Chapter Text
Rumi was back there. That night, the Idol Awards. The performance was going well, she and Mira and Zoey were singing and dancing better than they had in ages, and then it all went wrong. Takedown started to play, and her body reacted before she could, muscle memory taking over as she began to perform, she could get through this—and then Mira and Zoey, the two people she was closest with, her family, were ripping her jacket off, calling her a demon and exposing her patterns for all the world to see.
She could feel her patterns spreading, the Honmoon shattering, as she begged herself not to run. Not to go downstairs. But in memories, what’s done is done. And she could do little more than watch as her body fled the stage and came to Mira and Zoey. The real Mira and Zoey. And like they had that night, like they had every night since, they pointed their weapons at her no matter how much Rumi begged and pleaded with them. And then, as always, they attacked her, their faces merciless, and Rumi screamed.
—---
Mira was awake and out of bed, weapon in hand, before she was consciously aware of why. There was a moment of silence, of calm, just long enough for her to doubt her instincts, to think that whatever had woken her was just a bad dream, when she heard it again. A scream, laden with so much anguish and pain it broke her heart. She knew that scream.
She dismissed her blade in a flash of light as she ran down the hall—god, why were there rooms so far away?—stopping in front of Rumi’s room half a second before Zoey arrived next to her. They had always been light sleepers, a benefit when demon attacks don't stick to a regular schedule, but ever since everything that happened at the Idol Awards, neither of them had been particularly restful. The hallway faintly glowed with deep purple light, shining from the crack under the door. Not a good sign.
“Rumi?” The older girl called out tentatively. To no response. Then, a sob from within.
“Rumi, we’re coming in,” Zoey said after a brief pause, attempting to turn the handle—which proved to be locked. Not deterred in the slightest, the purple glow was briefly stifled by the warm light of the Honmoon as Zoey summoned one of her knives, cleanly sliced through the door’s lock, and dismissed it in a single fluid motion.
Mira blinked at her girlfriend. “That was clever.”
“First thing I thought of, I figured Rumi would be less mad than if you broke her door down. Come on, you can admire my awesome lock picking later, Rumi needs us.”
In any other circumstance, Mira would've argued that, strictly speaking, that didn't actually count as lock picking, but this wasn't any other circumstance. Zoey was right, Rumi needed them.
As they pushed upon the now literally unlocked door, the entire room within was bathed in purple. On the far side lay Rumi, curled into as small of a ball as she could possibly get at the top of her bed and shaking as she cried, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her patterns flared a bright purple as they only did when she was deeply afraid.
Mira and Zoey approached her silently, sitting down on either side of their girl less than an arm's reach away, just barely not touching her.
“Rumi?” Mira said softly to her. “You're okay baby, we're here.”
“We're not leaving you,” Zoey added.
“Zo—Zoey?” Rumi whimpered, and immediately the younger girl’s hand was cupping her face, ever so gently rubbing the tears from Rumi’s cheek.
“I'm here. You're okay. Come back to us Rumi.”
Wordlessly, Mira began softly rubbing Rumi’s back, easing out the tension, tracing along her patterns that danced like vibrant lightning bolts across her exposed shoulders, their light easily breaking through the tank top the purple-haired girl wore. It was a simple black thing with a flame pattern along its base, a gift from Mira shortly after their defeat of Gwi-Ma just a couple of weeks ago. That her biceps looked incredible in it was a side benefit.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Rumi’s breathing began to calm. After a few minutes, her eyes cracked open. “Zoey? Mira?” she asked shakily.
Zoey’s face broke into a gentle smile. “We're here Rumi.”
“I—you—” Rumi began to stammer.
“Just breathe,” Mira stopped her, unfolding from her seated position to lay next to Rumi, fully enveloping her. “You're safe, baby. It’s alright.”
Zoey swiftly joined the pair and Mira wrapped her arms around them both, and for a while they simply lay together in silence as Rumi’s patterns gradually faded to a soft blue. They were together, and they loved each other so profoundly, and that was enough.
Head pushed into the back of Rumi’s hair, softly nuzzling the nape of her neck, Mira eventually asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rumi took a deep breath before nodding. “I was back at the Idol Awards. Takedown. We were so close to winning, to sealing the Honmoon, and then they—you—I know it wasn't you you, but . . . I couldn't hide anymore. What I am, my patterns, everything that I had spent my entire life keeping secret and pretending like it didn't exist, and suddenly everyone knew that I’m a monster. That I'm a mistake. And then after the song, when I saw you both and—and—”
Her voice gave out then, the air heavy with the words she didn't say. You drew your weapons on me. I needed you, and you abandoned me. Zoey and Mira had apologized profusely the day after everything had happened, and Rumi had brushed it off, said that everything was fine. They both knew she was lying, but they waited for her to bring it up when she was ready.
“Hey, you are NOT a monster,” Zoey reassured her, wiggling upward to kiss the taller girl’s forehead. “You're not a mistake. You're our best friend.”
Mira exhaled heavily, her warm breath tickling the back of Rumi’s neck before she propped herself up onto her elbow so she could see Rumi’s face, her legs still tangled around her partners’. “We—I was hurt. Not that you were part demon, yes that was a shock but that's all it was. But the fact that you had lied, that you had kept that from me, and when I asked you what was wrong you lied to my face and I couldn't tell. We were so close, you and Zoey were the first people I opened up to, that I felt comfortable with, and . . . it hurt that you didn't feel the same way. And when I'm hurt I lash out, I always have.” She looked directly into Rumi’s eyes, hoping to somehow psychically convey the sincerity of her statement. “I don't know how you can forgive me, but I will regret that for the rest of my life.”
“I was scared,” Zoey admitted quietly. “I know that's not an excuse, but it's true. And . . . yeah. It hurt that I had only been allowed to know half of you. As soon as it happened I wanted to chase after you, to apologize, but I just couldn't make my body move. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn't too much, like I was enough, and I thought I had lost you. I had driven you away. I know it's not enough, it can never be enough, but . . . I'm sorry.”
Rumi started crying again, and soon they all were, but it was softer this time, not driven by fear. “I’m sorry too. I never wanted to keep it from you,” she whispered through the tears. “Either of you. My whole life, Celine had said that I had to, that you wouldn't understand, that until the patterns were gone I had to hide them or everyone would know that I'm a monster.”
“Urgh, I want to hit Celine in her stupid smug face!” Zoey cried. “I can't believe she said that to you! You're a good person , Rumi.”
“You are not a monster,” Mira told her. “We will tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe it. You are intelligent and powerful and beautiful, and your patterns are a part of you and they are gorgeous.” With each compliment, Mira kissed her way along the purple-haired girl’s collarbone and up the side of her neck. “And it kills me that you have ever felt otherwise. That I ever made you feel that way.”
“You're not with Celine anymore, she can't tell you what to do or what you can be,” Zoey added. “And I think you're stunning. And strong. And incredible.” Following suit, with every word of praise she planted a kiss on Rumi’s temple, her cheek, her neck, the purple haired girl almost subconsciously tilting her head to provide easier access. And with each kiss, her patterns turned progressively pinker. “Also, your patterns are like a really pretty mood ring which is so fun!”
“You're our Rumi,” Mira said, a bit more fiercely than she had meant to, as fiercely as she felt the emotion behind the words. “Ours. Not Celine’s, not anyone else's. If you'll still have us?”
Even when it was just the three of them, it was rare that Mira fully let go of her armour, but the expression on her face was one of complete sincerity, her emotions plain to see. Longing, shame, guilt that she felt so undeserving of love and yet had the audacity to ask for it anyway.
In lieu of an answer, Rumi pulled her girlfriends tight to her, kissing each of them in turn. “I love you two.” After a moment of bliss, she processed the rest of what Zoey had said. “Wait, how am I a mood ring?”
“Oh, you didn't know?” Mira asked coyly, lightly tracing one of Rumi’s patterns along her arm, the marks flaring brighter pink at her touch.
“Well, let’s see,” Zoey chimed in excitedly. “You light up purple when you're scared, light blue when you're content, gold when you're really happy, and I think you can figure out pink,” she added with a smirk, giving Rumi another squeeze and making the pink flare momentarily brighter.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it's adorable,” Mira smiled. “Love you.”
“Same,” Zoey grinned, snuggling somehow even closer to the pair.
Soon after, all three drifted off to sleep once more. And for the first time in weeks, they slept well. Together.