Chapter Text
Rumi walked into the library on Tuesday morning with absolutely zero expectations. Her attempt at friendship with Mira had failed miserably, and she’d all but decided to give up. She already had Zoey and the guys from the bowling alley, after all, she wasn’t going to drive herself insane just because one mean girl didn’t want to be her friend.
Not to say that it didn’t hurt, but it was a familiar hurt, one Rumi knew how to handle. She’d always lived with a revolving door of not-close friends- loneliness was nothing new to her. The sting of outright rejection, however, was new.
Mira had seemed so annoyed with Rumi, and each of her harsh, sarcastic words landed against Rumi’s skin like bullets. Did Mira really think Rumi was faking it? Was her initial perception of Rumi’s character so terrible as to render everything about her completely artificial and disingenuous?
Rumi half expected Mira to skip their planned work time, and had brought plenty of homework to busy herself with in case she didn’t show. She made productive use of her time, and had almost completely finished a few example citations for legal research when, to her surprise, Mira appeared in the library doorway, holding a Ziploc container of… something in her hands.
Mira scanned the expanse of tables filling the room, and her face almost seemed to light up when she saw Rumi. Their eyes met, and Rumi watched curiously as Mira shuffled her way over to Rumi’s table.
She smiled, almost nervously, setting her things down on the table opposite Rumi.
“Uh- hey, Rumi!” Mira said softly. “How’s it going?”
“I’m fine,” Rumi responded simply, though she wasn’t sure why Mira was asking. Hadn’t Mira specifically told her to drop all pleasantries the day before?
What the hell is she doing?
Rumi opened their shared document and her case notes on her laptop, closing her other assignments for the time being. Rumi had completed her own portion the night before, and was pleased to see that Mira had typed in her input as well.
At least Mira wasn’t making her do the assignment on her own.
“Our work is good so far,” Rumi started. “We have similar understandings of the case, so there’s no need for review there. Do you want me to-”
“Actually-um… before we get started, I brought you something,” Mira interrupted, opening the container she’d brought and pushing it across the table to Rumi.
Rumi blanched.
Are those… are those cookies?
“I tried a new recipe the other day, but I ended up making way too much. They’re pretty good- it’s like a strawberry sugar cookie type of thing- but my girlfriend doesn’t like them and I kind of have a lot to get rid of so- uh- please! Please take these, I mean,” Mira rambled.
“Uh… thanks,” Rumi said awkwardly, hesitantly taking hold of a cookie, looking at it like it might come to life and eat her instead.
Rumi had very few clear expectations when it came to Mira, but homemade baked goods were not one of them. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed it was an olive branch. But, she did know better, and so, as she took a bite of whatever bullshit Mira had just set in front of her, she silently prayed to whatever gods might exist that it wouldn’t be poisoned.
To her surprise, it was good. Like really, really fucking good.
Maybe it was an olive branch after all.
“This is- this is good,” Rumi murmured, her heart fluttering at the way Mira’s eyes lit up at her words. She did her best to turn her attention back to the task at hand. “But, uhh… we should get to work.”
They sat in near silence, broken only by brief, stilted questions, and the rhythm of laptop keyboards, and it didn’t take long for Rumi to notice just how bored Mira was. And, to be fair, Gibbons v. Ogden was hardly the most interesting case Rumi had ever read, but Mira seemed like she didn’t even want to be there, and it just about pushed Rumi to her wits end.
If she truly cared this little, then why had she even pestered Rumi to work on this assignment together and in-person, and then shown up with homemade cookies?
Christ, what does she even want from me?
“Okay, well, unless there’s anything else you wanted to add, then I think this should be good to present tomorrow,” Rumi stated, shuffling her things into her bag and pulling it up over her shoulder. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes- they probably could’ve finished this in class if Mira had just cooperated from the start- but Rumi was just grateful to have it overwith.
“Oh- that’s great!” Mira blurted as Rumi stood to leave. “But- um- are you sure?”
Rumi paused.
“Am I sure about what? We’re done, aren’t we?”
“Well- yeah, but you don’t have to leave!” Mira said, smiling so awkwardly and adorably that Rumi almost stopped in her tracks. “Torts isn’t until one-thirty, and weren’t you already here to do homework? We can- um- we can just work on things together.”
Rumi’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. What was Mira doing? Was she just fucking Rumi, now? Why?
“What- what the hell are you doing?” Rumi whispered, voice cracking as she forced herself to look Mira in the eye. “What do you want from me?”
Mira’s face fell.
“What?”
“I’ve been nothing but nice to you, but you’ve been so mean and- and catty!” Rumi said. “But now you want me to- what? To just hang out with you?”
“I just-” Mira tried to interject.
“Just yesterday you snapped at me for asking about your weekend, but today you show up with cookies and then you get all weird when I try to leave. Even though we finished with the whole thing that we came here to do!” Rumi knew she sounded like she was about to cry- and that Mira could probably see it in her face, too- but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get out of there.
“So, unless you have something important to say, then I’m leaving. I’ve had enough of you picking on me for one day.”
Mira jumped out of her seat, her eyes wide and pleading.
“But, Rumi, I-”
“But what?” Rumi bit. “What do you want to say?”
“Just-” Mira scrambled to grab her plastic container off the table, slamming the lid on top and earnestly shoving it into Rumi’s hands. “At least take the cookies. Please.”
“I- Okay” Rumi faltered, looking down at the confusing little Ziploc container in her hands. “Thank you, I guess.”
She looked back up at Mira, at the soft, confusing expression on her face that Rumi couldn’t quite identify.
“I’ll- I’ll be going, now,” Rumi mumbled, almost stumbling over her own feet as she turned to leave. “See you tomorrow, Mira.”
She left before Mira could respond.