, those who could not be saved. The ones that got left behind on Earth and are forced to live apart in the world of humans. They roam the Earth endlessly until they are reunited with their partner, and only then can they start to grow old together. They remain powerful and immortal while they're apart, but once they reunite and continue to spend time together, they slowly but gradually weaken, become more vulnerable to injury, and even start to age, allowing themselves to live a life together until they can finally reach the end of their human lives and be reunited with the rest of the Spirit World.

Mikha and Aiah are one of the unfortunate pairs that were left behind. Mikha, specifically, comes from a special line of spirits that are more powerful than most. They have the special ability to witness the numbers above everyone's heads, indicating how many times a person or spirit has witnessed somebody die. It was an ability that served as some sort of protection – a kind of warning to their people to let them know if they ever encounter any new beings and indicate to them how dangerous that new being could be. Spirit hunters especially despised Mikha’s kind because they couldn't understand their ability and they could be told apart from the other spirits by a special glow about them that can only be seen by other spirits.

Mikha had been the last of her kind when the Great Conflict ended, and she was found by a spirit hunter that had used every bit of power that she had left to curse the red-haired girl. The girl was cursed to have the same fate as the fallen spirits, to never be able to return to the Spirit World. That no matter how many times she dies, she is reborn in the human world again and again, forced to live in the human world with humans and fallen spirits alike.

"Wait," Mikha says with furrowed brows, her heart beating hard in her chest once again at all the information. "You've seen someone die forty-seven times?" she asks incredulously.

At that, there's an indescribable amount of sadness that washes over Aiah’s face, her eyes cloud with tears, and her lips curve into a forlorn smile. "Yeah," she breathes out while looking at Mikha with eyes that are begging her not to ask any further.

"How?"

Aiah smiles a little bit more at this. Mikha has never been one to back down. Every single time they've done this, she's always asked to know more, determined to get the whole story, and Aiah? – well, Aiah will give anything to Mikha, regardless of how painful it might be.

"These fallen spirits," Aiah starts to explain as she runs a hand through her hair, doing anything that could try to calm her nerves while recounting the story yet again. "They go around separating soulmates, but their main goal is coming after you, being as you're the last of your kind," the girl continues as she looks back up to meet the red-haired girl’s curious eyes. "And they wait until we've found each other – they can sense it or something," she furrows her own brows at that, as if she herself doesn't fully understand how they've always managed to track them down. "Until we've found each other and have gotten weaker. Until they can get to you and fight you with an unfair advantage."

"Wait –wha-"

"I've been there every single time they've taken you and held you captive," Aiah swallows. "Every single time they've killed you. I've been there to see it." It's why Aiah has hardly ever aged in the last few hundred years. Because before they can get to the part where they start to age together, the spirit hunters have always found Mikha.

The tears fall from Mikha’s eyes as she listens to Aiah tell her about how she has the number that she does on top of her head. Why hers is forty-seven, and the red-haired girl feels her heart breaking at everything that Aiah must have gone through. She walks up to the girl and takes her in her arms, feeling the girl sob against her while she tries to comfort her in the best way she can.

"What are we going to do?" she whispers in a shaky voice against Aiah’s hair. The older girl pulls back and gently cradles the girl's face as she uses her thumbs to wipe away her tears. "It's going to be okay, baby. We're going to fight like hell, okay? We always have."

It sounds like a broken promise to both of their ears.

- - - -

"Uggghhh," Stacey groans to herself as she looks in the mirror and adjusts the tight clothes on her body. "Why do humans like wearing things like this?" she asks herself in annoyance. It doesn't matter how many times she's had to do this, she can never really understand why humans would dress in such uncomfortable clothes.

Stacey is a spirit that lives on Earth as part of her assignment. In her human form, she has flawless skin and long dark hair that goes past her shoulders. Her facial features are divine when she smiles and intimidating at the same time when she has to be. Like most spirits, her physical form is meant to be enticing and entrancingly beautiful, with a natural charisma about her coupled with an angelic voice. These characteristics especially help spirits on a mission to interact with other humans effectively, and because they learned that humans tend to value physical attributes the most, they have learned to use it to their advantage.

She hates living in the human world, but she had been appointed by the Highest Spirit to live among the mortals and, more importantly, find the spirit hunters among them and actually work with them – or at least pretend to be one of them as a way for the Spirit World to keep tabs on the hunters while they roam the Earth. She's been given explicit instruction to never give away her true identity. She must live like a hunter and be there when they separate soulmate pairs so she can report back to the Highest Spirit, and they can send other spirits to guide the souls back to one another. And the most important part of it all is that she's never allowed to interfere with the hunters' activities – she's not allowed to help the poor souls regardless of how much she wants to.

She sighs as she adjusts her clothes once more. She's getting ready to go out on a mission with the hunters. She's heard their leader talk about their goal today, and she knows she's about to see someone familiar.

Aiah. The girl that her group has hunted for hundreds of years. Aiah and her mate have been a constant target because of Mikha’s natural powers, and she doesn't know how much longer she can stand watching them get torn over and over. The hunters take sick pleasure in hunting Mikha again and again, knowing that she has been cursed to have the same fate as the hunters, to never be able to go back to the Spirit World.

Stacey doesn't know how much longer she can keep doing this. Regardless of what's been asked of her by the Highest Spirit, she doesn't know how long she can pretend like she can't do anything to help the girls.

- - - -

Aiah and Mikha are walking hand in hand back to their apartment after eating out at a nearby restaurant when a familiar shiver runs down Aiah’s spine, her blood running cold and her hold on her girlfriend’s hand instinctively tightening. She stops them for a second and looks around cautiously, her entire being alight with tense anticipation, the veins along her body thrumming restlessly and her heart hammering in her chest. She knows they're here.

"What's wrong?” Mikha doesn't get to finish her sentence because darkness descends upon them in the next second, and everything turns black.

The next time Aiah opens her eyes, her tired body, beaten and bloody and weak from what she guesses the hunters have done to her while she was passed out, being held up by one of the hunters. She turns her head, barely able to open her eyes, and spots familiar brown eyes looking ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. Aiah has seen this particular light-skinned hunter over and over in the last couple of hundred years. She's always been the one to hold Aiah while she watches helplessly as the rest of the hunters gather around Mikha.

"This is always my favorite part, you know?" A gruff voice fills the empty room as a large man stands in front of Mikha, his eyes dark and menacing, a ragged scar running straight through his left eye. His entire aura emanates a sense of evil.

Mikha is slowly waking up, being held up by two hunters herself, and her eyes widen at the sight of the man. She looks around and her eyes land on Aiah, seemingly on the verge of passing out herself, cuts and bruises marring her body, and Mikha can't help the sob that falls out of her lips.

The man backs up and smirks at the scene. He's always loved seeing the pain and utter anguish between two souls that are about to be separated, or in this case, see the pain of one soul as they watch their soulmate die. He holds out a hand, and a hot ball of fire power emerges from it, hovering over his hand threateningly as he summons his strength to make it bigger.

"Aiah," the red-haired girl cries out, her voice laced with desperation and fear.

"Hey, hey," Aiah croaks out, trying to make her voice as soothing as it can be. "Keep your eyes on me, okay, baby?" She can feel tears stinging her eyes even as she tries to be strong. "It's going to be okay. It'll be over before you know it, and I'll find you, okay? I always do," she sends the girl a final smile before they hear the man laugh out loud, his voice demeaning when he speaks.

"Oh how sweet," he coos mockingly.

And then Aiah feels the female hunter loosen her hold on her arm. She looks up at the girl, but she's staring straight ahead, her demeanor as calm as ever. Aiah’s heart rate spikes up at the chance to do something different this time.

She carefully eyes her distance from the man and from Mikha before straightening herself out, the girl behind her doing nothing to keep her hold.

"I love you, Mikha," she says in a steady tone, and Mikha only has a split second to even register what's happening before she sees the man pull his hand back, aiming the ball of fire towards her. When she turns to Aiah, she sees the girl breaking out of the hunter's hold and running towards her – in front of the line of fire.

For a second, she registers that the number on top of her own head changes from zero to one, and she doesn't have enough time to react before Aiah is hit with the ball of fire, the impact spreading all around the room and throwing everybody backward.

Mikha stands up hurriedly, the hunters that were holding her still on the ground as she runs to Aiah’s limp body on the ground. "Aiah!" she cries out as she gets to her girlfriend, kneeling down beside her and cradling her head desperately as she cries out hysterically, a powerful sob wracking her body as she lets out an excruciating, blood-curdling scream. "No! love, please," she continues to shake her girlfriend's body as she leans down and buries her head in the girl's neck, holding her tightly. Hopelessly. She can feel the beating of her heart weaken by the second, the air in her lungs dissipating as she continues to cry for her soulmate.

And everything turns dark for the second time that night.

- - - -

20 years later

Stacey adjusts the stupid barista visor that she's required to wear at this stupid job. She sighs to herself and sucks it up because college isn't going to pay for itself, and she needs all the money she can get. Her scholarship only covers the tuition, so she has to find a way to pay for living expenses, fees, books, and it's just – why is this country’s education system so broken?

Nevertheless, she's always been a fighter, so she puts on a genuine smile (well, as genuine of a smile as she can after already working for five hours straight, serving sleep-deprived and stressed-out college students).

"Hi! What can I get for you today?..."

It has been twenty years since the incident with Aiah and Mikha. As punishment for interfering, Stacey has been banished from the Spirit World temporarily and stripped of her powers. She was condemned to live a full human life on Earth from birth, so she was reincarnated into a human family. When she turned thirteen, she was visited by the Highest Spirit himself, telling her about her true identity and where she comes from, including her punishment of living among the mortals.

When she finishes her time on Earth, she's welcome to come back to the Spirit World and is able to regain her suspended powers. It had taken her a while to believe it all, but after the Highest Spirit took her to see the Spirit World for herself while simultaneously helping her gain her memories of her past life, well, it didn't take much convincing after that.

She's tasked to live a life that's morally sound and to guide the humans around her as much as she can, knowing that they're a weaker kind of soul and are more vulnerable to temptation. But other than that, she's free to live as she wants, so she decided to pursue something in performing arts. She remembers that during her mission trips on Earth, one thing that has always captivated her about the way humans lived their lives is their utter fascination with entertainment. So now she's working on a degree to get her the proper credentials and training that can help her get into prestigious performing companies.

When she gets a break at the coffee shop, she decides to sit by one of the corner tables with a drink of her own, taking advantage of her spot to people-watch the crowd inside the café.

A genuine smile forms on the curve of her lips when she sees a girl, all leather jacket, enter the café, a confidence about her that's unmistakable and the kind that demands the attention of the entire room. Her eyes are dark, her sharp jaw, and her tan complexion. Stacey watches in earnest as another girl, an unsuspecting red-haired girl with soft brown eyes, walks unknowingly towards the brunette, who's too busy trying to read the menu on the board while walking to pay attention to her surroundings.

The red-haired girl herself is unaware of her surroundings, her head buried in a book she's holding in one hand, an extra-large coffee cup in the other as she furrows her brows and concentrates on the words on the page in front of her. She's wearing glasses and a cozy-looking sweater that has slipped off on one shoulder, jeans, and worn Nikes to top it off, looking like a typical beautiful mess.

And when they inevitably run into one another, the red-haired girl’s cup unceremoniously spills hot coffee all over the brunette. Stacey can't help but shake her head. The smaller girl is all worried looks and stuttered apologies as she tries to wipe down the other girl's shirt in vain. The brunette, for her part, was on the verge of saying something before her eyes landed on the frantic red-haired girl, and Stacey sees how her expression quickly changes to one of endeared – almost entranced by the girl in front of her.

She notes that the numbers on their heads are both at zeroes. Despite being stripped of her powers, Stacey was given one ability to help herself live among the mortals with relative caution. She was given the power to see the numbers like Mikha had, as well as the understanding of what the numbers mean in order to serve as a warning for possible dangerous persons she might encounter.

She learned later on that Aiah’s act of defiance had been the key to breaking the curse – a true love's sacrifice. They've been granted a final reincarnation on Earth – a brand new life in which they know nothing of their pasts or their true identities – a life with a clean slate, the numbers on their heads restarting back to zero. And when they inevitably find one another and live the lives they've always meant to live as one soul, they're free to go back to the Spirit World. All while the rest of the spirit hunters have been obliterated along with the end of the curse. Spirits everywhere, those on Earth and those in the Spirit World, are all now truly safe from the hunters. And it's only a matter of time before the rest of the spirits on Earth, including Aiah and Mikha, are able to come back to their true home.

Despite everything that Stacey hates about the human world, she doesn't regret her actions one bit when she remembers how her own sacrifice had helped Aiah and Mikha break the curse so they can finally be together. She figures they've suffered long enough.

She continues to watch the scene unravel, the red-haired girl stuttering even more when she makes eye contact with the girl she's spilled coffee on, and how the other girl manages to immediately calm the red-haired girl, her soft smile and her gentle gaze. They smile at one another, seemingly captivated by each other, before they exchange information and trade shy smiles, and finally part reluctantly.

Stacey brings her attention back to her coffee and smiles contently.

She thinks to herself that this – this is where their story starts.

Fin.