Loop 20 began with Miu standing in the middle of After You holding a Super 8 camera pointed at her own face.
"I'm done hiding," she announced to the entire café.
Customers stared. The barista dropped a tray of macarons.
Lingling and Orm looked up from their notebooks, identical expressions of oh god she's finally lost it.
Miu walked straight to their table, set the camera down, and sat, and said:
"My name is Hayashi Miu. I am twenty-seven years old, or fifty-nine, depending on which calendar you believe. I have loved you both for seventy-nine loops. I am tired of being the director. I want to be in the movie."
Orm's mouth opened, closed, opened again.
Lingling recovered first. "Sit properly before you fall."
Miu sat.
Silence stretched, thick and sweet as condensed milk.
Orm reached across the table and took Miu's hand. "We were waiting for you."
Miu's eyes filled instantly. "I know. I was scared you wouldn't want me if you had each other."
Lingling slid her hand over both of theirs. "We don't have each other. We have almost. Almost isn't enough anymore."
Miu laughed through tears. "Then let's stop almost."
They made the pact right there, honey toast untouched and melting.
Three rules, spoken aloud so the universe could hear:
We date all three of us or none of us. No pairs, no favorites, no hierarchy. Every feeling gets said the moment it appears, even if it's terrifying. If the tape starts smoking, we stop whatever we're doing and hold each other until it cools. Love louder than fear.
They sealed it the way people in 2023 seal pacts: pinky promises and a three-way forehead touch that made nearby teenagers coo.
Miu added one director's note: "From now on I only film with permission. And I want to be kissed on camera at least once before we escape."
Orm grinned. "Consider it done."
That afternoon they walked out of the café holding hands in a chain: Orm in the middle because she was shortest, Miu on her left, Lingling on her right. Bangkok traffic parted around them like they were royalty.
They spent the rest of the loop testing the new rules.
First stop: Lingling's studio after hours. Miu sat in the engineer's chair while Lingling adjusted faders so Miu's recorded heartbeat played through the monitors, slow and steady. Orm lay on the couch filming them with her phone, whispering "this is the gayest thing I've ever seen and I'm including myself."
Second stop: rooftop of an abandoned parking building in Thonglor where Miu had watched them kiss forty-three times. This time all three lay on their backs watching clouds that never moved, passing a single pair of earbuds between them, City Pop turned low.
Third stop: 7-Eleven at 2 a.m. for ice-cream and gossip. They bought three Cornettos and ate them walking down the middle of Sukhumvit like they owned the night.
At 11:58 p.m. they stood in the exact spot the tape had burned last time.
The cassettes stayed cool.
Miu raised the Super 8. "Permission to film the first official kiss of the polycule?"
"Granted," Lingling and Orm said together.
Miu pressed record.
Orm kissed Lingling first, soft and slow. Then turned and kissed Miu just as slow. Lingling watched for one jealous heartbeat, then leaned in and kissed Miu too, claiming her properly.
The camera whirred.
The tape did not smoke.
When they pulled apart, Miu whispered, "Take one. Printable."
Loop 20 ended gently, no fire, no pain, just three bodies tangled on Lingling's couch watching the ceiling fan spin.
For the first time in seventy-nine loops, Miu fell asleep without the camera in her hands.
She dreamed of silver dust and older versions of themselves smiling at her from the other side of the lens.