Chapter Text
~Sometime before Huntr/x Debut
The sun hung low, turning the sky a heavy orange. In the garden of Celine’s compound, the air shimmered with heat, and the concrete radiated it back in waves.
Rumi was there when Mira arrived, stretched out like a shadow pressed into the ground. She had her jacket bundled up under her head like a pillow, but otherwise her body was flat against the warm concrete—cheek to stone, palms down, legs slightly apart, completely still. She wasn’t napping. Her eyes were open, fixed on something across the yard, though nothing was there.
Mira hesitated at the door.
She always forgets how still Rumi can get.
Not just quiet—still. Like she's waiting to strike or not waiting at all. Like she's just turned the world off around her and stepped out of it.
“Rumi?” Mira called gently.
There was no flinch, no blink, and no twitch. But Rumi's eyes slid toward her in a slow, deliberate arc—like gravity had to be overcome just to make the motion happen.
“Hey.” Rumi said after a pause. Her voice was soft, even, barely above a murmur.
Zoey arrived with snacks and a speaker slung over her shoulder, immediately disrupting the rooftop’s strange quiet.
“You're sun-drunk again.” She announced. “You need hobbies that aren’t laying on hot rocks like a lizard.”
Rumi gave the barest smile, her chin still resting on the concrete.
“I just like the warmth.” She murmured. “You’re the ones who keep calling me a lizard.”
Zoey flopped down beside her and cracked open a soda. “Well if you start molting, I’m out.”
Mira set down a towel and sat cross-legged, still eyeing Rumi’s skin. There was a faint shimmer across her shoulders, not sweat exactly, as if her skin had adapted to retain the heat.
Rumi lifted her hand slightly, then pressed her palm back to the stone, firmer this time.
“You ever feel like your skin needs to drink the sun?” She asked, almost dreamily. “Not just your body. Like... under your skin. Something cold and deep that heat can’t quite reach.”
Nobody answered.
They didn’t know how to answer it.
Later, as the sun dipped behind a neighboring building, the air cooled just enough to raise goosebumps on Mira’s arms.
She turned to say something to Rumi and froze.
Rumi was sitting upright now, legs crossed, hands on her knees. Her eyes were fixed on something just past Mira’s shoulder. The intensity of her stare was unnerving—focused, held for too long.
Then, with barely any warning, her tongue flicked out. Quick and darting, like a snake tasting the air.
Mira turned around quickly. Nothing was behind her. Just the empty garden.
“Did you hear something?” Rumi asked softly.
“No,” Mira said, uneasy. “Did you?”
“Hmmm.”
Mira looked at her, and for a moment, Rumi didn’t look like Rumi. She looked…otherworldly.
Demonic.
Mira nearly flinched at the description. This was Rumi she wasn’t a demon, she was just…weird.
Then she blinked. Once. Slowly.
“It’s gone now.” She said, voice returning to normal.
As the sky deepened into twilight, Mira found Rumi shifting with the sunlight, trying to keep inside the warmth of the sun.
All for naught as the air began to cool.
Zoey helped Rumi up, chatting about turtles the whole time, and helped her to a railing. Then Zoey took off, yelling something about dinner and takeout.
Rumi had pulled her shirt up slightly and was pressing her side to the metal grate, letting the slowly dwindling heat soak into her skin. She looked tired but not from physical exhaustion. It was that same strange weariness she sometimes carried after a crowded day. Too much noise. Too many people.
“Too cold out here now?” Mira asked, approaching gently.
Rumi shook her head. “Just needed to feel... anchored?”
She didn’t elaborate, but Mira didn’t press her.
Instead, she sat beside her and passed over the thermos of tea she’d brought.
“Thanks.” Rumi said. Her fingers were warm when they brushed Mira’s, like the concrete had sunk into her.
~
Zoey shuffled onto the porch with a mug of coffee and her sleep mask still pushed up into her hair. The sun was low and golden, not hot yet, but already sharp on the skin.
She stopped when she saw Rumi.
Flat on her stomach. Shirtless.
Pressed entirely against the concrete like it was water. Her arms were stretched downward along her sides, palms flat, fingers slightly curled. Legs slightly apart. Toes splayed.
Still as stone.
Zoey opened her mouth to say something but didn’t.
Because Rumi’s back... moved.
Not up and down with breath. Not the subtle flex of muscles. It rippled. Just under the skin. Like a slow shiver traveling, one vertebra at a time. From tailbone to neck.
Then again.
Like her body was pulling warmth inward through contact.
Zoey didn’t realize she’d backed up half a step until her heel hit the doorframe.
She watched in silence.
Rumi didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just turned her head slightly toward the sun, letting her cheek rest directly against the warm ground. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
Zoey felt it in her teeth — the wrongness.
It wasn’t grotesque. It wasn’t violent.
It was just… something else. Something demonic.
She whispered: “Rumi?”
No reaction.
Not even a twitch.
Just the slow ripple again, and the tiniest sound — a breath, maybe — like a hiss of contentment.
Zoey turned and walked back inside, closing the door gently behind her.
She didn’t drink her coffee.
~
Celine was out for the night, but before she left she had pulled Mira and Zoey to the side. Warning them that Rumi gets a bit…weird at night. They simply laughed it off, they were all odd. In their own way.
Mira sat on the floor, spine pressed against the couch, picking at the hem of her sweatpants. Across from her, Zoey was curled up with her cheek against a throw pillow, one socked foot twitching to some beat only she could hear.
The two of them were still breathless from laughter — Zoey had just finished mocking their vocal coach’s melodramatic metaphors, and Mira’s stomach ached from giggling too hard.
Rumi sat on the window ledge. Not laughing. Not scolding.
Just watching.
She had one hand braced on the window frame, the other tapping lightly against her knee in a metronomic, unbroken rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Pause.
Not fast. Not anxious. Just… constant.
“She looks like a ghost.” Zoey whispered, lips curling into a grin. “A pretty ghost.”
Mira glanced at her. “She’s not even pale.”
“No, but look—” Zoey gestured with her chin. “She never blinks. Ever notice that?”
Mira turned her head.
Rumi was blinking. Just very, very slowly. The way cats did when they were sizing something up. Or the way owls did when they didn't feel threatened enough to look away.
“You’re doing the thing again.” Mira said gently.
Rumi tilted her head.
Not like a question. More like a pendulum shifting weight.
Mira felt something flutter in her chest.
“...What thing?” Rumi asked.
“That head tilt. The—” She mimicked it awkwardly, neck cocked to the side like she was trying to pop something out of joint. “That.”
“I’m just listening.”
“To what?” Zoey asked, grinning. “Do you have some secret radio frequency in your brain or something?”
“I like patterns,” Rumi said, softly. “I listen for them.”
That was all she offered.
The room went quiet again, save for the hum of the heater and the occasional car rolling past the dorm window. Rumi’s eyes tracked something invisible outside — the wind, maybe. The motion of headlights. Or just a rhythm the others couldn’t feel.
Later, Mira couldn’t sleep. Not with how her calves still ached from dancing, not with Zoey’s soft snoring from beside her, and not with the strange static still lingering in her chest.
She padded softly down the hall to the kitchen, barefoot, hoodie pulled over her head. The refrigerator buzzed faintly as she poured herself a glass of water.
She didn’t hear Rumi come in.
But when she turned around, there she was — standing in the doorway like a shadow. Pajama shirt too big, bare feet silent on the tile. Her long hair clung to her neck, like she’d just showered.
“You okay?” Mira asked, blinking at her.
“I heard the fridge,” Rumi said. “I like the sound it makes.”
Mira smiled despite herself. “That’s such a weird reason to come into the kitchen.”
Rumi tilted her head again — that same sharp, off-axis movement, like she was scanning Mira’s face for something specific.
“It’s familiar.” Rumi said. “It hums in E flat.”
Mira blinked. “You can hear that?”
Rumi nodded. “Everything has a tone, if you know how to listen.”
Her teeth clicked once, a quiet, almost inaudible noise, like the soft clack of ceramic on ceramic.
Mira paused. “Did you just—?”
But Rumi stepped past her before she could finish the sentence and leaned against the warm side of the fridge. She placed her palm flat against the metal like it was a wall she meant to memorize.
Mira stared. “You’re... feeling the fridge.”
“It’s warm,” Rumi said. “It helps when I get too cold.”
“You’re not wearing socks.”
“I don’t like fabric on my feet.”
Mira opened her mouth to say something else. Then closed it.
This was how Rumi was. Quiet. Unfamiliar. Like she’d never been taught how to be normal, or just never bothered to try.
Mira blamed Celine, she didn’t socialize Rumi enough.
She watched her for a long moment. Rumi wasn’t shivering. Wasn’t smiling. Just there, with her palm pressed against the fridge and her eyes closed, like she was syncing with something Mira couldn’t hear.
“You’re kind of weird.” Mira said, not unkindly.
Damn it Mira, that’s not how you flirt!
“I know.”
“You’re lucky we like weird.”
“I know that, too.”
Zoey rolled over in her bunk when Mira came back, mumbling something incoherent.
“She’s in the kitchen?” She asked blearily.
Mira climbed into bed, pulling the covers up. “Yeah. Said she likes the sound the fridge makes.”
Zoey laughed softly, half-asleep. “She’s so weird.”
But Mira didn’t answer.
Because Rumi didn’t feel weird.
She felt secret. Like something else. Like someone with her own rules.
And Mira was starting to wonder what would happen if she ever figured them out.
~
The music had stopped ten minutes ago, but Mira was still cooling down, stretching her legs in front of the studio mirror, sweat drying on her neck. Zoey had gone to grab water. The air felt too still — the kind of stillness that made fluorescent lights buzz louder than they should.
Then she heard it.
A sound behind her. Not footsteps.
Clicking.
Tiny, rhythmic taps, like nails or... legs. Too many of them.
She turned, expecting someone but it was Rumi. On the far side of the room.
Crouched.
Not kneeling. Not squatting.
Perched.
Her bare feet were flat against the mirror, knees high, one hand braced against the wall like an anchor. And her other arm was... twitching. Just the fingers. Fast. Controlled. In a pattern that didn’t feel random.
Tap. Tap. Click-click-click. Pause.
Then again.
Tap. Tap. Click-click-click.
Mira stared, pulse beginning to rise.
“Rumi?”
Rumi didn’t look at her right away. Her head tilted, sharply, the way a mantis might track something. Her pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the brown of her eyes.
“I thought I heard someone.” She said softly.
Her voice was calm. But her body wasn’t. Her spine was too straight. Her posture too compressed, like she was built to spring.
Mira took a step back. Her heart wasn’t racing but her skin was reacting. That deep, animal part of her brain whispering: This is wrong. This is not human.
“Are you okay?” She asked, forcing her voice steady. This was Rumi.
Rumi blinked. Slow. Then unwound herself, fluid and soft like she hadn’t just been clinging to a wall like an insect.
“I’m fine.” She said. “Just stretching.”
Mira didn’t press it. She didn’t want to.
But the clicking stayed with her the rest of the night.
~Years later
The night was heavy with the kind of silence that wrapped around things. It wasn’t tense, just quiet, in the way late hours always were, when everyone had finally stopped pretending to be performers and let themselves exist.
The penthouse kitchen buzzed with the low hum of the fridge. Mira leaned against the counter, sleeves pushed up, and spoon in hand as she stirred cocoa powder into warm milk. The rich scent of dark chocolate clung to the air.
Zoey sat on the floor nearby, back against the cupboards, legs stretched long and bare across the tiles.
Rumi sat at the island, elbows tucked in, face resting in one hand. Her hair still dry as she used a shower cap, well at the length her hair was a trash bag, to keep it dry.
She always took two. No one asked why anymore.
“You want sugar?” Mira asked softly.
Rumi blinked, slow. “Just a little.”
Mira turned to grab the jar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rumi move again.
Not dramatically. Not with purpose.
Just... a small shift in her seat.
And her spine rolled, not with a curve, but like a wave — her posture changing not all at once but in sequence, like her vertebrae were reacting rather than moving. It passed through her body like water disturbed in a bowl.
Mira didn’t say anything.
But she felt the same prickling chill she always did when she saw that kind of motion — not fear. Not even unease. Just knowing, on some animal level, that this wasn’t normal.
Rumi’s back settled. Her hand reached for her mug.
The ripple stilled.
Later, the three of them curled up in the living room, bodies tangled loosely in the nest of throw blankets they always left out. Zoey was half-asleep, her head on Mira’s stomach, one hand lazily stroking Mira’s wrist. The TV played some muted drama none of them were watching.
Rumi sat at their feet, legs folded under her like always. Her long sleeves slipped down over her hands, fingers twitching now and then with the motion of a dream she hadn’t had yet.
Zoey cracked one eye open. Her gaze drifted to Rumi. Stayed there.
She was always watching her. Both of them were.
And not just for her face — not the way the fans did, or the way stylists fussed over her. No, this watching was slower. Deeper. The kind of attention people gave to firelight or ocean waves. Not just beauty — pattern. Movement. Meaning.
Rumi shifted her weight, leaning to one side to adjust her leg.
Her ribs flexed. Not with a crunch or a stretch, but with a soft, liquid motion, like something underneath her skin had rippled forward to help her twist. Her shoulder followed just a beat later. Like the motion had traveled through her.
Zoey didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched, breath catching for a second.
It passed.
Rumi settled again, resting her chin on her knee. “You two are quiet tonight.”
“Sleepy.” Mira murmured, dragging her fingers through Zoey’s hair.
Rumi hummed. The sound was low. A vibration more than a tone. It didn’t match the body it came from.
Zoey glanced up at Mira, then back at Rumi.
She didn’t ask. Neither of them did. Not out loud.
But she wondered. Always.
About the rippling. About the way Rumi bent without seeming to resist gravity. About how she could lie still for hours and still seem to move somehow — like even her stillness had a current.
Later, when Mira had drifted off and Zoey was still halfway to sleep, she felt Rumi brush something away from Mira’s cheek.
And when Rumi’s hand moved back, Zoey watched the underside of her forearm roll, not like tendon or muscle, but like something shifting, fluid and deliberate.
Still, she said nothing.
She just reached for Rumi’s wrist, caught it gently, and pressed it between her palms.
Rumi looked at her, silent.
And Zoey smiled. “Stay a while.”
“I’m already here.”
“Yeah.” She said. “But come closer.”
Rumi didn’t understand. Not yet.
But she stayed anyway.
And beneath Zoey’s hands, that quiet ripple kept moving, like waves beneath a sheet of glass.
~
The night stretched long, rain tapping slow and steady against the glass walls of their penthouse. The city outside pulsed in orange halos and slick shadows, distant and blurred. Safe from it all, the three of them lay tangled on the oversized sectional — a nest of half-folded blankets, tea mugs gone cold, limbs sprawled lazily across one another.
Rumi rested between them.
Her head on Mira’s thigh, one foot draped over Zoey’s stomach. The hem of her hoodie had ridden up enough to show the smooth line of her back — pale and still damp from her second bath that day.
Zoey traced the curve of Rumi’s calf absently, fingers light and slow.
And under her touch, Rumi’s skin moved.
Not flinched.
Shifted — a faint ripple across her shin that traveled upward, like something under the surface had adjusted to her presence, reacting to the pressure like water disturbed by a fingertip.
Zoey blinked, hand pausing.
Even now, it startled her sometimes.
Because now that she knew, she couldn’t unsee it.
There was something deeply unsettling about the precision of Rumi’s stillness.
She didn’t fidget. She didn’t twitch or shift like other people. When she was still, she became truly motionless — the kind of stillness that felt ancient, like stone, or the deep ocean waiting to rise.
But when she moved…
It was too smooth.
Like her body didn’t rely on muscle memory or bone structure. Like every movement was the result of something inside her body deciding to move, a second before the rest followed.
Her shoulder would roll with a strange, serpentine glide. Her back would undulate just slightly before she turned her head. Her spine curved like it knew more than it should.
Was it human?
Was it demonic?
~
Midnight-blue water rippled gently, reflecting the city lights in soft streaks. Mira floated on her back, eyes half-closed. Zoey sat on the edge with her legs in the water, flicking droplets at Mira, who groaned half-heartedly and threatened splashy revenge.
Rumi was underwater.
With that stupid body suit on.
She’d ducked beneath the surface maybe… twenty seconds ago?
Zoey glanced around. “Where’d she go?”
Mira treaded water and looked behind her. “She’s probably holding her breath again. You know how she gets.”
Another ten seconds passed.
Still nothing.
Zoey’s smile faded. “Okay, not funny if this is a bit—”
Suddenly, Rumi surfaced.
Not with a gasp. Not with drama.
Just rose from the water silently, face half-submerged, like something breaching with intent.
Her eyes caught the light.
Black. Glossy. Flat.
Not just dilated. Not human.
Shark eyes.
Mira’s breath hitched, her body freezing mid-motion. She didn’t understand what she was seeing, only that her entire nervous system suddenly didn’t want her in the water anymore.
Zoey saw it too.
And then Rumi smiled.
It wasn’t big. Just a slight parting of her lips.
But her teeth—
Sharp. Tiered. Fine as needles.
Not all of them — just the front rows. The rest still looked normal, hidden behind the uncanny glint of too many points where there should’ve been flatness.
“Rumi?” Zoey asked, voice thin.
Then, they blinked and Rumi was looking at them
Her eyes were…normal?
Eyes brown. Calm. Normal.
“Are you two okay?” As if she hadn’t vanished underwater for nearly a minute.
Like she didn’t still have sharp teeth.
They all agreed it was time to head inside.
And if Zoey and Mira got out first, with a bit of terror still in their chests…
Well that was their secret.
~After the Namsan Tower Incident
The lights in the penthouse were dimmed to a golden hush, the kind of late-night softness that made the city seem far away. The girls were in their favorite spot — a sprawl of limbs and blankets on the oversized sectional, half-watching a movie no one remembered picking.
Rumi was sprawled across the both of them—head on Zoey’s thigh, feet tucked under Mira’s blanket.
Her hoodie had slipped halfway off one shoulder, and her fingers twitched now and then against Zoey’s knee like she was half-dreaming in code.
Her back was warm. Heavier in temperature than weight. Mira had her hand resting lightly on the curve of Rumi’s spine, feeling it shift in small, impossible ripples every few minutes. Like her body thought in waves.
Purring contently, which was new to Mira and Zoey, but now they realized it made a LOT of sense. Suddenly a lot of dots connected in their mind.
“Remember when we thought she was just socially awkward?” Mira suddenly asked.
Zoey snorted. “Right, and now that we know she’s literally purring on our laps. She glanced down at Rumi. “Okay. So. Real question.”
“No such thing.” Rumi mumbled, eyes half-lidded.
“I’m serious. What animal is she?”
Mira snorted. “She’s a person.”
“No, I mean if she were an animal. Like metaphorically. Or... demonologically.” Zoey said grumpily.
Rumi didn’t open her eyes, but Mira felt her breath hitch like a silent sigh. She was listening. Of course she was.
“Cat,” Mira said lazily. “Obviously.”
Zoey rolled her eyes. “You want her to be a cat. That doesn’t count.”
“She’s elegant. Independent. Sleeps all the time. Stares like she knows things we don’t. Total cat.”
“Okay but cats don’t ripple.”
“She’s a weird cat.”
Zoey leaned back and tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch. “She flicks her tongue like a snake.”
“I do not,” Rumi said, voice muffled by Zoey’s sweater.
Zoey smirked. “You do. You’ve done it during interviews.”
“For scent. It’s practical.”
“That’s what a snake would say.”
Mira lifted her head. “No— she’s not a snake either. Snakes are cold. Rumi’s hot. You’ve never hugged her in the sun, it’s like clinging to a space heater.”
“She does press herself to hot surfaces like a reptile.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t act like one. She’s not calculating or creepy. She’s just…” Mira frowned, thoughtful. “Unbothered.”
Zoey pointed. “Okay. That’s bug behavior.”
Mira choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”
“You know, when a bug lands somewhere and just vibes for like an hour? That’s Rumi.”
Rumi shifted slightly, turning her face further into Zoey’s thigh like she was hiding.
“She also taps things when she’s thinking. And clicks her teeth.”
“That’s stress,” Rumi murmured.
“It’s creepy.”
“It’s involuntary.”
Mira tilted her head. “Wait, you do click your teeth when you’re nervous.”
“I click them to release tension.”
Zoey grinned. “Exactly what a mantis would say.”
“She is not a mantis,” Mira said, scandalized. “Rumi’s beautiful and soft and has never eaten a mate.”
“I mean…” Zoey trailed off, eyebrows wiggling.
Rumi finally opened her eyes, lifting her head just enough to look at them both. Her pupils were blown wide in the dim light — glossy, unbothered. “You know I’m still right here.”
Mira smiled down at her. “We know.”
Zoey stroked Rumi’s hair lazily. “What do you think you are?”
Rumi blinked. Slowly. Then shrugged, cheek still squished into Zoey’s lap. “I don’t think I’m like any of those.” Rumi twitched — a slow, wave-like shift under their hands.
“That’s such a non-answer.” Zoey groaned.
Mira, quieter, ran her fingers down Rumi’s spine again. “Maybe she’s like a... deep sea thing. You know? One of those animals nobody’s ever really seen, so it’s still a rumor.”
“Like the ones that glow?”
“Or bend in weird directions.”
They both looked at Rumi, who stared back.
Then, slowly, she sat up or rather, unfolded from where she’d been lounging. Her body moved in that now-familiar way: wave-like, rolling upward through her hips, ribs, and shoulders in a motion that didn’t make anatomical sense.
Zoey shivered. “Okay, scratch the cat thing.”
Mira nodded. “She’s definitely not a mammal.”
“I think she’s a heat-powered cephalopod from a different dimension,” Zoey declared.
Rumi, now upright between them, tilted her head just slightly — that off-kilter motion that never felt fully human.
“Or,” She said simply, “I’m just me.”
The room went quiet for a breath.
Then Zoey grinned. “Okay but seriously,” Zoey said, propping herself up on one elbow, “remember the pool thing?”
Mira sat straighter. “Oh my god. Yes.”
Rumi paused.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Yes,” Zoey said gleefully. “Mira and I still talk about it.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“You went under,” Mira began, waving her hand like she was sketching the memory in the air. “You were under for, like, a minute. Maybe longer.”
Zoey nodded. “And then you popped up like a sea monster. Didn’t even make a splash.”
“You had the black eyes,” Mira said, lowering her voice like she was telling a ghost story. “Completely black. Like a shark’s.”
Rumi blinked. “I was underwater. Pupils dilate. That’s normal.”
“No,” Zoey said. “That was not ‘my-eyes-adjusted-to-light’ black. That was ‘void-of-the-soul’ black.”
“Demonic.” Mira whispered, unsure how the teasing would land.
“Shark.” Rumi corrected, knowing Mira didn’t mean anything bad by it.
“You wish,” Zoey muttered. “You wish you were a shark. You’re way too twitchy.”
“Too observant, too,” Mira added. “You stare at corners like you’re seeing bugs crawl behind the walls.”
Rumi shrugged, noncommittal. “Maybe I am.”
Mira tossed a pillow at her, blanching at the thought of bugs crawling in their penthouse.
“Also,” Zoey said, shifting to look at her properly now, “sharks don’t climb up walls, Rumi.”
“I do not climb walls.”
“You do,” Mira said. “You perch. You crouch on countertops.”
“You do that…clicking thing when you sleep too,” Zoey added.
“Stress reflex,” Rumi muttered
“It’s very…roach coded,” Mira said, making a slight face.
Rumi made a disgusted noise. “Take that back. It’s like a spider if anything.”
“No,” Mira said sweetly, “because you also do that little finger-tapping thing when you’re stressed.”
“It’s not my fault you both decided to love an unusually regulated creature.” Rumi groaned out, her patterns starting to glow a light pink.
Mira and Zoey lit up, they knew that meant embarrassed.
Mira rolled her eyes. “You’re a reptile-bug hybrid and you know it.”
Zoey grinned putting down her phone, a search about bugs on the screen. “That clicking? It’s called stridulation. Basically, you’re making bug noises to calm down.”
“Great. I’m a bug with a built-in stress playlist.” Rumi grumbled.
Mira laughed softly, shaking her head. “Seriously though, you’re full of surprises.”
“I’m a shark,” Rumi insisted. “Cool. Dead-eyed. Efficient.”
“Babe…You flick your tongue. That’s a snake—or I guess reptile.” Mira scratched at her eyebrow in thought.
A beat.
“I’m tasting the air.” Rumi said flatly.
A pause.
“See? Snake!”
Mira booped Rumi gently on the nose. “Face it. You’re not a predator of the deep. You’re just a confused terrarium mix.”
Rumi sighed dramatically and slumped back into the cushions. “This is bullying.”
“This is love,” Zoey said, climbing up beside her and wrapping herself around Rumi’s side.
Mira joined a beat later, pressing herself into Rumi’s other side. “You can still be our scary little insectoid sea creature.”
“As long as you stay out of pools,” Zoey muttered. “I swear to god, I lost a year off my life seeing those shark eyes.”
“I liked the pool.” Rumi said, pouting a little.
“You horrified us.” Mira replied, laughing softly into her hair. “I knew what it was like to be in Jaws for a moment.”
Rumi didn’t respond right away. Just exhaled slowly, the sound low and even — like a current moving through her body. Beneath their limbs, she shifted ever so slightly, and both Mira and Zoey felt the familiar, soft ripple.
Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance.
Then Zoey threw her arm around Rumi’s shoulder. “What we do know is that you’re our weird mystery creature. That’s what you are.”
“And I guess,” Mira added, resting her head on Rumi’s other shoulder. “It doesn’t really matter what animal you are.”
“Because you’d love me either way?” Rumi asked, suspiciously deadpan.
“Yes,” Zoey said. “Because no animal clicks their teeth like that and still gets kissed.”
“I feel judged.”
“You are judged. Lovingly.”
Rumi sighed and melted back into them, arms lazily looping around their waists. Her body was warm and smooth, pulsing with the tiniest undulation beneath her skin. A low purr started in her chest, betraying her contentment.
Mira kissed the corner of her jaw. Zoey kissed her temple.
No one mentioned the way Rumi’s tongue flicked out again.