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Rumi just spent three days straight working fueled by nothing but stress and caffeine. Mira and Zoey were trying to convince her to rest but Rumi's being stubborn. Jinu has finally managed to drag them to the closest semblance of a bed which is their bedroom, and is determined to get them to sleep a full 8 hours.
Rumi hadn’t slept properly in three days.
Not a nap. Not a doze. Not even that half-conscious, eyes-closed-but-brain-still-running state that technically counted as rest. No—she had been awake, relentlessly so, fueled by caffeine, adrenaline, and a stubborn conviction that if she just pushed a little longer, she could finish everything she needed to do.
The apartment bore the evidence of it. Empty coffee cups crowded every flat surface. Energy drink cans lined the desk like fallen soldiers. Papers were stacked in uneven piles, some organized, some abandoned halfway through, and others clearly used as makeshift coasters. Rumi herself sat hunched over the table, eyes glassy but determined, fingers still tapping at her keyboard like sheer willpower alone could keep her upright.
“Rumi,” Mira said flatly from the couch, where she’d been watching this unfold for the last hour. “You’re blinking like a broken lightbulb.”
“I’m fine,” Rumi replied immediately, without looking up. “I’m *almost* done.”
Zoey, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaned back on her hands and squinted at Rumi’s face. “You just tried to drink from an empty mug.”
Rumi picked it up, realized it was empty, frowned, then shrugged. “Muscle memory.”
“That’s not comforting,” Zoey said.
Mira sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been ‘almost done’ for six hours.”
Rumi lifted one finger. “Actually, if we’re being precise, it’s been five hours and forty-two minutes.”
Mira stared at her. “That made it worse.”
Zoey scooted closer. “Rumi, you haven’t slept. You’re vibrating.”
“I thrive under pressure,” Rumi insisted. “This is my natural state.”
“That is a *lie*,” Mira snapped. “Your natural state is cuddling Jinu under a blanket like a sleepy cat.”
Rumi finally glanced up, eyes bright despite the exhaustion etched into her face. “That’s slander.”
The front door clicked open.
Jinu stepped inside, immediately freezing as he took in the scene: Rumi hunched over the table, eyes ringed with exhaustion; Mira glaring like she’d been personally offended by the concept of insomnia; Zoey mid-lecture with her hands flailing.
“…How long has she been like this?” Jinu asked quietly.
Zoey turned to him with relief. “Three days.”
Mira crossed her arms. “She won’t listen to us.”
Jinu’s gaze shifted to Rumi.
Rumi smiled at him—bright, tired, and utterly unapologetic. “Hey.”
He walked over slowly, knelt beside her chair, and rested a hand on her knee. “Hey, yourself.”
“I don’t need sleep,” Rumi said immediately, as if she’d been waiting for this argument. “I’m almost done.”
Jinu tilted his head, studying her face. He brushed his thumb gently under her eye. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m inspired,” she corrected.
“You tried to email yourself instead of me earlier.”
“…That was a test.”
Mira scoffed. “She only listens to you,” she muttered, though there was a hint of fondness under the annoyance. “It’s so annoying.”
Jinu stood, then without another word, slid his arms around Rumi’s waist and lifted her clean out of the chair.
Rumi squeaked. “Jinu!”
“You’re going to bed,” he said calmly.
“I have work—”
“It’ll still be there after eight hours of sleep.”
“I don’t need eight hours.”
“You do.”
“I can function on four.”
“You *can’t*,” Zoey said. “You just tried to argue with a chair.”
Rumi wrapped her arms loosely around Jinu’s neck, blinking slowly. “…It was judging me.”
Jinu smiled softly and carried her toward the bedroom. “You’re done for tonight.”
She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, voice dropping into a drowsy murmur. “You’re very bossy.”
“You like it.”
She hummed. “Maybe.”
Mira watched them go, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable. I’ve been telling her to sleep for days.”
Zoey grinned. “He used the carry technique. Classic.”
Inside the bedroom, Jinu lowered Rumi onto the bed gently, like she might shatter if he wasn’t careful. She immediately reached for him, fingers curling into his sleeve.
“You’re not leaving,” she said.
“I’m not,” he promised.
She smiled sleepily. “Good. Because I might actually pass out now.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Told you.”
She squinted up at him. “You’re very handsome when you’re right.”
He laughed quietly. “Get comfortable.”
She shifted under the blankets, then frowned. “Wait.”
He paused. “What?”
She tugged him closer by the front of his shirt. “You’re not in the bed yet.”
He complied, slipping in beside her. She immediately scooted closer, pressing herself against his chest like gravity demanded it.
“There,” she murmured. “Now I can sleep.”
He wrapped an arm around her, hand resting warm and steady at her back. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly.
She tilted her head up, eyes heavy-lidded but still playful. “You say that like I’m not invincible.”
“You’re invincible after sleep.”
She laughed quietly, then yawned a very long and deep, the kind that finally betrayed how tired she truly was.
“Hey,” she whispered, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “You know what’s unfair?”
“What?”
“That you’re this comforting.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll take that complaint.”
She smiled, eyes finally closing. “Stay with me.”
“I am.”
Her breathing slowed almost immediately.
Outside the bedroom, Mira peeked in, arms crossed. “Is she asleep?”
Jinu nodded, finger to his lips.
Mira exhaled. “Of course she listened to you.”
Zoey whispered, “To be fair, you didn’t carry her like a prince.”
Mira glared. “Don’t encourage this.”
Jinu looked down at Rumi, tucked safely against him, utterly at peace for the first time in days. He smiled to himself, holding her just a little closer.
Eight hours.
No exceptions.