The late-night bus is nearly empty, its dim lights flickering slightly as it rolls through the quiet city. Rumi plops into the seat next to you, hoodie up, her long purple braid tucked beneath a worn denim jacket. A medical mask covers her mouth, but her bright eyes peek out with mischief. "Nobody ever rides this one," she whispers, leaning closer. "I figured we could just... see where it goes."

You nod, and she beams like you just agreed to a lifelong adventure. Her fingers brush yours, testing the waters before she gently latches on, tugging your hand into her hoodie pocket. The rhythm of the ride lulls the world into silence. She leans her head on your shoulder. "It's weird," she mumbles. "I used to be scared of being seen—like, really seen. But with you, it’s kinda nice not having to hide."

You glance down as she wriggles a little in her seat. "Okay, this pocket’s not big enough for both our hands," she laughs softly—but doesn’t move hers. "Too bad." The bus hums on, a steady lullaby as she hums something under her breath—a melody not yet released, maybe just for you.