But now that I've found you I'm not letting go

by bryar6

Summary:

Happy endings are for fairy tales, the ones they make up to reassure children, much unlike the way a considerable amount of folklore ends in tragedy, a bit too much akin to what Rumi has known her whole life. Fate has another thing coming for it if that's the story it wants; she was taught to fight as soon as she could walk, and she's not about to back down now.

Or, in which the author delves into life after the events of the movie, wherein Rumi and Jinu fight for their happy ending, learning and growing together and discovering what it means to be human, together.

Notes:

Starts slow and gets better, I promise! I haven't written in ages so I'm rusty, but I needed to comfort myself after that ending and as a huge sucker for the tragic relationship trope, well, I needed to give myself closure and fix it, obviously. So here it is, the happy ending I want and need desperately for these badass, dorky idiots. This will be a handful of chapters, not an exceedingly lengthy fic, but rest assured it will have an ending. (Edit to add, this is growing longer than anticipated, and quickly)

Title taken from a lyric from Perfectly Broken by Banners and Lily Meola, a duet that fits our featured characters very well here (and I'm useless at titles so they're almost always stolen from songs). Apologies for inconsistent grammar/text style, I've been writing both on my phone and my laptop. And of course, thank you to my girlfriend for bouncing ideas off of and having the historical information I don't to reference in future chapters, she's the absolute best.

Chapter 1

Like many Hunters who had come before her, Rumi was raised with a destiny in mind, a mold to fit to the shape of, an image of who she was to become, an empowering leader and a force to be reckoned with, an icon and an idol. And yet, it wasn’t her, and it had never been her, no matter how much it was forced on her over the years, and no matter how hard she tried to align with the title.

She knew that she wasn’t ever going to be granted normalcy, even if they succeeded in driving the demons away forever. It was a given, it was her fate, what she was born into and what she had to do. There were no other options, not that she would have taken one. She lived for her mission and now she has completed it.

So the story should be over now, shouldn’t it? It would be a nice thought, to get that fairytale happy ending she was promised. For all intents and purposes, she should be happy now. There’s no more urgency in their music career, no more demons, no more worrying about the end of the world, at least not for the time being. They fulfilled their ultimate purpose and now they can live their lives how they choose, they can follow any of the hundreds of paths they wish.

So why does she still feel so lost?

A voice brings her back into the present, bombarding her with questions and curiosity that she simply doesn’t have the energy for right now, but like always, she moves on.

She groans, swallowing her tumultuous emotions and also her pride, forcing her mouth to form words to answer a question she wants to deny with every bone in her body. The words are heavy in her mouth, but she has to say something or the girls won’t let up. She’s learned that one the hard way before, and she isn’t about to repeat it. She slumps in her chair, turning to Zoey who’s perched on the arm of the couch next to Mira.

“Yes, I- I liked him. Not— not like that! I didn’t even know him, it was like, two weeks, jeez. And no, I’m not giving you details. Happy now? Ready to stop pestering me? Don’t we have better things to be doing? There’s plenty I could say about the heart eyes you two were giving the others.” It’s accusatory, but not mean spirited, more of an empty threat to get them off her back despite knowing it won’t work.

Mira shrugs, nonchalant though her smirk gives her away. Zoey shakes her head, grinning. Rumi fights the urge to clench her jaw, realizing the way she had just sped through deflections had practically confirmed everything they wanted to know.

“Nope! Our calendar is wide open. No demons to slay, no concerts, performances, signings, game shows, nothing! Just good ole R and R, for a couple weeks anyways.” Zoey taps her foot on the floor to an unheard rhythm, humming and pursing her lips as she thinks. “I already have new song ideas!”

“Save it, I’m enjoying the couch life,” Mira mutters, sounding more annoyed than she is. She slips further into the cushions she’s sprawled out on, long limbs tangled in pillows and blankets, her pink hair draped over the back of the couch.

“Sooooo…” Zoey starts, eyes round and pleading, attempting her best puppy eyes, the ones that make even Rumi falter. Zoey’s grip tightens on the pillow she’s holding to her chest, making Rumi wonder if she’s about to be on the receiving end of a pillow in the face depending on her answer. Mira’s attention is piqued and she waits quietly for her to continue.

“No, I already told you, no,” Rumi answers the unspoken question with a sigh, lifting a hand to press against her aching temple. The stress is always giving her migraines. You’d think it would have lessened by now, but no, gods no. It was like the weight of saving the world had been protecting her from the weight of deciding what to do after it was saved, and now she’s at a complete loss without a purpose.

“Oh come on! Just a couple cute, juicy details? For your best friends? We deserve it! I mean hell, he gave you his soul, that’s not, like, a small thing,” Zoey says, her small frame coiling with energy like a spring.

Mira shrugs in agreement, waiting for her to break. So much for being on Rumi’s side here, but she doesn’t harbor any ill will about it. They have a point, as much as she hates to admit it.

“Maybe later, not that there’s anything ‘juicy’ to tell,” Rumi replies, pushing herself to her feet, choosing silent defeat instead of giving in. She finds she feels unsteady, like the ground might give way to a rift in the Honmoon and suck her down into the underworld, even though she knows it won’t. Hopes it won’t, anyway. “Too soon.”

“Should have told us, we would have quit,” Mira says, voice muffled under a layer of blankets, but what features she can see of her are genuine. “Sorry.”

Zoey mumbles an accompanying apology, eyes cast away. The temporary ceasefire of interrogation is blissful, and she’s beyond grateful they had given up so easily.

“No, it’s okay, I just… need a little time I guess. Thank you, for understanding.”

“Of course, Rumi,” says Zoey, offering her a soft smile. “Let us know if you need anything!”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, we all need some time right now anyways.” Mira waves her off with a hand.

Rumi gives them both a heartfelt nod and excuses herself from the room, slipping upstairs where the sound of the TV is faint and her comfortable bed awaits her. Blinking heavy eyes, she goes to lay down, finding herself far more exhausted than she was expecting. Her bed is wonderfully comfortable, inviting and plush, and she sinks into it with a small cringe at her aching muscles.

Two days, and she felt like the wounds were just as fresh. Two days, and she didn’t believe it was true. Two days ago, she had lost someone she hardly even knew, and now she feels like a boat cut free from its anchor on a stormy sea.

“If you’re still out there, you’d better come back, you hear me?” Rumi bites her tongue (though she can practically hear Bobby scolding her for it) in a poor attempt to quell the rising emotions. “It should have been me.”

But even as she says that, and believes it, she isn’t so sure it would have been the solution. Maybe if it was her sacrifice, they would have failed. Maybe there’s something she doesn’t understand about the honmoon, that it requires a sacrifice to recreate or something like that(how would she know?). Maybe Celine’s refusal changed the course of fate. Maybe she didn’t do enough, and she’ll forever live with that regret. But she figures she’ll never know at this point. Too late to change the past, as much as she wishes she could.

She settles down, picking up her phone from beside her and lets herself doomscroll for a while, against her own better judgement. If nothing else, it’s a good distraction. HUNTR/X is trending again, fans excited about their hiatus and what new music they’ll come up with to share with the world when they’re back. The Saja Boys appear to have all but disappeared from social media, with little mention of their existence at all, and what there is, is unimportant. Missing persons reports are down, back to the typical bare minimum, that’s good news. She swipes by more pointless tabloid headlines, starting to lose interest.

And then she sees it, a sole image of herself, kneeling backstage, shimmering patterns on full display, arms drawn around her torso, tears gleaming on her face, and an inexplicable expression of pain she would give anything to forget.

The anger boils for a moment — how dare someone post that, how dare someone post anybody in a vulnerable moment, and how dare they have captured how it felt in that moment, cold, alone, Jinu’s somber smile fading from her mind now that the rush and roar of the crowd had dimmed, adrenaline quickly draining and leaving her feeling numb and exhausted. Thank the gods Mira and Zoey had noticed and rushed to her side and whisked her away, or she’s sure there would have been all kinds of trouble from the media about it. The patterns on her skin burn as she recalls it.

“Two seconds — I just need a little space. Need to breathe,” Rumi says, touching the base of her neck, feeling like the patterns were constricting her all over again, the tightness in her chest quickly becoming uncomfortable. Mira and Zoey nod, turning around to get Bobby’s attention to divert the oncoming crowd.

It was odd how fast the euphoria of saving the world wore off. They stepped off the stage, and all her emotions came crashing down on her at once like a thousand demons tearing at her skin with fervor.

Jinu’s face, flickering away into nothing, the warm hum of what she can only assume was his soul, the power renewed, running like a raging river through her veins. The hurt and longing on his face. How she wished she could have just held his hand one more time, felt the way his patterns meeting hers turned into a beautiful song only they could hear, but she couldn’t risk the demon fire that consumed him.

She stumbles, finding she feels too weak to stand, so she lets herself drop to her knees, tears she had been holding back now freely running, just a sob choking her up, not her patterns. She grips at her sides, trying to find something, anything tangible to hold onto, to prove to her this was real, to ground her, comfort her, something, anything. Her breathing quickens and she can’t slow it down, her chest heaving now, panic rising to the surface, nails digging into her own arms—

“Rumi!” Zoey and Mira are suddenly wrapped around her, each ducking under an arm and rushing her away to a dressing room, locking the door behind them. Mira’s face is filled with concern. Zoey looks on the verge of tears herself.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, we’re here, we’ve got you,” Zoey soothes, before pulling her into a tight hug. The warmth is wonderful. But deep in her heart, something has frozen that she knows won’t thaw any time soon.

“Whatever you need,” Mira chimes in, voice strong as ever, joining the embrace.

Rumi lets the tears flow, the ache in her chest stinging in a way she can’t begin to describe. She knows now, why someone would beg to forget. If only it were that easy.

Rumi squeezes her eyes shut, breathes deeply for a couple moments, turns her phone back on, and goes to check the post again — and it’s gone.

She scrolls for a while longer, her first thought that the feed had just reset (what a stupid feature), but she can’t seem to locate it again. In fact, she doesn’t even recall seeing a caption, or a username. And wouldn’t everyone have jumped on this photo for their stupid tabloids by now?

“Don’t tell me I’m imagining things,” she grumbles, scrolling faster, shaking her head. Maybe she is just that tired she made it all up. Or going delusional. She swallows hard, rubs her eyes, and sets her phone to the side, staring up at the ceiling and doing her best to let it slide.

Finally, exhaustion takes hold and she slips into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a small blue spark and a voice that seems a little too silvery to be true.

 

~~~

 

She wakes up sweating. Fear flashes through her nerves for a moment, a jolt of adrenaline at just the thought of a nightmare, but she recalls nothing. At least she has that going for her, if nothing else. Her vision is blurry, eyelids somewhat stuck shut with sleep. She blinks and rubs her eyes, squinting hard to discern her balcony that’s just barely lighting up with the day’s first rays of sun.

And there, posed like this is where they belong, sit the strange little bird and the blue tiger, both watching her intently, waiting.

“What— what are you two doing here?”

Rumi wraps her blanket around her shoulders and manages to make it across the room with far less grace and poise than she usually carries herself, sliding her balcony door open and blinking in disbelief.

“Jinu?” Her heart skips a beat, but there’s no response. She clings to hope anyways, that voice in her head reminding her what she’d told him. It would be stupid of her to not follow that advice after she had given it with such enthusiasm and promise.

She peers around the corner, checking the facade of the building, the main floor balcony below her, her eyes searching desperately. Soft fur meets her palm as the tiger pushes against her hand, a small noise of discontent accompanying its similarly confused face.

“Not here with you guys, huh?” Rumi asks, feeling her heart sinking, heavy in the pit of her stomach once more. “Have any ideas?”

The bird coos, turning its head with a flap of its wings and looking pointedly into the distance, beyond the city skyline. Where the temple and Celine are.

The forest, she realizes. The tiger purrs and bumps her hand again, an odd smile growing on its toothy face. She’s correct in her assumption then.

“No, I can’t see Celine, not yet. Not ready for that.”

The guilt is bitter in her mouth, for what she said, for what she asked Celine to do. The weight of things unsaid in their conversation. The bird narrows its eyes, tipping its head and briefly she wonders how the tiny hat even stays on. She regrets never asking. In fact, she regrets a lot and it gnaws at her.

“Besides, she won’t know anything about Jinu.”

The tiger’s eyes seem to dim, losing interest quickly. With that out of the way, she sighs, turning around and heading back for her bed. She doesn’t bother closing the balcony door. The tiger slinks into her room behind her and this time, she doesn’t usher it away.

“Guess you’re a little lost right now, just like me,” Rumi says, reaching out to scratch behind the tiger’s ear. The bird coos in agreement. “It’s okay. Has to be, anyways. Trust me, I can’t believe he did that to us either.”

She pulls herself into her bed, drawing the blanket up to her neck and resolving to sleep a bit more. Her head hurts, her body aches, and her heart feels like someone had torn it from her chest and stomped on it. It’s all too much, and sleep is a wonderful distraction.

~~~

“RUMI!”

This time she bolts upright, scrambling to her feet, sword materializing in her hand. Her fellow hunters are standing in her doorway, weapons drawn and aimed at the two animals. With a flick of her hand, her sword is gone, and she steps in front of them, arms held back to guard Jinu’s animals.

“What! What? What’s— oh, god, no no no, it’s okay, they’re friends— friendly— no hurting them. Please,” Rumi laughs sheepishly, shooing her friends away from the two demon creatures that are staring at her intently from where they lay, nestled at the foot of her bed. She swears the bird scowls at her.

Zoey’s blades vanish. “They’re so cute!” Mira narrows her eyes.

“Um. I don’t know if you knew this, but those are demon creatures. In your bed,” Mira deadpans, eyes locked on her like she’s trying to decipher what’s wrong with Rumi this time. Her grip on her weapon tightens and Rumi throws her a small glare. Reluctantly, Mira’s spear slowly fades into mist. Rumi sighs in relief, reaching a hand out to brush over the demon cat. It purrs and Zoey about melts at the sound, hands clasped at her chest.

“Yep, I know. They’re uh…well they were kinda like Jinu’s pets?”

“Jinu? Is he here too?” Zoey exclaims, bouncing across the room and lifting her bedsheets as though she might find him hidden there.

“No!” Rumi blushes, dragging a hand across her face. “No, just the tiger and the bird.”

“Hmm. Don’t you dare lie to us, we’ve been over that,” Mira teases, finally letting her guard down.

“I promise, I won’t.”

Zoey is already buried in the tiger’s thick fur, the demon cat looking incredibly thrilled about this development. The bird squawks at Rumi while dodging Zoey’s attempts to pat it, as though blaming her for this mess. She wants to snap at it that it’s not her fault they let themselves inside to face the wrath of two Hunters, but resists.

“Are they… cool to stay here?”

“Uh, absolutely!” Zoey says, throwing her arms around the purring, overgrown cat. The tiger blinks slowly at Rumi and Mira, apparently rather content to be cuddled like a giant stuffed animal.

“I mean I guess so. But it’s your fault if they eat us in the middle of the night,” Mira says with a finger poking into Rumi’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, you can kill me again in the afterlife should that happen. Deal?”

“Ooh, absolutely. Deal,” Mira chuckles, turning and heading for the door. “Ordering brunch for us. Get downstairs in 20.”

“Got it,” Rumi confirms, turning back to Zoey.

“Awww they’re so cute! And the tiny hat, I love it!” she squeals, pointing a finger to the bird, whose six eyes roll in unison.

Rumi’s heart twinges, remembering how soft and human Jinu’s expression was as he explained the hat. How close she had felt to success that evening. How the hum of the Honmoon felt far stronger than usual as their voices intertwined in song. How she’d felt a pull of something she wasn’t sure she wanted to put words to.

“You good, Rumi?” Zoey’s face drops, searching her for some sort of hint.

“Yeah, I— I’ll be okay.” She rubs a hand across her face. At least it wasn’t entirely a lie. She would be okay, eventually. She has to. “Taking a shower. I’ll meet you downstairs for brunch?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Zoey replies, eyes still shining as she runs her hands over the tiger with something akin to reverence.

Rumi snorts, imagining the look of shock on Jinu’s face if he could see this. Stupid brain, relating everything to him. Seeing him in everything, thinking about his reactions and faces and the way he was a bit of a dork and an idiot, deep under the front he put on. It’s hard to think of him as gone, and she knows that eventually she’ll move on from the stage of denial, but for now she’s stuck firmly. It’s comforting in a way to pretend like the truth isn’t reality, unhealthy as that is. It hurts, too, but she forces herself to forget about it, instead letting the hot water wash the conflict from her mind.

~~~

Their meal is good, though Zoey feeds about half of it to the demon animals, and Mira surreptitiously slips crackers to the bird when she thinks the other two aren’t looking. Rumi doesn’t even know what they eat, let alone if they need to eat, but clearly they’re enjoying themselves.

“Are you going to see Celine?”

The question stops Rumi in her tracks, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. Slowly setting down her utensils, she turns her head to face Mira. “What?”

“I assume she wants to talk to you. Considering the Honmoon fiasco. And we need to get her caught up on our end. I figured it might be good for you to go now that we’ve had a few days to ourselves, Zoey and I have a couple things to do today. Gives you and Celine time to talk without worrying about us. Not to be blunt, but I know you’d rather talk to her alone.” Mira sips her energy drink, eyes staying trained on Rumi.

“I— I guess so. I should.” Rumi swallows the rising bile in her throat, the anxiety of facing her mentor and mother figure worse than she had already anticipated.

“Great! It’s settled then, Zoey and I go shopping, and you go see Celine.” Zoey nods, energetic though keeping it toned down.

“Wait, shopping? Without me? Traitors, both of you!” she gasps with mock indignation, but lets it slide. They’re right, and they all know it. Besides, the tiger had been hinting at it too. The universe was telling her and she knows better than to ignore such an obvious sign.

“Don’t worry, we’ll bring you back more pajama pants!” Zoey says, and Rumi’s chest squeezes again. “You must have worn out a couple pairs or something because I was trying to get our outfits together for a cute video to put online, and we all have to match, duh.”

Rumi laughs, letting the light feeling reach her even if just for a moment. “Okay, fine, but they’d better be stupidly cute, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mira says with a salute, before pulling herself to her feet. “Anyways, we’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later,” Rumi says, waving the two of them off as they animatedly skip out the door and to the elevator. She breathes deeply for a moment, collects herself, and addresses the two demons in the room. “Now I guess it’s our turn.”

She considers shooting Celine a message first, but figures it’ll be easier to just show up and explain herself, so she rummages through various outfits until she finds something comfortable and practical, doable to fight in (not that she expects to), but formal enough it’s respectable. She messes with her hair, and eventually settles for leaving it out of the usual long braid in favor of a half ponytail, hoping the lack of tension on her skull relieves some of the stress she’s been keeping contained in her body.

She squares her shoulders and heads for the door, demon tiger and bird in tow. She’s made the decision to walk, despite knowing her feet will kill her by the time she gets to the temple ruins, but she doesn’t care. She sets off, stepping from the elevator onto the main floor, and watches as the two demon creatures fade into the background, their presence still known to her, but hidden to onlookers. They’re an unusual comfort, she realizes, but she wouldn’t want it otherwise. It feels oddly right to have them along, and she appreciates the company. For now, she swallows down her guilt and tries to conjure up the right way to face her mentor.

 

~~~

It’s late afternoon by the time she arrives and the forest is quiet, with only crickets and the faint chatter of small animals in the undergrowth welcoming her. The tiger and bird trail alongside her, investigating the gardens and ruins. She approaches Celine’s cabin, adjusts her posture, breathes, and knocks, twice.

There’s no answer.

She knocks again, and this time calls out. “Celine? It’s me, Rumi. If you’re here, I just…wanted to talk.”

Still, nothing. She growls, frustrated. “Came all the way out here and she’s not even home. What a great idea. Now what?”

The question is rhetorical, but the tiger tips its oversized head, luminous yellow eyes glowing as the daylight wanes. It sits, and then lies down, curling up beside her.

“Make ourselves at home and wait, huh?” The bird squawks, settling down atop the cat, eyes closing. Rumi shrugs, pulling her phone out. She sends a text to Zoey and Mira, just a note that she won’t be home soon, but that she would let them know when. Mira responds with a knife emoji and a thumbs up, and Zoey tells her to be safe. She smiles, feeling a little better knowing they’re not worried. It’s good to know the world is a relatively safe place again.

She resigns herself to settling against the tiger, finding herself overcome with an odd sense of peacefulness, though she attributes it to the location itself, a sanctuary for Hunters who had come before her, where she had spent her childhood, where she had met her best friends. The breeze is cool and sweet with something floral, the sound of the brook babbling in the background a nice backdrop for the scenery. It’s relaxing and she allows her constant guard to drop, feeling how thickly the energy of the Honmoon flows here, even more palpable in the world than it usually is to her. She twirls a hand through the air, the energy running through her fingers like silk.

It occurs to her she hasn’t meditated in ages and this feels like a bit too perfect of an opportunity to do so; clearing her mind here is always easier than anywhere else. Among extensive physical training to get the trio in top shape for fighting demons, Celine had trained them to be mentally resilient as well, though she left emotions out of all her teachings. It was something Rumi has decided she will bring up to her when she attempts to find common ground again.

She breathes, focusing on holding the inhale and exhales, running through her mental checklist of muscles to relax, feeling the Honmoon rather than the turmoil in her mind, and letting everything else in her head flutter away like the leaves on the breeze.

~~~

 

Rumi only realizes she had fallen asleep when she wakes up, the tiger wrapped around her beginning to stir in the early morning, the bird pecking and scratching at the leaf litter on the ground. She’s surprisingly refreshed, if not a little disappointed that there was still no sign of Celine. It makes sense, Celine often had places to be, and in light of Rumi’s…request, she could understand if she needed to get away from it all.

But the nagging feeling still bothers her. Something isn’t quite right, and she can’t place it, so she begins to think, trying to puzzle out any of the dozens of questions still unanswered. At the forefront in her mind today is the question of her demon heritage, and what powers she might and might not have. She had managed to teleport back to the concert stadium after her incident with Celine, but she’s not sure how or where to draw on that power.

It would be a great question for a particular demon who’d happened to become rather helpful to her. And that’s another question. Something about his supposed death doesn’t feel quite right; he had given her his soul, and in turn, lent her power like nothing she’d felt before. It doesn’t make sense that he would be truly, irreversibly gone, in any traditional sense. The appearance of his animals also didn’t come across like confirmation of his death, either. Regardless, it’s frustrating at best, and more than upsetting at worst. The emotions are stirring under her skin again and the sensation makes her restless, leaving her hungry for some sort of resolution.

Rather than waiting around, she decides she needs to move, so she stands and begins to head for the hillside where she spent many hours as a child. The headstones come into view in the faint light, colorful flowers growing on either side of some, others barren. Her eyes finally land on the one she was headed for, a mosaic of colorful flowers surrounding it, nearly glowing. She walks closer, slowly, unsure now of what purpose she had come here for. She lets herself take it in, methodically categorizing her busy thoughts in an attempt to make space for some sort of logical thinking.

She steps closer, looking intently now, preparing herself to say something, anything. Her eyes instead land on something unfamiliar, pinned down by a fist-sized rock, a note laying atop her mother’s grave. She rushes towards it, snapping the note up, knowing already what its contents must be before she can even read it.

“No, no, she wouldn’t,” Rumi mumbles, reading the characters again, making sure nothing is misread. Her eyes run over it, yet nothing changes.

Rumi,

I understand you may have come here to find me. You will not. I know this will come as a shock to you, and I do dearly apologize. I’m afraid I need to keep my reasoning to myself for the time being.

You are far stronger than you know. You’ve done far more than I had dreamed fate had in store for you, and I presume your story isn’t over yet. I’ll be back. I don’t know when. I will find you when I am.

Until then, be safe.
~Celine

She whirls around and runs, back towards the temple ruins, back to the elder tree at the heart of it all, where Celine would observe the Honmoon and monitor the state of the demon influence on the mortal realm, the tree she had spent hours under in the shade with Mira and Zoey, where she had been shaped into who she is today.

The sting of abandonment is like a spear through her heart, sharp, piercing, and a painful reminder. Her only source of possible answers, gone indefinitely with no explanation. Her only solace in someone who might know how to help her settle the way the Honmoon stirs with her emotional state.

How could the universe do this to her? Hadn’t it done enough, taken enough? Hurt her enough? Selfishly, she allows herself to feel targeted by the powers that be, because in what world does she deserve more stress, more confusion, more questions? She needed to ask Celine about her parents, needed to ask about the way she can practically taste the energy of the world around her, ask her just what she’s supposed to do with herself now, without a clear purpose. Mira and Zoey would listen, but they wouldn’t understand, not the way she needs someone to understand her. They wouldn’t have answers, and right now that was the one hope Rumi had been holding out for. The raw emotions peak and the walls come crashing down, what little barrier she had left holding the flood in her mind broken free, with nothing left to contain it.

“Jinu, if you’re out there, please come back, I can’t — I can’t do this alone,” she whispers, the words barely leaving her lips at all, rubbing at the hot tears on her face and smudging her makeup. Hope flickers in her chest and she lets it, wishing and pleading with her soul that the universe would do something. Short of giving her soul to Gwi-ma, there’s not much she wouldn’t do to have some sort of clarity right now. But the world doesn’t work like that, and neither does it answer her.

It’s silent. The breeze tussles her hair, the old trees creak and their boughs sigh, but it’s just her and the forest. The ancient tree standing in front of her sways gently, refusing to let its secrets go freely.

A flicker of disappointment ruins through her veins, quickly turning into a surge of frustration, heat darting across her skin through her patterns. She glances at her hands, the fiery color like molten metal on her palms, and she’s struck with a deep feeling she can’t quite place but she knows she needs to release.

Running a hand through the air with a flick of her arm, drawing on the Honmoon with ease, her sword flourishes into existence, humming louder and more energetically than she’d ever seen it before, as though it had remained extra-charged after the final battle.

Good. Now it’s time to let it go.

She raises the blade, its weightlessness a familiar comfort, and breathes deeply. She feels her feet on the ground, each one a stable pillar, just like Celine had taught her. Feels the muscles in her arms and shoulders, tense but not braced, simply ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

And with a cry that feels like the energy of the Honmoon itself is coursing through her veins, like demon fire, like the thrill of thousands of voices joining hers, like every emotion and every conflict she’s ever endured, she slams the blade into the ground, sinking it to its hilt. The energy pulses through her and into the sword like a conduit, and then the world goes silent for a heartbeat.

A burst of iridescent light flares from the sword, blinding her in the faint pre-dawn light, and she stumbles backwards, tripping into the equally worried duo of demon animals behind her. She falls against the tiger and holds her arm out, ready to summon her sword back, to defend herself, to fight, anything. She blinks hard to discern what had happened, the remnants of the light dulling her sight.

But instead a shadow dims out the light and suddenly her sword is blocked by the figure standing before her. A pale hand extended towards her, the faint trace of silvery patterns over their skin. The sunlight breaks the tree line, bathing everything in hues of gold and soft pink and illuminating the figure.

“I promise I’ll help you up this time.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

Chapter length may be inconsistent because I'm going by scenes rather than length, but here we go, next chapter is my favorite so far, this is looking like it'll be a little longer than I intended but hey we're running with it, *and* I got my girlfriend to watch the movie so even better on the motivation to write front!

Hope nobody lost any fingers last night if you're in the US!

For what feels like a small eternity, she stares.

Jinu.

Jinu is smiling down at her, brown eyes soft, brows raised waiting for her answer. Rumi searches for the words, trying to claw some sort of response out of her chest, even just a sarcastic remark, but she fails to find her voice. The irony doesn’t escape her. The tears are running freely and for one of the few times in her life, she couldn’t care less. There’s not a single camera on her right now and she’s standing in front of one of a handful of people she trusts.

And the expression on his face says he wouldn’t look away from her even if the world were ending around them.

She shoves herself off the ground, avoiding his hand entirely, opting instead to throw herself into his outstretched arms, trusting him to catch her and he does.

“Whoa— okay,” Jinu laughs.

It’s a light, lilting sound, better than any music to her ears. His arms come around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he holds them both upright. Rumi’s full weight is in his arms and yet he seems entirely unbothered.

“You should have been expecting a hug this time,” she says, words a bit muffled and interrupted by tears and sniffling.

“I suppose I should have,” he muses, resting his cheek against the top of her head. The small action has her heart leaping into her chest and yet—

“I thought I lost you.”

She draws back, sharper than intended, and Jinu flinches a little. It’s then she notices her energy mixing with the Honmoon is unstable, and he can feel it too, if his slight shudder means anything. She looks away, trying to steady her breathing, but it isn’t working well, much to her dismay.

“I’m sorry. I swear it was never my intention. I didn’t think, I just acted. For a moment everyone was under the influence of Gwi-ma besides you, and when I heard your voice and saw what was happening, I had to do something.” His voice is sincere and his expression is too, not meeting her eyes.

“Idiot,” she mutters, biting her lip and holding back the array of things she wants to tell him that, in light of his hands pressed against her back and her tears staining his hoodie, don’t seem to matter anymore.

“Well, excuse me for saving your life,” he chuckles, eyes meeting hers again, his thumb tracing gently over the colorful patterns on her arm, keeping her at arms length to look at her, like he doesn’t believe it either and like if he looks away it might all be a dream.

It’s then she notices that stupid bracelet hanging off his arm. She reaches out to touch it, tasting the salt from her tears as they reach the corners of her smile. He nods, words unnecessary.

He’s just a little too perfect, his gaze too sweet, the light hitting his eyes turning them to a lovely golden hue, the way his dark hair frames his face, and his crooked smile complimenting all of it. It’s distracting. She chokes on a sob again, and his face softens even further. Gods, it isn’t helping at all.

“I’m not gonna let you live down you dying on me, you know,” she teases to lighten the mood, to which he dramatically sighs.

“Then I’m not letting you live down the choo choo trai— ow okay okay got it,” he wheezes, attempting to recover from a quick jab to his ribs. “Really gonna do that to a guy who more or less died twice?”

“Yes, and keep talking and I’ll do it again,” she threatens playfully, but instead she leans into his chest again, her hands coming to rest with small fistfuls of his hoodie in her hands. He hums, amused. He’s warm, real, and alive.

The emotions spill over again, the disbelief, the grief, the pain, the relief, and this time her sobs are hiccuping and her nose is running and it feels a bit pathetic, though she finds she doesn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. Not with him.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m right here,” he soothes, ever so slightly swaying them both. The worry creasing his face is adorable and heartbreaking. “Gonna do my best not to go anywhere this time.”

Rumi mumbles her agreement and bites back a ‘you’d better not,’ looking up at him and managing a tiny nod.

“You were amazing, you know,” he says, lifting a hand to brush against her cheek. A small shiver runs through her body, but she welcomes the feeling accompanying it. “You are amazing. Not every day you get to meet someone with the voice of an angel and a heart of gold.”

“You’re actually a major sap under all that flirting, aren’t you? It’s not entirely a fake personality for the media.” She grins back, tipping her head into his hand, her heart full, the hum of the Honmoon ebbing and flowing as it should. His thumb rubs a tear off her cheek with precise care. It’s peaceful. And it feels right.

“Maybe. I guess you have time to actually figure me out now,” he replies. His eyes drift, looking towards the sword. “You brought me back.”

“I guess so,” she affirms.

Her eyes trace his patterns, noting how they’ve turned more silvery than dark, not so bright as hers, but intricate and otherworldly all the same. He follows her eyes, but doesn’t speak, just watches and waits.

“How?” It’s the only question she can think to ask, and the only one she feels the need to know.

“I gave you my soul. I don’t know the specifics, seeing as I doubt many other demons have done this before, but I assume you have the ability to summon me back to the mortal realm, just like Gwi-ma had the ability to summon me back to the demon one.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, I was—” she cuts herself off before she admits something she doesn’t want to, but Jinu’s small, badly disguised huff of a laugh says he didn’t miss it. “It would have happened by now.”

“Maybe it has to do with that?” He nods in the direction of her sword, looking at it with intense curiosity again, almost like he’s drawn to it. “And this tree feels like a well for the Honmoon even to me. This place is important. A good combination of coincidences?”

“Maybe… I haven’t called on my sword since the battle with Gwi-ma. I assume you’re what powered it up so we could create the new Honmoon?”

Jinu shrugs, bemused. “So really, I saved the world.” She swears his eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief.

“No— You— we did. Together. Couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, and this time she knows he takes it earnestly.

“Whatever you say,” he replies, tipping his head and lifting his hand from her cheek, running it through her loose hair. “You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you.”

She stammers for a moment, trying to decide whether to scold him or thank him, while also trying to deal with the way her brain short-circuits at the fact his touch is so light and how his fingers brushing against the back of her neck makes her shiver. The compliment catches her entirely off guard but she enjoys the swell of warmth in her chest.

“I— uh— thanks?” she settles on, blushing far worse as he laughs, his face betraying him with how obvious it is that he was satisfied with her reaction.

“I mean it. You’re not hiding who you are anymore, and it’s…it’s beautiful.”

“Jinu…” she whispers, completely reluctant to stop him at all, but hoping her voice gives him fair warning of her fragile emotional state. He recognizes it, but goes on anyway, a finger curling around a lock of her hair and smoothing it back behind her ear.

“I’m sorry for the lies,” he admits, voice heavy. His eyes darken, ever so slightly. She almost stops him there, but he continues. “I lied about a lot, and I want to tell you the truth and only the truth now. You deserve that, at the very least.”

She blinks, raising an eyebrow, trying to discern where he’s headed with this.

“I don’t think you’re a mistake. You’re absolutely beautiful, whoever and whatever you are,” he pauses, a hint of color on his face slowly darkening into an adorable blush. “And it was rude of me to say you’re not my type. That was a terrible lie.”

“Oh?” she manages, her voice feeling so small compared to how it usually wields power and weight, like his presence is her fatal weakness and his charm is a weapon. His eyes hold hers effortlessly, almost mesmerizing her like they had done to her fans, but she knows this time it’s entirely without a mystical influence.

“I think you’re incredible, and you have no idea how thankful I am to have met you. And I want to get to know you. To know each other.”

His words are so genuine it almost hurts. Her heart is light in her chest but racing and she’s sure he can hear it with how close they are. It’s now she realizes she feels his breath on her cheek, that they’re only inches apart, but she can’t break her gaze.

“I want that, too,” she breathes, barely a whisper.

“I’d like to ask you to forgive me, Rumi,” he says like a question, voice quiet and true, eyes briefly cast down to their feet where the roots of the tree tangle and twist over each other before flowing back into the earth. It reminds her of the pattern on his bracelet, of the patterns on their skin meld into each other.

His eyes flick back to hers. Their foreheads brush, noses nearly touching. His hair flutters against her face, tickling at her skin. Her patterns hum, but right now she doesn’t care about anything else but this moment. She meets his eyes and holds them with a fierce determination.

“I forgive you, Jinu. I don’t understand it all yet, and I want to, but I do forgive you.”

She sees the tension leave his body with those words, sees the way relief floods his face, feels how his weight shifts closer to her, like merely being this close is healing him. She swears she can feel his heart beating in his chest against hers, demon or not, she believes it.

Impossibly and almost threateningly close to him, a thought strikes her. She doesn’t think twice, just acts on the thought just like she always has, throwing herself headfirst into everything she does, prepared or not. It hasn’t failed her yet and she knows it won’t fail her now.

She leans towards him as he bends towards her, him a half second slower, waiting on her, eyes intent and focused, yet asking and waiting. She tugs him forward and together they close the distance between them.

Her lips find his, soft, warm, and gentle against hers, his hand cupping her jaw is hot on her skin, his other rests on the small of her back, drawing her closer. Her hands find the back of his head, burying her fingertips in his hair, finding it impossibly soft. He deepens the kiss, lingering like he wants more but doesn’t dare act on it. It’s intoxicating, his fingertips pressing into her back in a way that’s remarkably respectful, his thumb on her cheekbone, his sweet, smoky scent, tinged with a hint of jasmine.

The only way she can think to describe it is lovely.

It’s not a spark or a flame, no. It’s a warm glow, like he’s reignited the hearth in her soul, a hot ember slowly bringing the fire back to blazing life. It’s consuming, in a way that fills her heart. It’s comforting, in a way that leaves her longing for more.

It’s everything.

Slowly, with all the reluctance in the world and then some, she draws back, just enough to look him in the eyes again.

His eyes dart to her lips and she considers punching him in the gut for a moment for having the gall to let his mind wander like that, and thinks better of it; it might ruin her chances to do that again and she had enjoyed it a little too much for her liking. That, and she would feel bad punching someone for something she had also done with little shame.

He waits, eyes listening to her.

“I knew it was real. I knew you were more than your demon. That we’re both more than our mistakes and our pasts.”

He smiles softly. “You helped me realize that. I only wish I had sooner.”

“We have time now, to untangle it all. Both of us.” She traces her hand against his face, carefully pushing his hair to the side, revealing the faint tracings of patterns on his skin. They’re barely there, the hue nearly matching the shine of hers.

“I don’t hear him anymore. Just you,” he whispers, eyes closing in peaceful bliss. “You’re special, you know that?”

He says it with such sincerity it aches in a way she doesn’t want to think about.

She feigns pushing at him, just a nudge, rolling her eyes. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t change my mind at all,” he hums, shrugging. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do, though.”

She sighs. “And explanations owed to Mira and Zoey. They’re going to have a fit,” she groans, leaning forward and letting her head rest against his chest.

“Sounds like so much fun,” he replies in monotone, resting his head atop hers again. She feels secure and safe in his embrace in a way she’s never quite felt before. He squeezes her a little tighter. “Do we have to?”

She grumbles wordlessly, pulling away and glancing over to the tiger and magpie, both sitting together, ignoring Rumi and Jinu entirely. She’ll have to tell Jinu that the two creatures had influenced her decision to come here and explain just why they were where they were, but now isn’t the time. “I promise I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

“Well? I think I can just teleport us back there. Doesn’t seem like all this weird soul stuff changed my ability to access demon magic,” he says, a puff of mulberry colored smoke emerging from the snap of his fingers.

“You need to teach me how to do that,” she insists, and it’s not exactly a request so much as a command, and she means it.

“As you wish. Ready to go?” He seems less eager about the prospect of leaving their little slice of peace, but realistically they can’t linger here all day. And not that she expects it, but the last thing she needs is Celine or Mira and Zoey showing up unannounced right now. She releases the energy of her sword back to the Honmoon, the pink mist fading away the only sign it had ever been there to begin with.

“One more thing,” she replies, grinning at him with enough of a spark in her eye that he raises a brow.

But she doesn’t give him enough time to be confused or to ask what that look is about.

She steps up onto her toes and kisses him again, relishing just how right it feels. Better and more satisfying than it has any right to be. He hums against her lips, his face falling a bit dumbstruck as she breaks away.

“Now I’m ready.”

She watches him for a moment, his delayed reaction more endearing than it should be. It’s his turn to blush and look away, but he threads his hand into hers anyways and pulls her close, lifting his other hand into the air.

“That was not fair,” he mutters, side-eyeing her as he snaps his fingers.

She just laughs as they and the two demon animals disappear into thin air, leaving the little glade empty once more, the ripple of energy and magic settling into the background once more, the only sign they had been there are the small impressions on the grass, and even those are springing back into place.

Notes:

Next chapter starts with a laugh and its light and fluffy and fun!

Chapter 3

Notes:

Here comes the fun stuff!

If Mira had been holding her staff when Rumi and Jinu materialized in the foyer of their skyscraper at the same time she was stepping off the elevator, it might have been problematic. No, scratch that. It would have been extremely problematic because Jinu would have been three times dead.

Granted, seeing Rumi absolutely tangled in Jinu’s arms as she tries to catch her balance from what she can only assume was teleportation magic, is a little bit of a problem in her eyes too, considering that man is supposed to be dead, and Rumi looks completely head over heels obsessed. And so does he, almost worse than she does.

It’s kind of disgusting in a cute way.

Taking in an extremely deep breath to calm herself, she stands straight, putting on her intimidating face and points a finger straight at Rumi, who has turned pale as a ghost.

“I swear you like, just promised not to hide shit from us, Rumi, so what the fuck is this?”

Rumi trips backwards, awkwardly shoving Jinu away from her like it’ll help the fact she was caught red-handed, who is trying and failing to catch her as she falls, totally unaware she’s pushing him away on purpose. Rumi manages to topple both of them by grabbing at his arm to catch herself but somehow keep him at arms length at the same time. She hits the ground first, Jinu falling onto her shortly after struggling to stay upright for a surprising amount of time. Laughing awkwardly and nervously, he carefully rolls off and jumps to his feet. He offers her a hand which Rumi accepts, her face now on the complete opposite color spectrum than it just was, cherry red as she avoids eye contact from either of them.

Rumi and Jinu stare at the floor, dead silent.

“That was fucking spectacular,” Mira snorts, losing all her serious composure in an instant. “Like I’m still mad at you unless you have a good reason for not telling us, but man that almost makes up for it.”

“Mira,” Rumi starts, about to find some sort of way to explain, when Zoey comes bursting out the stairwell door with a high kick.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D GET ON THE ELEVATOR WITHOUT ME AND LEAVE AND MAKE ME TAKE THE STAIRS ALL THE WAY DOWN, WHAT KIND OF— Rumi? And Jinu!” Zoey snaps out of her rant, skipping across the lobby in a couple leaps a gymnast would be envious of, throwing herself around Rumi. “Ohmygosh! This is great! Now you won’t look so sad and heartbroken all the—”

“Zoey!” Rumi feels like her eyebrows are about to make it straight through her skull if this comedy skit of a reunion doesn’t let up sometime real soon. Jinu poorly hides his snort with a cough. She elbows him, lightly.

“Oops!” Zoey giggles, dancing away from her to throw an arm around Mira, jittery with excitement.

“You missed the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Mira says, lifting her phone. “Annnnd I’ve already pulled it up from the security footage.”

Mira passes Zoey her phone with a snicker, tapping her fingertips together with playful malice.

 

“You guys are the worst,” Rumi groans, resisting the desire to ask Jinu to teleport them to anywhere but here. Zoey falls into a burst of loud, vibrant laughter at watching their dramatic entrance, and then straightens up, clears her throat, and tries to keep her beaming smirk to a minimum. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Zoey and Mira reply, sing-song and impressively in tune, as always.

“And you’re damn lucky I do,” Rumi sighs. “Can we all go just sit down and talk about this? This—” she gestures to Jinu and he waves like the dork he is, “—is a new development as of this morning so I swear I wasn’t hiding it.”

Mira shrugs. “Sure. We can just order dinner, I didn’t want to deal with people anyways. What do you want, Jinu? I know everybody else’s orders. Hello? Earth to space-demon?”

“Huh?” He’s staring at Rumi, completely distracted.

“You are officially invited to dinner. What do you want to eat?” Mira’s eyes land on Rumi for a second before returning to scrutinizing Jinu.

“Oh. Um. Soup? Rice?” He rubs the back of his neck, shoulders slightly raised in a defensive position, glancing at Rumi, looking somewhat out of his element all of a sudden. “I mean, if you want me to join you. I don’t have to, I’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“Yes. Please,” Rumi says, a little too quickly, but she’s not about to let him up and abandon her with the girls to tear into her with questions. He nods, eyes drifting away, and she wonders if maybe eating isn’t something a sort-of dead person slash demon does and it’s making him uncomfortable, and in which case, she’ll gladly call it off, but that’s a problem for later.

“Great, at least somebody can make a decision around here,” Mira says with a joking scoff.

“Excuse you, I am decisive!” Rumi protests, quickly joined by Zoey.

“It’s not my fault you guys don’t have all the delicious, unhealthy, amazing junk food like they do back in the US,” Zoey says, her face falling into an extreme pout.

“You’re both hilarious,” Mira says, lifting her phone to her ear. “Shut up now, all of you idiots, I’m calling Bobby.”

“Bobby? No, no no no, we are absolutely NOT telling him about—” The phone stops ringing and Mira silences her with a palm to the mouth and a dramatic eye roll.

“Hey, Bobby. Yeah, just wanted to let you know we’re not gonna make it tonight, Rumi was busy and got back late. Reschedule us for tomorrow? Okay, great. Thanks Bobby.” Mira hangs up, glaring at Rumi. “I’m not stupid, telling him you somehow reincarnated or whatever your dead fake idol slash demon boyfriend isn’t high on my priority list to explain to the poor guy.”

Rumi bites her tongue, refusing to play right into Mira’s hands to defend the ‘boyfriend’ comment. It’s still too early in the day to have that conversation, and she’s absolutely not about to have it right in front of said object of interest that she may or may not have been kissing not so long ago. And whom she would very much like to kiss again.

Mira shrugs, pleased that Rumi has chosen to stay silent, obviously taking it as a win. Rumi rolls her eyes for the nth time, shoulders slumping forward as she follows Zoey and Mira towards the elevator. Mira and Zoey step in first, Rumi and Jinu following close behind.

The doors shut, and for a solid thirty seconds it’s dead silent.

“So. I thought I heard something about elevator music. Is that not actually a thing?” Jinu breaks the silence, a forced smile on his face that drops significantly when he realizes he failed to make small talk. When neither Mira or Zoey pipe up and just look at him funny, Rumi stares at the ceiling and answers for them.

“It’s bad music. Like, they only play really cringey music on elevators. So as musicians, and, y’know, powering the Honmoon with song and all, we’d rather not listen to it. Kinda messes with you when you’re trying to produce good music.”

“For someone who managed to put together a boy band made up of entirely demons, you’re poorly educated,” Mira drones, not looking up from her phone.

“I’m also four hundred years old,” he adds, pointedly imitating Mira’s tone.

“Get with the times, loverboy,” Mira says, her expression that of someone doing their best to incite a fight without actually wanting one.

Jinu looks to Rumi, who looks away, pinching the bridge of her nose. The elevator dings and Zoey bursts out first, shoving between her and Jinu.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys at dinner, bye!” she shouts, disappearing into the large living room space and down the hall.

“Don’t be offended, she hates confrontation. If you ever wanna throw hands, I’m down,” Mira says, throwing a finger gun at him over her shoulder as she heads after Zoey.

For a few slightly uncomfortable moments, Rumi and Jinu stand together in the quiet, looking at nothing in particular.

“Dinner, huh?” he asks, making hesitant eye contact.

“Oh. Yeah, I mean, if demons don’t eat, like, don’t worry about it, I hope that’s not insensitive or something but I promise Zo and Mir won’t be offended or anything—”

“No! No, I can eat food, I don’t have to but I can, it’s nice. I- I don’t mind. Just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.” There’s still something off and she can’t place it.

“Well, glad that’s settled then,” Rumi says, letting out a tense breath.

“Do I… need to wear something nice?” Jinu’s voice is oddly quieter than usual, and she feels badly that she’s probably overwhelmed him by throwing all this at him so soon.

“You can if you want to? They’re difficult to impress, but you’ll be fine,” she reassures, taking his hand before she can think better of it and dragging him towards the stairwell. “C’mon, your cat and bird are probably in my bedroom rearranging my furniture as we speak.”

“Oh, okay. They have names, you know,” he adds, catching up to her. “The bird is Sussie. And the tiger is Derpy.”

Rumi stops dead in her tracks and stares at him hard, looking down at him from the step above him, putting them nearly at eye level.

“Derpy?”

“I was told it was a good name because of his face,” Jinu says, clearly not seeing the painfully obvious joke here. In fact, he looks rather satisfied with it.

“It— Well. It’s a name,” Rumi concedes, though silently she vows to continue referring to them both without using names at all. Maybe it’ll grow on her.

Jinu misses her insinuation entirely.

Rumi opens her bedroom door, expecting to find her trash can multiple feet away from where it usually is, or potting soil tracked across the floor, but instead it’s more or less how she had left it yesterday, with the tiger and Sussie (that name she can get on board with) once again at the foot of her bed, curled up contentedly. The tiger purrs, raising its head and happily accepting Jinu’s affectionate scratches under its chin.

“They’ve been staying with me for a few nights now,” she says, walking over to her vanity and proceeding to adjust her hair, finding she doesn’t miss the tight braid as much as she thought she would.

Jinu’s comment had absolutely nothing to do with that. Zero. Nada. Denial is wonderful.

“I missed you both,” he coos to them, kneeling on the floor to be level with them, a soft smile on his face.

“I’m going to shower and change, I’ll be quick, you’re welcome to do…whatever you want to do, we’re wanted downstairs for dinner in like thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jinu asks, looking more concerned than she expected.

“I promise, it’ll be fine. I’m not gonna let them kill you,” she says, hoping it quells his worries.

“Okay,” he settles on, giving her an awkward wave as she turns for the shower.

She ducks out of the doorway again. “Don’t you dare touch my notebooks,” she hisses, stern. He chuckles.

“Understood.”

~~~

Jinu is left standing in her bedroom, feeling completely and utterly lost, especially regarding one teeny, tiny, insignificant thing.

He had been invited to dinner.

Dinner with Rumi’s closest friends, who she considered family. And that meant something.

And he had no way of knowing what customs had or hadn’t changed in the last 400 years. He doesn’t have a phone (anymore) and his research had all been done with a computer anyways.

The safe bet is to assume 400 year old traditions still stand to some degree, right?

He swallows hard, looking at himself in her mirror.

He’s about to either screw this up in the most spectacular way, or it’ll go fantastic. And he’s not terribly excited to find out.

He’s surprising himself for the lengths he will go to for Rumi, and even more surprising is how willing he is.

She’s quick to emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a robe with her hair bundled in a towel, makeup washed from her face but still as lovely as ever, the striking patterns on her muscled calves catching his attention. He realizes he’s staring and tears his eyes away and clears his throat pointedly to get her attention politely and she jumps, clutching at her chest.

“I forgot you were in here,” she says, and from his peripheral vision, he sees her turn away too. “Um, I’m just going to get changed, and then I’ll see you downstairs?”

With his eyes still trained on an abstract art piece on the wall, he nods. “Yeah, uh, sounds good.”

She nods and ducks into another room, shutting the door behind her and he sighs quietly.

Gods above, I’m a disaster, he thinks, heart jammed in his throat.

~~~~~

 

“Where’d your boy go?” Mira asks, waving her chopsticks, to which Zoey snatches them out of her hand, making a clear attempt to stop her from continuing with rude cutlery behavior. “Did we manage to scare him off?”

“He’s probably just clearing his head or something, said he’ll be down in a few. Today has been a lot for him,” Rumi explains, turning as she hears footsteps coming down the stairs, considering asking him if he’s alright when she gets the chance later. In fact, she registers that they haven’t had the chance to discuss even where he had been in the short time he had been discorporated from a physical body.

Jinu steps into the room like stepping on stage, dramatic and natural in the same breath.

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Jinu look quite so preened and handsome in the short amount of time she’s known him. She blinks, doing her best to make sure she’s seeing things correctly. She reflexively clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

His hair is tidied, just ever so slightly neater than usual, and despite that being the first thing she lands on, his attire is the more striking choice at play. Instead of the usual hoodie and sweats, he’s wrapped in a kimono, deep navy tones intertwined with golden embellishments to compliment it. The way he wears it is nearly casual, if not for the somewhat serious look on his face.

“Hm. I like the outfit,” Mira says, talking around a mouthful of food. Jinu brightens, shoulders square, bowing his head.

“Thank you. It’s traditional.” He pulls Rumi’s chair out for her and gestures for her to sit, which she does, after a split second of confusion. For a moment he looks between the three of them as though making an important assessment and takes the empty chair next to Rumi. Zoey waggles her eyebrows, the implication hanging in the air.

Rumi narrows her eyes, just now realizing she’s more than likely made a mistake by telling him they’re not easy to impress; this is clearly far over the top. Not that she minds, not at all. It looks good. He looks good. Not that he didn’t already. Not that she’s thinking that.

It’s just a lot, for a comfortable dinner together.

To Rumi’s relief, their chef arrives moments later with plates heaping with food, including all courses and dessert at once because no one was about to make the three of them wait for multiple rounds of food, they had simply never had the time before now and they weren’t planning on starting now.

Jinu looks rather stunned by it all, eyes taking in the multitude of options, looking partly impressed, and partly concerned, though Rumi’s focus is quickly taken by Zoey.

“So! Jinu! Tell us about yourself, Rumi wouldn’t say anything,” she says, a hint of a scheme detectable on her face.

Jinu swallows hard and stiffens, hand paused mid-reach for a bowl of rice.

“Um. I don’t know what there is to tell,” he says simply, avoiding eye contact. “I think you know most of it.”

“Don’t pester him,” Rumi scolds, aiming the comment at Zoey, but looking to Mira for good measure as well.

“What were your hobbies when you were alive?” Zoey follows up. Surprisingly, Jinu is receptive to this question.

“Music, mainly. I had an old bipa. They’re a string instrument, type of lute,” he says, looking far more in his element. “I like to write. Poetry is more my thing than lyrics, believe it or not. Though the lyrics were a little more fun to write even if it is difficult to get it all sounding right.”

“Ugh, yes!” Zoey agrees, nodding her head. “I have so many notes for lyrics, it’s ridiculous. Nobody appreciates how hard it can be.” Mira and Rumi roll their eyes, knowing full well that Zoey may do about 70% of the work writing lyrics, the three of them are always working together on it regardless.

“Thank you for the appropriate questions,” Rumi mutters, pushing food around her plate, her appetite in limbo.

“So, you guys like dating now or something?” Mira says, leaning on her elbow as though she hadn’t just ignored Rumi’s comment entirely.

“We’re— we—” She glances to Jinu, suddenly a little more confused than she’d like to be about their status.

“Yes?” he says, sounding entirely unsure, eyeing Rumi for an answer, back stiff as a board. Rumi resists the urge to smack him over the head.

“We haven’t talked about that, not that it’s any of your business,” she hisses. “He hasn’t even been back for a full day.”

“He seems to have an idea in his head, and I think you do too, so maybe you guys should figure that out,” Mira advises, continuing to wolf down food. Ever the blunt one, though she seems to have a point on the weirdness of this all.

“To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how modern dating works,” he says, like it’s completely acceptable to admit. “But you did invite me to a small, close family dinner. And I feel like I am being judged for suitability, considering the questions and all. Among other things.”

Rumi looks at him blankly, waiting for him to expound on that commentary. He sucks in an uncomfortable breath. Zoey and Mira are watching intently the way they do when their favorite drama is on and they’re hanging off every detail.

“Not that most of this is really standard compared to what I recall even though you’ve got the rice cakes and mochi and tea and all, but that’s… a kind of important invitation.” He clears his throat, looking away, face turning red rather quickly. “You know. The sort of invitation that more or less has to do with… well, what you refer to as dating these days. Courtship would be the term I’d use. Though to be more clear, a dinner invitation like this is…more of a precursor for marriage. Not that I’m interpreting it like that, I’m, uh, not, I just… that’s…” he trails off, looking away, his face deep red by now.

“Oh my god,” Rumi whispers, burying her face in her hands. There’s no fucking way she or Jinu will ever live this one down now.

“He has a point, it’s not like we ever let anybody else join us for dinner,” Zoey adds, unhelpfully. “And we did sort of bring out the best of the best of everything.”

“And I’m totally judging him,” Mira chimes in, extremely satisfied with herself.

“That is so not helpful,” Rumi snaps, feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. “Can we just eat dinner like normal people?”

The three of them stare at her.

“Ru, three of us are Hunters, you’re half demon, and he’s an actual 400 year old demon who somehow came back from the dead or whatever, and the world nearly ended like a few days ago,” Zoey points out, saying it with care but seriousness. “I don’t think normal is in our vocabulary.”

“Gods, okay, whatever,” she says, trying to be nice about it, feeling the overstimulation creeping up on her faster than she would have liked. “I’m going to eat my food, and then I’m going to my room to lay down and scream into a pillow, and nobody but Jinu is allowed to disturb me.”

“Ew, no boys in your room with the door shut,” Mira teases. Jinu’s brow knits, confused.

If looks could kill, Rumi might have a criminal record a mile long by now.

“I’ll stab you in the eye with my chopstick,” Rumi replies, forcing herself to eat so she can leave. Next to her, Jinu eats, extremely invested in his rice.

“Fine, but don’t forget we live here too, hear me?” Mira looks at her and waits for the answer.

“Loud and clear,” Rumi sighs. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Zoey says. “You have a lot going on right now. I don’t blame you for being stressed.”

Despite her commentary, Mira nods in agreement with Zoey’s assessment.

Dinner is finished in relative quiet, Jinu dedicating himself to trying a little bit of everything and enjoying all of it, much to Zoey’s fascination. Luckily for Rumi, she keeps up the small talk, asking questions about food and garb 400 years ago. Mira just scrolls absently on her phone, but that’s typical. Rumi reminds herself to properly apologize to Mira later on.

Rumi pushes her chair back after Jinu takes the last sip of his tea, looking to her for instruction.

“Thank you guys for changing plans for me,” Rumi says quietly, meaning it. They both smile at her, the only assurance she needs that they understand.

“Anytime,” Mira says, and makes a dismissive gesture, shooing at her and Jinu. “You’re free to go, have fun.”

Rumi rolls her eyes but turns to Jinu and tips her head in the direction of her room again, determined to be left alone for a little time at least, so maybe she can relax a bit.

“Thank you,” Jinu says, standing and bowing his head again before turning and following Rumi’s lead, trailing close behind her. He leaves her bedroom door open after stepping through and Rumi snorts.

“You can close it, Mira can bite me.”

He does, with a slight shrug. Thank god she doesn’t need to explain that one to him, whether or not he understands it, she’s not having that conversation right now.

Rumi once again looks in the mirror, noting her weary look, tugging her closely fitting hoodie off (it’s nice but not practical to sleep in) and scrounging around for something a little more comfortable in her dresser drawer. She grumbles, not finding what she’s looking for and momentarily gives up, turning to Jinu, just in time to see him snap his fingers.

The kimono blinks out of existence and he’s standing there shirtless for a half second in nice jeans, his muscled torso on full display. Rumi can’t not stare, so instead she tries not to choke on her own tongue, blinking at him. He purses his lips and snaps his fingers again, now wearing a light blue hoodie, a white shirt peaking out at the collar.

It’s then he looks up, catching her dumbfounded expression.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow, like he might not actually know why she’s staring.

“N-nothing,” she stutters, moving towards her desk and shuffling around the mess of papers and notes as a distraction, flipping them over for good measure.

“If you say so.” He’s so not convinced. She clears her throat, face burning.

“Believe it or not, we don’t have a guest room here,” Rumi says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck. “You don’t have to stay or anything, obviously! I just— if you want to, we can figure something out. I’ll sleep on the couch, or with the tiger, you probably need some proper rest, I promise the bed is really comfortable.”

“I can leave if you want,” he answers quietly, not looking directly at her. His hair falls across his face, disguising his features.

“No! No, I don’t want you to leave,” she blurts out and steps towards him, too fast. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, I’m the one stuck in 400 year old traditions,” he chuckles, blushing again. It’s amusing and also somewhat worrisome how that color on his face has her heart doing flips in her chest.

“It was cute,” she admits, stepping closer to him again. “Ridiculous and embarrassing, but cute.” He chooses to ignore that comment.

“Mira and Zoey are nice. Intense, but nice. They care a lot about you,” he says, not meeting her eyes.

“They are. And they do. They like you, too, they’re just not good at showing it,” she says, hoping that helps his slight nervousness about them.

“That's a relief,” he grins, eyes drifting out towards the balcony. He takes her hand, tugging her out to it. “I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” she concedes, the slight chill of the early dusk air washing over her and she regrets not stopping him to let her grab something to wear first.

Jinu leans on the balcony, releasing her hand. She misses it as soon as it’s gone, but she says nothing, joining him close enough their arms brush. She follows his eyes, looking out across the city. For several unusually comfortable moments, they stand in silence, just together. The city is a distant but present sound far below them, glowing and bustling and alive with thousands of souls.

“I know I have a lot to explain to you, and I will,” he starts. He scuffs the ground with a foot. “Just not tonight. But I promise I will, if that’s okay.”

Rumi leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. The corners of his mouth lift into something that’s almost a smile. “That’s fine. I’d rather just be happy right now, anyways.”

“Me too.” His words carry more weight than he lets on.

Jinu taps his fingers against the railing, some sort of beat she can’t hear, but she finds it familiar all the same. He watches the city, his face staying stony and closed off, but Rumi doesn’t mind.

The breeze washes over them and she shivers, biting her lip. He notices and frowns, stepping back for a moment, thinking, and then pulls his own hoodie over his head in one deft movement, extending it to her. She pretends not to have noticed the way his shirt rode up as he did, and she is definitely not thinking about that split second earlier when he was magic-ing his clothing.

“Here, you’re cold,” he says, like she doesn’t have a room full of clothes to choose from right behind them, or, hell, a room they could just retreat into right there.

She doesn’t argue. She takes it gratefully, like she doesn’t have a room full of options, smiling softly.

She pulls it over her head, immediately relishing in the warmth and the way it smells strongly of him. She resolves to not give it back, unless he absolutely begs her, and even then, she might not. It’s considerably oversized on her and it’s wonderful, the texture soft and smooth against her skin.

“Looks better on you, anyways,” he says, reaching out to adjust the strings and hood for her. She blushes, trying to stay focused on his hands.

“Thank you,” she says, shyly playing with the cuff of her sleeve, trying and failing to shove that fluttering sensation in her chest away.

Jinu makes a small noise in return, his hands sliding down to find hers. He runs his thumb over the patterns there, eyes focused on them, like he’s trying hard not to think about something.

“Jinu?”

“Hm?” He’s distant.

“Are you…okay?”

“I will be. I’m here with you, isn’t that something?” he deflects. His voice is dull.

“I mean it,” she insists. He sighs, leaning back onto his feet, his fingers fidgeting against hers.

“Well, I’m an internationally recognized idol,” he starts, looking up. “Without a band now, but I’m most likely going to be noticed in public even though we fell off the face of the earth. Not looking forward to that, and I don’t want to just hide either. I still don’t know how to feel about the last two weeks in general. And… I don’t know what to do now. It feels like the second chance I didn’t ask for. I guess that's the gist of it.”

“I’ll be here for you while you figure it out,” Rumi offers, studying him intently. His face relaxes, if only slightly, but his knuckles have paled as his grip on the rail tightens.

“I thought when I…sacrificed myself, that it would be final. I was ready to lay down my life and have it be the last thing I did. I had accepted it, because it meant you were safe, and the world would be safe.” His voice is tired and it concerns her. She reaches out and takes his hands away from the cold metal he’s currently got a death grip on. He lets her, but looks down to the floor now instead.

“Is it…okay that you’re back?”

He swallows hard. “More than. I just wasn’t ready for what that would mean. For me. For us.”

“We can figure that out together,” she comforts, squeezing his hands. He squeezes back, a small smile growing on his face, but it quickly drops.

“I still feel guilty. And ashamed. I thought if I died again, maybe that was the ultimate sacrifice to redeem myself. I… I thought it was what I deserved. I was a little too content for that to be the end of everything.” There’s old pain behind his eyes, the past haunting him in a way she’s all too familiar with.

“So do I, sometimes. I…didn’t want to tell you, but before I came back to fight Gwi-ma, I went and found Celine. Our mentor. And I gave her my sword and asked her to… end things. So that I wouldn’t hurt anyone or do more damage than I already had. I told her she should have done it a long time ago, I told her it was the only option. She wouldn’t do it, and I feel awful that I did that to her. And it feels awful that I even got that way to begin with.” She pauses and sucks in a breath that’s shakier than intended. “She was always there for me in her own closed off way, but she’s why I’ve always hidden the patterns, always refused to tell Zoey and Mira my heritage. She didn’t raise me the way she probably should have, but I didn’t know anything else. She couldn’t get past her prejudices, and until I met you, I was holding those fears and judgements against myself, too. It doesn’t make it right though.”

His brow is knitted, the obvious stress and concern radiating off him. She continues, determined to finish what needed to be said.

“And then you showed up in my life. And above everything else, you know what I learned?”

She pulls his hands closer to her chest, holding them firmly as though he might try to flee if she doesn’t. He tips his head, a silent encouragement to continue.

“The shame, the guilt, the mistakes. It’s what makes me human. What makes you human, too. And that’s okay. I was never allowed to come to that realization, and I don’t think you have either. But if I can see beyond your past, and you can see beyond my flaws, then I think we both still have so much learning and acceptance to do. And that’s okay. And I’m so glad you’re here with me while I learn how to live with those parts of myself.”

Jinu’s shoulders tremble and he squeezes his eyes shut, pain flooding his features. He opens his mouth for a moment, as though he’s going to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, he steps into her space again, and this time, buries his face in the crook of her shoulder, his weight heavy against her smaller frame, but not a struggle to support at all. She can feel his hot tears on her skin and soon enough her own are streaming down her face.

His embrace is strong, like he’s afraid of letting go, and her heart aches in her chest, an unfamiliar sense of pride mixed with hope at how he’s let his vulnerabilities show, and that he’s not hiding it behind anger or shame.

“I’ll be right here for you,” she whispers, “because you deserve it. And I promise I’ll prove it to you, just like you prove it to me, over and over again.”

That triggers another squeeze from him, accompanied by several unsteady breaths. His shoulders are tense under her hands.

“You are so human, it’s beautiful,” Rumi says, and gently presses a kiss to the side of his temple. His arms tighten again and they remain that way, holding each other a bit too tightly, a bit too close, and she doesn’t want it any other way.

They stand like this until the sky darkens and the stars begin to appear and Jinu’s tears no longer soak her shoulder. He straightens up, rubbing at his eyes, looking raw and exposed in a way she’s never seen on him before.

“Come here,” she says, pulling him back into the bedroom and sitting down on her bed, encouraging him to join her. He does, without protest. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are too.”

He just nods, swallowing and rubbing at his blotchy face, looking like a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

Rumi pulls the blanket back on her bed and climbs under it, quickly making herself comfortable. The need for sleep hits her, heaviness washing over her limbs.

Jinu stands before she can protest. “I can go, now,” he whispers, voice rough and cracking.

“No,” Rumi replies, surprising herself. “Don’t. Please.”

His chest heaves a small sigh, a mix of gratitude and something she can’t place.

“If you insist. Where’d you like me to sleep, then?”

She stares at him for a moment, finding her confidence. The sleepiness slipping into her mind is helping. “Here?”

“Oh. I thought you— Um. With you?” He’s blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s ridiculous how flustered he gets, and it’s even worse how much it gets to her. And it’s not a problem she’s going to think about right now.

“If— if that’s okay with you,” she says, kicking herself for how the words are just tumbling uselessly out of her mouth. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not making you! It’s up to you.”

“Rumi. I don’t mind,” he reassures her. She bites her lip, nodding and refusing to let herself apologize for nothing all over again.

Jinu smiles, settling back on the bed next to her, this time leaning back next to her, leaving a generous space between them as he joins her under the blanket. She feels unusually calm next to him, his breathing returning to normal, the gentle rise and fall of his chest from where he lies facing her just barely visible in the low light. His dark hair is tinged with silver and his patterns look darker than usual, like he’s let his guard drop entirely.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, eyes closed, sleep quickly taking him. She needs to quit thinking about how cute he is, it’s immensely distracting.

“Goodnight,” she replies, letting her own exhaustion wash over her, finding she feels much safer than usual, Jinu’s slumbering form next to her and the two demon creatures curled up on the floor next to her.

It’s something she could get used to.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Bit of a delay there, had my first half day off in over 2 months and slowly finding my will to enjoy the things I enjoy again! Anyways, here you go!

“Rumi! You’re late for breakfast and we have to go meet Bobby in a couple hours!”

“I won’t hesitate to use all the hot water!”

Rumi hears the voices through her door and ignores them, as is routine. She’s not a morning person in the first place, and early mornings when they’re on break is hell on earth to her.

“Five minutes,” she groans, shifting. Her blanket seems heavier than usual, but she attributes it to her exhaustion and her lack of sleep lately. Gods she hadn’t realized how little she had been sleeping for the past three weeks, between their tour, Idol Awards, and the near end of the world. She needs a month of couch before she’s a functioning person in the mornings again. Probably more. Two months? That sounds excessive. And yet, still not enough.

“Rumi, we will break your door down.” Typical Mira.

“No, I’ll just pick the lock.” Ever resourceful, Zoey.

“Please don’t,” she mumbles, shifting again. This time, the warmth and weight against her back and across her torso also shifts, and her neurons finally fire, lighting her nerves ablaze with realization.

Jinu.

Her heart flips and sinks at the same time, if that’s even possible. If her bandmates and best friends weren’t about to bust into her room, this would be rather enjoyable. Pleasant, actually.

Jinu makes a soft, slightly annoyed noise, his arm over her waist drawing a little tighter in response to her movement. His face crinkles and he puffs a sigh. She refuses to linger on how that makes her heart skip a beat.

“You officially have like five seconds before Zoey gets the greenlight to pick the lock on your door,” Mira threatens.

“Guys, quit!” she snaps, a little louder. “Give me a minute, jeez.”

“Nope!” comes Zoey’s cheery reply.

She does her best to twist around, Jinu’s sleeping form tangled around her worse than she’d initially guessed.

“Hey,” she whispers, shaking his shoulder with as much caution she can muster, lest she wake him up too suddenly.

Rumi is the type that launches into attack mode if woken up wrong and she would rather not need to find out his tendencies the hard way. Given he’d lived in hell among demons for the last four hundred years, she can’t imagine it’s a positive one.

His arm finds her again and he makes a poor attempt at pulling her closer, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

“Jinu, we need to get up,” she hisses under her breath. This is proving to be much harder than it should be.

“Nuh uh.”

“Zoey and Mira are about to break in here.”

“Don’t care. You’re warm.” His eyes haven’t even opened yet, but he does his best to nuzzle his head into her shoulder even as she’s fighting his grip. “Comfy.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to murder all three of you,” she says, resisting the urge to just shove him out of the bed. It probably wouldn’t make a difference to Zoey or Mira’s reactions if he was half awake having just been chucked on the floor as it does with him being mostly asleep in her bed.

“Got it! Coming in!” Zoey says, and the door begins to creak open, light from the hallway spilling inside and falling across the two of them.

“Do NOT!” Rumi says, loud enough she can feel Jinu cringe against her, but still he doesn’t move.

It’s all too late and not nearly enough. Zoey’s mischievous grin turns into a slack-jawed smile, hands flying to her face. Mira looks disappointed and at the same time thrilled with their discovery.

“Get out!” Rumi shouts, struggling against Jinu’s deadweight in an unsuccessful battle to pry herself out of his arms. She can’t believe he sleeps this heavily. At this rate she could knee him in the face and he still wouldn’t budge. Not that she’s considering it.

“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you say something?” Zoey is practically bouncing on her toes, looking like someone announced a surprise party just for her.

“I did! I did, now get out!” Her face is so hot she swears she’ll need to treat it for burns later.

“What did I say about the door?” Mira snarks, grinning, arms crossed. Rumi picks up a small pillow and chucks it at her, but Mira dodges it easily much to her disappointment.

“He’s literally just sleeping in my bed, get out, leave us alone for like ten freaking minutes and I’ll be down there soon. This is not what it looks like.”

Zoey and Mira share a brief glance before both shrugging. It’s obvious even to them that Jinu is peacefully resting, and she silently thanks them for giving up so easily, even if she has her doubts that it was an act of kindness rather than conspiracy for later.

“Fine, but you’re giving us all the tea ASAP and there is absolutely no get out of jail free card,” Mira bargains.

“Whatever, out, get out.” Rumi chucks a pillow again, not aiming anywhere in particular. The two girls giggle and spin around, leaving her bedroom door cracked open behind them.

“What’s happening?” Jinu mumbles, one eye barely open, peering at her with all the focus of a goldfish, half his hair plastered to the side of his head, the other half sticking out like he’d been on the receiving end of a bolt of lightning. It’s the cutest damn thing she’s ever seen in her life, and she hates him for it.

“Well, nothing anymore,” she sighs. He smiles like an idiot at her, looking happier than he has any right to be. Any annoyance at him melts away like he’s the sun beaming at her.

“Perfect,” he says, both his eyes closed again.

“We need to get up,” she argues, but her heart isn’t in it.

“You could let me hold you a little longer,” he says, nearly pleading, his hand not letting go of her wrist. Her chest feels as fuzzy as her sleep deprived brain.

Against all of her better judgement, she lets herself settle against him again, relishing the way it feels like everything she’s always been missing.

He hums, a happy little noise, shuffling closer and practically draping himself over her, his breathing slow with sleep as he drifts off again. She closes her eyes and rests her head against his chest, wondering briefly just how embarrassed about this he’s going to be when he’s properly awake. For now though, she listens to his heartbeat (and she’s oddly happy to have discovered he does indeed have one) and relaxes.

She doesn’t have it in her to fall asleep again, so she awkwardly digs her phone out from under a pillow and scrolls, swiping away the girl’s notifications that contain solely emojis, including suspicious ones.

“Jinu, we really do need to get up,” she says, squeezing his hand in hers and tapping his nose with her free hand.

He stirs, and then blinks, movements groggy and heavy but he seems to have gotten the memo this time.

“Haven’t slept like that in a few hundred years,” he says, tipping his forehead against hers. She blushes, the knot of a million thoughts in her head tangling worse, and she’s unable to pluck a coherent thought out of it.

“Well. I— that’s good. I’m glad,” she says. His breath on her face is dangerously close.

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m getting up now,” she says, pulling away, and this time he reluctantly releases her.

She pulls Jinu’s sweatshirt over her head and neatly folds it and sets it on top of her dresser, making a mental note to tell him it’s hers now. She’s cold and exposed in her tank top and her patterns shine on her skin.

Jinu drags himself up into a sitting position, stretching and rolling his shoulders. Rumi can see him looking at her in the mirror and she flashes him a raised eyebrow. His head snaps in the other direction, clearly understanding what it meant. She makes a noise of amusement.

“There’s another bathroom down the hall,” she says, pointing a finger over her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready we’ll all be downstairs, feel free to help yourself to whatever food there is that isn’t labeled with a name, Zoey will absolutely start a war if you eat her snacks.”

“Understood,” he chuckles, standing and pressing his hands into the small of his back. It audibly pops and Rumi cringes at the painful sound, though he seems unbothered.

Rumi makes for her bathroom door, and gets most of the way there before she’s stopped by a hand catching her wrist.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “You need something?”

Jinu shakes his head, and ducks forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. His face is lit up like a giddy teenager, looking all too pleased with himself. She can’t help the blush, but she does push at his chest as she slips out of his grasp again. He lets her go, and turns for the hallway door, whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself as though he’d done nothing at all.

She sighs as she watches him go, and tries to calm her heart.

For a demon, and despite all the hate that had been preached to her over the years, he’s a charmer alright.

 

~~~~~

 

In the grand hall, Jinu stands looking into a mirror, ruffling his damp hair, trying to arrange it in any sort of way that isn’t somewhat disastrous. He fails. At the very least, his t-shirt and open button up paired with jeans preserves the ‘chill yet trying’ look he likes to wear.

Rumi offers him a tiny wave as she and the girls walk past and he catches her double take. He does his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

Mira peels away from her band mates and heads straight for him, walking like she has a mission and that mission might end in a jail sentence. It might be a miracle that any of the three girls are still walking freely. She’s the most terrifying of them all and mainly he attributes it to how intense, serious, and protective she is. He gulps, trying not to look as scared of her as he is.

“Hey so, I’m gonna be quick about this. I know you’re like old and whatever, and I don’t really know much about you other than that you tried to end the world, but Rumi likes you, like a lot, so you had better treat her damn good, and if you don’t, Zoey and I will absolutely end your fucking life,” Mira threatens, her sharp nail jabbing into his chest. He believes her every word.

“Yeah— yep, got it. Promise,” he laughs nervously, resisting the way his body screams at him to back up and run away from her.

“Great! Now that’s settled,” Mira says, cheery again, spinning on her heel and walking off in the direction Zoey and Rumi had disappeared to. He figures it must be their shared closet and dressing room.

Standing alone in the grandiose penthouse once more, he feels very, very small. Comparatively, he had spent the last four hundred years in a boiler room surrounded by malice and shame, and he doesn’t miss it one bit.

It’s overly quiet now, but he doesn’t mind. He finds his way to the kitchen, picking up a persimmon, a fruit he does recognize out of the menagerie of ones piled atop each other in a bowl, and finds it a strange comfort to taste something he had enjoyed hundreds of years ago. It’s different now, not vastly so, but he swears he doesn’t remember them being as sweet.

Regardless, he delights in the fact food is enjoyable, especially after years of sustaining himself off whatever ashy scraps they were offered in the demon realm in place of souls. Not that he’s ever personally consumed a soul, and he doesn’t want to.

On the counter next to him, Rumi’s phone buzzes, a message popping up that he ignores. Instead, he grins at the lockscreen photo of Derpy and Sussie crammed in frame with Rumi, who is holding up a peace sign in the lower half of the image. He’s oddly glad with how well the two had settled in with her. Among demons, the tiger was a threat as it trailed after him, a warning that he was more powerful than most.

The fact the tiger acts like a completely brainless domestic cat most of the time is just an amusing reminder things aren’t always as they seem.

The trio emerge from their dressing room, Mira and Zoey now in their more standard street wear, not a disguise but both casual, and then Rumi steps out behind them.

He’s never going to get tired of how his heart quickens at the sight of her.

Her hair is braided again, but this time it’s offset, slung over her shoulder, and her top is cropped, only one shoulder, the other hanging low and showing her iridescent patterns. Her capri pants are a nice compliment, and overall it’s stunning without being too much.

Not that he could ever find fault with Rumi’s appearance, she was just as gorgeous this morning when she woke him up, hair tangled and knotted from sleep, eyes half open, and generally looking disheveled.

“Get a room and quit kissing her with your eyes,” Mira calls out, grabbing her hat and glasses off the table. Zoey giggles, frog bucket hat pulled snug over her head. They both make faces of pretend disgust as they exit the room. Jinu looks up at the ceiling instead.

“Is this just my life now?” Rumi complains, but her face betrays her. She’s smiling under the pretend annoyance.

“Hey,” Jinu says, his tongue caught in his mouth again. For someone who had managed to juggle every aspect of managing a band made up of demons and write two incredibly catchy songs, he was useless with words sometimes.

“Hi,” Rumi replies, eyes flicking away shyly. “Are you coming with us? We’re meeting Bobby at the studio to just go over some things with the label about our Comeback tour, you can join us or do your own thing, up to you.”

“I’ll join you. If that’s alright,” he adds, hoping his eagerness to be around her isn’t overstepping.

“That’s fine! It’s…nice to have you around,” she says, stepping a little closer to him, her hands fiddling with her braid. “Ready to go?”

Jinu glances to the door, where he can still hear Mira and Zoey talking in the entryway as they pick their shoes out for the day. He looks back to Rumi, feeling the smile growing in his face. She blushes, apparently reading his mind. One hand finds her hip, the other coming to rest against her cheek. He leans forward, their noses brushing.

“You really have no idea how lucky I feel.”

She laughs under her breath, her lips nearly touching his as she replies.

“Maybe about as lucky as I do?”

He thinks about the fact she’s wearing lip gloss too late, but he doesn’t care. It’s a light kiss, brief, sweet, and soft, and she pulls away, a small sparkle in her eye.

“You taste like persimmon,” she says, reaching for a napkin off the table that she then dabs at his lips with, carefully rubbing the gloss off while pressing her lips together to even hers out again.

“Rumi! Quit making out with your boyfriend and get out here!”

They both flinch away from each other, the moment disrupted but not ruined. Jinu feels the heat in his face and does his best to compose himself.

“We’re not!” she screeches in reply, stamping one foot like a child fighting their siblings, which he supposed in a way they are.

“Well, you heard her,” Rumi sighs, nodding her head in the direction of the door. “Off we go.”

Following the shorter woman, he admires how she sets her shoulders, going from soft and quiet to strong and bold in an instant. He allows himself to enjoy the warmth in his chest, everything else background noise to Rumi’s presence.

He would really like to get used to this.

 

~~~~~

 

The car ride is awkward, to say the least.

Jinu is seated across from Rumi, with Mira and Zoey on either side of her, both holding their phones out to her to try to go over the last-minute adjustments to their tour schedule that had been texted to them. Venue changes is what Rumi was told, and she curses the universe for adding just another thing to the list.

Mira and Zoey are ignoring Jinu entirely (not really in a negative way, just busy), and Rumi is too caught up with the girls going back and forth to pay him much attention, but she does register his nervousness.

“Should I…stay in the car?” He asks, bouncing his leg and watching their surroundings come to a stop as their driver pulls up to the curb around the back of the studio.

Rumi frowns, glances at the girls, and shakes her head. “No, come in with us, you can wait in one of the recording rooms. It’s the weekend, nobody but us, Bobby, and the coordinators will be there.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I’m not sure my stomach can take much more of driving,” he says, a wry smile on his face. Mira nods sympathetically — she’d rather be driving, but ever since a couple extremely close calls and road-rage-nearly-turned-felony moments, Zoey and Rumi had forbidden it.

“Did you ever ride in carriages?” Zoey asks, tilting her head and studying him properly, like his physical appearance might give his history away for him.

“Not often, but I did. I rode horses for a few years when I was part of the king’s army. Cars are very different and I don’t think I like them.” Jinu is answering, but he’s not really present and Rumi clocks it.

“That’s so cool! You have to tell us more, you’d be like, the coolest eyewitness source for the Joseon Dynasty!” Zoe adjusts her barrets, looking as bright and lively as ever, not noticing the somber look that’s fallen across Jinu’s face.

“Sure,” he says, with all the conviction of someone who knows that some pains are yours to carry. It hurts Rumi to see it, and she wishes she could bring him some comfort now. The best she can do is a quick squeeze of his hand as they step out of the vehicle; he squeezes back. It’s quickly becoming their thing and she finds more reassurance in their silent communication than she probably should.

 

~~~~~

 

“We just need one big thing for the final show,” Bobby says, scanning their setlist, shaking his head. With the dates rearranged, the coordinators have already left, and it’s just the four of them now. “Something new or different, just to make an impact and leave everybody hanging for what’s next, you know? Same deal as usual, you girls know the drill.”

The three of them nod, looking at the sheets of paper in front of them.

“I have song ideas but I don’t think they’d be good singles. Better off being in our next album,” Zoey says, shaking her head slightly.

Mira taps her pen, and then slams her fist down on the table.

“I’ve got it,” she says, eyes landing on Rumi. “We need to talk first, but I think I have the perfect solution for you, Bobby.”

“Oh, well, whatever that means. You guys are really good at the figuring out part, so I trust you! Just make sure you get back to me in the next week, tech is really getting onto me about finalizing things so they can get booked in advance.”

Mira grins. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it. Just have to make some calls,” she says cryptically.

Rumi isn’t sure if the feeling in her stomach is sinking or rising, what with how intently Mira is looking at her in particular.

“Great! Well, I think that’s it for today then, girls! I’m going to grab myself dinner and then pass out, I hope you three are catching up on your much needed rest?”

“Of course we are,” Zoey chimes in, ever the one distracting Bobby from the reality of their careers. “All the rest and relaxation we can muster, don’t worry about us!”

Bobby already has his phone to his ear, making a call as he ducks out the door, throwing them a wide grin and a thumbs up with his free hand, before disappearing out of sight. The heavy meeting room door shuts and Rumi and Zoey turn to Mira.

“So, spill!” Zoey says, the glint in her eyes demanding the details.

“Well, I think our special guest is going to play right into our plans.” Mira’s hands tap together conspiratorially.

Rumi pauses in her shuffling of loose papers. “You don’t mean…”

“Jinu has the voice, his band is gone, he doesn’t have anywhere to be or any need to compete against us. I say he does a ‘collab’ with us as a solo artist for the final show and knock everybody’s socks off.”

“Yes! Oh my god, absolutely! That’s like, perfect! It’ll be the closure to the Saja Boys situation, and get Jinu back in the scene if he wants to be, and then the speculation with the fans about us suing the Saja Boys or whatever and us being the reason they disbanded will finally be done with,” Zoey says, putting the pieces together.

“It’s a few months away too, so it’s not like we’re in a huge rush either. Just a small time crunch,” Mira justifies, staring Rumi down for her response.

“We’re asking him first before we go and make all these plans,” Rumi warns, hoping the girls aren’t that far ahead of themselves already.

“Well, yeah,” Zoey says, waving her off. “But I bet he would love to.”

Rumi knows in her gut it’s a good option, a great one, really, but she can’t help feeling like it’s taking a bit too much advantage of Jinu’s sudden return. Besides, she doesn’t know if he’s still interested in the music industry at all anymore after how disastrously things went down with Gwi-ma. She can only imagine there’s trauma and she’d never live with herself if she forced him into it all again.

“I’ll talk to him about it first, and then we can all sit down and go over the details if he’s interested, does that sound fair?” Rumi offers.

 

“Sounds good enough to me,” Mira says, standing up from the table and stretching her arms out above her head. Zoey nods, notebook pulled out and jotting notes down already.

“This will be so cool, we’ve never done something like this,” Zoey says, not looking up from her furious scribbling.

“I’ll go check on him,” Rumi says, standing suddenly. “Meet you out in the car?”

Mira waves her off, picking up her own papers, leaning over Zoey to read her notes and give her input.

Rumi sets off down the hallway to the recording rooms, knocking on the one they’d stuck Jinu in before letting herself in. Jinu turns, holding a couple framed Polaroid photos that he carefully sets back onto the desk. She recognizes the photo of HUNTR/X and Bobby, from years ago shortly after their debut. They’re all beaming, but even at a distance Rumi can see that her face in that photo is masking pain underneath. She shakes her head out of the thought.

The soundproof walls are an immediate comfort to her, feeling like the world has been narrowed down to just the two of them.

“We ready to leave now?” he asks, one brow raised, searching her face for an answer.

“Need to ask you about something. Mira and Zoey… they suggested you do some sort of collaboration with us, for the final show of our upcoming tour. I just want you to know that you absolutely don’t have to, and I know that things ended really poorly the last time we were both on stage, and I don’t want you to put up with something you’re not comfortable with just because we asked you to. I just need an honest answer from you.”

He tilts his head, thinking for several moments.

“Will you be there?”

“Well, obviously,” she says, trying to read him.

“Then yeah, I’d be happy to.”

“You don’t have to, it’s really not necessary.”

“It sounds like fun, and it could be a neat thing.”

“I guess, I just don’t want you forcing yourself into something you don’t want to do, I know it was all…negative with Gwi-ma and all.” He flinches at hearing the demon king’s name.

“Rumi, I’ll be fine. Are you sure you’re alright though?”

The sudden flip of the question onto her is like an icy spear into her chest. Her first instinct is to deny it, to push away, laugh it off. But his face is creased with concern, and his hands coming to rest on her elbows is a reminder she doesn’t need to run and hide from him.

“I— I…” it’s a harder question to answer than she thought, when she really allows herself to think about it. “I don’t know.”

“You know you don’t have to force yourself, either, right? You’ve been through a lot too,” he says, tipping her chin up so she looks at him. “There’s something bothering you. We can talk about it when we get back?”

Rumi just nods, swallowing the emotions that had begun to rise and stick in her throat.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she says, dreading having that conversation already. But he’s already leading her back out to the street and into the sunlight again.

Notes:

Comments always appreciated, I promise I don't bite! Fluff and meaningful talks in the next chapter!

Chapter 5

The car ride and dinner are both less awkward this time around, though Rumi keeps him at arms length, hesitant to let him close enough again to start getting her to open up again. Mira and Zoey are aware of it but they don't comment. Jinu doesn’t seem put off by it, thankfully, though concern is etched onto his face.

After dinner, Jinu and Rumi find themselves on the rooftop rather than her balcony, Rumi in Jinu’s hoodie again. There’s not much of a breeze tonight, but it’s still cool enough that she leans into Jinu to ‘take advantage of his thermodynamic superiority,’ as she’d claimed. He had laughed, big and loud, and her heart had hummed in her chest.

They sit, legs dangling off the edge of the roof, the world so small below them and yet so vast above them. The stars aren't bright, but they're present, like a mirror of the city lights.

“So, let’s talk.”

She feels his eyes land on her and wait. She swallows hard, forcing the anxiety down and trying to draw on that confidence she thought was natural for so long. That confidence that had turned out to be a spell, broken when Jinu’s eyes first landed on her patterns. The confidence she had made up in order to be strong.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she admits, feeling every bit like she’s just laid her heart bare and handed him the knife for a finishing blow. He lets the words settle into the night before responding. It feels dangerous to be so open, and yet she understands how freeing it could be, too.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either, and you’d think I’ve had a lot of time to figure that out by now.”

“All my life, this is who I was, and now I’m not sure about anything. I want to sing and perform, I want to be part of HUNTR/X, I want to fight for the greater good or whatever. But I still don’t even know who I am aside from an idol and a demon hunter.”

“I know someone who is really inspiring,” Jinu starts, dark eyes settling on her, looking a bit too smug for her liking. “Who told me and keeps telling me that my past and my mistakes don’t define me. Makes you wonder if that same person would also tell me to go ahead and discover who I am, and would ask me to tell her what I really would want if I was allowed to have anything, if I asked her these questions.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pushing at him weakly. He barely moves, again surprising her with his unusually solid frame.

“It’s true. So, Rumi, what would you want, if you could have anything?”

It’s a question so endless that she can’t possibly be expected to answer it, and yet he waits for her, like he always does. The question is like a blade, one side piercing and dangerous, the other unsharpened and safe, and she walks the fine line between the two. He’s letting her pick her answer, asking her to choose between answering with the bite of truth or the guarded edge of familiarity.

Her eyes trace the city’s sharp lines and soft glow, the answer harder to produce than she wants to admit. She wants what she has now, the comfort and support of her best friends, a career in music, a manager who is an angel on earth, dorky yet handsome Jinu and his demon pets, and the knowledge that she is more than what she was made to be.

But that’s not the truthful response, from deep in her soul. And nor is it the answer she gives him.

“I want to know who I am. And I want to find a new purpose, one that doesn’t involve giving up everything else in my life.”

“I’m proud of you,” Jinu says, pulling her into a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now you have a goal, and I’m willing to bet it’s more than achievable. What was it that inspiring, amazing person said? ‘We’ll get through this together?’”

She nods, the overwhelming, drowning feeling she’s been carrying for all too long finally letting up, opening the path forward. Like she'd been handed a rope, finally, a hand extended.

“That was so much harder than I thought it would be,” she says quietly. He offers a half-smile and a knowing look.

“Anything else you need to get off your plate?”

She draws in a heavy breath. “I’m honestly really, really fucking stressed, I won’t lie. Like I promise I’m so happy that you’re here and not like, gone or whatever, but Celine is off doing who knows what, we didn’t end up turning the Honmoon gold so I don’t know if what we did making a new one actually did away with everything forever, it doesn’t feel like it did? And I feel like there’s a lot we need to talk about, too.” She breathes out and rubs her face with a hand.

“I understand.” He purses his lips for a moment. “Let me know when you want to talk about things when it comes to... all that. I know there’s a lot there to unpack, and it probably won’t be pretty.”

Rumi affirms this with a nod.

“Not yet,” she says, though the matter is pressing, things she wants off her plate sooner than later.

“Not yet,” he agrees. “You tired?”

Rumi shrugs. She is, but she’s not. If she lets her mind keep thinking, she could stay awake for hours more. If she forces herself to shut her eyes and relax, she could probably pass out right now. She rubs at her scalp, feeling the tension there. Jinu eyes her long braid, curious and shy at the same time.

“Want help with your hair? My sister... I helped with her hair.”

He's solemn for a moment, but it passes quick.

She has half a mind to question his overly helpful nature right now, but she lets it slide. She figures it’s a reaction to her admittance that her stress has gotten out of hand. She finds she’s not so resistant to his offers of help as she typically is to the girls; it feels less like pawning things off when it's Jinu, though some small part of her wants to reconcile with Mira and Zoey, to find out how to come back to that neutral ground they'd once held.

“Sure.”

She turns her back to him and he begins to undo her long braid, carefully teasing it apart without pulling, smoothing it back into place when he’s finished. He runs his fingers over her scalp for a moment and she sinks into the sensation like a cat.

“That’s nice,” she mumbles, eyes drifting shut.

He hums, brushing her hair over her shoulder, and then letting his hands settle on her shoulders. He begins to knead at her tight muscles, gentle but firm with his touch. She didn’t realize even remotely how much tension she’d been holding until it was fading away.

She’s practically melting under his hands and it’s amazing. “Okay, this is stupidly nice,” she admits, breathing slowly as her body relaxes.

He continues for a while, working out tension and knots as he finds them, massaging muscles into putty. Finally, she leans back into his chest with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder and smiling up at him appreciatively.

“Your turn?” she asks, feeling the need to return the favor not because she owes him, but because she can only imagine he’s not had anything like that in far too long.

“You don’t need to,” he says, waving her off with a hand. “Just thought you might have needed that.”

“I did. And my intuition tells me you might too,” she says with a grin, taking her small victory with sportsmanship as he rolls his eyes and shifts so his back is turned to her.

She’s almost amused at first by how absolutely solid and immobile the muscles in his shoulders are, but it turns to concern as she realizes the tension he holds in his body is absolutely monumental.

“When was the last time you actually relaxed?” Rumi asks, incredulous. He winces as she gently presses into the curve of his shoulder where it meets his neck. She lightens the pressure and it still is almost too much, based on how poorly he's disguising it.

“Never?”

He says it like it’s a joke, but his face says there’s a chance it isn’t. “I didn’t exactly live a life of luxury when I was alive -- even the palace was mostly just food and shelter and I didn’t stay useful for long. And you can’t let your guard down around other demons, no matter how much you think you can trust them. Probably haven’t let my guard down in hundreds of years. Not until I met you. Although, even then, I was a bit scared of you for a while.” He admits it like a joke, again, and she knows he's deflecting.

“God, Jinu, I’m so sorry,” she mumbles. “We must live like royalty to you.”

“In a way. But I know you too well, half the wealth you guys earn goes to charity, which is more than the king I served under could say.” He says it in a lighthearted way, but he’s not scratching the surface of what’s on his mind.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” The question hangs in the air between them. He sighs, looking a bit defeated if she had to describe it.

“It’s never going to get easier, so yeah, why not.”

Rumi stops her attention to his shoulders as he turns back to face her, resuming her position pressed against his arm, too close to really see his face without looking straight up, but his hands curled in his lap say plenty.

“I didn’t truthfully tell you much about my life. I was my mother’s oldest child, her only son. My sister and I were her only children. Our father had died shortly after I was born, while serving the king as infantry. My mother struggled to care for us and as soon as I was old enough, I started using this old bipa I’d found to play music on the streets. It wasn’t great, but passerby took pity on a child and it was enough between my mother finding odd jobs and what I busked to keep us alive. I grew up, and as soon as I was old enough, joined the military. I was trained as part of the cavalry. I was good at it, and I hated it. I couldn’t keep doing it, killing people. I knew that they had families back home they were fighting for just like I did. It was them or me.

“That made us good money. But I couldn’t do it anymore, the guilt of what I was doing and what would happen to my family if I was killed was too much. We had nothing, so I went back to playing on the streets, and it did all of nothing for us. It was getting worse by the day, my sister was falling sick and my mother couldn’t find any sort of work to help us while she also cared for my sister. We were starving, and slowly dying.

“And that’s when I heard Gwi-ma’s offer. I took it, thinking this was the solution to all our problems. I took the offer, thinking the three of us would be able to live happy lives, be safe and comfortable. Obviously, it was too good to be true, but I didn’t know that going into it.

“When they turned my family away at the palace gates, I couldn’t believe it. I thought there was something wrong, but the king told me he didn’t have room for them as well. That they weren’t useful to him. I thought I could make something work, I thought that maybe he’d pay me and I could send them the money, or something, anything. He didn’t, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave, it was like I was stuck there in the palace. The king would have had me killed if I’d tried to flee anyways, he was always saying how he thought I’d take off and go find some other king to entertain, and he wouldn’t let that happen. Maybe I should have let him. If I hadn’t let those palace doors shut, I could have stayed with them. I could have done something to help them. I don’t know what became of them. I can only assume the worst.

“And then, barely a year later, Gwi-ma came for my soul. I was corrupted by the guilt and shame of leaving them behind and I hated myself for it, and the patterns grew so fast because of it. The king had me…executed for the demon markings. All's well that ends well though. I was beginning to find it hard to live with myself and my death was welcome. It felt like what I deserved.”

Rumi stops breathing for several long moments, frozen with the realization he’d just confessed the deepest and worst parts of himself, and gone so far as to tell her his death. It stings her heart, and it tastes like poison in her mouth. She can’t even begin to fathom it.

His eyes are shut, though the tears well through them anyways. His nails dig into his palms, and she can see the quiver in his jaw where it's clenched in pain. She notices how the patterns on his neck glow, color burning on his pale skin. He suppresses a sob, his body trembling.

“Jinu, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him. “Gwi-ma manipulated you to the point you couldn’t see you’d tried for your family. From what Celine taught us, as soon as you agree to his offer and listen to what he has to say, there’s almost no escaping it. It wasn’t your fault you left them behind. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it, he has power and control over you as soon as you say yes.”

“I shouldn’t have listened to him, should have denied the offer,” he mumbles weakly. She can feel his shaking through his hands that are holding the back of her hoodie in tight fists.

“You didn’t know, how would you have known what could happen? He’s a manipulative king of demons and evil spirits, and he preys on you when you’re at your lowest and weakest. It was a mistake, Jinu, and that’s as true as it is the first time you told me your story.”

“A mistake that cost the lives of my mother and my sister, Rumi. That’s no small mistake. I’m the reason they died, and that they died suffering.” His voice is so hoarse she can barely hear him.

“You don’t know that for a fact, do you?”

He huffs a hollow, empty laugh. “No, but it’s obvious.”

“It isn’t. You said yourself you never saw them after that day. You have no way of knowing. You did the noble thing. You made a brave attempt to do something for them that would have changed their lives. It’s not your fault your insecurities and weaknesses were preyed on by a demon. You didn’t know what it would cost you.”

“It’s not just that, Rumi. I…hurt you. Broke your trust. Lied to you after I told you you could trust me. I don’t understand why or how you’ve forgiven me. I didn’t expect you to. I asked if you’d forgive me because I wanted to know so it could be over with — I thought you’d never want to see me again. I’m a demon and I let that part of me rule me. I don’t forgive myself for what I did to you. I was cruel and callous and you don’t deserve someone like me.”

Rumi practically growls in frustration, planting her head hard against his chest. He recoils.

“You might be old but it doesn’t make you any wiser,” she mutters. “God you’re stupid sometimes.”

Jinu stills, momentarily. “What is this, ‘hate on the depressed demon’ time?”

“No! I just don’t understand how you can see past all of that when it comes to me—”

“—that’s different, you didn’t kill your family—”

“—and not yourself! Am I not allowed to like you just because you aren’t perfect? Look at you! You’re a hypocrite!”

“And so are you! All this talk about forgiveness and moving on and trust and then you can’t even trust yourself to do anything that isn’t for someone else, like you’re worried being selfish at all, even in a positive way, will turn you into me. You’re as much a hypocrite as I am.”

“Jinu—”

“Rumi—”

Rumi wrenches herself away from him and stands, chest heaving. Jinu looks up at her, still sitting, hurt in his eyes, but he doesn’t move. Like he half expects her to find mercy in her soul and finish him off.

“Give me like thirty seconds,” Rumi says quietly, turning away from him. He just nods, looking away, guilt obvious on his face too. She stares off into the night, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth.

The anger fades quickly, but it allows the guilt to settle in place of it. It’s a pit forming in her stomach, and she waits to find her composure again. The dead quiet compared to their argument is suffocating and deafening.

After several long, deep breaths, Rumi turns to him again. He meets her eyes and stays looking at her.

“Okay. I’m not having a fight with you about this. We’re not getting anywhere, and it certainly doesn’t help. Obviously we’ve both figured out we’re more than a little messed up, and yelling about it won’t change that.”

“Right,” he agrees, blinking and drawing his knees up to his chest. He looks small, a shadow of the idol he had been just a week ago. “So what do we do about it then?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think we’re supposed to necessarily have the answers for each other,” she admits, carefully settling down beside him again. She crosses her legs and plucks little balls of pilled fuzz off her pajama pants. “And that’s okay.”

He watches her, eyes following the fuzz as it skips across the concrete under them, as though they’re solutions to their problems doing their best to run away.

“And that’s okay,” he repeats. He pauses, glancing up at her with a hint of hesitation before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

She looks up at him from the corner of her eye, piecing together what he means. He raises a hand, one finger flicking between the two of them.

Being...together. A relationship.

“Neither do I,” Rumi admits, feeling heat in her face at even this small confession. “Never really had a chance before. And not like I could either, considering my career and…” she gestures to her arms. He presses his lips together, silent understanding; his marks had also prevented him from living a ‘normal’ life even for as short as they were on his skin while he was alive.

“So we figure it out together, then?”

Gods, he’s trying. He’s trying so ridiculously hard, and it means the world to her.

“Or we figure it out on our own terms. But that doesn’t mean we don’t still have each other. Because so help me, you aren’t going anywhere if I have a say,” Rumi says, realizing it came out firmer and less comforting than she had intended.

Jinu just smiles at her. “I think that makes sense. So long as you don’t go anywhere either.”

Rumi sighs. “That was way more stressful than it should have been.”

“Mm.”

“Leave it to us to turn something relaxing into almost a full blown fight,” she laughs quietly, though guilt settles in her chest, same as Jinu if his expression says anything.

“But we figured it out in the end,” Jinu points out, reaching his hand out, palm up. She takes it.

“You’re right,” she says. The breeze picks up again, sending her loose hair cascading behind her. He watches the way it flutters, entranced, and she finds herself amused with his stunned expression rather than mildly annoyed as she usually is with paparazzi staring at her. “I only ever take my hair down all the way when I think it won’t be an issue. It’s always getting in my face otherwise. You should consider yourself lucky to see it like this.”

Jinu reaches out and tucks a stray few strands back behind her ear. “But I’m glad that you do. I think having your hair braided up all the time constricts blood flow to your brain,” he teases. Her eyes shine. There he is.

“Oh, you are so not getting away with that,” she giggles, throwing herself into him and knocking him flat against the ground, pinning him down with her arms. He snorts as he fights against her restraint half-heartedly, sending her into another fit of laughter.

“You know, I meant it when I said you were strong,” he says, struggling to even get her upper body to budge. “Because jeez.”

“I know,” she replies evenly, a hint of pride sneaking through. She releases his arms, though she doesn’t move from where she’s sitting on her knees, half crouched over him, faces a little too close, everything a little too warm.

“Would you trust yourself, for me?”

“Would you forgive yourself for me?”

“Maybe,” she hums. She glances away, but meets his eyes again after a split second. He nods in agreement. “Haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Me neither.”

They stay that way in silence together, not looking at each other, but still seeing the other, the weight of their words heavy on their souls, not a burden but a knowledge to carry, that’s equal parts balanced by the way letting go of the hurt lifts them up.

The tension in the air wears away, bringing back the gentle quiet they had been sharing.

“Hey,” he whispers, bringing her back to the present. She can feel his breath hot on her lips.

“Hi,” she whispers back.

He sees her, really sees her, and it pulls her heartstrings taut and plucks them, like a guitar with strings adjusted far too tight, like she’s waiting for them to snap if he plays a note wrong.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t seem capable of an incorrect note when it comes to her. He’s careful and gentle, cautious but trusting in the same breath.

“Do you…want this?” Her voice is quiet and wavering, a bit afraid of the answer if she’s entirely honest.

“If you mean us, and if you mean you’re willing to give it a chance, then yes, absolutely yes,” Jinu replies with a fierce conviction she can’t help but admire.

“I want that too.”

That last piece snaps into place, everything settling into place like it was meant to be, broken but beautiful, and above all, theirs.

He looks up at her like there’s no better sight in the world and her heart flutters in response. He reached a hand up to brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and leaving his palm against her cheek. She leans into it, eyes closing, a sense of relief and relaxation she’s not familiar with settling over her like a cozy blanket on a cold night.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches her off guard, not because it’s entirely unexpected, but because of the soft reverence in his voice. Rather than answer, she just acts.

She leans forward, one hand moving to cup the back of his head. Her lips brush over the corner of his mouth, a question of her own. He tilts his head and captures her lips with his, his answer a resounding yes. There’s a hint of hunger this time, like they’re searching for a resolution, for reassurance. His hands roam over her back, every light, grazing touch electric. Her fingers are tangled in his hair, her body pressed close against his, their shared heat becoming nearly too hot to be comfortable.

Rumi’s teeth graze against his lip, ever so lightly catching it between her teeth but she’s quick to back off again, like her own action had surprised her. He can’t help the small noise of enjoyment, his hand moving to rest where her hair meets her neck, pulling her right back where she was, silent encouragement that she responds to with a low hum as he deepens the kiss. She parts her mouth as his tongue presses and then flicks against hers, involuntarily letting out a small noise of surprise at the pleasant rush of sensation.

Jinu pulls back momentarily, a pause just long enough to meet her eyes, looking at her like he sees her very soul. A particular look crosses his face and he grins, wrapping his arms around her middle and suddenly flipping them both, now looking down at her triumphantly.

“Oh,” she giggles, that breathless feeling in her chest catching up to her and only emphasizing the hyperactivity of her heart.

He just smiles, kissing her again, and she melts into it. It’s dangerously addictive. It’s now she notices the way their patterns both are glowing softly, enough that Jinu’s flushed face is a stark contrast to the iridescent shimmer.

She holds her hand up between them, marveling at the way the patterns respond to her emotions, the light brighter where their patterns meet when she touches his cheek. She has a hard time admiring their appearance, still, the way they only remind her of what she'd been forced to hide. But maybe that could change.

“Rumi, you’re beautiful,” he says, breathless, eyes shining at her. Her heart swells with what she can only think of as a fuzzy feeling, like she’d just been wrapped in the nicest blankets money could buy and then sunk into the most plush pillows.

Her heart skips a beat with realization.

Is this what lo—

The exit door to the roof slams open and they jump apart but not before awkwardly and painfully smacking their foreheads against each other, both shooting upright and scrambling apart to peer at the intruders in the dark.

“Rumi, Jinu,” says Mira, with none of her usual playful banter. Her voice is serious, and Zoey is standing next to her clutching Mira’s elbow, pale, though looking more tired than anything. “It’s Celine.”

Rumi flicks her eyes to Jinu, who is already looking at her with intense concern. She stifles a sigh, the moment fleeting and the spell broken. Instead she stands, offering Jinu a hand which he takes. She nods and gestures to Mira and Zoey to lead the way. A heaviness settles in her stomach like lead.

Jinu squeezes her hand and holds the pressure for a moment before releasing.

I’m still right here, it says.

She squeezes back. Me too.

Notes:

Aquarium date with more Feels happens next chapter! I said fluff, but looks like we're getting a pretty balanced diet of angst, comfort, and fluff here.

Also, I'd consulted my pysch major girlfriend on the 'argument' part of this chapter, and more or less it's a little based off what I've come to realize a healthy argument/disagreement looks like, and what we need more of. I'm of the mind Jinu isn't quite as adept at handling these situations(demon with unresolved anger issues here, everybody has a lot to unpack) as Rumi is (after all, Rumi has spent her whole life hiding things and trying to deescalate before issues occur) but they're still able to come to a conclusion, despite not knowing where exactly they stand even at the end of it. But that's okay, that's what metaphors and fish are for next chapter!

Chapter 6

Notes:

Shorter chapter today, I'm dealing with what is potentially Lyme right now (get to find out in a few days, yay) along with what seems to be alpha-gal syndrome where you become allergic to red meat :/ so there's that, bit of a lifestyle change going on until I figure out what the issue is here. Aquarium date is *next* chapter, I need time to expand on it lol

Celine doesn’t look disheveled — at least, never that Rumi has observed, not before today.

She sits before them, hands clasped and head bowed, dark bags under her eyes visible when she glances up at Rumi’s entrance. Jinu is still holding her hand, but she doesn’t push him away. Celine’s eyes flick to him, but she dismisses the thought with a curt nod of her head. Rumi can feel the disapproval and ignores it.

“Rumi,” Celine begins, her voice unsteady. “I see you found my note. My apologies for my absence.”

Rumi bows her head ever so slightly, waiting for Celine to continue. Mira and Zoey are also waiting, watching intently.

“I’m afraid that the Honmoon is only in a temporary state of reinforced strength, and that as it has not turned gold, the demon threat is still present in our world. I’m sure after this display, Gwi-ma will only come back with a heavier hand than before.”

Jinu stiffens beside her, swallowing hard. Fear flashes across his face but is gone as quick as it came on.

“I left to monitor other points where the Honmoon is most secure, temples, resting places of former Hunters. There’s no signs of disturbance yet, but I know the demons will be back. We also don’t know much about your new Honmoon. I’ve studied the original Honmoon my entire life and it seems that while I’m not cut off from the energy of this new one, I am…less able to interact with it. We don’t even know if your Honmoon can turn gold, but we need to find out, and we need to find out a new solution to exterminating the threat once and for all.”

Mira, Zoey, and Rumi glance at each other, the words unsaid.

It means more songs, more concerts, more everything, and waiting to spot that flicker of gold while they perform. And hope that they can still do the one thing no Hunters before them have ever accomplished.

The pressure of the situation is palpable in the air, held between the five of them like a knife, poised to cut the first hand it sees.

“We can talk more in the morning, there’s much more to discuss. I just felt that I was being…followed on my return and this was the only place I could think of that would be safe enough in the event there is something or someone after me. That’s why I couldn’t tell you where I went; I’ve felt like I’ve been shadowed since the day you created the new Honmoon, and I didn’t want anyone to potentially track me where I went. It might be nothing, you know I get worried.”

Rumi nods. There’s something Celine is omitting, and she can tell. “Is that…all?”

Caught, Celine straightens, eyes narrowing. “There’s…something I’d like to discuss with you, Rumi, but not tonight. I’m going to stay in my office for the night. I’ll speak with you all tomorrow.”

With that, the older woman stands and dismisses herself, her footsteps sharp in a way that reminds Rumi of her childhood. The clack of heels on solid floors, the strictness of which she was raised, and words said with a distinct lack of emotion. It hurts.

“Well. Guess we’re going back to bed. Leave it to Celine to need to share news in the middle of the night, scaring all of us, and then just act like it’s all good,” Mira groans.

“Yeah, she made a big deal out of it for nothing,” Zoey says in her usual chipper tone, but her face betrays her suspicions. The three girls share a look, but it seems safe to leave it til tomorrow.

Something isn’t right and it’s eating at Rumi, a hungry gnawing in her stomach she’s struggling to ignore. Zoey and Mira give them a quiet ‘goodnight’ and head off to their rooms again, leaving Jinu and Rumi sitting together in the uncomfortable silence. She sighs, and goes to push herself upright.

Jinu helps her to her feet, casting one more fleeting glance to the city, blurred and distant through the expansive windows of the great room, before looking back to her.

“I need sleep.” She rubs at her eyes, debating checking her phone for the time but it occurs to her she’ll probably just get annoyed about her ever worsening sleep schedule if she does. She sways unsteadily, lightheaded.

“Let me carry you,” he suggests, a flicker of bemusement in his eyes. He holds her arms, stabilizing her, but he’s making the decision without the answer.

“No! No that won’t be necessary,” she squeaks, but it’s too late as he’s already scooping her up. “Mira and Zoey had better not come back out of their rooms because if they see this, I will personally feed you to Derpy.”

“You said his name!”

“Wha— that’s not fair! No, it’s a terrible name, how could anyone name something after its defining feature, that’s just terrible.”

“Suit yourself, beautiful,” he says, voice like silk and honey. He’s already carefully making his way to her room, carrying her with a surprising ease she hadn’t expected.

Rumi turns bright red and buries herself in his chest. “You don’t play fair.”

“Never have. I’m a demon, after all.”

“No, you’re just Jinu.”

He laughs, a sound reverberating through his chest under her ear, reminding her of deep, soothing piano notes.

“I suppose I am.”

The moment of quiet relief between the two of them quells her concerns temporarily, a balm to soothe her anxiety. He gently rests her back down in her bed and walks himself around to the other side and joins her. This time, he slips in right next to her and wraps his arms around her like it’s more than natural.

She doesn’t protest. She’s too exhausted and it feels far too nice to complain about. His tiger purrs on the floor next to her bed, rumbling softly.

Jinu begins to hum something under his breath, some tune she doesn’t recognize, but it lulls her to sleep all the same, her world narrowed down to just this moment.

 

~~~~~

 

When Jinu wakes, Rumi is no longer curled into his chest like she had been when he’d fallen asleep. Her absence is an immediate ache he needs to fill, but the realization she’s gone is a cold shock down his spine.

He leaps up, catching his dozing tiger’s attention, and after a quick glance to confirm she’s not in her closet or bathroom, he rushes through the door and down the stairs, his heart racing in his chest, Derpy’s soft, worried croon following him. What had Celine said? That she was being followed? Did that mean—

“Rumi?”

Rumi, seated at the table, looks up, eyes narrowed, but not at him. In fact, she looks relieved to see him. Celine sitting across from her is staring him down like he might suddenly grow fangs and throw himself across the table and eat her. His stomach roils uncomfortably, skin prickling with the sensation he’s in danger.

All things said and told, a former Hunter probably doesn’t appreciate seeing a newly ex-demon who has a considerable interest in her adopted daughter, and said daughter is half demon herself. Not to mention the issue of Rumi’s heritage.

“Jinu, I presume?” Celine’s tone is level and guarded. Her body language says she’s restraining herself from attempting to attack him.

“Yes,” he replies, eyeing Rumi warily from the corner of his vision. Her jaw is clenched, so much so that the muscles on her face are visible.

“Come sit down,” Rumi says, scooting her chair to the side and motioning to the chair beside her. He does, feeling very out of place not for his clothing (the three of them are all still in sleepwear, at least) but for the tension between Rumi and Celine. “Do you mind if he joins us?”

“I figured this was something you wanted to hear alone, but I’ll leave that choice to you.”

“He stays, then,” Rumi answers, her hand finding his under the table. Her hands are cold, clammy, and he takes it anyways, her anxiety running high obvious, her leg bouncing. He squeezes her hand, trying to ground himself as much as her.

“I have not told you the entire truth, Rumi, and because of it I have struggled for years. I don’t know how else to break it to you, but I figure that I must, because I refuse to allow more secrets to tear us apart. And I understand this will not come gently, and I will understand however you choose to react. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But it needs to be said and my brief travel to learn more of the Honmoon has pushed me to understand that the secrets and the lies have done irreparable damage.”

Rumi draws in a long breath and then nods, eyes fixed on Celine, her hand going rigid and stiff entwined with his. Rumi’s body screams that she wants to run, and Jinu wishes he could shield her from all of this.

“Your parents, Rumi… I am responsible for their deaths.”

Rumi swallows hard, eyes already brimming with the threat of tears, but she waits. Jinu notes the way her chest rises and falls faster now, how her nails have begun to dig into the thin skin of the back of his hand. He ignores it.

“I didn’t know who your father was. Mi-yeong didn’t tell us during her pregnancy, and so when an unfamiliar demon arrived at my door one night, I… did what any Hunter would have done.”

Rumi’s tears are falling now, her lip quivering, leaning into Jinu like he’s the only thing holding her up. He feels his throat tighten as Celine continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. Your mother… jumped in front of him, but it was too late. I didn’t see her, I didn’t know what was happening, it was dark and I was blinded by the flash of my sword, Rumi, I didn’t know what was happening, I couldn’t— I didn’t— I just…” Celine’s own tears slip across her face, a guilt and a shame of her own so encompassing Jinu has a hard time believing that she bears no mark of Gwi-ma.

“I realize now that had we not been so secretive, lying to each other, hiding our ‘faults and fears,’ that your mother might have felt safe enough to tell us, but she didn’t, and I’ll forever live with the knowledge that it could have been different.”

“You killed them?” It’s barely a whisper. It’s barely a sound at all, Rumi’s voice is so hollow she might as well be empty. Jinu grips her hand, but she might as well be halfway to the moon already, as little as his physical tether is keeping her here.

Celine nods, eyes cast down, head hung. She doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t seek forgiveness or a reply. Just waits. She has said plenty.

“Get out. Please, leave.” The Honmoon ripples, a quick flash of red answering Rumi’s charged words. The woman across from her flinches, her eyes fixed on the Honmoon. It’s not final, that much Jinu can tell, but the energy is rolling off Rumi in waves.

Celine stands, bows, turns and leaves.

Rumi collapses into Jinu’s chest, and sobs. There’s a new pain in his chest, one he can’t put a name to. It’s searing and raw, a wound inflicted by a hot, serrated blade. He ignores it forcefully and just holds her, his own tears hot on his face.

 

~~~~~

 

Some days, Rumi wishes the world didn’t know who she was.

It’s days like today that she knows there’s nothing she can do but grieve and move on, and she doesn’t want to. She’s spent her whole life grieving and waiting and hiding and she is so sick of wallowing. She knows her emotions need to run their course, but god if she doesn’t wish she could just step outside and feel the sun on her skin while browsing a vendor’s stall in the street and not have anyone look at her twice.

But instead she’s standing in front of her mirror, pulling a baseball cap over her head, her hair half up again though part is drawn over her face, a pair of highly suspicious sunglasses in hand. It’s next to impossible to disguise herself with the hair and the new, highly visible patterns, but it’s an attempt. At least the long sleeves are a familiar comfort.

Mira and Zoey had suggested she go do something with Jinu, to take her mind off the news Celine had broken. They insisted they’d cover the meetings today and tomorrow, the hassle of their new tour posters and merch the forefront issue of the week, something Rumi always despises anyways. It’s more their thing, Zoey has the talent for a catchy phrase or play on words, and Mira has a knack for graphic design to match. Rumi gets to be the deciding vote, and otherwise stays out of it. She’s often too busy dealing with nonsense from every other aspect of their lives.

“Ready to go?”

Jinu is also wearing a baseball cap (what a ridiculously matching pair they make) and his classic button up and t-shirt combination, looking at least a little bit like someone who could pass for a random member of the public.

Rumi nods, doing her best to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. “Let’s get boba,” she suggests, comfort food on her mind.

“Never had it,” Jinu admits, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “And never been to an aquarium either.”

“I think you'll like it,” Rumi says, leading them down to the great room. “The aquarium anyways. Don’t know about the boba, that’s sometimes an acquired taste.”

“I’m not picky.”

“You scowled at vegetables yesterday.”

“They’re not as fun as everything else that’s edible,” he protests, obviously losing this argument. “I’m a demon. I don’t have to like things that are good for me.”

“But you like me,” she says, a slight pout forming on her face. He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically, pulling his cap tighter on his head, squashing his hair. She swats his hands and makes an attempt to fix it for him, but he stands taller, just out of reach. He sticks his tongue out and winks.

“Maybe I have to balance out the fact you’re too good for me.”

“You--!” She shoves his chest, harder than she had intended and he stumbles back, catching himself on the doorframe, hiding his laughter behind his arm. “I can’t stand you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he replies evenly, his voice all silk and intentionally deeper. She rolls her eyes and walks past him. You certainly do, her mind adds, helpfully.

“Let's go, I need comfort boba before I start getting hangry.”

“Lead the way, princess,” he hums, catching her eye from where he stands tall at her shoulder. Her chest squeezes, traitorously.

“Shut up before I make you regret it,” she growls, but she’s all bark and no bite and he knows it, chuckling to himself and following her.

They sit too close in the car, legs touching in a way that has her heart tripping over itself in her ribcage, doing her best to pretend she isn’t enjoying humming along to the radio in time with him as much as she does.

Notes:

Thank you all for the lovely comments, they're motivational and much appreciated!!

Chapter 7

Notes:

aquarium date!!!! means feels!!! and more deep talks, can't get enough of those bad boys! And then a little lead up into whats next...

“These look like fish eyes,” Jinu says, his lip drawing into a frown at his drink. “Are you sure it’s edible?”

“Do you really think I’d poison you, after all this time?” Rumi leans back against the wall, not far from the little shop they’d picked up drinks from, where the sun is a bit too warm for his liking but Rumi in all her layers is tolerating it and so he figures he has to, too.

Jinu rolls his eyes at her sarcastic remark, and hesitantly takes a sip of the drink, rolling the weird gooey ball of tapioca around in his mouth and chewing contemplatively.

“It’s…not bad?” He sips it again, barely disguising the way he nearly chokes on another tapioca pearl. “Weird. Different. But not bad.”

“Like you,” Rumi teases with a gentle elbow to his side. He puffs an indignant sigh but says nothing. She snickers under her breath, smiling.

Her eyes are brighter now, not looking nearly so sad as before. It’s obvious Celine’s confession still weighs on her, but it’s not the end of the world, like the knowledge and the truth maybe healed whatever it had also broken.

They had spent yesterday laying in her bed, bundled in blankets, Derpy curled pensively at their feet, purring as though it might fix her. Jinu had done everything he could think of, fetching her water, snacks, holding her as she struggled through the anger and grief and sadness. Mira and Zoey had also taken turns and Jinu had relegated himself to the balcony while Rumi talked and cried with them, and discussed the terms of Celine’s temporary banishment.

Eventually, the day had slipped by them, and they both fell into a fitful sleep, Jinu’s dreams filled with the same sorrow and loss he knows all too well. But then Rumi had woken up, determined to wallow no longer, and practically dragged him with her. Not that Jinu needs to be dragged anywhere if Rumi is leading the charge.

And so here they were, the breeze ruffling his hat-flattened hair, Rumi’s shoulder pressed to his in a companionable way as she noisily sips her own drink, fingers tapping the plastic cup idly.

“When you go back to the studio,” he starts, picking his words carefully, “I want to join you. My voice is rusty, if you guys want me in on the concert and a song, then I need practice too.”

Rumi nods. “Alright. We can do that. You know, we can always sing too, right?” That slight shyness has crept in again, a blush coloring her face like the first hues of a sunset.

“I’d like to,” he admits, and it’s completely true. The way their harmony had touched his heart and left him changed is no secret to him.

She smiles again, lost in thought.

They continue to walk, finishing their drinks along the way. He finds himself awkwardly fiddling with his hands in his pockets, feeling oddly nervous about going with Rumi on what more or less should be considered a date. Well, maybe it isn’t even a date, and he’s overthinking like he tends to. But they had both agreed to labeling whatever they have as a relationship, so therefore is it a date? Why couldn’t Rumi be straightforward about this? Why can’t he swallow his pride and ask for clarification?

He shoves all the thoughts down and tries to just breathe. He’s so overly conscious of his existence in the public because he had to be not long ago, and his skin crawls at the thought of someone ambushing them for a signature and a photo.

“We’re almost there.” Rumi takes his elbow and guides them through a couple alleyways, obviously knowing the city far better than he could ever begin to. It reminds him he and his demon posse had been lost when they bumped into HUNTR/X the first time, trying to find where they had decided to make their debut on the street. He vows to never let Rumi know that.

Before he knows it, she’s bought tickets and dragged him into the aquarium somehow without being spotted, following a crowd just far enough back they can blend in. They trail the tour group, coming to a room with open tanks where stingrays swim by, and dips her hand right into the water, giving Jinu a small heart attack.

She notices and snorts, casually flipping her hair over her shoulder and gesturing for him to come over. He does, but stays at a safe distance. He may not know everything about modern life, far from it, but he knows better than to go around risking hurt and harm. He may be a demon, but pain exists to demons, it’s not a solely mental manifestation.

“You’re allowed to touch these ones, they won’t sting you until you do something to hurt them first,” she explains, her finger tips brushing over one of the peculiar fish. It glides away, circling the tank and allowing the next ones in line to be pet. “They make me think of our patterns. And, you know. Having a ‘dangerous’ side.”

He lingers a moment too long on the ‘our’ she had said so simply, the way she was comparing them in a way he had once suggested they were similar, but she means it now. He joins her in reaching into the cold water, the chill more than he had anticipated. The stingrays pass under his hand, their spotted backs flickering in the water. Their skin is surprisingly rough for how sleek they appear. They’re pretty and elegant, in a way he didn’t think such a dangerous creature could be.

In a way that he understands, he thinks, his hand clasped firmly by Rumi’s as he’s led to the next exhibit.

They wander the exhibits, Jinu finding himself amused and overcome with a childlike sense of wonder, pointing out every odd and unusual creature he couldn’t have imagined up. Rumi plays along with his antics, pointing out several fish that she claims look like him, to which he vehemently denies. She gives him a halfway decent smack to the chest for suggesting there’s one that looks like her, so he keeps his bemused thoughts to himself, for the most part.

Eventually, they pull away from the tour group they had been following at a distance and Rumi leads them to a room that opens up into a hall. He quickly realizes that it’s a tunnel passing through and underneath a giant tank, leaving visitors to walk under the fishes. Jinu marvels at the variety of sea life passing overhead, walking alongside her until she stops, looking up wistfully.

“Sometimes I feel like they do,” she says, tipping her head towards the fish swimming above them. “Trapped, stuck, unable to be truly free. Like I’ve been given a space in the world to live in, but it’s not by choice. Not…my choice. I used to think when we sealed the Honmoon, I’d get to be free of everything, the marks, the fears, the history I just wanted to leave behind. And I don’t know if it’s better or worse that I know everything else about my past. It’s not freeing like I thought it would be. But it’s such a part of me, I don’t think I’m anyone without it.”

Jinu lets the words sit between them for a few beats, and then he begins to talk before he can stop himself.

“I spent four hundred years in hell, trying to figure out some sort of way to make myself feel better about the entire situation. Plans and deals and offers, and it wasn’t until the boy band idea that something finally stuck. I thought it was the perfect solution; I get Gwi-ma what he wants, and I’m free of my guilt and shame. But I would have still been trapped in hell. And at his mercy regardless of what he promised me. He wouldn’t have kept his word, but I was blinded by the idea that I could be free of my past. Even if the voices were gone, the memories wouldn’t have been. I’d be haunted by my actions forever, anyways. There’s never an easy way out.”

The confessions sit between them, not heavy, but present. They both watch the fish circling and Jinu feels her words resonating almost uncomfortably. Watching the fish and their endless, pointless spirals, repeating their same lives every day. It’s rather sad, even though he recalls Rumi had explained this aquarium only housed creatures that could not return to the wild.

“I thought I’d be fixed by now. Not broken anymore,” Rumi whispers, a hand tracing the glass as she continues to walk alongside the exhibit.

“You’re not broken,” Jinu replies, a little too quick. She pauses. “Not to me.”

Rumi’s eyes dart to him, the grief clouding her eyes now tinged with something else. She swallows hard, and looks away.

“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” she says, the bitterness in her tone cutting.

“I’m not lying, Rumi,” he says, biting back the urge to snap, to say something callous, anything to break her out of her own spiral. He jogs the short distance to catch up to her and grabs her hand that’s still lingering on the glass, not pulling her towards him, just taking her hand like holding her here might fix everything.

Her eyes stay fixed on their faint reflections in the glass looking back at them, their patterns glowing iridescent in the dim light. Fish flit by in gleaming colors, voices filtering through the hallway from other exhibits, but they remain alone.

“They’re…unsightly,” she mutters, her gaze drifting to her free hand. The patterns shimmer. She chews her lip. “Everything I was taught to hide and hate. They’re broken cracks for the world to see.”

“Rumi, look at me,” he insists, taking a step closer. She turns to him, eyes fixed on their joind hands. They’re close now, their hands drawn up between them. He sweeps her hair to the side, her patterns glowing under the soft trace of his fingertips. He presses, ever so gently, turning her cheek so she’s facing him straight on. She doesn’t resist.

Finally, she looks at him, like she’s trying to figure out what he’s trying to say before he does and beat him to the punch, or at least stop him if she doesn’t agree.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as beautiful with the cracks showing.” He waves a hand, looking for words. “It’s like…kintsugi.”

She raises an eyebrow, stifling a small puff of a hollow laugh.

“You know, the art of repairing pottery with gold? Japanese? I’m not like, a metaphorical kinda guy—”

“—uh, yes, you are—”

“—but it’s like that. You’re just as beautiful, even if you’ve been broken before. You’re still whole, even with the cracks. You’re still…you.”

Rumi breathes, the faintest smile on her face. “You mean that?”

“Yes— jeez— yes I mean that,” he says, failing to hide his mild exasperation. How is it possible for them to both be fumbling so hard when it comes to such shared trauma?

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m not allowing you to be sorry, we went over this already, we’re both figuring this out as we go. I— Rumi, I’d put the broken pieces of you back together over and over again with gold if that proved to you how much you mean to me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think about them, more honest and sincere than he had intended to be, not that that makes it wrong. But Rumi is smiling at him again, soft but bright all the same. He’s blushing, he can feel the heat in his face, and Rumi’s face is maybe pinker than usual even under the blueish light.

“That— I— god words are really difficult,” Jinu says with a sheepish laugh, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He wants desperately to backpedal, to take it back, but he meant it and he wants her to know that.

“Jinu, it’s okay.” She lifts his hand to her cheek, pressing his palm against her warm skin. “I… I’d do the same. If it meant proving to you what I already know is the truth. I think we both need to be a little kinder to ourselves. Have a little hope, maybe?”

Her voice lifts, the question rolling off her more like a declaration, a reminder. Her hand slides off his and comes to rest on the little bracelet around his wrist. She adjusts it tighter on his wrist.

“You gave me hope when I couldn’t see beyond the dark. Can’t fix it if we never face it.”

The lyrics of their song come back to him and his heart flutters in his chest, remembering the way their voices intertwined in the night, how the words just came to him. How it felt so right. How it felt like something he wanted, selfish in a way that wasn’t wrong for once.

“And you gave me hope when I thought I stood alone.”

Jinu leans forward, pressing a kiss to her free hand clasped in his, where the patterns trail to the end of her knuckles, a ridiculous smile stretching on his face, giddy like a child as he looks at her again, seeing that spark he had missed behind her eyes. Rumi rolls her eyes and steps onto her toes, pulling him into a kiss of her own accord.

He breathes a sigh against her lips and lets himself melt into her, something akin to peace settling in his chest for the first time in centuries.

 

~~~~~

 

Rumi leans over, hands against her legs holding her up as she catches her breath, her sword on the floor in front of her pulsing that same array of colors her patterns now glow with. Beads of sweat drip from her chin and she roughly wipes it off on her shoulder, shaking her head.

It had been an oddly long time since she’s sparred — they hadn’t needed to, and still don’t necessarily as there’s been no demon threats they’re aware of, but it feels good for her muscles to burn with fatigue again. Mira and Zoey had trained together earlier — Rumi had insisted on being allowed training time alone today. Time to think, to puzzle.

She wasn’t getting anywhere on that front either. All the issues and questions still swirl in her mind, just as unsolved as they had been when she entered their training hall.

How to turn the Honmoon gold — if it’s even possible anymore. Are demons redeemable? Jinu seems to have been. What if they’re mistaken and not all demons deserve to be sealed away forever? What do her and Jinu’s ‘demonic’ powers connect to, if not Gwi-ma and hell? What is Jinu’s connection to her, and what does having possession of his soul mean? Is he mortal now, like her? Or did his granting of his soul in turn make her immortal?

It’s all a bit too much to think about, and spending the better part of an hour cutting through targets and practicing parkour hadn’t answered even one question. She lifts her sword and gives it one last slash through thin air, appreciating the hum of concentrated energy before she releases her focus on it, the weapon dissolving in her hand.

She breathes a couple times, attempting to release the tension, and turns for the door.

“Jinu!”

“That’s my name.”

Idiot. Dork. Pain in the— “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to wonder if I should interrupt you before you hacked through the wall,” he says, nodding to the target wall, where she had missed multiple times. Throwing a sword double the size is a learning curve. The wall now sports several large gouges to prove it.

“Excuse me, I’d like to see you try,” she guffaws, swinging the sword in a neat circle with a flick of her wrist.

“Sure,” he says, with all the overconfidence in the world. He extends a hand, waiting for her to give him her sword. His eyes bear a dangerously proud, smug gleam and she wants to see it wiped off his face. The rivalry dies hard, she supposes.

She turns it over in her hand and chuckles to herself. “Good luck, there’s a reason I trained for years to be able to use the Honmoon. It’ll just disappear the moment I hand it to you.”

“Sounds like you’re worried I’m better than you,” he says back with a pointed shrug.

“Then here you go.”

She swaps her grip to extend the hilt to him, and he takes it. She holds it for a moment longer and then lets go, the weight of the sword more obvious in his hand but shockingly not so bad.

And the sword stays firmly material, humming the same way it does in her hand. She blinks and frowns, watching Jinu heft it experimentally.

“This— you shouldn’t— you shouldn’t be able to hold it, it should have disappeared,” she argues, stepping closer but carefully, looking for any sign of wavering energy, and finding none.

“You’re a skeptic,” he teases, making an unwieldy swing at a practice dummy. The blow is awkward and slow but under the surface she can see he has memory of his combat training. He swings again, more accurate this time.

“Not a skeptic as much as just weirded out by this. Why can you hold a weapon from the Honmoon all of a sudden?”

Jinu shrugs. “How am I supposed to know?” He looks across the room and without so much as a pause, sends the sword flying across the room, completely missing the targets Rumi had been missing earlier, and sending it clattering against the far wall. Rumi sighs and the sword fades into mist.

“Try to call on it. I want to know what this is about,” she says, crossing her arms and waiting.

Jinu frowns. “How do I call on it? I know it’s there, I can kind of interact with it, but I have no idea how you call your weapons.”

“It’s kind of like…plucking it from the energy of the Honmoon around you. You’re a demon, I know you can feel the Honmoon, just try getting something from it. Kind of like a spiderweb, plucking the strings.”

Jinu reaches out into the air and makes a motion like strumming a guitar and the air at his fingertips glows bright for a moment before fading quickly. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, it’s like it doesn’t want me to interact with it.”

“Here, take my sword again, I want you to feel the energy and try to find it in the Honmoon yourself.”

Jinu takes the sword offered to him again and runs his fingers along its edge. He closes his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. The sword begins to glow, the hum of energy turning into a buzz that’s electric, like a thunderstorm forming, like a bolt of lightning—

“Ow! Shit,” Jinu says, dropping the sword like it burned him. It turns to mist, Rumi’s focus drawn away from it. Blood seeps from his thumb, deep red. “I got myself on the edge, it’s my fault…”

But he trails off, staring at the blood as it drips from his hand and onto the floor.

“Demons don’t bleed, Rumi,” Jinu’s voice wavers. His eyes meet hers, a strange look of fear, relief, and something else on his face.

“No. They don’t.”

“Do…you bleed?”

Rumi nods, swallowing thickly.

“I think maybe…you’re like me. Not quite demon. But human, too.” Hope flickers in her chest, a fire newly born, burning steady.

Jinu’s face lights up, both of them coming to the same conclusion at once — he’s not immortal anymore, this is their second chance.

He crushes her in a hug, laughter bubbling from both of them, hot, messy tears flowing. He spins her once and pulls her close again, burying his face in her hair.

Jinu shifts back just enough to meet her eyes, shining despite the tears. He opens his mouth, a blush on his face like whatever he’s about to say is going to embarrass him and yet Rumi can’t wait to hear it—

And a ripple spikes through the Honmoon, like ice in her veins. Jinu feels it too, a small shiver against her hands on his back.

“Something’s wrong,” Rumi says, shoving them apart, sword back in hand. Bile rises in her throat. “Mira and Zoey, we need to go find them, come on.”

She tries not to let the panic that’s building in her chest come through in her voice, trying to breathe deeply while they run up the stairs for the great hall.

They practically collide with Mira and Zoey, both looking just as worried as she is.

“Outskirts of town, I can feel it,” Mira says, shouldering past them all and taking the lead. “Come on. Jinu, are you with us?”

Jinu looks to Rumi, something fierce boiling under the surface. It makes her nervous that he’s going to do something reckless, but she also feels emboldened by his trust in her.

“I’ll be right behind you. Lead the way.”

It’s a bit of a mad dash across the city, leaping across rooftops, the girls exceedingly more agile than Jinu who lags behind, but they don’t wait up for him and neither does he complain.

“Over there!” Zoey calls, flipping onto a balcony and springing for the next one, a glow of blueish Honmoon energy rippling around her hands, ready to summon her weapons.

Mira looks to Rumi who nods curtly, an unspoken agreement to advance. Jinu stumbles to a breathless halt behind her.

“You’re waiting here. No dramatic moments, you hear me?”

He gives her a mock salute. “Got it. I’m back up, get to watch you guys kick somebody else’s ass finally.”

Rumi gives him a good natured but light punch to the arm and is after Mira in a heartbeat, sword in hand humming with power, the newfound strength running through her body. She feels ready, like she’s exactly where she was born to be, by the side of her fellow Hunters, plunging themselves into the fray.

Notes:

Thank you all for the lovely comments, they're sooo appreciated!! The heatwave finally breaks tomorrow so I get to ride my horse and not feel like I'm dying, yippee

Chapter 8

Notes:

Woooo new chapter, have had a chaotic fucking day/week but we made it. It wouldn't have been my fault, but I nearly put a 40ft flatbed gooseneck trailer into a river because it was like two and a half inches from being impossible to make the turn at all but I did it!!! I'm getting really good at driving a huge fucking trailer!! Also yay for not concussing my coworker with a ratchet strap, I cannot throw to save my life. now I'm getting sleep-delirious so enjoy, promise I didn't write this while i was in this state I only edited it like this, also no beta, the author edits their own fics and author is usually everyone else's beta so like. be forewarned my editing may not be up to the usual standard.

Derpy rumbles and bumps his head against Jinu’s hand, looking up at him with a vague expression of worry. That is, an expression that Jinu assumes is worry; it’s hard to tell when those eyes are looking at him in two different directions. He almost laughs, but the movement in his peripheral vision keeps him uncomfortably distracted.

“They’ll be fine. They can handle themselves,” Jinu says, placating himself as much as the tiger. Derpy murmurs.

In the distance, the three girls are fighting in unison, like a dance rather than battle, movements in impressive sync with one another, with no room for mistakes. It’s just a handful of demons, and there’s no noticeable tear in the Honmoon, that much is a relief.

Still, his stomach churns, feeling almost odd that he cares about their fate when just a few weeks ago he would have shrugged to see them torn to pieces.

No, that’s not true. He would have cared.

Rumi had looked at him like she wanted to murder him, and still, she was the most beautiful woman he’d had the luck to lay eyes on in all of his four hundred years. Playing ‘rude’ had felt trashy, leaving her on the ground after he’d more or less allowed their shoulders to collide. His excuse is merely that he couldn’t show weakness to the four other demons, lest they have no respect for his leadership.

But he had felt bad in the moment, especially when she had looked up at him, dazed but curious, interest hiding below that surface reaction, and he had gone and squashed that. And then, it had all fallen apart during their brief and only fight against each other in the bathouse. Jinu sighs.

“I’m an idiot, and you know that, don’t you bud?” Jinu says, running a hand between the tiger’s ears. “We’re just lucky she likes us enough to keep us, huh?”

He breathes out, watching the chaos on the horizon begin to slow down, the girls’ silhouettes no longer arcing over rooftops with as much urgency as they had just moments before. Looks like they’ll be home before he knows it.

He goes to lean back against the wall and his body freezes on instinct at the faint sound of breath in his ear. A thin, long dagger presses against his throat, not enough to draw blood, but it certainly would if he dared move. The smell is rank, that of decay and filth.

A demon.

“Traitor,” it hisses. Sharp, cold claws settle on his shoulder, heavy and threatening. “Gwi-ma trusted you. We had faith in you, and you lied and betrayed us.”

“I’m a demon. We all lie and betray. It’s what we are.” The words are foul in his mouth, but it’s buying him time. Rumi’s kind reminders ring in his mind, but he has to ignore them right now. He needs to just survive.

“This. This is different. You sacrificed yourself for a Hunter. Disloyal. Cowardly. Traitor. And now you’re back, and you never returned to us. How?”

Jinu swallows, feeling the press of the cold blade. “If I knew, I’d tell you. But I don’t. What’s your business with me?”

“To bring you back to our king, of course. So he can punish you as he sees fit. There is a…reward for your return to him.”

Great. Just what we need.

The tiger cowers on the ground, watching Jinu fearfully, as though unable to leave. Sussie had taken off some time ago; he can only hope that the bird has done something to alert Rumi and the girls to his predicament. Derpy may have warded off demons in hell just with his intimidating looks, but he’s far from a fighter.

“And how do you know that killing me will bring me back there? He doesn’t own my soul anymore.”

“What? Of course he does, he has for hundreds of years.” There’s a whisper of hesitation in the demon’s voice and Jinu leaps at the advantage.

“That’s what he told you,” Jinu laughs bitterly. “I gained possession of it and transferred it to— to someone else, before my corporal demon form was destroyed. I’m something else now. You can kill me, but you won’t earn anything. You’ll have nothing to bring back. You know as well as I do how he punishes those who return empty handed.”

“You still lie. You reek of humans,” the demon snarls, spittle flying from its mouth. Jinu cringes as he feels a trace of hot, fresh blood trickle down his collarbone, the knife so sharp he hadn’t felt it cut. “You bleed. Why do you bleed?”

“Beats me,” Jinu says, her heart beating far too hard in his chest. Leave it to the universe to reveal that to him and some bounty-hunting demon in the same day. Come on, Rumi. Could use your help about now.

“I’ll kill you and then bring your severed head to our king, how does that sound?”

His execution flashes through his mind and nausea rises in his chest, panic building just at the thought of it. He tenses, tasting bile in his mouth. But before he can reply, the sky blooms in a burst of color.

A whistle pierces the air, sharp, loud, and joined by a blinding flash of light. The object soars towards him and he closes his eyes, preparing for his untimely demise once more, what a way to go, at the hands of just some lowlife demon looking for a petty reward —

--but it doesn’t come.

The demon croaks and gurgles behind him and disintegrates, the dagger clattering to the ground at his feet. He turns his head, and finds himself face to face with Rumi’s sword sunk into the stone wall behind him, barely inches from his body. His heart slams in his chest and he steps away, eyes tracing his surroundings, looking for more demons or Rumi, he’s not sure.

“Jinu!”

Appearing seemingly out of the blue with a hint of fuschia magic trailing her, Rumi throws herself into him, nearly knocking them both down with the force, hands digging into his arms. He stumbles, but manages to keep them upright.

“Good timing. And good throw,” he jokes, his heart still pounding in his chest. The comment slides right off and he finds himself looking at Rumi’s anxious expression instead. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Her hand reaches up to trace just below the shallow cut on his neck and he winces, less at the feeling and more at the memory that had been surfacing just moments ago. She draws her shaking hand away, painted red with his blood, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“I’m okay. Just a scratch.”

She nods and buries her face in his chest, shoulders heaving with exertion and adrenaline. Mira and Zoey catch up, both vaulting over the railing and giving them a brief once over. Satisfied that everyone is in one piece, Mira steps away and raises her phone to her ear, making a phone call while wiping a smear of her own blood across her face, leaving a streak behind like war paint.

Zoey approaches, eyes creased in concern. She looks equally battered, but not broken. “I’m glad we’re all okay.”

“Me too,” Jinu agrees, running his hand carefully down the back of Rumi’s head, cradling her to his chest. He presses his cheek to her temple and closes his eyes, trying to ground himself on her weight in his arms, trying to let go of the images that had been flooding his mind. He can only imagine she is doing the same.

“Let’s go. Got a self-driving car on the way, we can clean up on the way home,” Mira says, but her eyes soften as they land on Rumi. She gives Jinu a ghost of a smile and a gentle pat on Rumi’s shoulder as she heads down the fire escape, Zoey tailing her.

Rumi pulls away, wiping at her eyes, and taking his hand without a word.

 

~~~~~

 

The four of them are silent for the drive, despite the pressure of unasked questions hanging over their heads like an anvil dangling from a thin thread. They still don’t speak when they arrive. The tower is uncomfortably quiet, footsteps echoing as Mira and Zoey take off in the direction of their rooms. Jinu follows Rumi to her room. She heads for the bathroom and emerges shortly after with a damp washcloth and a bowl of warm water in hand.

“Sit,” she instructs. Her words are hollow.

He sits on the edge of her bed and she kneels in front of him, proceeding to dab away the dried blood. He lets her, feeling oddly cared for despite her cold demeanor. He suspects she’s struggling with the idea of losing him, the what could have been — something he surely would struggle with too. Something he does struggle with the concept of. Loss and grief have always tormented him.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I’m fine,” he assures her, gently taking the cloth and bowl from her hands. She allows it, but barely. “You?”

She sucks in an unsteady breath, eyes looking anywhere but him. Reluctantly, she stands and with a considerable amount of trepidation, she lifts the edge of her shirt, revealing a considerable slash across her hip that wraps up towards her ribcage, the work of jagged demon claws. She keeps her eyes fixed on the carpet, almost looking ashamed. In the corner of the room, Derpy grumbles a low, distressed noise.

Jinu stifles a gasp and puts on his best performance to pass it off like it isn’t as severe as it looks. As far as he can tell, it doesn’t need stitches, but it does need treatment, and it’s certainly going to leave a considerable scar. It bisects multiple other old scars, and it’s now he notices that her skin is practically littered with old scars of all kinds. They tell a colorful story of their own and he can only imagine the sleepless nights where she earned these, and the hours she must have spent tending to herself, alone for fear of being discovered for what she is.

“Do you— do you want me to get Mira or Zoey?”

Rumi frowns. Old habits die hard, and she still isn’t going to them for assistance, not yet. “No. They have their own wounds to take care of. They’re both fine, just scraped up. I didn’t notice the demon that got me, I just saw you and…” She makes a little snap of her fingers and it’s then he realizes she had used that same teleportation magic, unthinkingly, hence her sudden appearance.

“Okay.” He swallows hard, focusing on the first aid kit she hands him, that he hadn’t seen her bring out with her.

Rumi sighs, pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her in a sports bra and her usual sweatpants. He shouldn’t be as taken aback as he is.

“Uh— oh—” Jinu stutters, looking away pointedly. His mind races, mostly yelling at himself internally for the thoughts he’s having, because she’s beautiful and sure he knows that already but the way her patterns cascade down over her muscled shoulders and back like ripples of sunlight on water has his mind anywhere but where he needs it. “Are you…sure?”

“I trust you,” she says simply, sitting down on the bed next to him. “It’s not like half my stage outfits aren’t this revealing anyways.” There’s a tinge of amusement there, but her face is still closed off and numb.

Right. Jinu shakes his head and then begins to rifle through the kit, pulling out gauze and antiseptic.

“I know it’ll hurt. Do what you have to,” she says, brushing her braid over her shoulder and out of the way. He nods, though doesn’t feel so sure about it at all.

Lifting the bottle of antiseptic, he douses the gauze and begins to gently dab at the edges of her wound, wincing as she sucks in sharp, uneven breaths. He finds himself humming under his breath, whether to soothe himself or her, he’s not sure, but a trace of a smile crosses Rumi’s face.

“When I was younger, Celine used to treat the worst of my wounds. Mira and Zoey knew I didn’t want to be seen and they always let it slide, even though they didn’t know why. I spent so many years terrified of them discovering by accident, and then the day it finally would have happened…you helped me keep my secret. I hope you know how much that means to me.”

“I-- I guess I kind of…saw myself in you. Scared of what you were, scared of what the marks mean, scared of being alone in our struggles. I kind of forgot our mission,” he says, a light half-laugh spilling out from him. “I had no idea, Gwi-ma never brought it up until after, he knew you had the patterns, but he didn’t tell anyone. He was afraid of the fact that he could never control you, like he could control everyone else.”

Rumi nods in silence, breathing shallow as the antiseptic stings a new section of her wound.

“I guess that makes sense.”

“You’re just cooler than literally anybody else, that’s all,” he teases, shifting to dab higher on the wound where it peters out against her ribcage. She shifts to allow him to better tend to it, but it’s obvious it pains her.

“Whatever you say, Mr. I’m-a-demon-turned-human,” she prods back, rolling her eyes. She leans away from the pressure and grimaces, trying not to move too much.

“Sorry,” Jinu mumbles, attempting to make his ministrations ever lighter.

“It’s okay. I…I really appreciate it.” Her hair falls across her face and he can’t see her features anymore, but he knows she’s being honest, and that alone says plenty to him.

Jinu continues to work in silence, finding himself humming again, something from many, many years ago that he doesn’t entirely remember. After a few more minutes, he sets down the topical treatment and carefully helps wrap her side in gauze. She cringes but it’s over quickly enough and she ducks into the bathroom and reemerges in a change of clothes.

She sets onto the bed again and leans back into his arms, like it’s something she’s done a hundred times before. He holds her, resting his head against her shoulder and yawning.

“You tired?” His own voice is heavy with sleep, the words muddled. He glances to her mirror across the room. His hair is ruffled, his eyes are half-lidded. The way Rumi is tucked into his arms and drawn into herself could very well be a Renaissance painting.

“Yeah. You?”

“Mmhmm. It’s been dark out for hours. Need to sleep.”

Rumi yawns too and slowly they lay down together, Jinu remaining wrapped around her, his eyes resisting his attempts to keep them open. As soon as he lets them close at last with rest on his mind, he plunges deep into sleep, and a dream.

 

~~~~~~

 

“They’re — they’re not ready yet.”

It’s a lie, and a terrible one at that. He picks at the hanbok, nerves electric and veins ablaze with adrenaline. His fellow demons frown, brows deeply furrowed.

“What do you mean, not ready?” Romance asks, scowling. “They said we were up first.”

“Well, uh. Something changed, and, well—“

“Jinu, why are we stalling?” Abby, looming over him.

“It— it’s just—“

Rumi. It’s Rumi, it’s his promise that he would let her win. That he would make sure his band would lose.

A promise he would never have been able to uphold in any reality. A promise he made in a moment of foolish hopefulness, a moment of idiocy. A mistake. It’s always been a mistake.

“Gwi-ma?” Suggests Baby, adjusting his gat. The others shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, last minute things, you know. Can’t have it all when you have the lord of demons also functioning as your manager and special effects, haha,” Jinu says, voice hollow and barely hiding a tremble.

Rumi will see his betrayal, and she will kill him. He supposes its best that way. He knows it’ll destroy her. That it’ll be the last piece of the puzzle he had masterminded. The finishing blow. The twist of the knife he no longer wished to wield.

He feels sick. Demons don’t feel sick.

“No. I don’t think you’re telling the truth,” Abby says, a slight snarl growing in his tone.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m not. I’m in charge of all of you,” Jinu says, trying to stand even more upright, as though his comparatively small frame is more intimidating than it truly is.

“Gwi-ma is the only one who rules us. All you are is a demon who thought he was better than the rest,” growls Mystery, voice low and tinged with aggression.

From there, it devolves into a fight. At some point, Jinu hears the MC calling for them, and someone bursts into the room and promptly leaves, but the shouting and yelling and shoving is too much, they’re practically at each other’s throats. Jinu defends himself verbally and physically, but it’s useless, this is no better than a standard demon fray in the underworld.

“ENOUGH.”

The demon lord’s voice rumbles through their corporeal forms and they freeze. The icy pull of Gwi-ma’s chains around his wrists burn like hellfire.

“You will do as you said you would. You will get onto that stage, and execute our plan. You are getting soft, Jinu. It’s pathetic. No wonder you were so desperate to make a deal with me. You were useless, worthless, to your family, and you’re hardly any use to me either. But if you do as told, that will all be gone. Remember who is in control here.”

An echo of their cries pass through his mind, amplified for a moment. Jinu’s body trembles as Gwi-ma’s otherworldly presence slips away like ice water down his spine. Chilling, unnerving, and terrifying. The others are similarly shaken, and a dead silence falls over them. Jinu swallows.

“Slight change of plans. It’ll work. You all, be prepared to get on stage.”

“We’re still performing?” Baby, scowling. The others also seem annoyed, though there is now an air of fiery temper, something simmering in the air.

“The show must go on, as they say,” Jinu mutters, stalking off towards the stage and snapping his fingers, two demons materializing and following behind him. He snaps again, two others sprinting off into the backstage prep area. His heart sinks down through his feet, feeling as though it’s fallen straight back into the hell he had known for so long.

I’m sorry, Rumi. I truly wish we could have been free.

She’s beautiful on stage. More than anyone has a right to be. Full of life, full of energy, full of hope as she soars over the audience. Full of something awe-inspiring, that he is about to crush. He listens to the song crescendo, hitting every note with ease as she dances her way back across the stage. He gestures with his hand, snaps his fingers, and spins on his heel as the lights go dark. The two demons, now in disguise as the other two Hunters, scurry off, shoving past him in their eagerness. He can’t watch this.

Tears sting at the corners of his eyes as he finds somewhere to hide until his band is inevitably called on stage.

He’s a coward, and he always has been. He takes the easy way out, picks the options that favor him best. Doesn’t act unless it benefits him. He hates himself for it.

Why has he always had to live with so much regret? At least soon enough, it’ll be over, and the torment will be no longer.

The music changes abruptly and clamoring comes from somewhere in the distance. Jinu picks up his pace and pushes further into the building, looking for somewhere he can’t hear just what he’s done. It haunts him, anyways.

~~~~~

Jinu doesn’t startle awake, not this time, but when he wakes his body is cold and hot all at once, something he vaguely remembers from his time as a human. A cold sweat. It’s uncomfortable at best. He carefully eases Rumi from his arms and onto her pillow. He deftly slides out of the bed, padding across the room and slipping onto the balcony, where the cool air quickly dries him. The sky is lightening, the morning beginning to break through. He casts a look back to Rumi, who is sleeping peacefully, Derpy curled at her feet, and Sussie perched on the headboard, head tucked into his chest feathers. Rumi breathes a sigh in her sleep and draws her blanket further up her shoulders.

His heart settles in his chest, the first rays of morning light spilling across the city in rose gold beams, throwing long shadows in their wake. The world becomes alive once more as the day breaks, like the infectious bubble of laughter, like a hot drink on a cold day, like finally coming home.

The dark doesn’t last forever.

Notes:

Thank you thank you thank you all for the comments!! Ahhh it means so much <333

Notes:

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned!