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Rumi locks the dressing room door behind her, immediately leaning forward towards the mirror, looking up at her reflection. After she choked on her words twice while practicing Golden for their Live show, she all but ran from the stage. Something isn’t right with her voice. But it can't be what she is imagining. Can it?
With her breath caught in her throat and shaky hands, she reaches for the zipper on the collar of her Golden top and slowly slides it down. Her stomach sinks.
A sound between a gasp and a choke escapes her throat. There, under her top, purple streaks rise from her chest, pointing right at her vocal cords.
“No.” Her voice shakes, one arm folding in front of her stomach as if it could keep it from twisting. “My voice,” she slowly wraps her hand around her throat, her breathing now quick and short.
She can’t do this. She can’t be here. She lost the one thing she had to fix everything. To fix herself. The floor beneath her shakes - or her legs are shaking… or her whole body.
Run. She hears a voice say. Don’t let anyone see. Your faults and fears must never be seen.
So she does. She bolts from the studio and finds herself back in the tower. The only place she knows no one is. She goes straight to the rooftop, stepping closer to the ledge and watching Seoul from high above. The honmoon seems intact - for now anyway.
Suddenly, her clothes feel like too much, suffocating even. She peels away her Golden jacket, carelessly tossing it on the floor, exposing her patterned shoulders and arms. The cold wind bites at her uncovered skin, bringing chills that she promptly ignores.
“Okay,” she takes a deep breath and tries singing again.
No more hiding
I’ll be shining
Like I’m born to be
Her lips quirk up a little as she hits the note, her confidence coming back to her in a warm fuzz around her heart. She continues, stronger.
‘Cause we are hunters
Voices strong, and
I Know I belie-
The rest of the word comes out somewhere between a choke and a cough. Her breath catches, and she feels sudden dizziness, her hands supporting her on the ledge.
“How am I supposed to fix the world,” she asks no one, “fix me if I don’t have my voice?”
A new swirl of emotions takes over her. Frustration. Anger. Desperation. Fear.
“Why now that I am so close?” She cries. “Why? ”
The boom of her voice - not her normal voice, something like an echo and static and… demon-like - ripples through the honmoon.
Her eyes widen as she gasps, staring at it in horror as she takes a step back, ready to bolt again. But the second she spins around, she freezes.
Standing there, frozen and with eyes just as wide as hers probably were, are Mira and Zoey.
Her world tilts, like all the air has been knocked out of her. Her eyes fall to her discarded jacket on the floor, which Mira slowly picks up. She looks down at her uncovered patterns, then up, meeting her eyes. Panic rises in Rumi’s chest.
“No. No no no.” Rumi breathes the word over and over as she tries to cover herself up with her arms. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she says, her voice nearly breaking.
“Rumi,” Zoey says low and shaky. “How do you have patterns?”
“These were supposed to be gone,” Rumi mutters. “Y-you were never supposed to see.”
“You’ve been hiding this from us,” Mira’s voice thick with betrayal. Her once steady and certain stupor now nearly breaking, her shoulders sagging as if she’s lost all the fight in her. “This whole time?”
“No, I-“ Rumi takes a tentative step forward, and both girls take a step back, halting Rumi in place, her eyes stinging with tears.
“I knew it,” Mira says. Her voice pained and barely a scoff. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“No. No, Mira,” she begs, though she doesn’t know exactly what she is begging for - their understanding, their patience, or for this to not be happening. “We are so close. You saw the gold. It’s gonna fix it. Fix me ”
Mira fights the urge to summon her Woldo. She knows she should. There is a demon in front of her, and that’s what she’s been training for for as long as she can remember.
But when that demon takes the form of their leader, of one of the girls she’s sure she’s been in love with for half her life, she hesitates. She can’t bring herself to do it - and even if she did, she’d never do anything to hurt Rumi. Demon or no demon.
Rumi takes the silence and hesitation as rejection. It can only be rejection. Celine warned her about this, she told her what would happen if they knew. She had hoped it wouldn’t be true, but watching them frozen, with hurt and fear in their eyes, breaks something deep inside.
Her ribcage aches as if someone had actually driven a honmoon weapon straight through it. So she does the only thing she has ever known.
Her knees connect with the floor. “Please,” She begs between sobs. “Don’t leave. I can still fix it.” Her wrists meet the floor, rippling the honmoon in angry red.
Her eyes widen as her sobs intensify. Her breathing grows erratic. Her bandmates' gasps only make the voices in her head louder.
A demon.
A mistake.
Since the day you were born.
“Rumi…” Zoey steps forward as cautiously as if approaching a feral animal, but Rumi shrinks into herself, as if preparing for the blow.
“Zoey, please,” the half-demon begs, voice breaking in the end. Closing her eyes, she all but wills all this to be one of her nightmares. She can’t hurt them. She would never forgive herself if she did. So it would be better if they just end it right here, right now.
“It’s ok,” Zoey tries, but she has stopped moving. “You’re okay,” she promises.
Rumi wants to believe her. Everything in her is willing her to believe.
Nothing can change until your patterns are gone.
They won’t understand.
You need to hide it.
Celine’s voice reverberates through her mind. Her arms instinctively wrap around herself, nails digging into her skin, almost tight enough to break skin. Her whole body trembling.
Zoey notices the slight shift and turns to Mira with pleading eyes. Say something. She begs in silence. Help me.
Mira wants to move. She wants to reach out and hold both girls. To tell them everything will be okay, but she can’t because, well… this time she isn’t sure she’ll mean it. Not yet. She is afraid and confused, and hurt. She needs to understand what is happening.
“How long have you-“ Mira begins.
“Now’s not the time, Mira.” Zoey cuts her off, her voice choked as she turns back to Rumi. “Please, Rumi, let’s go inside. Please”
“I-“ Rumi tries, her eyes downcast like she can’t stand to look up and see the disgust in her girls’ eyes. She curls even deeper into herself, her nails now actually biting into her upper arm.
“I’m walking to you, okay?” Zoey warns softly, taking a slow step forward, and Rumi’s head snaps up.
Of all the things she thought she’d find once she met the maknae’s eyes, concern and worry were not it. Disgust, hurt, fear, even anger… but not the same way she’d look at Rumi when she got sick or had a stomachache.
The same soft eyes that would bring her soup or a cup of tea. Something shatters deeper yet inside Rumi. She doesn’t deserve that look. She lied. She is a mistake.
In one swift motion, Rumi is standing, startling Zoey in the process. Her primal instinct hits, and she knows she needs to run. She needs to get out of here.
The girls are better off without her.
Everyone is better off without her.
Before she can properly register or move, warm arms wrap around her, and she can’t help the sob that escapes her. She can feel Zoey shaking, her tears falling onto her shirt.
“Please, stay,” Zoey begs in a whisper.
“Why?" She asks. “Why would you want me to stay?”
Zoey pulls away enough to look at her, her grip still tight as if the second she lets go, Rumi will vanish.
“How long have you had them?” Zoey asks softly, sniffling as tears stream down her face.
“Why does that matter?”
“How long?” She asks again - stronger this time, firmer - ignoring Rumi’s question.
“I… was born with it,” Rumi replies shamefully, looking away from the younger girl.
Zoey gently pulls her face back to look at her. With the height difference, Rumi is looking down into her eyes. “That just proves that you are still the same Rumi we met years ago.”
The soft smile that grows on the youngest’s face loosens the tight knot that has been gripping Rumi’s heart. What she did to deserve this, she doesn’t know. But she does know that she will fight Gwi-ma herself if it means Zoey gets to keep that smile.
“Can we please go inside now?” Zoey asks. “We can eat and- and talk. Or not talk. Maybe talk in the morning.”
Rumi’s eyes go past Zoey to a still frozen Mira. Her eyes still glossy and her fists clenched on her sides. She lifts her head slowly, eyes finding Rumi’s.
“I- I think food is a good idea right now,” she declares.
They sit at their dinner table, bibimbap bowl in front of each of them - Mira’s treat, as usual. Rumi seems to be very interested in playing with the vegetables in her bowl. Mira sits quietly, at least a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue.
Zoey, though, is looking between the two girls. Deciding what would be the best approach and how to make both feel anything but this dreading sensation she knows they all feel.
It’s Rumi who breaks the silence first, voice quiet and small. “I am sorry about the show.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure everything is fine.” Zoey says lightly, reassuringly. “Bobby can handle it.”
“Plus,” Mira’s voice catches Rumi’s attention. “We can reschedule another live show within weeks.”
Rumi knows she is trying. Trying to be okay with everything. With her. But she also knows Mira well enough to know she is holding herself back from questioning. She sees it in the slight twitch of her mouth, the furrowed pink brows, and how she is controlling her breathing. Almost a lifetime of sparring and dancing together taught the three hunters all the tell-tales of each other.
“You can ask, Mira.” Rumi drops her eyes, focusing back on the food in front of her.
“I just want to understand why. How… when .” She says after a beat, letting out a long sigh.
“I don’t know much about it myself,” Rumi confesses, still looking down. Celine has told her about her father, but the same phrase always follows. You are not one of them, Rumi. You’re a hunter like your mother. And she wanted to believe that, but then why did she have patterns?
“Should we call Celine?” Zoey suggests.
“NO!” Rumi says too quickly, too loudly, startling the two girls.
“I feel like there’s a story there.” Mira murmurs, being rewarded with Zoey’s elbow to her ribs. “I mean,” She tries to correct herself. “Celine could maybe help.”
“She won’t.” Rumi’s voice shook. She knows exactly what Celine would do. “She will tell me what she always does-”
“Celine-” Zoey’s voice cuts her off. “She… knows?”
“Y-yeah” Rumi sighs. Fidgeting with her chopsticks. “She promised my mother she’d look after me. My father was a…” She trails off, her breathing growing uneven again.
Her hand is stilled by Zoey’s, her heart thundering in her ears as she meets the maknae’s eyes. Slowly, she sees Mira’s hand joining, reassuring. Encouraging her to continue or silently telling her that it’s okay, that she doesn’t have to.
“He was a demon.” Her voice nearly breaks over the word. “My patterns were only in my upper arm, but they kept spreading and I-” that tightness comes back to her, her eyes unfocus, her heart squeezes, and it’s like she can’t breathe.
She can hear movement but can’t see it. Closing her eyes, she wills her lungs to work, her eyes to hold in the tears until she is alone. Keep it in. Don’t let it show. But a light squeeze in her hand and strong, safe arms wrapping around her from behind, ground her.
“She told me to hide.” She leans into Mira, who tightens her arms, pulling her impossibly closer. “She said you wouldn’t understand.”
Zoey and Mira share a look that speaks a million words. Like a silent conversation they’ve had more times than they can count. Something sparks in Zoey’s eyes, like a realization, and she snaps her eyes back to Rumi.
“Is this the reason why you’ve never been to the bath house with us?” She accuses more than asks.
Rumi can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips, at the same time that Mira groans. “This is what you are worried about, Zoey?”
“I thought she hated spending time with us,” Zoey shrugs. “She kept avoiding it.”
Warmth sets in her chest as the two girls bicker back and forth, and then it dawns on her. She realizes what Zoey said.
“Omg Zoey, no.” She shifts her hand, still in Zoey’s, and intertwines their fingers. “I never hated your company. I just… I couldn’t go, but I wanted to. So many times I wanted to, and Celine wouldn’t let me.” She swears she hears Mira’s teeth clench but says nothing about it.
Every single time, Celine would tell her the same thing. That nothing could change until the honmoon has turned gold. Until her patterns were gone. Until she was fixed.
“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.” Unable to hold back any longer, a single tear spills, rolling down her cheeks. “I am so sorry I lied to you.”
Zoey, ever the understanding girl that she is, shakes her head and comes closer. “We get it, Rumi.”
“Yeah,” Mira seconds her. “I would’ve probably done the same thing.”
God, she loves these two so much. Even when she doesn’t deserve it, even after she hurt them and lied to them, they still hold her. Reassure her. Understand her. She sobs freely now. Not from fear, pain or panic. But love. Love for her girls.
Zoey shifts, joining the cuddle pile, wrapping her arms around Rumi’s middle. Her head just under the half-demon’s chin.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Rumi manages between tears.
“You won’t ever lose us,” Zoey says firmly, tightening her arms.
“You won’t get rid of us that easily is what she means” Mira corrects, pulling a wet laugh out of Rumi.
“I love you two,” the purple-haired girl confesses. And she means it like she never meant anything else.
“We love you too,” Mira says, supporting her chin on Rumi’s neck.
She knows the girls have more questions, just as she knows there’s a lot more to figure out about all this. Not only that, but somehow, she feels connected to the honmoon and she can feel it weak and getting even weaker. Something isn’t right. She can feel it in every cell of her body. But tonight, right at this moment, she doesn’t have the strength to leave the cuddle pile, afraid to break down as soon as the girls are a single step too far from her
So, they stay there like that for a while. A tangle of limbs pressing close like they are afraid to let go for too long. All tears and half-jokes. Safe . Her safe space. Her home . No more lies. No more secrets. Just raw honesty because she knows better now what she knew all along. No matter what, they will always have each other’s backs.
“Does it hurt?” Zoey asks as one finger trails Rumi’s upper arm patterns. A faint glow follows her movements.
They are in the living room area now, sitting on the couch as the girls marvel at her patterns, looking at them in a way she could never do herself. It makes her self-conscious at the same time, it makes her heart beat a bit faster than normal - for reasons she is not sure she is ready to dive into.
“No,” Rumi replies, her entire body chilling under Zoey’s finger. “It tingles when they glow sometimes,”
“It’s got a soft pink glow now,” Mira notes. “Earlier, it was a dark red. Does that mean it responds to your emotions?” She takes her time tracing the lead singer’s forearm. The same faint glow follows her motions.
“I-” She never stopped to think about it. Never looked at them long enough to know, either. “Maybe they do.”
“What are you feeling now?” Mira’s low, hoarse voice brings goosebumps all over her body.
“I feel…”
How does she begin to explain? She feels calmer, that’s for certain. But there is something else there, a light fluttering in her chest. It’s always there when near Zoey and Mira, but usually it’s adamant, quiet, barely perceptible. Now? It’s strong. Stronger than it’s ever been before. It’s leaving her quite winded if she were to be fully honest.
“Calm,” She settles on. Which isn’t a lie. “Safe,” She adds.
All the taller girl does is hum. Zoey is awfully quiet, which is quite unlike her, while her eyes roam all over Rumi’s body. The half-demon feels her cheeks growing warm, her patterns shift to a more vivid pink.
“Oh my God!” Zoey squeals. “She is blushing.” She says way too enthusiastically. “Mira, look!” She reaches for the dancer, shaking her arms, too happy with herself.
“I am obsessed.” Mira smirks.
Rumi pulls her arms and covers her face. She might actually die if the girls continue on this path. Her stomach flutters even more as she feels her hands being pulled back from her face.
“You are so cute, Rumi,” Zoey smiles, placing a quick peck on her cheek.
She is sure her heart stops for as long as Zoey’s lips linger. Seconds that felt like ages. Mira’s lips come next, on her other cheek. They are having way too much fun at her expense, but she can’t find it in herself to be mad about it. She’d do anything to hear Zoey’s soft giggles and Mira’s amused chuckles, the ones she only lets out around her bandmates.
“Stoppp” Rumi begs between giggles.
Zoey sits straight, pulling away suddenly with a loud gasp that startles everyone.
“What?” Mira yelps. “What happened?”
“Does this mean we finally get to go to the bath house with Rumi?” She jumps up and down in her seat, all excited and bubbly, looking at Rumi with huge puppy eyes.
All Rumi can do is laugh. A soft, full, rich laugh. One she is sure she hasn’t let out in what feels like ages.
“Yes, Zo,” The purple-haired girl says finally. “I can go to the bath house with you.”
Zoey squeals. Mira’s jaw drops. And Rumi? Rumi laughs again because how can she not? Now they know. And they are still here. They haven’t fled or looked at her differently. If anything, they seem even closer to her now. Their presence is a warm reassurance that she isn’t alone, that she has never actually been.
It will take her some time to get used to not hiding, not covering it up. She is certain, though, that with her two girls by her side, she can do anything. They will figure everything out. Together.