Archive of Our Own

By the time Mira arrived, Zoey had stopped screaming. That was progress, technically.

She stood in the open doorway clutching a frying pan in one hand and her phone in the other like they were the only two things keeping her sane. Behind her, a wooden dining chair floated upside down in the hallway, turning slowly.

Mira took in the scene with a single, unimpressed glance over her shoulder. Her brow lifted as she returned her gaze to Zoey.

“I swear it wasn’t doing that when I called.”

Mira’s gaze moved past her again, to the chair, the flickering hallway light, the upside down picture frames on the wall.

A low groan escaped from Zoey beside her and she threw her head back. “Please don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mira said mildly, stepping inside. “But if I was, it would probably be something like ‘I told you so.’”

She crossed the threshold and the chair dropped immediately. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, bounced once, and settled upright as if nothing had happened.

Zoey flinched hard.

Mira didn’t. She only glanced at the chair, her head cocking and said, “show-off.”

“Were you talking to me or the house?” Zoey asked.

“Whoever seems to be playing games.”

Zoey shut the door and locked it, cheeks burning. “We’re friends, so I’m allowed to say this: I hate you.”

“Oh? But you don’t believe in ghosts,” Mira reminded her, setting her black equipment case down. “You told me, very confidently and over multiple times, that my entire career is ‘a fun mix of theatre kid energy and placebo effect.’”

“Yeah, well…” Zoey gestured helplessly with the frying pan. “That was before all of this.”

With her arms tucked behind her back, Mira looked over the various pictures on Zoey’s mantel. Mostly, the ones of the two of them that had been turned upside down. “Tell me what’s been happening.”

Zoey kept the frying pan close to her chest like a shield. “It started small. Cabinets open every morning. Lights flickering. Things moving. I thought it was stress. Then my keys ended up in the freezer, the remote in the bathtub, and my hairbrush…” She paused, still clearly offended. “Inside a sealed cereal box. Someone opened it, took the bag out, put the brush in, and closed everything again. Took me over two hours to find it. Two hours, Mira. How embarrassing is that?”

Mira nodded once, listening. She couldn’t help the small smile that managed to tug at her lips. She always did have a soft spot for prankster entities.

Zoey continued, voice getting tighter. “I thought it was stress. Or carbon monoxide poisoning. I ignored it. And I refused to call you. Because I am a rational adult who does not call her paranormal investigator friend any time something weird happens.”

Mira folded her arms, waiting.

Zoey exhaled through her nose. “Then the writing started. On the bathroom mirror. The kitchen window. Little insults at first. It called my last date boring, which, fair, he was, but still rude. I kept telling myself it was some kind of prank. That I was imagining things.”

“Right.”

“…Then it wrote your name.”

Mira turned so quickly she almost tweaked her neck. Her brows raised so high they almost touched her hairline. “My name?”

Zoey paused, looking genuinely uncomfortable now. “Two nights ago it wrote your name. Kang Mira. On the kitchen window at 3:07 a.m. I know the exact time because I got up for water and nearly had a heart attack. I wiped it off, went back to bed, but the next morning it was back. Then again last night. So… here we are.”

Mira’s expression shifted. The faint amusement faded as she studied her friend. “You should have called me the first time something moved, Zoey.”

“I know,” Zoey muttered, embarrassed. “But you’re my friend, not my… ghost exterminator-“

“Paranormal investigator-“

“Whatever. I didn’t want to drag you into my probably-haunted-maybe-not apartment only to find out you were right.”

Mira didn’t answer right away. Frankly, she was a little pissed Zoey had left it this long to get her involved. Instead she walked back toward the hallway, eyes scanning the walls, and the now innocent dining chair.

“Has it ever hurt you?” She asked. “Scratches, bruises, anything that lingered?”

“No. Just… it’s just annoying. A flick to the ear. Sometimes it tugs my sleeve when I’m trying to leave a room. Once it braided a tiny section of my hair while I was on the couch. I didn’t notice until I saw it in the mirror.” Zoey adjusted her grip on the frying pan. “It feels like someone who’s bored and likes attention. But the name thing… that felt targeted. Like it knew exactly who to call.”

Mira pulled a notepad from her back pocket and started scribbling down everything Zoey had told her, her head nodding as she underlined her name.

Her pen paused and she looked up. “You’re handling this better than most skeptics would.”

“I ran out of screaming energy after the first night,” Zoey shrugged. “Now I’m in the acceptance phase. Or possibly the delirium phase. Hard to tell.”

The corner of Mira’s mouth twitched again, almost a real smile.

She walked over to the hallway mirror, studying her own reflection for a moment. “Anything else I should know before I start setting up?”

“It’s been getting more active since I said your name out loud. Like it was excited.”

“Excited?”

“More charged? I don’t know. The air just… feels different.”

The hallway light flickered once and both of them looked up until the bulb steadied.

Zoey swallowed. “See?”

“Excited is a bit strong,” a voice drawled.

Both Mira and Zoey whipped around towards the sound. There, sitting on Zoey’s dining table with her legs dangling over the side like she owned the place, was a woman who hadn’t been there a second ago.

Lavender hair cascaded loosely over one of her shoulders and her skin held a faint, luminous purple undertone that caught the light in an impossible way. Magenta patterns shifted slowly beneath the surface, tracing delicate, living designs along her throat and down her arms.

Her nails were sharp and a deep purple, perfectly manicured. And her eyes? They were the worst part, almost human, warm brown at first glance, until the golden-yellow threads flickering through the irises made it clear nothing about her belonged of this world.

She smiled, almost delighted, swinging one bare foot.

“You’re so dramatic,” the woman huffed, looking straight at Zoey. “It has been so fun teasing you.”

Zoey made a small, strangled sound and raised the frying pan like a sword. “And who the hell are you?”

The woman tilted her head, amused. “Rumi. And you’re Zoey. You’re a cutie. Terrible taste in men, though. That last one? Painful.”

Zoey’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Wha-? You… my date? You were watching me on a date?”

“Someone had to suffer through it with you.” Rumi’s gaze slid away from Zoey as if she were only mildly interesting and landed fully on Mira. Her entire expression softened into something warmer. “But I was waiting for the main event.”

Mira stood very still in the middle of the hallway, notepad forgotten in her hand. Her face had gone carefully, dangerously blank.
“Rumi,” she said flatly.

Rumi’s smile widened, sharp and pleased. “Hi, princess.”

Heat tickled Mira’s throat at the nickname and she clenched her jaw.

Rumi then hopped off the table without a sound, landing lightly on the floor. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d ignore me forever.”

With a frustrated sigh, Mira closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can put the pan down Zoey, she won’t hurt you.”

Zoey looked at the demon standing in her living room. Then at Mira’s rigid posture. Then back at the demon again.

Rumi’s smirk widened. She turned her head just enough to catch Zoey’s eye, then snapped her teeth lightly at the air, almost playful, flashing the sharp edge of her small fangs.

“No,” Zoey whispered, clutching it tighter. “I don’t think I will.”

Mira’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, like the weight of the situation had finally settled where she couldn’t ignore it anymore. When she opened her eyes, they flicked to Rumi for only a second.

Rumi looked delighted by the attention. So Mira immediately looked away, which only seemed to please her more.

“This isn’t a standard haunting, Zo,” she murmured, turning her focus back to Zoey with deliberate care.

“No? Then what is it?”

A sigh passed Mira’s lips and she turned her head to Rumi again. Rumi simply smiled and shrugged her shoulder.

“…Complicated.”

____

The first time Rumi saw Kang Mira, she was pretending to be human.

The bar hummed with low, smoky jazz and the clink of glasses. It was the kind of place that catered to people who wanted to disappear for a while.

She sat at the far end of the long wooden counter, her demonic features carefully folded away. The glowing magenta patterns under her skin had muted to ordinary warm tones. Her fangs retracted. Her eyes turned to a soft brown.

Her lavender hair was pulled back into a loose bun, several strands falling around her face in a way she had been told looked soft. Her mouth was painted with a dark gloss that made the bartender glance at her twice whenever he passed.

She was halfway through deciding whether to leave when the front door opened and a woman with bright pink hair walked in.

Rumi noticed her immediately.

Annoyingly, so did half the bar.

It was hard not to. The woman moved like she was used to being watched and vexed by it in equal measure. She wore a simple black top and jeans, but something about the way she carried herself, quiet and a little guarded, hooked Rumi’s attention immediately.

Pretty, she thought.

Then the girl turned her head slightly, giving Rumi a better look at her face.

Oh… Not just pretty.

Beautiful. So beautiful in fact, Rumi’s fingers tightened around her glass.

She watched her because she wanted to. Because this woman had the kind of presence that made watching feel like you had to. Because she looked like someone who had come to the bar for exactly one drink and would leave the second the room became too irritating to tolerate.

Which, judging by the two men already angling towards her, was about to happen very soon.

One leaned heavily on the bar beside the woman, flashing a grin. “Hey, you here by yourself?” he asked, voice already too loud. “A girl like you shouldn’t be drinking alone. Let us buy you another round.”

His friend crowded in on her other side, boxing her against the counter. “Yeah, and look at that pink hair? That’s cute. You got a name to go with it? Or should we just call you ours for the night?”

The woman’s shoulders tensed and she lifted a hand. “Listen, I’m not interested. Back off.”

Oh? Oh, Rumi liked that voice.

She set her vodka soda down and moved, slipping between the two men and the pink-haired beauty with fluid grace, inserting herself into the narrow space at the bar as if she’d been there the whole time. Her shoulder brushed lightly against the other woman’s in a deliberate, protective touch.

“Gentlemen,” Rumi said, voice smooth like warm honey, “you’re in my seat. Babe,” she turned to the woman now, softening her expression. “You could’ve at least told me you’d gone to the bar, I was looking everywhere for you.”

Up close, this woman was devastating.

She stared at Rumi, clearly caught off guard by her sudden arrival before something clicked across her features and a smile spread across her cheeks. Without hesitation, she slipped her arm around Rumi’s waist and pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry, honey,” the pink-haired woman said, her voice dropping into something warm and convincingly affectionate as she leaned into Rumi’s side. “I stepped away for one second and these two decided I needed entertaining.”

The bolder of the two men didn’t back off right away. His eyes dragged slowly over Rumi, lingering on the lavender hair, the dark gloss on her lips, the way the low bar lighting seemed to cling to her skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, half to his friend, half loud enough for them to hear. “What’re the odds that there’s two of us and two of you, huh? What’s your name, beautiful?”

Rumi felt it instantly, the woman’s arm tightening around her waist, fingers pressing harder into the curve of her hip in a possessive little squeeze. A spark of delight shot through her chest.

The pink-haired woman’s voice stayed perfectly even, but her grip didn’t loosen. “Okay guys,” she said coolly, “you’re embarrassing yourselves. Walk away.”

Rumi leaned into her side with a lazy smile, letting her own hand rest casually on the small of her back. “Careful, boys. My girlfriend gets a little territorial. And she bites harder than I do.”

The men finally took the hint, muttering as they retreated. Rumi lifted her free hand and wiggled her fingers to them as they walked away. Just then, the woman’s arm dropped and she straightened in her chair, but not before Rumi caught the faint flush creeping up her neck.

“I had that handled, thank you.”

Rumi turned toward her fully, letting her smile curve teasingly. “Oh, I know you did, princess. You had that ‘I’m two seconds from hexing them’ energy. I just sped things up. Besides…” She leaned one elbow on the bar, chin resting on her knuckles as she studied Mira’s face. “It gave me an excuse to get close.“

The woman raised an eyebrow, but her lips twitched. “Do you always insert yourself into strangers’ nights like this?”

“Only when the stranger has pink hair and looks like she could ruin my life in the best way possible.” Rumi let her gaze drift deliberately down the woman’s figure and back up. “So far, you’re ticking every box.”

The woman let out a short laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re bold.”

“Life’s too short for subtlety. Especially when the view is this good.” Rumi lifted two fingers to the bartender then, signalling for a refill before she rested her chin on her knuckles again and gave this woman a lazy smile. “So, can I ask you your name?”

“And why do you need to know that?”

“So I can call you something other than babe. Though I have to say, that has a nice ring to it.”

“Mira,” the woman replied as her drink was set in front of her, trying to ignore Rumi’s gaze despite the pink that managed to dust her cheeks. “And you are?”

Rumi’s smirk bloomed into a satisfied grin. Mira. It suited her perfectly.

“Rumi. Just Rumi.” She extended her hand. When Mira took it, Rumi held on a second longer than necessary, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Very nice to meet you, Mira.”

Mira huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re trouble.”

“Only the fun kind,” Rumi murmured. She leaned in, voice dropping smoothly. “So tell me… what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this? You don’t exactly look like you came for the watered-down jazz.”

Mira huffed a quiet laugh and took a sip of her drink, eyes flicking over Rumi’s face like she was deciding how much to share. “Tough day at work.”

Rumi lifted a brow, leaning a little closer, “oh? Do tell.”

“Okay. But just… don’t laugh at my job,” she warned.

Rumi tilted her head, intrigued. “Now I’m dying to hear it.”

Mira hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “I specialise in paranormal exorcisms and demonology. Ghost removals, cursed objects, the occasional minor possession… that kind of thing. Most people think it’s a joke until something starts throwing their furniture around.”

It took every ounce of Rumi’s self-control not to light up like a festival lantern. Beneath her carefully glamoured skin, her patterns flared hot, threatening to break through before she forced them back down.

Demonology.

Rumi bit the inside of her cheek hard to keep the delighted grin off her face and leaned in closer instead, voice dropping into a purr. “That’s… incredibly hot. You walk into haunted houses and tell ghosts to fuck off for a living? I think I just fell in love a little.”

Mira rolled her eyes, but the faint blush on her cheeks deepened. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Tonight was a particularly nasty haunting. At first it was the usual theatrics. You know, lights blowing out, doors slamming, objects moved from one room to another. Then it escalated. It started dragging furniture across the ceiling at three in the morning. Wrote the owners’ names backwards on the bathroom mirror. Mimicked the baby crying from inside the walls when the baby was asleep in her cot. I got rid of it, eventually. And with a lot of effort. So here I am. Toasting to surviving another night.”

“Here you are. Lucky me.” Rumi said softly, eyes darkening with genuine heat as she shifted closer until their knees brushed. “A beautiful paranormal investigator walks into my night and decides to tell me about dragging furniture across ceilings and babies crying from inside walls. You’re either trying to scare me off… or you’re testing if I can handle you.”

Mira’s lips curved, a mix of amusement and challenge. She didn’t pull back. “And? Can you handle it?”

Rumi let her gaze drop openly to her mouth, then lower for a beat, before sliding back up. “Mm, I’d let you pin me against a wall and recite every exorcism rite you know if it meant I got to keep looking at you like this.”

Mira let out a soft, surprised laugh that sent heat curling through Rumi’s chest. The flush on Mira’s cheeks had spread down her neck now. “You have no filter at all, do you?”

“Not when pretty girls like you are involved, no.”

Mira’s brows lifted. “That line works for you?”

Rumi smiled against the rim of her glass. “You tell me.”

~~

The second her apartment door clicked shut, Mira grabbed Rumi by the front of her shirt and pushed her backward through the living room. She didn’t stop until the back of Rumi’s legs hit the couch, and then she shoved her down onto it.

Mira climbed on top without thinking, straddling Rumi’s lap, her knees sinking into the leather on either side of her hips. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. She leaned down and kissed her fiercely, pouring all the built-up tension from the bar into it. With her teeth, with her tongue, with pure unfiltered need.

“I never do this,” she whispered breathlessly against Rumi’s lips, rolling her hips down once, chasing the friction she already desperately wanted.

Rumi let out a soft, throaty laugh that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

“Oh?” Her hands settled on Mira’s hips, fingers digging in just enough to feel possessive. “You never drag pretty strangers home and climb on top of them like this?” She rocked her own hips up to meet Mira’s, matching the rhythm perfectly. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re doing it so well.”

Mira kissed her again. Her hands framing Rumi’s face at first, then slid back into her soft lavender hair, tugging just enough to tilt Rumi’s head back. She licked into her mouth and was met eagerly, tongue sliding against her own in full strokes that made her head spin.

Rumi groaned softly into her, the sound vibrating between them.

“Fuck,” Mira whispered against her lips, then immediately chased another kiss, refusing to let even that small word create distance. Every tiny break for air was immediately closed again by the other.

Rumi’s fingers slipped under the hem of Mira’s top then, her palms gliding up warm skin, tracing the dip of waist and the curve of her ribs. “You’re so warm,” she murmured.

“Uh huh,” Mira breathed, but the words melted into another kiss as she rocked her hips in a slow grind. Rumi’s grip tightened in response, one hand sliding down to cup her ass and encourage the movement.

She laughed softly into her mouth, the sound breaking into a pleased hum when Mira did it again. Sitting up straighter on the couch, Rumi pulled Mira flush against her until their bodies pressed together.

With it, Mira made a small, needy sound that only seemed to spur Rumi on. One of her hands pushed higher under her shirt, cupping her breast through her bra, thumb circling one stiff peak. The other stayed on her ass, guiding every roll and grind.

“You’re unreal,” she whispered, letting her lips finally drop.

Mira tilted her head back with a soft sigh as Rumi’s mouth found her throat. Between the warm press of lips and the slow drag of tongue, heat was rushing straight down her spine. “Rumi…” she breathed, fingers tightening in lavender hair.

Rumi hummed against her skin, pleased at the sound of her name in Mira’s mouth. She kissed lower, sucking gently just above Mira’s collarbone, then soothed the spot with her tongue. Her hand under Mira’s shirt continued its lazy exploration, thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple until Mira shivered and arched into the touch.

“You taste good,” she murmured, before one of her hands slid around to Mira’s back, unclasping her bra with practised ease. Mira gasped softly when cool air hit her skin and Rumi pushed her shirt and bra higher. She broke away just long enough to yank the shirt over her head and toss it aside.

Her eyes darkened with clear hunger as she took in the sight of Mira topless, flushed and straddling her. “You’re beautiful.”

Her hands slid up Mira’s sides, cupping her bare breasts, thumbs brushing over her stiff peaks before she leaned in and closed her mouth around one.

Mira gasped sharply, back arching as wet heat enveloped her nipple. Rumi sucked slowly, tongue swirling, then grazed it with her teeth just enough to make Mira jolt. She switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, while her hands kneaded and squeezed, thumbs stroking the wet skin she’d left behind.

“Jesus Christ,” Mira’s voice cracked. One hand stayed tangled in Rumi’s long hair, holding her mouth to her chest, while the other braced on the back of the couch for balance. She rolled her hips harder, grinding down against Rumi’s lap in search of more friction.

Rumi hummed around her nipple, the vibration pulling another moan from the woman above her. After a few more moments of teasing, she pulled back with a wet pop and looked up at her with a wicked little smile. “Stand up for a second?”

Mira did as she was told and climbed off her lap on shaky legs. Rumi immediately hooked her fingers into the waistband of her jeans and tugged her closer, popping the button and dragging the zipper down.

“Can I?” She whispered, while Mira enthusiastically nodded her head. Rumi smiled and peeled the jeans down Mira’s thighs along with her underwear in one smooth motion, helping her step out of them.

Rumi sat back for a moment, drinking in the sight of Mira completely naked in front of her. “God, look at you…” She leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her stomach. Her hands steadied Mira’s hips, thumbs stroking soothing circles as she felt the faint tremble in the other woman’s legs.

“You okay?” she murmured, voice a little husky.

Mira’s hand lifted and she rested it gently on Rumi’s cheek. Her own lips were parted as she looked at her and nodded. Quietly, Rumi joined her on her feet, hands moving to the straps of her own dress. The fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell in a soft pool at her feet, leaving the room suddenly quieter, the air between them warmer.

“Holy shit,” Mira whispered, looking over Rumi in her bra and underwear.

“You’re staring,” Rumi smiled as she reached back, unclasped her bra, and let it drop away. She pushed her underwear down her hips in one smooth motion and stepped out of it, fully bare now.

Mira’s hands moved on instinct (she couldn’t help it), sliding up Rumi’s sides, her thumbs brushing just beneath the curve of her breasts. Rumi hummed in approval and guided Mira back onto the couch, following her down.

Mira pulled her close, kissing her hard as their naked bodies pressed together now. Skin on skin, heat building fast. Rumi settled between Mira’s spread thighs, one leg hooked over her hip, and rocked slowly against her, letting Mira feel how wet she was.

Then her hand trailed down Mira’s body again until they settled between her legs. She was soaked. Rumi could feel it. And she let out a soft, pleased sound as she slid her fingers through slick folds in slow strokes.

She circled Mira’s clit with feather-light touches, with barely any pressure, just enough to make her hips jerk. Every time Mira tried to push up for more, Rumi pulled back, teasing her entrance with the tip of one finger, dipping in shallowly before gliding back up to her clit. The sensation was so agonising, Mira thought she might cry.

“Please. Please.”

Rumi used two fingers now, gliding slickly along Mira’s folds, spreading her wetness, stroking everywhere except where Mira needed it most.

“Rumi-“ her voice cracked, half-frustrated, half-desperate. She grabbed Rumi’s wrist, trying to guide her, but Rumi just chuckled and pinned that hand gently above Mira’s head.

“So needy,” Rumi purred, nipping at Mira’s bottom lip. “Is it too much, Princess?”

Mira opened her eyes and turned her head, forcing herself to focus on Rumi’s almost black eyes, her hips still moving with each tease Rumi gave her. “The only thing too much is not having you inside me. Please, I need-“

She was interrupted by the sudden, pleasuring feeling of Rumi’s fingers thrusting inside of her. Mira’s back arched hard off the couch with a loud, relieved moan, her walls clenching greedily around the sudden fullness.

Rumi’s fingers curled against a particularly sensitive spot, working harder and faster as Mira’s entire body began to tingle with pleasure.

“You feel so good,” Rumi whispered, her bravado slipping for just a minute.

Mira turned her head toward her, forcing their foreheads together as Rumi worked her fingers. Heat rose to her cheeks and she cried out once again when she felt Rumi’s thumb work small circles around her clit. Jesus Christ, this woman was trying to kill her.

“I’m so close,” she nodded, her forehead still pressed against Rumi’s own. She could feel fingers work harder and faster inside her at the admittance.

Rumi’s eyes darkened again, “come for me.”

The command was all the permission Mira needed and her entire body seized as an orgasm ripped through her.

A sharp, broken cry tore from her throat as her back arched violently off the couch, pressing her chest flush against Rumi’s.
Her walls clenched hard around thrusting fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Rumi didn’t slow down, she fucked her through it with deep, steady strokes. “There you go,” she breathed, voice strained with arousal as she watched Mira fall apart beneath her. “Just like that.”

Only when Mira finally went limp, trembling and gasping for air, did Rumi slow her movements. She kept her fingers buried deep inside for a long moment, savouring the fluttering aftershocks, before gently easing them out. Mira let out a soft, disappointed whine at the loss, which earned her a low, affectionate chuckle from Rumi.

She brought her soaked fingers to her own mouth and licked them clean with obvious relish, eyes half-lidded with want. Then she leaned down, capturing Mira’s mouth with her own. Mira moaned softly at the taste of herself on Rumi’s tongue, her hands sliding up to tangle in hair.

“Still with me?” Rumi murmured against her lips, smiling.

Mira let out a breathless laugh, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. “Barely. Fuck… I think you broke me.”

Rumi bit her lip to fight off a chuckle before clean fingers lifted to gently push a strand of loose pink hair out of Mira’s eyes. She settled closer, their bodies still pressed together, skin warm and slick with sweat. She brushed a soft kiss to Mira’s temple, then another to her cheek, her touch turning tender now that the intensity had ebbed.

“You were so good,” Rumi murmured again, voice low and warm. She shifted slightly so she could pull Mira against her chest, wrapping her arms around her. One hand stroked slowly up and down Mira’s back in soothing lines. “Wanna go again?”

Mira hummed, nuzzling into the curve of Rumi’s neck, inhaling the faint scent of sweat and lavender. “Give me ten minutes. Or an hour. My legs still feel like jelly.”

They stayed like that for a while, tangled and quiet except for the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets. Rumi’s fingers kept up their lazy path along Mira’s spine, occasionally dipping lower to trace the dimples at the small of her back.

Mira tilted her head up after a few minutes, resting her chin on Rumi’s collarbone so she could look at her properly.

“I meant what I said. I don’t usually do this,” she admitted softly, voice still husky. “One-night thing. But… I really like you.” She let out a small, self-conscious laugh, tracing a fingertip along Rumi’s jaw. “Like, stupidly like you for someone I met a couple hours ago at a bar. That doesn’t happen. Like ever.”

“Hmm,” Rumi nodded, “weirdly, doesn’t happen to me either.”

___

“You fucked a demon? You, the paranormal investigator, fucked a demon?”

Mira’s face immediately fell into her hands and she shook her head.”Zoey.”

Rumi leaned back against the counter, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her lips, “I’m sure that would spice up your Yelp reviews. ‘I know demons, intimately. Professionally and otherwise.’”

Mira shot her a look and Rumi’s playful mask almost slipped. The two of them looked at one another a moment longer.

“So what? You slept with a demon one time and now she-“

“We dated for weeks,” Rumi interjected, still watching Mira, who at that admission, finally pulled her gaze away and clenched her jaw.

Zoey’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Weeks? You had a relationship with a demon for weeks and didn’t tell me?”

Mira dragged a hand down her face. “Until 72 hours ago you didn’t even believe in demons! And we… we weren’t… It wasn’t official. We were just…” She gestured vaguely. “Seeing each other. Casually.”

“That’s what we’re calling it now?” Rumi gestured, crossing her arms and lifting her brows. “Casual?”

“Yes,” Mira gritted through her teeth. As though the mere suggestion of being anything more, and admitting in front of Zoey, was embarrassing.

“Is that what you tell yourself to make it easier to sleep at night, princess?”

“Can you stop calling me that?”

“Why? I know you like it,” Rumi’s grin widened, positively wicked as she turned her head toward Zoey like they were old gossip buddies. “She used to love it, actually. Really got her in the mood. One time I whispered it right against her ear while she was-“

“Rumi,” Mira snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass. Her face was now a deep, furious shade of pink. “I swear on every spirit ward I own, I will exorcise you right here in this living room.”

“Promises, promises.” Rumi pushed off the counter and sauntered a few steps closer, hips swaying with that effortless, predatory grace. “We all know if you wanted to, you’d have done that by now.”

The two of them stared at each other, tension crackling in the space between them. Magenta patterns pulsed slowly beneath Rumi’s skin like living tattoos. Her gaze dropped, just for a second, to Mira’s mouth. And Mira’s cheeks burned in response.

“What happened?” Zoey interrupted. “How did it end?”

The question hung in the air like smoke. Mira looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Her throat tightened and her fingers restlessly clenched by her sides.

Rumi answered before Mira could shut it down. “She ghosted me.”

“Rumi-“

“Ironic, right?”

___

It had been seven weeks of seeing each other.

Rumi’s initial amusement at sleeping with a paranormal investigator had long since faded. What had started as a thrilling game, had become something dangerously real. She looked forward to Mira’s visits. Craved the sound of her laugh. Found herself lingering in Mira’s apartment long after the sex, tracing lazy patterns on her bare back while they talked about everything and nothing.

At first, she told herself it was curiosity.

That was all. Curiosity. Because Mira was interesting. And difficult. Because she was gorgeously stubborn. And pretty in a sharp, unpolished way that made Rumi want to stare until she got caught, just to watch those dark eyes narrow and hear the exasperated “what are you looking at?” that always followed.

But curiosity didn’t explain the way Rumi’s chest tightened when Mira laughed at her own terrible jokes. It didn’t explain the stupid, helpless smile that tugged at her lips every time Mira absentmindedly played with her fingers while they talked about what to have for breakfast the next day. Or when she kissed across her chest and lingered where, many moons ago, Rumi had a heart.

She’d almost told her once. About what she was. When they had spent a lazy Sunday in bed, rain drumming against the windows. Mira was sprawled across Rumi’s body with her cheek pressed to her sternum. The silence was comfortable, peaceful.

Then Mira had went very still.

Rumi had felt the exact moment it happened, the subtle shift in Mira’s breathing, the way her body tensed.

“…Rumi? Are you okay? I can’t… fuck I can’t hear your heart.”

The panic had hit Mira fast. And she had pushed up on one elbow, eyes wide with genuine fear. “Wait, why can’t I hear it? Hey, wake up. Rumi. Wake up.”

Rumi’s throat had closed. And for one terrible second she almost told her everything. The words had been right there.

Instead, she had forced a sleepy, crooked smile, opened her eyes and pulled Mira back down. “Relax jagiya,” she murmured, voice steady even as guilt clawed at her. She had taken Mira’s hand and pressed it firmly over the left side of her chest, willing a slow, rhythmic illusion into place.

Thump… thump… thump.

“I’m fine. Sometimes it’s just quiet. Low resting rate or whatever. See? Still beating for you.”

Mira stayed tense for another beat longer, searching Rumi’s face. Then the fear melted into something softer, almost embarrassed. She let out a shaky laugh and buried her face against Rumi’s neck.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I lost you.”

Rumi swore she never wanted to make Mira look that scared again.

Pathetic really, for a demon to be so attached.

Because attachment was for mortals. Needing a weakness she had shed along with her humanity long ago.

But Mira made that difficult.

Mira made everything difficult.

She made Rumi want to stay. She made her want to linger in the warmth of borrowed domesticity. Mira made her laugh at stupid things and ache at quiet ones. She made her question decades of careful detachment every time she looked at her like she was just… Rumi. Not monster. Not demon.

Just hers.

And so, on the sixth night of the seventh week, everything naturally, fell apart.

The apartment had been quiet except for the low hum of the city outside Mira’s windows. Rumi lay on her stomach across the bed, chin resting on her folded arms, watching Mira move around the room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. She was humming something absentminded under her breath as she filled the kettle.

Rumi’s chest felt strangely tight.

She had lived many lives as a demon. But nothing had ever unsettled her quite like the simplicity of Kang Mira making tea at 12:47am because she remembered Rumi liked it after sex.

“You’re staring,” Mira said without turning around.

“Is that a bad thing?” Rumi teased, sitting up.

Mira brought over two mugs and handed her the one with the little chip on the handle. She climbed back into bed and settled against the headboard, legs tangled with Rumi’s.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Mira observed, blowing gently across her tea. “That’s new.”

Rumi took a sip, mostly to buy herself time. The truth sat heavy on her tongue. I think I have feelings for you. I think I’ve had feelings for you since you laughed at my terrible bar pickup line and still let me take you home. Do you want me back? Would you want me back if you knew what I was?

She’d tell her in the morning, she thought, when her stomach wasn’t doing backflips and her patterns weren’t burning beneath her skin. When she had time to think. Time to give Mira an explanation she deserved.

“I think I tired myself out. How many times did we-“

Mira tapped her arm and bit her lip, “not while we’re drinking our tea, you heathen.”

With a smile, Rumi moved closer and kissed Mira quietly, a stupid smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Thanks for the tea.”

Hours later, it was the shift of the mattress that woke her.

“…What the fuck?” Mira’s voice had cut through the quiet, low and startled.

Rumi stirred, blinking awake. Mira had pushed herself up onto her elbow and she was staring down at her with wide eyes. Rumi blinked again, “hey. Hey what’s wrong?”

She followed Mira’s gaze down to the bare skin of her torso, caught in the warm spill of the bedside lamp. Her patterns were glowing. Vividly. They pulsed beneath her skin in soft, hypnotic swirls, curling over her ribs and stomach and down her arms. Panic snapped through her and she sat up too fast, dragging the sheets up around herself even though it was useless. The fabric slipped against her body, covering too little, too late.

“Shit… Mira-“

“You’re… You’re a demon?”

Rumi’s throat tightened.

The words were quiet and Mira was sitting upright against the headboard now, eyes locked on the glowing pink patterns crawling freely across Rumi’s skin.

For the first time since they had met, Mira wasn’t looking at her like she wanted her. She was looking at her like she had let something dangerous into her bed.

“Mira-“

Mira flinched at the sound of her own name. Okay. That hurt more than Rumi expected.

She threw the sheet off herself and climbed out of bed, snatching her shirt from the floor with shaking hands. Then dragged it over her head too quickly, almost tangling herself in the sleeves.

“Seven weeks. Seven fucking weeks of you in my bed, in my life… and you didn’t think I deserved to know I was sleeping with a demon?”

“I was going to tell you.”

Mira laughed, running her hands through her hair like she needed something to do with them. “When?”

Rumi’s mouth opened but nothing came out. There was a first for everything.

“When, Rumi?”

“In the morning.”

“In the morning,” Mira repeated, like the words tasted foul. “How convenient. Right after you got one last ride out of the clueless human, huh?”

Rumi’s jaw flexed. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh I bet you had a great laugh at my expense. Were you just waiting it out to see how long you could keep this going? How long until the stupid paranormal investigator realised she was fucking the very thing she exorcises?”

Genuine hurt flooded through Rumi’s system then. Like Mira had reached into her body and squeezed. Her mouth fell open, only for a second before she shut it again. She sat up a little taller. “You think it was all fake?”

Mira swallowed.

“Seriously?”

For a moment, Mira looked like she might answer. But then something shifted in her face. She lifted her eyes to Rumi’s own, her jaw tensing just a little. “Are you dangerous?”

Rumi went still. The question landed worse than anything else that had been said. “What?”

Mira’s throat worked. Her eyes were now wet, but her voice came out steadier this time. Like she was forcing it still. “Are you dangerous?”

Rumi stared at her. “Mira, come on.”

“Answer me.” Mira’s fingers curled against her own palms. “Have you ever attacked anyone? Do you sneak around in the shadows? Have you ever taken souls?”

Each question struck sharper than the last.

Rumi’s face changed. Whatever pain had been open there pulled back and was replaced by something wounded and disbelieving. “What are you doing?”

“I’m asking if you’re dangerous.”

“To you?”

“To anyone.”

Rumi let out a soft, humourless laugh. “Wow.”

Mira flinched at that too, but she didn’t take it back.

Rumi looked down at herself. At the patterns still burning faintly beneath the borrowed spill of lamplight. Then back at Mira. “Is that what you think we all are? Monsters who live in the shadows? Guess it’s easier to exorcise something when you never have to wonder if it loved you.”

The room went painfully still. Rumi’s whole body stiffened.

Fuck.

“I need you to leave.” Mira nodded, standing a little taller.

Rumi’s stomach dropped. “What?” She slid out of the bed and hurriedly tugged on a pair of Mira’s shorts and an oversized tee. She pushed her hair back with both hands, then lifted them in a helpless gesture as she took a step closer.

Mira jerked backward hard, her back hitting the wall with a soft thud.

Rumi stopped dead and heat flooded her cheeks, followed by a sick, twisting shame. The realisation crashed over her then. Mira was scared of her. Actually scared.

“Oh god… Mira, I would never hurt you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I swear, I-“

Guilt swept Mira’s features and Rumi could see her eyes begin to grow more glassy. “You…You should go.”

The hurt on Rumi’s face twisted before something colder and more familiar took over. Her usual sharp-edged sarcasm slid neatly into place like armour. “Right. Can’t have the big bad demon overstaying her welcome after playing house so convincingly. Right?”

Mira’s throat worked, “I said you need to leave, Rumi.”

“What- you’re not even gonna give me the chance to explain myself? That’s just… it?”

For one second, Rumi thought she might say no. Thought maybe the part of Mira that had made tea at nearly one in the morning, the part that had kissed her softly afterwards with that stupid little smile, would push through the fear long enough to listen.

But Mira only wrapped her arms around herself. Like she was cold. Like Rumi had made the room unsafe by standing in it.

“I can’t do this right now,” she whispered, shaking her head, trying to avoid eye contact now.

“Mira-“

The pink-haired woman moved then, grabbing her tracksuit bottoms and a jacket. She pulled them on with such ferocity, Rumi swore she heard a tear.

“What’re you doing?”

“Like I said, I can’t be here right now. So I’m going to clear my head.” Untucking her hair, she ran her hand across her face and bit down on her lip so hard it almost bled. “I need you to be gone when I get back. Otherwise I’ll find a way to make you be gone.”

Her eyes traced Rumi’s features. “And don’t bother contacting me again. Me and you? We’re done.”

Rumi’s face burned hotter and she moved to say something, anything that would make Mira stay. “Don’t do this. Just be here and yell at me. Throw something. Call me every name you know. We can fix this. I know we can. But don’t walk out like I’m nothing.”

Mira paused at the doorway, shoulders rigid, one hand gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles went white. She didn’t turn around.
“You were never nothing, Rumi,” she said, so quietly Rumi almost missed it. “That’s the problem.”

Then she was gone. And the front door clicked shut behind her with devastating finality.
___

“You didn’t really listen to that no contact part, did you?”

“Did you think I was just gonna give you up that easily?”

For one long second, the only sound in the room was the faint buzz of the hallway light.

Zoey stared at Mira. Then at Rumi. Then back at Mira again. Her frying pan lowered slowly and she took a step closer to Mira. “What do you need?”

Mira exhaled like she’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. “Right now? A drink. Preferably something strong enough to make me forget I have a demonic ex who thinks breaking and entering via poltergeist is foreplay.”

Rumi gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Foreplay? Hey, I was courting you. There’s a difference.”

Mira stared at her. “You made my best friend think her apartment was possessed.”

“I mean, technically it was possessed.“

“And does it really even count when the entity looks like that?” Zoey muttered, crossing her arms before she realised she’d said that aloud.

Mira’s head snapped up, “what? What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Zoey answered immediately, cheeks flaming. She set the frying pan down on the coffee table with a guilty clatter. “Absolutely nothing. I’m in shock. My brain is leaking and making me say stupid things.”

Rumi, however, looked positively radiant. She pressed a hand to her chest again, this time with genuine delight. “Zoey, I’m flattered.”

The casual flirtation in Rumi’s tone, warm and playful and directed at Zoey, sent a hot spike of irritation through Mira’s chest. She knew it was mostly teasing. She knew Rumi was doing it to get under her skin. But the fact that it worked anyway only pissed her off more.

A possessive feeling coiled low in her stomach. The kind that made her want to step between them, stake some ridiculous claim, and remind everyone in the room exactly who Rumi had come here to see.

Zoey seemed to catch the daggers being sent in her direction and swallowed, “I may be traumatised Mira, but I’m not blind.”

“You can lose that shit-eating grin, Rumi,” Mira muttered.

Rumi’s grin only widened. “I’m trying. It’s difficult when your jealousy is this loud. Can you at least admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That some small part of you hoped it was me. Here.” Rumi’s voice softened. “That when Zoey started describing all the little torments, a tiny, stubborn piece of you got excited at the idea that I hadn’t let you go.”

Mira’s cheeks burned hotter. The worst part was that Rumi wasn’t entirely wrong. The moment Zoey had said the entity wrote Kang Mira on the glass, something had twisted in her chest, equal parts dread and a sharp, unwelcome thrill.

“You’re delusional,” she muttered, but the words lacked heat.

Rumi’s smile turned knowing, almost tender. “Am I?”

The air between them felt too thick, too charged, and far too public for whatever this was in Zoey’s living room. Mira glanced around at the overturned pictures, at the innocent-looking dining chair, and the faint magenta glow still pulsing under Rumi’s skin. Then, she made a decision.

“We’re not doing this here,” she said firmly before she grabbed Rumi by the wrist, sharp nails and all, and tugged her toward the door. “Outside.”

Mira pulled Rumi out into the hallway, the demon letting herself be dragged along with a lazy, amused sway to her hips. The apartment door clicked shut behind them, cutting off Zoey’s half-formed protest.

Rumi, for her part, managed to recognise the change of setting, and remove all demon traits from her body and return to that same girl Mira had spent seven weeks adoring.

It threw Mira momentarily, to see her so plainly human again.

She released Rumi’s wrist like it had burned her and took a step back, folding her arms tight across her chest. “Some small part of me…” Her throat ached now, “…some small part of me hoped it was you. Yes.”

Rumi’s features softened, now they were alone, her act seemed to slip. “Mira-“

“But you lied to me Rumi, you didn’t tell me the truth. And then you got my best friend involved. That’s not okay.”

“I’m a demon,” Rumi whispered.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you? Because you keep treating this like I made a human mistake… But I’m a demon. I don’t know how to do this properly, Mira.” The words came out rough, like they’d been dragged out of her. “Any of it. I’ve never done feelings. Not like this. Not the kind that stick. I’ve taken lovers, sure. Played games, yeah. But you..? You were different. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. The nights, the mornings, all of it. And I hate admitting it, but I was scared. A fucking demon, scared. But I was. Because losing you? I was terrified of that.”

“I tried calling you, like humans do but you never answered. And the longer it went… the more I missed you. By the way, missing someone? That’s new. It’s awful.”

Rumi held up her hands, her eyes blown wide. Mira couldn’t help the very small smile that threatened to tug at the corners of her lips.

“I didn’t know how to fix it. So I did the only thing I do know how to do.” She gave a weak, self-deprecating smile. “I made a mess. I got creative. I thought if I rattled Zoey enough, she’d call you. And then at least I could see you. Even if you were pissed. Even if you tried to exorcise me on sight.”

Mira stared at her.

And for a few seconds, she had nothing. Because Rumi looked ridiculous.

Beautiful, obviously, because apparently the universe hated Mira personally. But ridiculous. Standing barefoot in Zoey’s hallway pretending to be a woman. Her lavender hair soft around her face and a human glamour pulled over her skin like a badly kept secret. It was her hands lifted in surrender that made Mira falter.

Because for once, Rumi looked genuinely helpless.

And Mira hated that it got to her.

She hated that some furious part of her wanted to step closer. Hated that another part of her still remembered Rumi in her bed, sleepy and warm, smiling up at her like she belonged there.

She chewed on her lip, eyes lowering as she looked her over. “What was your endgame here, Rumi?”

Rumi blinked.

“My endgame?”

“Yes.” Mira folded her arms tighter, mostly so she wouldn’t do something stupid with her hands. Like touch her. Or shake her. Or both, preferably in that order. “You had step one: traumatise Zoey. Step two: write my name down. What was step three? Flirt your way out of how much you fucked up?”

“Yes, and yes. But I’m not trying to get out of it, Mira. I’m trying to get back in.”

That shut her up.

Rumi seemed surprised by her own words too. Her face shifted, “seriously, are you gonna keep letting me say things like that?” She shook her shoulders as though ridding herself of the vulnerability and straightened.

“Look, I didn’t have a good endgame. I just thought if I could get you in the same room, I’d know what to do. Then I saw you and immediately remembered I’m actually very bad at this.”

Mira huffed, despite herself. “You? Bad at something? Crazy.”

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m being vulnerable here. It’s disgusting.”

“You scared me,” Mira admitted. Not realising she had said it before the words had fallen from her lips. Her face burned for a second and she sighed. “Not… not because you’re a demon. Though I have to admit, that wasn’t exactly ideal. But because I had no idea who I had let into my life. I had no idea if any of it was real.”

“I told you… I told you that night. All of it was real.”

“Yeah, you did but… what’s to say that wasn’t another lie?”

Rumi’s expression crumpled for a split second before she smoothed it away with a slow exhale.

“Because I’m standing here,” she said quietly. “Because I could have picked any other way to get your attention. I could’ve shown up at your apartment and swayed your opinion. I could’ve whispered my name in your dreams until you couldn’t sleep without me. But I didn’t. I picked the way that would force you to look at me. Even if it meant I scared your friend. Even if you hated me for it.”

Mira’s arms were still crossed tight, like armour. “Sounds like you’re trying to justify it.”

Rumi stopped. And her expression shifted, the defensiveness draining out of it until all that was left was something quieter. Ashamed. “You’re right.”

Mira blinked.

“I scared Zoey,” Rumi said, like she was dragging each word out by the throat. “I used her. I knew you’d come if she called, so I made sure she would. That was… bad.”

Mira stared at her.

“Very bad?” Rumi tried.

“Rumi.”

“Wrong?” Rumi corrected, frustration flashing across her face. “It was wrong. I know that.”

Mira’s throat worked.

“I lied to you,” Rumi continued, quieter now. “I didn’t trust you with the truth, and that hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

She stepped closer. Close enough that Mira could smell the faint spiced-and-lavender scent that always clung to her, even in human form. “Ask me something real. Anything. I’ll tell you the truth. No games.”

Mira stared at her for a long moment. The silence stretched, heavy with seven weeks of memories and the month of silence after. “Did you ever lie to me about anything else?” she finally asked. “Besides what you are.”

Rumi didn’t hesitate. “No. The only thing I hid were the glowy bits and the whole ‘not human’ situation. Everything else, every laugh, every stupid joke, every time I stayed too long in your bed because I didn’t want to leave, that was real. I still order that tea you made me. It kinda tastes like regret now, but I drink it anyway.”

The admission hit Mira square in the chest. She could picture it too clearly, Rumi, sitting somewhere alone, ordering that specific blend like some kind of self-imposed penance.

Her jaw worked, then she looked away, down the empty hallway, blinking hard against the sudden burn behind her eyes. “I hate that I believe you.”

“Then hate me a little. It’s fair. I earned it. Just… don’t hate me enough to walk away again. Please.”

Maybe it was the quiet, fractured way she said it, like the word had been dragged out of her against her will. Maybe it was hearing Rumi say ‘please.’ Either way something deep cracked inside Mira’s chest. And landed like a spark on dry tinder.

Her control snapped.

She grabbed the front of Rumi’s shirt with both fists and shoved her back against the hallway wall. Rumi’s breath hitched, half in delight before Mira crushed their mouths together in a kiss that had been building for months.

Months of missing her, of anger and want and the awful ache of pretending she didn’t still dream about purple hair and chocolate eyes. Mira kissed her like she wanted to punish her, teeth catching Rumi’s lower lip, tongue sliding against hers in a hot, demanding stroke.

Rumi moaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them, and her hands flew up to grip Mira’s waist, pulling her flush against her body.

“Fuck you,” Mira breathed against her lips, barely pulling back an inch.

“Yeah,” Rumi whispered a little dazed, “you can do that too if you want.”

Mira laughed against Rumi’s lips, breathless and helplessly fond, the sound breaking into a soft, shaky exhale as the tension finally cracked. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, the words warm against Rumi’s mouth.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Mira let out another muffled laugh, the vibration traveling through both of them. She stayed there for a long moment, letting herself lean into the solid warmth of Rumi’s body. “I still hate you a little.”

“I know. But I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever you give me.” She swallowed, pressing a tender kiss to Mira’s cheek, “I missed you. So much.”

Mira pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. Rumi’s glamour had slipped again, golden threads flickered in her eyes and a faint pink glow traced along her collarbones where her shirt had shifted. She looked devastatingly beautiful like this. Mira’s fingers lifted to move across a pattern that cut through her left eye.

“This isn’t magically fixed but… no more hiding. Not from me. Not ever again.”

“No more hiding,” Rumi promised. “You get all of me. Patterns, terrible decisions, everything in between.”

Mira searched her eyes for another second, then leaned in and kissed her again, slower this time, a little deeper. When they parted, she rested her forehead against Rumi’s. “I can’t believe I’m willingly saying this, given I know what you are now but… Come home with me?”

Rumi’s smile was slow and a little smug. “What? Really?”

“We still have a lot to talk about, but we can do that tomorrow. I just… missed you too.”

Rumi cupped her face about to speak when-

“But first-“ Mira glanced toward Zoey’s door, raising her voice just enough. “Zoey, you can stop pretending you’re not listening. We’re leaving. Your apartment is no longer haunted! You’re welcome.”

Zoey’s head poked out and she stared between the two of them. Her frying pan was back in her hand and she immediately lifted it towards Rumi, “you’re sure? I don’t need to sage the place?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Do you even have one of those?”

Rumi’s mouth opened, but it quickly shut again when Mira’s hand slipped into her own and their fingers threaded.

“Goodnight, Zoey. I’ll be back for my stuff tomorrow. And I’ll be dragging Rumi back for a proper apology too.”

Rumi’s head snapped toward her, “what?”

The relief that crossed Zoey’s features was almost euphoric. “I can’t wait to get a proper sleep. And a proper apology. Just promise if this goes sideways again, you’ll leave me out of it.”

“I promise,” Rumi nodded.

Zoey gave Mira one last pointed look, the kind only best friends shared. “You sure about this? Like, really sure? Because I have a guest room and extra frying pans in the cupboard.”

Mira let out a tired but genuine laugh. “I’m sure. We’ve got a lot to figure out, but… we’re figuring it out together.”

Zoey nodded slowly, then waved her pan in a mock salute. “Fine. Go be disgustingly domestic. I’ll see you tomorrow for my official apology. Break her heart again and I’ll break you, demon.”

Rumi grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, Zoey finally retreated, door shutting firmly behind her. Mira and Rumi stood in the quiet hallway for a beat, fingers still laced together.

Mira exhaled. “Ready?”

Rumi looked down at their joined hands, thumb brushing slowly over Mira’s knuckles.“To go home with the woman who threatened to exorcise me ten minutes ago? Always.”

Mira gave her a flat look, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “You wanna sleep on the couch tonight?”

Rumi’s grin turned positively wicked. “I’ve had you on that couch before. That doesn’t scare me.”

“Rumi.”

“What?” Rumi laughed, bumping their shoulders together as they started walking. “I’m reminiscing.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you missed that.”

Mira turned her head, looking her over in the quiet. How her eyes glimmered, how her smile was lopsided and a little hopeful. She pulled her closer, if that were possible.

“Yeah. I did.”