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Rumi is already asleep when Mira finally gets out of the shower and makes her way to the couch, head in Zoey’s lap and snoring softly. The good thing is that she sleeps like a rock, so it’s easy to just lift her legs up and fall into place tucked under Zoey’s arm, the three of them curled so tightly together that they may as well be one.
“Shh,” Zoey stage-whispers, gesturing towards Rumi. “She’s tired, poor thing. Conked out as soon as she got her hair down.”
“I noticed,” is all Mira can think to say in return, as dry as ever. But there’s no hiding the faint smile on her face, and it only widens when that pulls a soft, sleepy laugh from Rumi, who apparently wasn’t as dead to the world as originally believed.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Mm, no, I’m okay. Just—”
She cuts herself off with a yawn; Mira and Zoey both find themselves melting a little at the sight. It’s almost unfair, how cute she can be.
“—it’s just good to be home, you know? I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“You’ve earned it, Rumi.”
“We all have. Come here.”