Chapter Text
3 CENTURIES AGO, the first superpowered beings, known as METAHUMANS, appeared on Earth, ushering in a new era of GODS AND MONSTERS.
“Welcome to Noonan’s, how may I help you?”
There is something to be said about the current state of humanity and its psychotic dependence on caffeine. As someone whose biology remains steadfastly unfazed with almost all legal stimulants, Mira reserves the right to judge in silence.
Even if sometimes she’d love nothing more than to laugh at the drink choices presented to her at this job.
Such as, “An Americano with coconut water please.”
God only knows just how hard she’s cringing on the inside. “That’ll be five dollars and twenty three cents please.”
The pregnant lady tips her a whole two dollars, so maybe the drink isn’t all that bad. Regardless, Mira rings her up without fanfare and passes the order to her fellow barista.
Jamie takes it, his confusion expressed outward instead of in, and looks at Mira like she had anything to do with it. He turns away when she doesn’t say anything, and peace is restored.
That is, until Mira spots her.
Invisible to the naked eye but clear as day to her, a streak of red and blue tears through the sky fast enough to be a blur but not too much to create a super sonic disturbance.
13 YEARS AGO, an extraterrestrial teen was sent in a spacecraft to Earth, and adopted by a pair of Jeju divers.
Superman is nearby.
Mira’s eyes follow as the figure disappears behind the back alley, a quick squint showing a swift change of wardrobe. A customer requires her attention, Mira smoothly switching back to normal as she punches in her 47th caramel latte of the week.
The bell chimes when Mira hands over the bill, and for a brief second, Noonan’s entire interior space lights up like a mini sun.
23 WEEKS AGO, the teen, now grown, announced himself as SUPERMAN, the most powerful metahuman of all.
“Good morning, Mira.”
Dapper in her ash gray suit with a mane of purple hair tied up in a high ponytail and black-rimmed glasses framing her small face, Ryu Rumi is effortlessly beautiful. The streaks of purple that pattern her neck before disappearing under her beloved turtle necks only serve to make her look ethereal and strong.
33 DAYS AGO, Superman lost a battle for the first time.
“Hi, Rumi. Would you like your usual?”
Mira doesn’t wait for Rumi to reach the counter before she’s already hip-checking for Jamie to take over the till. Her embarrassing eagerness is worth the small giggle escaping Rumi’s mouth, whose smile splits her lips and digs dimples in her cheek.
Mira has never known love could be so beautiful.
“One latte with oatmilk for you.”
“Thanks again, Mira!” Every day, Rumi comes in and orders the exact same thing. “I was stuck on the bus for hours, you have no idea how much I need this.” She doesn’t know I can see her move at the speed of sound.
Mira smiles, her own grief muted behind her gold-framed spectacles.
“No problem.”
How could she?
She thinks she’s the only Kryptonian left in the universe.
13 YEARS AGO, an extraterrestrial teen was sent in a spacecraft to Earth, and adopted by a pair of Jeju divers.
(13 YEARS AGO, Krypton died, and Mira lost the love of her life.)
“How was your day?”
Mira chuckles, a helpless smile adorning her own lips. “Climatic. Someone ordered a latte with coconut milk just before you walked in.”
Rumi gasps, an adorable sound that almost rivals the tiny oh on her face.
“Coconut milk?”
“I know,” Mira lets herself laugh, leaning her forearms on the counter and putting their faces closer. “Although I must say, that’s nowhere near as dramatic as your cinnabon cereal in boba combination.”
Mira gets the reaction she wanted, puckered lips and fake watery eyes that work ridiculously well on her resolve.
“Mira…”
But Mira is no quitter. “Oh don’t pout,” She reaches over and tugs Rumi’s lower lip out of its self-imposed prison, heat blooming on both their cheeks. “You’re awful to my well-being, I hope you know that.”
With or without her consent, Mira’s hand gradually drifts, before finding a home on the silver of purple peaking out from under Rumi’s black turtle neck.
A closer look will reveal miniscule shimmers of green still sticking to skin, an ugly result of Superman’s last encounter with the Saja Boys about a month ago.
Kryptonite.
Something ugly snarls in Mira’s heart, urging Mira to leap over the counter and take Rumi somewhere safe, somewhere she can’t be hurt by nasty-looking soul-sucking demons who just so happened to have done extensive research on Kryptonian biology and used a piece of their long dead planet to try and kill Rumi.
It's cruel. Sickeningly so. Mira hasn't stopped wanting to throw up since she first found out.
“Mira?”
Stupid, Mira can’t help the smallest tremble wrecking through her spines. You stupid, selfless girl.
“Mira—”
“HELP!”
Both of them can hear the scream, but only Rumi reacts outwardly, whipping her head around and dislodging Mira’s hand entirely.
Who takes zero offense, but her heart twinges nonetheless.
“Hey, uh,” Rumi swallows, eyes bouncing back and forth between Mira and whoever's being robbed in broad daylight, judging by the sound of pained screams and angry threats. “I gotta jet. The news never sleeps and all that.”
She’s too good for this world. She should’ve stayed hidden.
Mira keeps her snark and her pleads to herself, instead nodding and quietly slipping in an extra cheesecake in Rumi’s bag, which is left open like a noob.
“Go on. Have a good day, handsome.”
It’s like watching a piece of her heart tear itself away, every time Mira has to watch Rumi rush out of her sight and into the fight, without even a goodbye. Mira swallows back the tears brimming in her eyes and shoves her anger far down, some place she knows won’t ever surface, and gets back to work.
Mira meets Jamie’s eyes when she turns around, his face annoyingly sympathetic despite the teasing grin.
“What?”
Jamie shrugs. “Nothing.” Mira cocks an eyebrow, impatiently tapping the countertop. “It’s just, I know you said you don’t want to be friends, but I see the way you look at her. It’d be good to talk about it, if you want.”
Mira scowls, love morphing ugly and growing claws. “How do I look at her?”
“Like you’ve already lost her.”