Chapter Text
Tranquility blankets the shared apartment of Mira and Zoey.
Both residents lie on a large, plush couch in the living room. It was an impromptu purchase, but neither of them regrets it. Honestly, they might have spent more time on the couch than their actual bed over the years.
Mira is sprawled on one end, watching some movie with overly packed action scenes she swears are hardcore and sick. Her girlfriend doesn’t share the sentiment, which is why she is doom scrolling on Mira’s lap instead.
In her defense, Zoey only watches romance. Mira once complained to her how every movie Zoey forced her to watch had the same plot. Childhood sweethearts who got separated but somehow meet again to live happily ever after. Zoey just looked at her like a kicked puppy; “But they remind me of us.” Safe to say, Mira never dissed her taste in films again.
(She does throw in the occasional remark on the sheer stupidity of the characters. Zoey just shushes her with a kiss and says it’s for the plot.)
“Look!” Zoey shoves her phone into Mira’s view. Her enthusiasm causes the screen to shake slightly. “Isn’t it cute?” She smiles up at her.
It takes Mira a second for her eyes to focus. “A cat cafe?” She grabs the phone to get a closer look. She swipes through the cafe’s posts.
“Yup. We haven't had lunch yet. Look at the food. Can we please go?” Zoey pleads, sitting up.
“I don’t know. I’m more of a dog person…” she mutters. Admittedly, she is salivating at the food already. But she also does not feel like getting off the couch today.
Zoey slowly wraps her arms around her shoulders. Like a snake circling its prey. “It’s only fifteen minutes away,” she says, bringing Mira close. “Please?” She asks, nuzzling into her neck to put the final nail in the coffin.
There’s a moment of silence. Then, Mira groans, “Evil. Absolutely despicable.” Zoey immediately jumps off the couch to do a victory fist pump. She sighs fondly, turning the TV off. She peels herself away from peace and comfort personified (furnituried?) to get ready.
.
The moment they step outside, Mira wishes she wore prescription shades instead of her regular glasses. It’s horrendously sunny today. It gets worse with every step.
Zoey has a yellow bucket hat on, blocking the light from blinding her eyes. Lucky , Mira grumbles. She couldn’t find her own at home and eventually gave up. She must have a look on her face, because Zoey begins to laugh. “Here.” She takes her hat off and tip-toes to place it on her head.
“Zoey, you don’t have to-” Mira starts.
“Don’t worry, I have my own hat.” She watches as Zoey reaches into her bag and pulls out her baseball cap. Mira’s lips part but no words come out. She puts it on, smiling innocently. “Do I look good?”
(No, she was not swooning.)
Eventually, her mind starts to work again. “I’m going to raid your Pepero stash when we get back,” she states, voice monotone.
Zoey gasps. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” she says challengingly. They make direct eye contact. “I think I saw a green tea flavored box under your pillow last night,” Mira pretends to muse.
“Not the green tea,” she says. Her voice low with warning, testing Mira’s audacity. She faces Zoey with unblinking eyes.
She crumbles immediately. “Fine, fine!” She huffs, taking it off. She begrudgingly trades with her.
Mira intertwines their hands placatingly. “You look adorable in anything,” she says with faux indifference, eyes looking anywhere but Zoey.
It does the trick. Her dejection forgotten as a teasing grin breaks through. “Aw…” Zoey begins, and Mira already knows she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “You’re such a sap, Mir.” She gives her hand a little squeeze.
“No, I’m not,” Mira groans, emphasizing the o .
(She squeezes back.)
.
The bells on the door chime as they walk through. They are barely past the door when a short man with dark hair greets them. “Hello! Welcome to Derpy’s Diner,” he warmly says, bowing.
“Hi! Can we get a table for two?” They bow back.
“Of course.” He turns to shout, “Rumi! Table for two.” He holds up two fingers and extends his hand as high as he can (admittedly not that far).
“Coming,” a voice rings from somewhere, above all the customers’ chatter. It’s fairly packed, but the atmosphere is soothing enough. A fence divides the area in half. A large variety of cats are scattered around one side, while the other is bare.
“Would you like to sit with the cats while dining or after,” he asks.
“With the cats!” Zoey exclaims, practically bouncing with energy. She absolutely loves cats. She turns to Mira pleading.
She sighs. She mourns the loss of fur free food. It’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make for Zoey.
A short–haired ginger cat on one of the tree towers makes intimidating eye contact with her. Mira holds Zoey’s hand a little tighter. For Zoey , she thinks, again.
“Welcome! My name is Rumi, and I will be your waiter for today. Follow me, please.” A woman slightly shorter than her bows at them. She quickly turns to walk and faces her back at them in the process. The first thing she notices is: she has purple hair.
Mira stares. She thinks she might be the coolest person ever. Her hair stretches near the floor even while braided. Somehow, all of it is in the same shade of purple. Even her roots. Mira’s not envious. She has to ask which brand of dye Rumi uses and her step-by-step routine written on paper later. And a signed photo.
A snicker sounds to her right. “You’re staring,” Zoey sing-songs, eyebrows wagging.
She rolls her eyes. “Like you weren’t, too.”
As they walk, cats noticeably begin to follow them. A few braver ones come within arms reach. Zoey is ecstatic. She has to restrain herself from bending down to give them a few scratches.
Rumi leads them to a relatively quieter and secluded area. A series of portraits hang on the wall. Mira presumes they’re previous owners. Names and dates of inheritance are labeled underneath each of them on a gold, metal plaque.
She scans each one, interested. They all show trios of girls, smiling happily at the camera. However, there’s only one owner on the last one. She studies the photo. A woman with long dark hair and piercing eyes stares back at her. Underneath inscribed: Celine, 2001.
Mira shudders involuntarily. Her eyes linger longer than they’re supposed to. “Hurry up, slowpoke.” Zoey tugs their joined hands forward, snapping her back to attention.
Rumi stops walking and gestures to a table. They sit on the same side, as usual. A habit Zoey started, because she said she wanted to be closer to Mira. She’s not complaining.
—
Rumi hands them menus. “Can I get you started with anything to drink?” She asks, smiling politely.
Zoey thinks she might be an angel. “Are you like a cat goddess or something?” She blurts out before her mind can filter. Rumi looks at her with wide eyes, caught off guard. Her mouth opens and closes, failing to find purchase. She ends up tilting her head, asking for further clarification.
“I meant, like,” Zoey stutters, scrambling for words. They both fidget awkwardly. Rumi’s hands play with the hem of her uniform. Zoey’s hands wave frantically in front of her, trying to grab words out of the air. Red creeps on both of their faces.
“Zoey meant that the cats follow you,” Mira calmly cuts in, saving her from further embarrassment. She looks at her with teary, grateful eyes.
“Oh!” Rumi’s eyes light up in understanding. “I’ve been working here since I was a kid, so a lot of them are familiar with me,” she explains, smiling at a grey tabby sunbathing on a bench near them.
“I’m so jealous,” Zoey remarks, stretching out the o . “You’re like the final boss to Catdom.” She sighs.
Rumi looks at her confused. Mira catches her questioning gaze. She offers a helpless shrug.
Zoey abruptly clasps her hands together, as if praying. “Please teach me your ways,” she requests in a way too solemn voice for cat advice. She ducks her head in a bow.
Mira’s eyes meet Rumi with a barely contained smile. Rumi breaks first, dissolving into giggles. Mira follows soon after.
Zoey pretends to act affronted. “Hey. Stop laughing, Mira. This is serious business,” she argues, her own smile threatening to slip out. She gives Mira a light shove.
“Sorry, sorry.” Rumi chuckles lightly under her breath. “You can feed them some treats first,” she suggests, magically summoning a small jar from her back pocket.
She demonstrates, dropping a few pieces into her palm. Immediately, the grey tabby pounces off the bench. Many others perk at the rustling of treats. She crouches down slowly, opening her palm in offering.
“Come here,” Rumi whispers, rubbing two fingers together to generate sound. Mira and Zoey lean closer, transfixed.
The cat cautiously makes its way towards them, apprehensive of the two strangers. “That’s it. Almost there,” she coaxes further encouragingly.
And Zoey’s not thinking of anything inappropriate. She swears she’s not freaky.
(Someone’s pants are on fire.)
Rumi wears a gentle smile when the tabby finally starts eating. After the cat finishes snacking, it headbutts her palm once, receiving a pat, and leaves to sunbathe again.
She stays crouching for a second before shooting up. “Sorry, I got caught up,” she apologizes, facing her head down in embarrassment. Her ears color with a light shade of red.
Pretty , an unhelpful part of Zoey comments. She wants to isolate herself in a corner and cover her face in shame. She just met this woman.
(A beautiful woman who conveniently happened to be a cat whisperer.)
Mira nudges her leg under the table. A closed hand is in front of her. She lifts her head up to see Rumi looking at her expectantly with big, brown eyes. Crap , she thinks. She was too tangled in her thoughts. Zoey doesn’t know what this divine woman wants from her. She’s pretty sure she hears Mira snickering to her left.
“Your palm?” Rumi asks.
“Oh, uh- yes,” she manages to get out, flexing her hand.
“Smooth,” Mira whispers. She kicks her leg hard.
Rumi pretends not to notice Mira groaning in pain in lieu of depositing the treats to Zoey. She braces her hand flush against Zoey’s, prepared to catch any strays if they were to fall.
Zoey tries not to think about how soft that hand is. How gentle it holds her own.
She fails miserably.
“The bathroom’s on the left,” Rumi points to the LED sign. “If you want to wash your hands before you eat,” she explains.
A pause.
“Your food!” She gasps in realization.
“Oh.” Zoey furiously starts scanning the menu. Mira follows with equal fervor.
“Suprise us?” In the end, they can’t decide what to get. They’re put on the spot and everything looks too delicious. Zoey’s already planning on dragging Mira back another day, until they try the entire menu.
Rumi nods. “Of course. Sorry for talking so much. I’ll be back with your orders!” She bows for the umpteenth time and scrambles away. She barely manages to avoid tripping on a tail in her haste.
Mira and Zoey stare at her retreating figure. They share a look.
We’re so doomed.
—
Rumi is not panicking. She’s completely calm and collected.
She holds two plates of sandwiches while juggling an additional two drinks. She spent an entire five minutes rereading their menu, which she already memorized, trying to decide what to get Mira and Zoey.
Her palms are sweaty in fear of dropping the plates. She’s held many more plates at once before, but for some reason, she’s still nervous. Maybe she’s afraid they won’t like what she chose?
The anxious thrum of her heart grows louder as she weaves her way past tables. She spots bright, pink hair. Mira , she remembers Zoey saying. She’s watching Zoey with fond eyes as she excitedly feeds a ginger cat. Rumi finds herself smiling. Her calm demeanor contrasts well with Zoey’s hyperness.
Rumi quietly approaches them, trying not to break their moment. It backfires unexpectedly when an uncharacteristic yelp leaves Mira’s mouth. She startles, almost dropping the plates. She quickly places them down before any accidents can happen.
“Oh my god,” Mira pants, clutching her neck.
Zoey looks at Rumi with childlike awe. “How’d you do that? I can never scare Mira,” she says, voice full of admiration.
Rumi’s dazed, still recovering from the shock. “Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you guys.” Her eyes flit skittishly away. She can feel Mira’s gaze scrutinizing her.
She catches sight of Zoey, who’s already two bites deep into her sandwich. Rumi’s face must betray her, because she raises an eyebrow at her and asks, “What? It’s good.” Her mouth is half full but no less sincere. A weight on her chest lifts slightly. She breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Try some, Mira,” she offers, holding her sandwich steadily for Mira. Rumi turns to her expectedly as she bites into it. She nods in approval, humming as she chews. “Oh yeah, that’s amazing.”
The words sound like honey to her ears. Rumi beams at them, happy they enjoy the food. She points at Zoey’s green and red drink. “That’s our strawberry matcha latte.”
“Are those kitties?” She squeals, pointing at the shaped ice cubes. “That’s so cute.” She snaps a photo, showing it to Mira.
Mira takes a sip of her own. She taps the cup rhythmically. “Brown sugar?” She guesses. Rumi nods. “Sick,” she says, grinning at her with warm eyes.
Her breath stutters at the back of her throat. “I’m glad you like it.”
They both smile blindingly at her. “Do you work here everyday?” Zoey asks.
“Yup.”
“So, if we come back again next week you’ll serve us?” Zoey wears a teasing grin, eyes shining with mischief.
Rumi feels her traitorous face heat up. She avoids meeting her gaze, turning to Mira for salvation.
Hers is worse. She sports an amused expression. Eyebrows raised as she waits for Rumi’s response. An unmistakable glint in her eyes causes Rumi to shiver.
Get yourself together , she tells herself. She’s dealt with plenty of charming customers before. She breathes in deep breaths and counts to ten. She is not freaking out over two girls who were definitely not flirting with her.
A hand brushes over hers. Concerned eyes meet hers. “You okay?” Mira asks.
“You were staring into space for a solid minute.” Zoey laughs, but it sounds strained. “Sorry, did I overwhelm you?” She has an adorable, worried frown on her lips. Not that Rumi’s looking, of course.
“No, uh-” she mumbles, freezing up. Her heart beats so loud she’s afraid they can hear it. Blood rushes to her ears, catching their attention. She fiddles with her fingers for a tense second before suddenly standing up straight. Abort mission . “Enjoy your food,” she manages robotically.
And she did not run away. She’s too dignified for that. She speed-walked away.
Rumi doesn't notice the way Mira and Zoey's fond eyes follow her.
Bobby glances at her, worried. She shakes her head, reassuring him she’s okay. She sighs as he buys it and turns away. Just a few more hours left until she can go home.
Rumi already knows she’s going to stay awake tonight mulling over her life choices.