Chapter 1: Nothing But the Truth Now
Chapter Text
It was a happy ending. With the Honmoon in place and the demon realm sealed for good, it was, truly, a happy ending. The happiest really. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey can finally retire half of their lives. There would always be Huntr/x, but with the Honmoon in place, there wasn’t a need for hunters. At least, of the demon variety. There were strays, some demons that managed to escape onto earth before the New Honmoon was sealed. They were far and few in between, and returning them to where they belong didn’t require all three girls to do. They usually took turns, performing rock, paper, and scissors amongst themselves to determine who would have to go out and do it. No job took more than thirty minutes, but when it came to having couch time interrupted, and with warming ramyeon on the coffee table, sacrificing thirty minutes to kill a demon might as well felt like a lifetime.
It was a period of learning for Rumi, of adjusting and unpacking. Most of her life was spent hiding half of who she was. She was raised to be ashamed of her marks, to hate her demon heritage. She still didn’t know how she came to be, and Celine, her caretaker, was less than forthcoming with the details of how her mom met her dad. While growing up, Celine never outright called her a mistake, but then again, she never had to. The fear of what she was, was hidden in the subtext of Celine’s teachings. The disdain for her marks was ill-hidden in the way that Celine would cling onto the promise of the Golden Honmoon, like the barrier wouldn’t just seal Gwi-Ma and his demons away, but would also erase the evidence of Rumi’s impossible existence too. Celine never had to say it. Rumi could see it behind her eyes. She could see it in the way Celine hesitated to touch her when she was small, and could hear it in the way that Celine would command her to cover up her skin. The shame…it grew. The fear of Mira and Zoey finding out that she was the very thing that they swore to destroy strangled any desire to tell them the truth. Rumi’s salvation was the Honmoon, and she had been incredibly close to erasing the cursed violet purple of her demon marks. But then, they happened.
The Saja Boys.
The collapse of the Honmoon.
The disappearances.
In the middle of it all, Rumi almost lost her voice. She had a front row seat to her devolution. The wisps of her humanity slipped through sharpened claws. Rumi almost lost herself.
Gwi-Ma almost won. Juni tapped into her shame, her guilt at being alive as what she was, but then Rumi realized that she was more than her marks. She reconciled with the shame and fear, acknowledging that just because she felt them, it didn’t mean that she was less than a person that she thought that she was. She wasn’t alone. Mira and Zoey were always by her side, had always been, and the moment she let them in, Rumi felt invincible.
If only that feeling stayed with her always.
Her marks changed. Since they defeated Gwi-Ma, they went from being a deep purple to shimmering and iridescent. They sparkled with multiple colors, the marks themselves multifaceted, vibrant, and radiant. They were beautiful now. It took a long time to change what they meant to her. Mira and Zoey loved them, both finding them attractive and badass at times, especially when the flow of Rumi’s power caused them to glow brightly. When she was just herself, they faded into her skin tone, the marks still there, but not as obvious. No matter how they appeared, residual feelings of shame, sadness, and grief would whisper through her. It was ghostlike, not as loud as it used to be, but still there and still weighing on her mind. Despite wanting to cover up, Rumi forced herself to show her marks, and every time without fail, Mira and Zoey supported her. Their fans supported her too, always showing innocent and respectful fascination of her patterns.
Life settled into something of a routine. Huntr/x went on tour, their voices ensuring that the Honmoon stayed strong, and in their free time, they enjoyed their down time. After a while, Mira and Zoey started dating. It was to be expected. Their chemistry was unmatched. They were such a perfect combination of black cat and golden retriever personalities, that the fans predicted their relationship before Rumi caught wind of it. Of course, she was elated for them, ecstatic even, more excited that she could share this moment with them and be a part of this new chapter. After sitting down and talking with them, everyone agreed that the new changes in dynamic wouldn’t change anything about the girl group. Rumi was just as happy with being their friend.
But then the headlines started.
Rumi: The Third Wheel of Huntr/x?
Can Huntr/x Handle a Romantic Relationship?
Zoey and Mira Picking Favorites in the Group??
“Hey, don’t let those get to you,” Zoey said to her, her voice sweet and her eyes infinitely kind. “None of those are true, and if you need a reminder, we’re here for you. Always.”
“Yeah, it’s just the tabloids acting like vultures again,” Mira added as she sat on the other side of Rumi.
Rumi smiled and held their hands. They were both right. That’s what the press and paparazzi did. Even if it wasn’t true, there was money in spreading rumors and gossip. Even if it wasn’t true, people consumed it as though it was. It would pass too before something else grabbed a hold of the public.
Still…
Rumi, against her better judgement, was starting to feel like the third wheel. It wasn’t anything that Mira or Zoey were doing. No. But Rumi couldn’t deny the fear of missing out when Zoey and Mira went out on dates, or vacations, or parties together. Each time, they invited Rumi, stating that they would be delighted to have her along. At first, Rumi would go, just because they invited her and she wanted to be polite, but even while sitting at the same table, she felt as though she was intruding on something that didn’t hold the same space as it did for couples who were dating. It wasn’t awkward to see Zoey and Mira kissing or cuddling, but it filled Rumi with an emotion that felt too much like longing and was coupled with something else that felt suspiciously like jealousy.
Rumi had to take a step back for her own sake.
She was content with life. It was simple, with its ups and downs, but it was hers. It was forged and curated in her own image, full of a life of love and acceptance. She couldn’t ask for anymore. Until she saw you.
Rumi stepped into her favorite coffee shop to order a latte. She made sure to hide her identity well, or, as well as she could with purple hair. She opted to wear a hoodie and shove her hair beneath a hood, completing her look with sunglasses and a hat. Was the hat overkill? In conjunction to the hood, yes. But she couldn’t be too careful. Unfortunately, she wasn’t careful enough. After Rumi paid, she walked away with her coveted drink, more than excited and eager to sip it when something collided into her.
She swore that she was falling in slow motion in the most dramatic way possible.
At one moment, she was standing on two feet, and in the next, she was teetering over. From the corner of her eye, someone else was falling with her, but she couldn’t see too much beyond her disturbed equilibrium and her coveted drink that was now gone from her hands. The floor rushed towards her, even if her fall was dramatically slow. By the time Rumi landed hard on the ground, she was on her back and groaning. A weight had settled on her, one that kept her pinned down. It took a few milliseconds for the dull pain in her limbs to ebb away, and by the time she gathered herself, there was so much to take in.
First, was the person on top of her. The one nestled in between her legs. They landed on her ungraciously, and how they both ended up like this, Rumi wouldn’t know. All she knew was that her face was heating up for a different reason entirely. She was on her back, her upper body supported on her elbows. If she’d seen it coming, her landing would have been more graceful. After all, Rumi had the reflexes for it. But here she was, a drink soaked into her hoodie, her glasses knocked off her face, and her hair exposed to the gathering crowd around them.
Second, was the-
“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry!”
Your voice. You were flustered, your attention everywhere but on the person in front of you.
“I’m such a klutz,” you rambled on, gathering the napkins you already had in your hand and pressing them against this stranger to soak up the mess you made.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Rumi said, the instinct to sooth the social slight overriding everything else. “It was an accide-”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Not when her eyes locked onto yours. That’s when it got painfully cliché. Like straight out of a damn drama. The slow motion. The starstruck stares. The slow R&B music Rumi swore that she heard if she concentrated hard enough. All of the stereotypes that came with the corny dramas that Rumi watched and would never admit out loud that she loved.
It was happening to her now, and she wasn’t the only person enthralled.
You were staring at her too, and were close enough that Rumi could smell whatever cologne you were wearing today. She got an eyeful of your features, of the slope of your nose, and the curve of your lips. Something else was also happening, and when she looked down, that’s when Rumi saw it. Your hands on her chest. Correction. You were trying to soak up the latte that you spilled on her, and unfortunately, her hoodie was doing a better job of absorbing the excess liquid than the cheap napkins in your hands. There was nothing left besides the smell of expresso, the stickiness of sweetener, and the bits of napkin that were falling apart between your touch and her body. Before long, there wasn’t a barrier between your palms and Rumi. All the napkins in your hold disintegrated, but you weren’t focused on that. You were busy trying to make this better, your mind on hyperdrive when this all happened in public, and you were the reason for why.
Unfortunately, that left nothing except your hands on her body and Rumi swallowed thickly. She stammered, her eyes flickering between your face and your hands on her chest. That’s when it finally clicked, and the situation caught up with you. Never mind the latte. You had something red and sugary in your hand, something that smelled like watermelons when you read the menu, and that went all over her too. Your arms and fingers were coated in the mixture of spilled drinks to create a layer of stickiness that you weren’t sure if soap itself would be enough to remove, but that didn’t mean too much now.
You realized that you were fondling this poor woman beneath you.
Snatching your hands away like they were on fire didn’t seem quick enough, and your face grew another shade darker when you realized that this wasn’t the most incriminating thing that was happening with this mortifying interaction. The press of her body against yours had your heart threatening to beat its way through your ribs and out of your chest cavity. That still wasn’t the end of it. You could feel the press of defined muscle beneath the layer of clothes, and it embarrassed you when your mind short-circuited again. You were too gay for this!
“I’m…I’m…”
You were going to apologize again, but that was until you finally, finally, stopped to see who exactly you were on. Your brain finally caught up, after jumping hurdles and through hoops, you were finally able to see who exactly you were on. The purple hair. The long braid that was tucked underneath the hood. The beautiful brown eyes.
“Oh, fuck,” you swore, your eyes widening. “You’re-”
“RUMI!!!!”
That was the sound of all hell about to break loose. As much as Rumi adored her fans, she simply wasn’t in the mood right now. She already had to stomach the loss of her drink even though she knew that it was an accident. Her hoodie and her undershirt were soaked through, where Rumi could already feel sugary stickiness began to crust into a layer on her skin. She wasn’t in the mood to sign autographs and interact with the public while feeling like this.
Before she even had a chance to move, you were already on your feet and pulling her up. Then, you took her hand and dragged her out of the coffee shop right before the gathering crowd could surround them completely. Fresh air and bright sunlight hit Rumi’s face as her feet sprinted down the sidewalk. She was dazed while following this stranger, one who seemed to be saving her from her fans. The sound of the welcome bell on the door indicated your departure, and while Rumi couldn’t look back, she heard that bell go off multiple times as people started to follow, squealing and laughing excitedly.
“Come on!” you urged. “Follow me!”
You let go of her hand, realizing that you were dragging her behind you instead of leading her to safety. You expected Rumi to let you go, having pushed your luck with the napkins against her body, but your breath hitched when you felt her lace your fingers through yours. You tried hard to not think about how soft her skin was.
Rumi snapped back into her body, the awareness quick to fill her as she matched your stride. She knew where she was. She knew exactly where to go when she needed space to herself. Rumi knew South Korea like the back of her hand. So, why was she following you? She could easily take a back road and escape using the agility she acquired from years of being a hunter. Rumi didn’t need your help necessarily, but she was still following you, nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry about the coffee!” you yelled as you tightened your hold on her and pulled her down a side road.
The crowd was growing, her fanbase, ever massive from years of being a celebrity, spread the word like wildfire: Rumi had been spotted. From across the street, more were recognizing her, and you had to get her out of the public eye quickly. So, you detoured through a side street, disappearing into the shadows to gain some cover.
“It’s okay!” Rumi answered sincerely. It was a disappointment, but it was an accident.
Several twists and turns later, and you finally pulled Rumi into a quiet alleyway. The screams and calls were getting farther away, and you made a sharp right, and then another, before shrouding Rumi in darkness. It took a few seconds for the crowd to catch up, but you were already a step ahead. Assuming they didn’t see you as the one that was trying to lead her away, hopefully this would work. When you saw them approaching, you pointed in the opposite direction to throw them off course.
“Quick!” you called, feigning excitement. “She went that way!”
They followed your directions, too crazed for the opportunity to meet a celebrity to think differently about where you were sending them. They followed, and you waited until the majority of them disappeared down the street to regroup with Rumi.
When you returned to the alleyway, you were surprised to see that she was still there. Rumi was panting, catching her breath while she leaned her head against the brick wall. You were panting too, some trickles of sweat dripping down the sides of your head when you leaned against the wall with her.
It was quiet between you, save for the pants of exertion from your running. Rumi turned to face you, prepared to say something when she finally caught her breath, but then, for the second time today, you remembered where you were and who you were with.
“Oh, geez!”
You faced her properly before bowing, your hips hinging as you tried to remember your manners and what etiquette you studied. Rumi looked at you, wide-eyed, a look of shock overtaking her features. It was quiet for another breath as you tried to survive everything that happened, promising yourself to never step out in public ever again, when the most beautiful sound graced your ears.
Giggling.
Rumi was giggling, her perfectly manicured hand covering her mouth shyly as she watched the scene unfold before her.
“You’re not from here, are you?” she asked.
You snapped upright, rubbing the back of your head bashfully as you laughed nervously. “It’s obvious, huh?”
“A little. The accent gives you away, but your bow was precious.”
She meant that. You didn’t detect any maliciousness in her voice. Rumi wasn’t teasing you. She was simply stating what she saw.
“W-Was I…?” you played with your fingers nervously. “Was I not supposed to? I’m trying to learn.”
Rumi just smiled. “I’m Rumi.”
“Oh, I know,” you answered with excited shyness.
In all your life, this was the closest that you’ve ever been to a celebrity. You looked towards her surely ruined hoodie.
“I’m sorry about the drinks again.”
You fished for your wallet, fully prepared to pay for her drink and dry cleaning but Rumi waved the gesture away gently.
“How about you give me your name instead?”
Your eyes sparkled and you smiled brightly. Rumi decided that it was one of the most beautiful smiles that she had ever seen, and that she had to see it again after today.
“Y/n,” you offered, and this time, Rumi extended her hand.
You shook it, grimacing at the sticky sensation between shared skin. She stuck out her tongue in disgust but immediately dissolved into polite laughter.
“So,” she said as she took back her hand. “Will I see you again?”
That made you falter, your brain short circuiting just enough for your hesitation to be obvious. Rumi blushed and bolted upright, more blood rushing to her cheeks.
“That is if you want!” Rambling. She was rambling. But you were staring at her and not saying anything. “I know this was sudden and everything, and a lot of things happened, so of course, the choice is yours! I’d love to see you again! But not in a weird way. Just in a normal way. I use ‘love’ to convey excitement and eagerness, and not to be weird, I swear.”
You should stop her, but this was cute. This was beyond adorable. Rumi should be used to things like this, and yet, she was here, rambling like you were the pop super star and she was the fan. It was surprisingly…normal, and you reached out to tuck some of her purple hair behind her ear. She squeaked. Squeaked. The pink in her cheeks turning red while her eyes went huge.
“Would you like that? If you saw me again?”
She nodded, her smile still polite but taking on a daring edge. “Extremely.”
You took out your phone and handed it to her. Immediately, Rumi added her phone number and handed it back to you.
“I’ll text you later?”
She nodded, a dreamy look overtaking her brown eyes.
“Can I walk you home?” you offered.
Rumi looked around. “Actually, it’s not too far. I can make it back but thank you.”
You nodded, fighting the smile that was ever getting wider. “I’ll text you then.”
She nodded, and you watched as she put her hood back up and peak from the safety of the alleyway. The coast had long since cleared. The streets were mostly empty now and it was mid afternoon. Rumi looked back, gave you a small wave, before she stepped onto the street and began her commute home. You watched her leave, your heart thundering in your chest while you tried to understand everything that just happened. It was all real. Every moment. Every word. And you sighed dreamily as you walked home covered in coffee and juice.
Rumi walked into the foyer of their lavish penthouse, her head in the clouds and her feet barely registering the cool tile beneath the house slippers she changed into. She barely set her keys in the bowl when Mira and Zoey looked away from the tv and regarded her with worried expressions.
“Rumi?”
“Where have you been??”
Rumi raised her eyebrows, her best friends in the entire world suddenly in front of her before she had the chance to make herself comfortable. Zoey continued to fawn over her, her deep, brown eyes checking for anything out of the ordinary. Mira stopped short, her flawless, magenta eyebrow raising in shock.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
The moment she asked, Zoey looked down and frowned. Rumi’s hoodie was a mess of brown and red bleeding together to make a mixture that reeked of stale coffee and too-sweet sugar. Rumi was prepared to give her friends the detailed explanation of what happened, but her phone vibrating in her pocket stopped her. It was from an unknown number, but Rumi still smiled.
You: Hey. It’s Y/n. Ummmmm, the girl that spilled coffee all over you 🫣🫣
How cute. Instead of words, the biggest smile spread across Rumi’s lips as she read and reread the text repeatedly. Her expression didn’t go unnoticed to her friends. Mira was the first to see her dopey smile, a look of playful suspicion replacing her look of concern. Zoey cocked an eyebrow and tried to peak at Rumi’s phone, but Rumi immediately locked the screen and pocketed the device. She didn’t know why, but she was shy about all of this, having met someone who made her heart flutter the way it did inside her chest. She no longer had an interest in explaining what happened to her. Instead, she shrugged off her hoodie and shirt in one go, her patterns on full display as she stood there in a bra and shorts.
“Incident at the coffee shop,” was all she said before she detoured straight to the laundry room.
Mira and Zoey shared a look, very much skeptical and knowing that something else was going on. However, they decided to not press it, knowing that Rumi would open up to them when she was comfortable and ready. Rumi was preparing herself for a shower when she took out her phone and read your text again. The smile was back in full force. She couldn’t stop it. Rumi looked in the mirror, her reflection beaming back at her in full force. She couldn’t remember the last time she was happy, and despite her marks and patterns, she wanted to talk to you, if nothing else, then just to be your friend. There was no harm in being friends, right? With the Honmoon in place and the threat of soul-stealing demons under wraps, she was allowed to unwind and pursue what she wanted. And Rumi decided that she wanted to pursue friendships outside of Mira and Zoey. They were her best friends, but they needed space for themselves and their relationship. Rumi quickly typed a message back.
Rumi: I also remember you fondling me in full view of the public as well
Hopefully, you would know that she was just joking and wasn’t holding that against you. She received a text immediately, and it appeared to be a picture of a piece of paper with hurried scrawl written on it. Rumi raised an eyebrow.
Rumi: What is that?
You: My will and testament for when I pass away from embarrassment 🪦
Rumi giggled. Giggled! The sound was out of her before she could stop it. She blushed like someone caught her red-handed, like someone was going to tease her for having a crush. But that was ridiculous. Even as she thought it, she still froze, locking her phone and placing it face down on the bathroom sink.
Oh god.
That wasn’t what this was, right? She just met you. You were a literal stranger that spilled beverages all over her, and here Rumi was, proverbially kicking her feet and twirling her hair. She shook her head and unlocked her phone to answer you back.
Rumi: 🤣😂😭
She got a text back immediately.
You: 🤭
Rumi locked her phone, undid her braid, and undressed herself completely. She stepped into the shower and let the warm water soak her hair and run down her back. No. No way. This wasn’t a crush. She was going to be so totally normal about this. It was just two people who were enjoying each other’s presence. Nothing more had to come from this, and that’s what Rumi decided as she cleaned her body.
Rumi wasn’t normal about this at all. It took a few months to ask you out, and the only reason was because she kept psyching herself out every time she managed to gather what little courage she had within her. The moment she felt like she was ready, Rumi would think of a million excuses for why the time wasn’t right now. After Mira and Zoey met you, they were completely enamored with you. They’d love you the moment they met you and you bowed as awkwardly as you had when you met Rumi. Learning was what you told them, and the effort was genuinely there. The effort to learn their culture and etiquette practices was admirable. The way that you flustered and stammered as you took in their penthouse was adorable.
“You live like this???” you asked, your eyes as round as saucers as you took in the full-length windows and the high ceilings.
The girls lived in opulence, which shouldn’t be surprising considering their status as pop stars and Rumi’s inheritance. It was still jaw dropping. You ate ramyeon every night until you could find a job that paid you enough to live the way that you wanted. That included being able to afford fresh fruits and vegetables. And health insurance. Health insurance would be so nice right now. You felt like you saw it all when Rumi gave you a brief tour through their residence, but you’re sure that your heart stopped completely when you saw their closet. Actually, calling it a closet was generous. It was multiple floors of mannequins wearing their outfits, past and present. Your jaw hung open as you shuffled inside. Shiny, glass panels reflected your shocked expression back at you, but you couldn’t help it. From behind you, Zoey giggled, and when Mira walked past you, she gently nudged your mouth shut.
“You’ll swallow a fly,” she commented with a sly smirk.
You chuckled and took it all in before stopping at an outfit that caught your eye. It was one made entirely out of black leather and adorned in silver studs and spikes. Tactical boots covered the mannequin’s feet, and you looked at it curiously. You would consider yourself a casual fan of Huntr/x, so you can’t say for sure that you’ve seen all of their outfits that they wore for their shows, but you can say for certain that you’ve never seen this one before.
“When did you ever wear this?” you asked, pointing towards what you were seeing.
Rumi, Zoey, and Mira froze, but it was so quick that you didn’t catch on to it.
“We retired that one,” Zoey provided, her smile wide. “We haven’t worn it in a while.”
You shrugged, noticing that she didn’t exactly answer your question, but deciding not to push it. You continued on, letting the girls show you more outfits, but Rumi held back, her hands caressing her arms and her faded patterns. She took in her Hunters suit. It almost felt like a lifetime ago, too recent to be a distant memory, too distant to let herself get hung up on everything that happened. It was all in the past, and the evidence of the battles won was forever etched into her skin. She lived and she learned. It was time for Rumi to leave it all behind.
“Come on, Rumi. Just ask her out already,” Mira said to her as she worked on her makeup.
“I don’t know,” Rumi sighed.
You’d been on her mind more and more, and it was even getting harder for her to deny that this had become something other than platonic.
“Something is there,” Zoey confirmed. “And I'm so sure that Y/n will say yes. What’s holding you back?”
Rumi shrugged weakly. “I don’t know. It’s just... what about how I look?”
“You shut your mouth,” Zoey interjected sternly. She was still sweet, but her voice took on a hardened edge. “You’re still beautiful, Rumi. Marks and all. If Y/n thinks anything other than that, then she's an idiot.”
Mira turned to face Rumi, her eyebrow raising dangerously high while her eyes hardened. She lowered her mascara brush away from her eyelashes. “Did she say something to you about them?”
Rumi was already shaking her head. “What? No!”
“Because I can kill her,” she offered. “I can make her disappear.”
Rumi groaned. “No, she hasn’t said anything about them. I swear.”
But what if she does? It was a question that was constantly on her mind. In all the time that she spent with you, she was always covered up. She didn’t know why. She was always wearing comfortable clothing with Mira and Zoey. She showed her patterns when she was performing on stage. Why did it suddenly feel so different with you? Rumi didn’t know why. From the public perspective, everyone assumed that they were either birthmarks or tattoos. Only people in her closest circle knew the truth.
“You can always tell her the truth about them,” Zoey offered but Rumi was already scoffing.
She meant well. That was Zoey to her core, meaning well enough that she was concerned about the people she loved. However, what made it easy about Zoey and Mira finding out about her marks was that they, at least, knew what demons were.
“I don’t think so. I mean, how would I say it? ‘Hey, Y/n. I have these marks because I’m half demon, but oh! Don’t worry. I won’t steal your soul or anything,’” Rumi said sarcastically.
“Maybe leave the last half of that out,” Mira commented, and Rumi rolled her eyes but was quiet as she released a deep breath.
“I can’t,” she finally admitted quietly. “It’s not out of shame, but fear. Fear that she won’t believe any of this, about demons...about us. I really like her, and I don’t want to chase her away. If she asks, I’ll tell her that they’re birthmarks. It won’t be completely untrue.”
Zoey reached out to place her hand on her shoulder. When Rumi felt the warmth of her touch seeping through her clothes, she turned to see her offering a supportive smile. “Whatever you have to do. You have our support. Always.”
Mira nodded. “Yeah, Rumi. Seriously, though. If she comments about your marks and she says something disrespectful, say the word. I’ll bury her body where it can’t be found.”
Rumi laughed, knowing that Mira was being completely serious, and the littlest bit of concern for your safety flitted through her. She was going to ask you tomorrow, and Rumi wasn’t going to chicken out of it.
“Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”
Rumi could only stare. In the end, it wasn’t her that asked the question. It was you. You stood in front of her with a single, beautiful rose in your hand. Rumi was at your place, a modest but cramped single bedroom apartment. You made her a home cooked meal. It was nothing extravagant, and definitely outside of your budget. Sat neatly on top of the dinner table were bowls of japchae and kimchi. It was the closest to fresh vegetables that you had ever come to since moving here, and you felt the dent in your wallet, but to you, Rumi was worth it.
Rumi. The woman that had occupied your mind since you ran into her in the coffee shop. The woman that blessed your dreams. The woman that made you smile every time she sent you a text or called you. The woman that you cheered on when you went to Huntr/x concerts. The woman that treated you to hot pot that one time and watched as you turned a simple dinner into an episode of the discovery channel. The woman that joined you, tearing through sticks of beef and pork belly like they were nothing. The woman that carried herself with an air of confidence that you found just so damn attractive. The woman who...
...hadn’t said anything. She was just staring, her brown eyes wide with shock as she took in the rose in your hands and the dinner you made for her on the table. You stood there, feeling like you were either about to shit yourself or vomit. Probably both. You were capable of it. Rumi was still unmoving, and you were tempted to check for a pulse when a breathless laugh left her.
“And here I was,” she said as she unveiled a full bouquet of red roses from somewhere behind her. “Just about to ask you out.”
Never mind the sheer coincidence of you both gaining the courage to ask each other out. Where the hell was she hiding that bouquet???? You circled around her quickly, checking her persons when you saw that all she had was herself. Not even a bag. Did you really not pay attention to other people??? Or was Rumi talented enough to pull roses out of thin air? Both were probable statements and equally true. So, you shook the thought free from your mind as you smiled.
“I’ll say yes if you do,” you replied.
Rumi beamed. That was how she became your girlfriend. After destroying the dinner that you made for her, it was uphill from there. Dinners, dates, sometimes double dates with Mira and Zoey, and everything in between. You moved into the penthouse, which took much convincing from not just Rumi, but her friends as well. It was clear that you came from a different world than them, and you wanted to be sure that Rumi knew that you weren’t with her for her money. As hot as it would be for Rumi to be your sugar momma, you wanted her for her. The more time you spent with her, the more you were realizing that she was everything to you. You wanted her for her beauty and brains. They were all so smart and talented, a compliment that you made sure to remind Rumi of again and again. To you, there was no such thing as too much, and you never wanted her to forget.
Letting you move in with her was the most that you allowed her to do. While the girls were gone on tour, you worked at your job and came home to the penthouse. You didn’t mind taking care of the home while you were alone. It gave you time to grocery shop for the girls' favorite snacks and save all their favorite shows. You began to make more meals for yourself too, finally eating healthier the way that you needed to. Your stomach was thanking you immensely.
It didn’t take long for the public to catch wind of Rumi’s relationship status. Her fanbase was extremely smart, or too nosy for their own good. They already discovered who you were and determined that you were the one that Rumi was dating. That meant that they also figured out your full government name, your previous addresses, and that you weren’t a Korean native. You knew how it worked. There were regular people working jobs the equivalent of the FBI for free out there. Therefore, it didn’t take too long for your coworkers to find out that you were dating their resident superstar. Some envied you. Some hated you. Some were genuinely surprised, not knowing that you were capable of it. You, the most normal person on earth, who was able to date Rumi, the lead singer of Huntr/x. Many encouraged you to play a lottery. Some days, you were tempted. Others asked questions. A lot of questions.
“Wait! That was you that spilled your drink on Rumi??” someone asked, and you nodded bashfully.
It made it onto the local news, and it was headlining most social media platforms for a while. Things like that didn’t usually happen in the city, and any juicy gossip about everyone’s favorite celebrities meant more views on websites and more money in people's pockets. Your relationship with Rumi going public also meant that you were subjected to...paperwork? The day that Bobby sat you down with a stack of it in his hands was the same day that you discovered what an NDA was. Most of it was intuitive. Don’t be an ass and blab all of Rumi’s personal information. You signed it without thinking twice about it. Others were weird. You had to attend public relation classes. You were taught how to speak, how to answer questions, even how to be more conscious of your body language. It was a lot, but Rumi was with you every step of the way. You thought that maybe it was a bit much, but it came in handy for when you had to go to work.
For the most part, everyone was respectful of your privacy. The general public was respectful of the girls’ space and time. It was the paparazzi that was a bit of a problem. They steered clear of the girls, probably knowing that they could get their ass beat after Mira went viral for putting one of them in a headlock a few years back. But with you? They circled you like vultures. You had to get real creative with evading them, which was how you ended up in parkour classes. You weren’t a fighter. Didn’t have the constitution and the confidence for it. But running? That was more your speed. It took grueling months of practice, of increasing your stamina, endurance, and flexibility, but before you knew it, you were flipping your way out of conflict before the paparazzi could get too close.
For almost six months, your relationship with Rumi remained strong and resilient. You supported her at her concerts just as she supported you with your work. You were there for each other, with nothing shaking the foundation of who you were in the relationship. It was everything that you needed, and it was all perfect.
That was until the interview.
Chapter 2: Nothing But the Proof of What I Am
Summary:
After some reassurance, you do the interview with Rumi, and it goes smoothly. Rumi answers questions effortlessly. You do the best that you can, finding a groove within it all. You relax, but that's until it all changed with one simple question. Suddenly, you're under fire, bits and pieces of your past revealed to the world, and it's enough to cut the interview short.
It's too much, and so much so that you end up on the roof of the building to be alone. But you're not alone. No. You're far from it.
Notes:
Thank you so much for the engagement that I got on he first chapter! I'm so happy that people are excited for this! Here is the next chapter!
It is tagged for SOME SLIGHT HURT/COMFORT, ANGST, DEPRECATING THOUGHTS, SOME SLIGHT HORROR ELEMENTS, AND NEGATIVE FEELINGS
Thank you again for reading!
Chapter Text
When Bobby deemed you ready, he approached you excitedly, his eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation. His hands were a flurry of thrilled movement as he stood in front of you and Rumi and gushed about the interview. You were at the city’s most popular news show, one where gossip was more valuable than money, and you were trying hard to not panic. The possibility of saying the wrong thing had your ass cheeks clenched so hard in your seat that you could feel a cramp coming on. It was your very first interview as the partner of a celebrity. Bobby had done everything in his power to stave it off for as long as possible, but even he had to listen to the fans. He told you and Rumi time and time again that trending numbers would go up for Huntr/x if the public knew who you were. So far, you were this mystery shrouded in shadows. Theories of whether you were real started to circulate the internet. Some people accused Rumi of hiring someone to play as her girlfriend, and it was something that she had to dispel repeatedly. It was starting to come off as a publicity stunt, as something Rumi did to try and remain as relevant as Mira and Zoey. It was harsh and something that you hated, and you hated it even more that Rumi was at the epicenter of it all. But according to Bobby and the girls, this was normal for celebrities in the public eye. In the end, you agreed because you didn’t want lies to tarnish Rumi’s reputation. You didn’t want to be the reason for why she had to go through any of this.
Bobby left after talking about numbers and popularity, all things that you understood but couldn’t focus on right now. It was just you and Rumi in makeup and wardrobe, and you were picking at the skin on your thumb. You clutched onto your training, remembering all the things that were drilled into you through numerous classes. You were so focused on steadying yourself that you hadn’t noticed Rumi looking at you. Her eyes were bright with concern as she kept sneaking glances at you. By the time her makeup was in pristine condition, she looked at the people around her and smiled politely.
“Can I get a moment alone, please?”
They all nodded and filtered out of the room promptly, and the moment it was just you and her, Rumi took your hand in her hold. She stopped your nervous fidgeting, her touch warm and steady as she urged you to look at her. When you did, you noticed just how dry your mouth was, how frayed your nerves were. You felt like you were going to fall apart at the seams before this even began.
“You’re nervous.”
It wasn’t a question, but you still nodded your head like it was. Rumi could feel you trembling and she looked at you gently, her lips curving into a comforting smile. She knew what it was like, having been here once upon a time. It truly was nerve-wracking, and with it being your first interview, Rumi was more than understanding about it.
“I’m right here by your side,” she said to you. You nodded and tried to smile, but it fell flat before it could highlight your features.
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing, babes,” you told her truthfully, your voice small. “I don’t want to ruin what you have going on. You worked hard for this. You, Zoey, and Mira. And I don’t want to tarnish your image because I’m not a part of your world.”
Rumi’s smile morphed from one of understanding to one of slight sadness. She knew that something like this would be a hurdle in your relationship, and yet, she didn’t care about this as much as she cared about you. She wanted you. Only you. Something about you made her feel so adored and cared for in a way that she didn’t think was possible for someone like her, or rather, something like her to feel. She didn’t care about anything else besides you and your comfort. Yes, you were willing to do this, and yes, she knew how nervous you were for this. Rumi asked you multiple times if you wanted to do this and you reassured her that you wanted to. If you changed your mind right now, Rumi would cancel this, no questions asked, and would deal with the fallout with Bobby. She cared about her fans, adored them honestly. Without them, she and the girls wouldn’t have saved the world and created the Honmoon. At the same time, she didn’t owe everything to her fans, and that included your comfort and safety.
“I appreciate that, sweetheart. I really do, but I don’t care about that as much as I care about you. Relax and take a deep breath. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here,” she reiterated, squeezing her hand gently around yours.
You nodded, taking the breath that you desperately needed. She was right. You knew what to do and you weren’t alone. You leaned over the seat you were in and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, careful of her lipstick.
“Thank you for thinking about me.”
She winked at you. “Always.”
Someone knocked at the door before they cracked it open. “You’re both on in five.”
“Thank you,” Rumi answered before the door closed again. She looked at you. “Ready?”
“Ready to get this over with,” you mumbled honestly, and Rumi laughed. She felt the same way.
A live studio audience. You hadn’t known that there was going to be one. That also meant that whatever you said would be recorded live and not edited out. You swallowed thickly as you sat stiffly next to your girlfriend. The host was a woman that looked to be either in her late thirties or early forties. She was dressed primly, her black pants suit pressed to perfection. Her makeup was done elegantly. Not a hair was out of place on her head. She was perfect. Too perfect you realized, and sitting between her and Rumi did nothing to assuage the growing anxiety in the pit of your stomach.
“Hello everyone and welcome to the show. My name is Seo-Yun, and today I will be interviewing Rumi and her partner.”
The audience clapped excitedly while Rumi regarded them regally and effortlessly. You offered, what you hoped was a smile, while you waved. Seo-Yun turned to Rumi first, her smile fixed in place as she met her eyes.
“Rumi, as always, it’s so good to have you on the show, though I will admit it doesn’t feel complete without Mira and Zoey.”
Rumi chuckled. “They do send their regards, but it’s good to be here.”
“Before we jump into the questions that are on everyone’s mind, are you able to give us a sneak peak of anything that Huntr/x will be doing in the future?”
Rumi nodded. “I wish that I can give you something concrete. We were supposed to take a hiatus following the Idol Awards, but you can see how that’s going.”
Seo-Yun chuckled along with the audience.
“We are working on some new projects,” Rumi continued. “More music, and of course, more concerts.”
“You are truly dedicated to your fans,” Seo-Yun added, her voice filled with awe.
Rumi gave a bit of a shy shrug. “Huntr/x wouldn’t be where we are without our fans. They keep us going. It helps knowing that there are people out there that love what we do. We’re excited to do it.”
At that, the audience clapped thunderously. Rumi smiled brilliantly, her purple hair sparkling under the warm lights of the stage. You looked at her and couldn't help but stare. This was Rumi’s element. She was made for the spotlight. Everything about her oozed confidence and control, and as she quickly glanced at you and winked, you realized just how much your admiration for her ran deep. And not for the first time, you were truly struck with just how beautiful she was. Rumi made it effortless, with the way that she sat there while her skin glowed. The faint colors of her marks stood out against her, but it only complimented her look, especially with the black dress that she wore. It was modest, showing just enough skin to tantalize but not be too much. It left her arms exposed while the hem of her dress trailed a little on the ground. Every time she walked, Rumi had to hold it to keep it from dragging on the floor. You opted to wear a pants suit like Seo-Yun. Unfortunately, you wished that it fit you as well as it fit her. You hadn’t had the time to get it tailored in preparation for today. It hung a little loose, but it wasn’t so overly baggy that it looked gargantuan on your body.
Seo-Yun turned to look at you, and that’s when you noticed the subtle shift in her facial expressions. She was smiling, but it looked less inviting and more...nefarious. You couldn’t really explain it, but something about it made you swallow thickly as you faced her fully. You were back to picking your thumb, a subconscious habit you did when you were nervous. Rumi inconspicuously laid her hand on top of yours, stopping your movements while to the audience, looking like she was sharing a moment of soft intimacy with you on stage. It was brilliant, and you maneuvered your hand so that you could hold hers. Seo-Yun cleared her throat, crossed her legs, and leaned back in her chair.
“Y/n, it’s so nice to have you here, and to have you in our country,” she began. You smiled and nodded politely as you gave her your undivided attention. “What brought you to South Korea?”
Before you spoke, you took a deep breath and remembered Bobby’s voice.
“Be aware of what needs the truth and what needs deflection. If it’s about you, be cautious.”
This question seemed harmless enough, so you told the truth.
“I needed a change in my life. I was at a dead end where I used to be, and South Korea offered me a chance to live the life that I wanted. Besides, the food here is so good.”
The audience laughed in solidarity and Rumi giggled. Seo-Yun offered you an approving smile, seemingly surprised at your answer. She leaned forward, her eyes rippling with excitement.
“So. Word on the street was that you met Rumi by spilling coffee on her.”
You laughed, the sound full of some slight embarrassment but you embraced it. It was the truth. Unfortunately, someone was able to catch the tail end of your blunder on camera. It went so wildly viral that your coworkers poked fun at you for at least a week.
“It wasn’t my finest moment,” you admitted as you shifted in your seat.
“A rather unorthodox way to meet someone.”
You nodded in agreement. “If I could do it all over again...I definitely would.”
That made the audience laugh. Rumi looked at you in awe, her eyebrows furrowed cutely. Seo-Yun chuckled as she smiled brightly.
“I can only imagine. I would be mortified.”
“Trust me, I was,” you said. “Between the drinks and the napkins, I was digging my own grave.”
You were starting to relax, your body relinquishing all the stress that made this all so terrifying for you. You sank closer to Rumi, leaning on her just enough to feel the press of her body against your clothes. This wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. It was like catching up with an old friend in a way.
From backstage, Bobby was breathing his own sigh of relief, the small sweat droplets of uneasy anticipation for how this would go trailing down the sides of his head as he checked numbers and stats. Already, video clips of the interview were circulating on the internet. Some of them were going viral. Most of them were edits of Rumi, but some of them included you too. The audience was calling you cute and adorable. They weren’t surprised that Rumi fell for you at all. Something about you was charming in a way that was endearing. Bobby smiled wide and ran a hand through his hair. You were doing great out there!
You were settled as well, finally at ease, and answering all Seo-Yun’s questions eagerly. Everything was going well...until suddenly, it wasn’t.
“Y/n, is it true that you’re only with Rumi for her money?”
Immediately, the audience hushed, some whispers filtering through while everyone looked at each other in varying degrees of shock and surprise. Your brain stuttered, too caught off guard by such a loaded question that all you could do was stare while you tried to determine if you heard Seo-Yun correctly. You looked at Rumi for some guidance, but she wasn’t looking at you. Her gaze, one that was hardening by the second, was directed at the show host. Seo-Yun looked unrepentant as she sat there. If anything, she looked smug, like she won a game that you hadn’t known you were playing. You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, the sweat and unease coming back in full force as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You laughed a little, though nothing was funny. You were trying to assuage the growing tension that was suddenly weighing down on you.
“I’m sorry,” you said around a shocked chuckle. “I think I misheard you. Repeat that?”
“We all would like to know if you’re with Rumi for her money.”
That was the moment where Rumi interjected. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
At the same time, you found yourself exclaiming an appalled and resounding “No!”
You looked horrified, like Seo-Yun just accused you of something heinous. Never in your wildest dreams would you ever use Rumi for something like that. The thought of it couldn’t even cross your mind without you feeling inherently guilty for thinking it. Seo-Yun chuckled like you both had said something mildly hilarious. She reached for something, a small stack of papers that you hadn’t paid attention to and watched as she flipped through them.
“Isn’t it true that you’re in a massive amount of debt?” she asked.
You looked at her. That was also true, and also something that you disclosed to Rumi already. That debt was accumulated through university since classes were expensive, even with financial aid and two jobs. It wasn’t like you were taking out credit cards and blowing the money doing stupid shit. You hoped that your education would land you a job in your preferred field when you moved here. When you didn’t say anything, Seo-Yun pressed on.
“Wouldn’t you want to get out of something like that?” she asked. “I can imagine that your living situation isn’t any better, unless you somehow finessed your way into living in the Huntr/x penthouse.”
Rumi was deathly still saved for the thick swallow you saw work down the column of her throat. You didn’t know what was going through her mind, though she looked positively irate.
“Seo-Yun, what you’re doing is highly disrespectful,” Rumi said, no, warned. “Did you call us here just to harass my partner?”
She laughed and waved away the question like Rumi wasn’t already in the process of plotting her downfall. She seemed to not have any remorse, like they were discussing something as trivial as the weather. You could feel your hands began to shake even under Rumi’s grounding touch.
“We simply want the truth,” Seo-Yun answered. “You’re not dating another celebrity. You’re dating an everyday person, and we simply want to know why? What about her makes her so special when she’s just one more person on the street? Your relationship is, what? Not even a year old, correct? What about her do you find so enticing?”
Your heart plummeted with every rapid-fire question. You’ve never considered any of those. The relationship was still new, and never once have you asked her why she was with you. You accepted everything for what it was, trusting that you were doing everything right and doing what Rumi needed to feel secure. Not once did you ever sit down to discuss it, and with Seo-Yun bringing it up in front of the whole world, you could feel tendrils of uncertainty began to creep in.
It didn’t take long for the air to suddenly feel stifling. Almost heavy. Every inhale was like sawdust in your lungs, and every exhale was desert heat past your dry lips. The lights felt too bright. The faces in the audience all began to blur. You swallowed again, finding the simple action to be too much. Your skin crawled. Your chest heaved weakly. The beginnings of panic grew to life within you, and scorching tears stung your eyes. You were about to fall apart after each question, but you clenched your teeth hard to keep yourself grounded.
“I mean, has she told you that she loves you?” Seo-Yun asked Rumi, delivering what would be the final blow to your confidence.
That’s when time seemed to slow down. Because the answer to that was also no. It was all so new, and you’ve considered saying it for a while, but you weren’t too sure if it was the right time or if it was all too soon. This was uncharted territory for you, dating a celebrity, dating someone better than you in every way. Even if that person was Rumi.
As if that was all she was. Just a celebrity. She was so much more to you than that, which would be why this was affecting you as much as it was.
You wondered if you should have said something sooner so that she knew where you stood in all of this, and you looked at Rumi, who was feigning calm but inside, was thinking about ramming her sword through Seo-Yun's gut. She was so pissed off that she couldn’t figure out what to do. She kept sneaking glances at Bobby, who was motioning for her to leave the interview. It wasn’t about social media numbers and trending statistics anymore. This was about making sure that you and Rumi were okay. He’d handle everything else like he always did. That’s why he got paid 3%.
“Enough!” Rumi snapped, suddenly standing to her feet. She took your hand, and with a gentleness that you didn’t think you deserved, helped you stand so that she could escort you off the stage.
You walked away, your steps heavier than stone as the audience began to clamor behind you. Whispers surrounded you, blanketing you in a heaviness that made your shoulders droop. The volume was rising, but to you, everything was too far away. You were drowning in your own head, the noise of your rampant thoughts contending with the rising voices behind you. The moment that you were out of the public eye, things started to speed up. Suddenly, you were surrounded by bustling bodies and overlapping voices. Rumi was speaking to Bobby, who looked so pale that you thought that he was going to pass out. You trailed behind quietly, uncaring of the hands that were touching you or the people that were trying to offer you refreshments.
“Bobby, we need to do something about this,” Rumi said quietly. Too quietly. You still couldn’t determine how she was feeling about all of this.
She hadn’t looked at you once since exiting the stage.
Maybe you’re not good enough for Rumi to look at you.
The thought crossed your mind, the emotional echo it left behind strong enough for the tears to finally spill. You swallowed thickly and slowed to a stop. The crew around you parted like water around a rock, working like a well-oiled machine to keep up with Rumi and Bobby. You watched them as she left, her legs taking her farther away from you. Before long, Rumi was gone, lost in the sea of people that worked behind the stage. It was just you, standing there and feeling so horribly out of place in a world you would never fit in.
You wiped at your tears while loosening a few buttons on the collar of your dress shirt. You were hot. Boiling. And you needed a space to breathe, so, you followed all the signs for the exit. Your path took you further away from your girlfriend, but that was fine. This was never meant for you, a harrowing truth that you needed time to consider. If you couldn’t handle this, maybe...m-maybe...
Maybe Rumi deserves better...
The thought was like a searing, hot bolt of lightning striking through your brain. It made you wince as a full body shiver slithered down the length of your spine. Beads of sweat developed across the top of your forehead, your breaths labored and heavy. You needed to leave. Now! You jogged towards the exit. Desperation goaded you into forcing your way through the crowd, your arms pushing people away from you. Your feet thundered against the floor as scorching breaths sawed in and out of aching lungs. The pathway led you upstairs, and you took them two at a time until you threw the door open. Cool, summer air greeted you, a welcomed reprieve, and you inhaled it fully as you shrugged your jacket off. The metal door slammed closed, clicking and locking behind you, but you didn’t care. Out here, it was quiet. The door effectively cut off the suffocating noise of the stage behind you, and with you outside, you could calm down. Out here, it was just you.
The city was bustling with bodies and bright with neon lights. There was always something so alive about this place. It was clean. It was safe. It was everything that you needed it to be when you moved here, but right now, it was too much. You approached the railing bolted to the edge of the building and leaned against it. The cool metal bit against your palms, but it helped ground you. Slowly, the chill chased away the heat, and with each passing minute, it got easier to breathe. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about the thoughts that were running rampant in your brain. You were spiraling, everything that you felt on stage crashing into you with the force of an ocean wave. Fingers tightened against the rail. A small whimper fell from your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut. The tip of your shoe tapped against the cement, the movement repetitive enough and annoying enough to root you in the present, but it wasn’t enough. They still came, and it pulled you under.
You’re not enough...
Rumi can do better...
You knew that you were going to fuck this up...
Why did you think that things would be different...?
It’ll end just like it did with your-
You stopped the thought right there. The words screeched to an abrupt and jarring halt as you choked it into silence before it could even finish. You shook your head and squeezed your eyes closed so hard that colors burst behind your eyelids. No! That part of your life was over. You didn’t have to worry about him or seeing him ever again. Even as you reminded yourself of it, it brought you little comfort. If anything, you felt a sense of foreboding loom over you. You swallowed it down and try to will the feelings away, but they persisted. You looked around, your wide eyes taking everything in around you. There were no obvious changes. It was just you and you were alone, but something within you was telling you that not everything was what it seemed. Not in the way that the shadows around you seem to grow thicker, or in the way that the air grew stifling. Something was here with you. That’s what your instincts were telling you, and yet, you couldn’t see anyone else with you right now.
You turned, the hairs on the back of your neck raising when it felt like you were being watched. Shadows danced from the billboards that illuminated the night. A different kind of panic was beginning to creep in. One that told you that you weren’t safe up here alone. You would leave right now if it weren’t for the fact that you were locked out. Still, you shrugged your suit jacket back on and made your way back to the door, and just as you were about to approach it, something stopped you.
You circumvented a puddle on the ground, opting to not dirty your outfit completely, but as you passed it, something made eye contact with you. Something inhuman. At first, you thought that it was the trick of the light, that it was reflected purple light from one of the many billboards that surrounded the immediate area, and that you looked at it too fast. No. The puddle rippled when you stepped past it, the water undulating weakly from the small shockwave that you generated with your step. And while the water moved, the purple within it did not. Still, that wasn’t enough to make you stop. It was something that you happened to catch. What truly made you halt was when the purple mass took shape... and smiled at you. Your heart did a flip, your eyes widening when it stared at you. You looked up and around, expecting to see this unknown specter trapping you on the roof. It wasn’t. You could only see the reflection though the presence it exuded was all encompassing.
That’s when it grew hot. Unbearably hot. Sweltering hot. Desert hot. The purple blazed like living fire, the shape of it growing large and bright enough that you had to cover your eyes and shield them away from the water’s reflection. Again, you looked around, your eyes sweeping across the ceiling in fear. Nothing. In the water, it was there, staring...watching...smiling...
...waiting.
That’s when it chuckled, the timbre deep, ominous, and controlled. It crackled through you, igniting a terror so bone deep and visceral that your legs almost buckled. You should run. You should be pounding on that door until someone let you in. You should be trying to get away, but you weren’t doing any of those things. Instead, you were in a trance, like prey that was caught in a web and held captive. It inhaled, the fire swelling and simmering as though it had lungs, as though it was sentient. Then, it spoke.
“You so desperately want to be better,” it breathed, the voice echoing, booming, quiet, everywhere, and nowhere all at once. “I can see it as clear as day. The need to be good enough that someone would treat you the way that you’ve begged for your entire life.”
There was harsh laughter, and you swore that you could feel the blood drain away from your face. This time, your legs did buckle, and you dropped to your knees. Cement slammed into soft flesh and bone, but you didn’t register the pain or discomfort. Everything ceased to exist. Where you were, what happened, and why you were here no longer mattered. What mattered was the voice you heard. What mattered was the hope that you suddenly felt. What mattered was the feeling that whatever this was, he was your only hope and salvation. You were all alone. No one cared. No one was going to save you except for him.
“I can see it all laid out before you. The hurt. The pain. The feeling of not being good enough.” Another laugh, this one derisive and biting. “The truth is that you are nothing no matter what you do. It doesn’t matter how far you run, or who you’re with. Nothing will erase what happened to you.”
You nodded hollowly, your heart beating painfully in your chest. He was right. The pain of your past would never stop. It would never go away. No matter how hard you pretend, it’d always be there, another brutal reminder of how far you fell, and a painful lesson in how you couldn’t expect love out of everyone.
“You’re not ready,” he continued, his voice full of something old and primordial. “You’re not desperate enough. I need you broken.”
There was another laugh as this being stared at you. Purple fire was all you could see, all that you could comprehend. All you could hear was his laughter, and all you could feel was the painful reality that you had failed. You failed Rumi. You failed the relationship. You were a failure, and there was no escape from it. You were about to speak. What you were going to say, you’d never know because that was the moment when the door swung open harshly. Standing on the other side of it was a frazzled Rumi, her eyes wide with fear. Her expression eased slightly when she found you, but the relief was short lived when she saw you on the ground crying. You hadn’t realized that you were, but your vision was blurry while hot tears trailed down your cheeks. Rumi was already by your side before you could inhale a shuddering breath.
“Y/n??”
You could only stare, your eyes wide and empty as you tried to understand what happened. When you looked at the puddle, it was all gone. The purple. The fire. The laughter. All of it. The only thing that stared back at you was your own tired and empty expression within the night sky. Nothing was there, and you felt alone while your girlfriend knelt in front of you. Rumi’s hands cupped your cheeks, and you allowed her to tenderly guide you to meet her gaze.
“Baby?” she asked, her voice much quieter as her brown eyes took in yours.
You wanted to say something. You wanted to reassure her. At the very least, you wanted to apologize for disappearing and scaring her, but you didn’t voice any of that. Instead, the moment you parted your lips, a sob broke through. You tried to fight it. You tried to swallow it all down, but it tore itself free. More tears blurred your vision while you crumpled, your body folding in on itself. Rumi inhaled harshly but said nothing as she took you into her arms and held you close. You cried into her, clutching her close with desperate touches while fear and shame filled you until the pressure of it made it hard to breathe.
Rumi was none the wiser. She assumed that you were distressed at what happened during the interview, and while that was correct, that wasn’t the full truth. The truth was that all you wanted was to feel okay. You wanted to be okay. You wanted the day to come where you would wake up and not feel as though you were never good enough. You wanted to feel as though you deserved everything that you fought for in life. Instead, you felt broken, and the shame and guilt of it all ate away at you. For the longest time, you were okay. You could pretend that it wasn’t a problem, but what happened on that stage just proved that pretending wasn’t going to be enough anymore. If you wanted to keep Rumi in your life, you needed to change...
...by any means necessary.
Chapter 3: The Worst of What I Came From
Summary:
You can't sleep. You can't relax, and it seems as though you can't escape the fallout of what happened at the interview. Comments about who you are and your intentions with Rumi spread like wildfire, each word slicing through you and unearthing old trauma that you thought was gone for good. You have to escape, you need time to think, but a midnight walk through the city isn't as safe as you'd think...
Notes:
Hello All!
Sorry that this chapter took longer than the rest. I wanted to make sure that it was perfect. Thank you for your patience and for your engagement with the story so far!
This chapter is tagged for ANGST, SLIGHT MENTIONS OF EMOTIONAL TRAUMA, NEGATIVE SELF TALK, SELF DEPRACATION, AUBDUCTION, HORROR ELEMENTS, BODY HORROR, THE ILLUSION OF BEING BURNED ALIVE, SUFFOCATION, and INTERNET TROLLS.
Enjoy and be safe!
Chapter Text
“Don’t let this get to you,” Rumi tried.
“It’s going to be okay, Y/n. You’ll see,” Zoey said gently before giving you a hug that you melted into.
“Seo-Yun won’t get away with this. Her head will be on a stick by the time I’m done with her,” Mira promised lowly.
You didn’t know how to feel about that last comment, but something told you that Mira meant exactly what she said. You’d received many more comments like those in the coming hours, especially after Rumi found you crying on the roof. Everyone meant well, and you recognized that, but their words did very little to assuage the emotions that sat heavily in your chest. A few days passed since the “interview” that you had with Seo-Yun, and to say that you were taking it well was a complete lie. You were an utter mess, a body made of frayed nerves and dwindling composure. It took Rumi an embarrassingly long time to calm you down and get you off the roof. It took you even longer to relax that same night. The whole ordeal activated your fight or flight. Adrenaline pumped through your body, the hormone ravaging your nervous system while your rampant mind threatened to shut down. You couldn’t turn it off. Not your body. Not your mind. Not the guilt. Not even the fear. It was all heightened, all loud and messy and chaotic. After endless hours of tossing and turning in the bed, you decided to get up. Rumi groaned with every shift, her breath heavy with sleep and fatigue, and just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean that Rumi had to suffer with you. So, you slipped out of her luxurious sheets and out of her room.
The penthouse was quiet. Eerily quiet. The only light inside was from outside, from the bright billboard lights, the glowing neon, and the few stars that burned bright enough to cut through the haze of city living. With Mira and Zoey asleep as well, it was just you, and it was for the best. You needed to be alone. You needed the quiet atmosphere. You needed to calm yourself down just long enough for some sort of sleep to wash over you. You knew that it was unhealthy, but you felt overwhelmed when the girls were around. Their words and their looks made you feel like you had to be better, even though you stepped through the equivalent of a mental and social minefield. Of course, that wasn’t the expectation, but the pressure to be okay was there and you couldn’t ignore it.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on your bones. It sat wearily in your soul. Your limbs ached with a stiffness that couldn’t be removed with stretching. Your head throbbed. You were so tired. It was the kind that transcended beyond simple rest. It was the kind of fatigue that told you that you were fighting for too long.
But that’s all you knew how to do. Fight. And if nothing else, if you couldn’t fight, you wouldn’t let go.
You had to fight to be seen. Fight to be heard. Fight to be considered. Fight to be remembered. You fought only to lose in the end, only to have a body and soul riddled in scars that couldn’t be seen and wouldn’t heal.
As much as you wanted to believe that you were safe, you didn’t feel it. No, you weren’t in any immediate threat of physical danger, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you were uneasy. The interview itself was more than enough, but you haven’t even begun to unpack whatever the hell happened to you on the roof. The purple fire? The way it spoke? The way it was able to dissect you? Trying to rationalize that was hard. You could chalk it up to emotional distress or a full-blown mental breakdown, but even that was a stretch. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was all the anxiety and stress. There had to be a rationalization that explained what you saw. A hallucination. A fever dream. Something .
You plopped on the couch and released an exhausted breath. Your mind still spun with all the things that happened to you, and you needed a distraction. So, you turned to your phone. It was easy to find something mindless to do there. Mind-numbing internet was what you needed.
However, using your phone turned out to be a huge mistake.
You opened the internet app, and the first thing that it brought up was all the news articles that were made concerning your interview. Immediately, you felt your heart plummet. You should close the app and pretend that you didn’t see anything. You should put the phone down altogether and find something else to occupy your time. You didn’t do any of those. Instead, you read the titles of each article.
Is Rumi in A Dead-End Relationship?
Reasons Why Relationships Between Celebrities and Everyday People Don’t Work: An Analysis
The First, and Perhaps Last, Interview with Rumi’s Flailing Partner
Interview with Huntr/x’s Rumi: A Publicity Stunt Gone Wrong
Seo-Yun May Have Exposed Something Suspicious Involving Huntr/x
It kept going. Article after article. Tens of hundreds more of think pieces, blogs, news hacks, and everything else in between that were tearing you apart like you weren’t a living person. You read through it all, addicted to the sting of being picked apart by people who didn’t know who you were until two days ago. Many praised Seo-Yun for what she did, claiming that Rumi could do so much better than you. Their comments hurt, and you swallowed the developing lump in your throat as you read faster. Some were ruthless as they eviscerated your character and questioned your intentions. Others took enjoyment at your public humiliation. One comment read:
“Serves her right. I can’t even imagine being with Rumi for her money and then lying about it to save face.”
You read another.
“How pathetic. Crying on stage to garner sympathy is the oldest trick in the book.”
Another.
“Why date a celebrity if you can’t handle the pressure of the public image that comes with dating one? You can tell that this person came right off the streets. This is her first and last interview indeed.”
Another.
“Rumi couldn’t at least get someone who’s Korean?”
What the fuck did your nationality have to do with this? You wished that this didn’t bother you. You wished that you could shrug all of this off and laugh at the energy that people were putting into this. You wished that you were resilient, but the truth was that each and every comment brought you lower. You kept reading until the words blurred together, and until the phone screen was swimming in front of you. When the tears fell, you didn’t sob. You didn’t make a noise. You stared, unblinking, as they ran hotly down your cheeks. You sat there, looking at nothing, your brain running a mile a minute while not retaining a single thought at the same time. Your hand shook and you locked your phone while trying to remain calm.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Inhale. Exhale.
You were breathing, but the action did little to assuage the pressure growing in your chest. If anything, it made you more aware of your body. It made you focus on just how hard your heart was beating behind your ribs. It made you feel the stiffness and the growing tension in your neck and shoulders. It made your leg muscles twitch. It made you want to move, to go somewhere, to put this energy into something before you clawed off your own skin. Suddenly, you stood up and returned to Rumi’s room. You slipped into her closet to change into a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants before leaving. Then, you were out of the penthouse before you could think better of it.
The elevator beeped with each floor it passed. At this time of day, you wouldn’t have to worry about Bobby coming, but you still reached back to put on your hood. You made sure to position it so that it hid most of your face and features from sight. You didn’t have the energy to deal with any unsolicited encounters.
When you left the building and stepped onto the street, you stood there and stared. The streets were well illuminated but empty. It was just you, and this horribly empty feeling that you couldn’t remove. It felt harrowing and familiar at the same time, like you’ve felt this before. And you have. Just with someone else, someone that was all too comfortable with making you feel like you weren’t enough. In all this time, you thought that this feeling went away, but instead it was repressed. The interview exhumed everything. Unearthed it. Each question that Seo-Yun asked picked at a barely healed wound, reopening it and exposing it to the world. Now, it festered. It ached. It pulsed. It throbbed. You were bleeding without a single drop of blood spilling, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.
You turned towards the sidewalk and moved, not caring where you went as long as you didn’t stay here. It wasn’t cold outside, but you still crossed your arms over your chest like you were freezing. You could feel the goosebumps blossoming across your covered skin. In the rare chance that you walked past someone, you ducked your head and looked away. It felt weird to be surrounded by hushed conversation and reserved laughter. You felt out of place with each smile that you saw. It only reinforced the feeling that you didn’t belong here. Not just where you lived, but by Rumi’s side. In her life.
You continued walking, passing display windows and billboards that played the news. Of course, they also played the evidence of your blunder for the entire world to see. The newscaster spoke in Korean, and while you weren’t completely fluent, you knew enough to get the gist. Words like “foreigner” and “interview”, and especially, “public embarrassment” you understood all too well. Before the segment was finished, you decided that you’d had enough and walked away.
You kept walking, your feet moving forward until you reached the outskirts of the city. That’s when the sounds of water cut through the quieting atmosphere that surrounded you. The Han River, the one that cut through the heart of Seoul, sat still and tranquil just beyond reach. The waves lapped gently against each other, and in any other circumstance, it would relax you. But not tonight.
You’ve never felt so alone...
The thought wasn’t foreign to you. It was yours, settling into the pit of your stomach with the heaviness of a stone. It made itself at home and burrowed deep like a parasite. The echo of it made your breath hitch, and as you stood by the river’s edge, with your hands gripping the metal bars that separated you from it, your vision blurred. A sob escaped before you could stop it. Hot tears trailed down your cheeks again, and you buckled, your head leaning against the railing like it was a lifeline.
This feeling...it was never going to go away, was it?
You were never going to be good enough, were you?
Why couldn’t the world just be kind to you?
Why couldn’t he love you???
It all poured out. The pain. The sorrow. The dejection. All the feelings that you hoped to never feel again came gushing out as you lamented on something that would never happen. You couldn’t stop it. A part of you didn’t want to. It was over. It was about time you accepted that in this game, you lost. There were no do-overs. There would never be an option to start again from the beginning. You couldn’t reload your last save file. What happened, happened, and you were never going to be able to escape this feeling.
You just wanted it to stop. This heaviness. This ache. This feeling of suffocation. You wanted peace. You would do anything for peace .
You kept crying, your eyes squeezed closed while more tears stained your cheeks and the wetness soaked into the fabric of your hoodie. You didn’t feel it. Not at first. You didn’t feel the force trying to tug you downwards. You didn’t feel the sidewalk beginning to concave underneath your unsteady feet. You didn’t feel the heat of something ancient licking against your back. You didn’t feel any of it until it was too late.
You had a split second of clarity, of realization, a gasp tearing through seized lungs as you felt the ground literally fold beneath you. Then, you were falling. The world teetered, flipping upside down as nothingness swallowed you whole. You didn’t even get the chance to scream. In one moment, you were sobbing by yourself at the river, and in the next, you were plummeting into darkness. But as soon as you started, you felt yourself flip again, the world suddenly upright and the force of gravity pulling you down. In the next heartbeat, you slammed into the ground, a cry of pain forcing itself past open lips as you settled onto something rough and unyielding. Pain vibrated through your body, the throbs ricocheting between pain receptors. Miraculously, nothing was broken, and besides being in shock, you were okay.
For now.
You blinked, a cough leaving your aching chest, but then, you felt it. Heat. It wasn’t like on the rooftop. There was a familiarity to it, but it felt too real to be deniable, too dangerous to pass off as a fever dream. You looked up as you gathered where you were, and when you looked down, you saw that you were on a rock. It was too smooth and polished to be a natural formation, but when you looked more you saw that it wasn’t just rock. It was an altar. You turned around and saw the platform before your eyes took in the stairs. They descended into a sea of...
You choked, scrambling to your hands and knees to try and run away, but you were too panicked, your movements too crazed and too clumsy. You only succeeded in scooting backwards, the rock cutting into the palms of your hands as you took in a mass of monsters.
They stretched as far back as the eye could see. All shapes and all sizes. All of them staring at you. All of them staring in varying degrees of malicious glee or evil intent. But none made a move towards you. They kept staring, unblinking, with black, red, or yellow eyes. They were grotesque. Deformed. Some had more than two eyes. Others had claws. More still had horns, but there was one thing that they all had in common, one feature that united them all across the ground floor: patterns.
Like tiger stripes or lightning bolts, these marks decorated their skin in various shades of purple or magenta. Somehow, in the midst of claws, horns, and terrifying eye colors, it was their most prominent feature. It stood out to you the most, and despite the fear that filled you to the brim, a wave of déjà vu filled you. Like somewhere, somehow, you’ve seen these before. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to put more effort into this than need be. What you were seeing wasn’t as dire as trying to escape.
You moved again, and this time, you steadied yourself, standing on wobbly feet, and whirling around to start running. But you were met with scorching flames right as you took a single step. You didn’t have to look up. You didn’t have to take in the color or its size. You didn’t even have to recognize the smile. You knew that it was him, from the roof that night. The purple fire that spoke to you and tore you apart in a few simple sentences.
Like this, he was much bigger. He towered over you, so much so, that you had to crane your neck all the way back to look at him. That smile . The one that shined the brightest. The one that was more magenta than purple. There were no more defining features except that one, and it was more than enough. It was enough to inject terror straight into your veins. It was enough to make you freeze in place. It was enough to render you helpless.
Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to survive this.
He chuckled darkly. Though he didn’t have discernible eyes, you could tell that he was assessing you. No detail went unscrutinized. Nothing more went without a degrading scoff. This thing was measuring you from the inside out. It judged your body, your heart, and your soul .
“No,” he breathed, his voice loud enough to make you wince and ethereal enough to make you shiver. “He didn’t love you.”
You opened your mouth, but barely a shuddering breath left you, much less any words. You wanted to know if this was real. You wanted to demand what this thing wanted. You wanted to be brave. Instead, your throat squeezed, the adrenaline flooding your body making it hard to determine if you were going to fight or flee. You tried again, swallowing the lump that lodged itself against your vocal cords.
“H-How-?”
“How did I know?” he interrupted harshly. “You humans are so predictable. Nothing about you distinguishes you from each other. After millennia, after eons, I’ve yet to see a human being that’s surprised me. Except for one.”
You wondered, very distantly, who this human was, but again. You weren’t going to spend too much time trying to figure it out. Not with the current situation at hand.
“You’re undeserving of love,” he continued and you swallowed thickly. “You’re so undeserving of it that the one person that was supposed to love you, didn’t, and he isn’t losing any sleep over it. Not like you are. You, who keep wondering what more you could have done. All of that crying. All of that sobbing. All of that begging, and you still fell short .”
You knew that what he was saying was true. These were the things that kept you up at night. These were the truths that shaped you into who you were now. Nothing about it was surprising, but each sentence he said was like a new nail in your coffin, and he hammered hard. Though these were things you’ve thought of before, hearing them out loud shattered you. It was one thing to think these things about yourself, but to hear them imploded the illusion that maybe it was all in your head. If a sentient ball of fire could see this, then maybe there was some truth to it. Each sentence resonated inside of you, striking a cord in your chest that had fresh tears welling in your eyes again.
“You’re pathetic. You’re nothing, and that’s all you’ll ever be in life, but I can change that. I can change you. I can make you into someone that’s deserving of love. I can make it so that you never have to beg for it ever again.”
It was inexplicable, or maybe insane, but that filled you with hope. It filled you with something that you hadn’t felt in a really long time. Was it really that easy? This entity could just, what? Make it all go away? You were many things, but you weren’t naive. Many things in life never came free, and you looked at him as he seemed to swell and shrink with every breath he took. You took a second to look up past the flames, and into the sky.
It was bleak, gray, and abysmal, but in the sky were lines that you could faintly see. They were iridescent, slightly shimmering, just bright enough that you could barely make them out. It was as though something was shielding them from you, like it was something you weren’t supposed to see, but were. These lines seem to hum, like they were alive, but you weren’t sure. Your mind was having a hard time accepting any of this for what it was. You were still reeling, still trying to accept if any of this was real.
Still…You turned your attention back to the flames in front of you.
“What do you get out of this?” you asked, your voice surprisingly steady.
There was a moment of anticipation as the flame’s smile widened. It seemed to stretch the moment, considering, or torturing you more, as you waited for an answer.
“In some point in the future, I will call for you, and you will answer. I know that you can see the Honmoon above us.”
The Honmoon?
“You will get rid of that barrier and usher us into a new era.”
“And if I refuse?”
The smile curled into something sharper, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Then you go back to your wretched life. Unloved and unwanted.”
Somehow, such a future seemed more daunting and painful than what he was proposing. You didn’t know what a Honmoon was. You still weren’t sure if any of this was real, but what you did know was that you couldn’t continue to live like this.
"How do you think Rumi’s perception of you would change when she finds out what happened to you, hm? Do you think that she would still stay by your side? Or do you really think that she would love something so... broken.”
You swallowed thickly, the world narrowing to the questions he proposed. You wanted to believe that Rumi would still be there for you, but more importantly, you wanted to know how he knew about Rumi. How could he know so much about you?
“She’s still here.”
“For now,” he answered easily. “But that’s because you haven’t told her the truth, have you?”
No. You haven’t, and because of how new the relationship was, you wouldn’t be able to predict Rumi’s reaction. Admittedly, you’ve dreaded all conversations about home and family life. You knew that the girls’ pasts, collectively, weren’t sunshine and rainbows. Rumi was even less than forthcoming with the details of her past, and in that regard, you understood. Even knowing that, you believed that Rumi deserved better. She deserved more than this, deserved more than you, and what you could currently offer.
“You’ll get to keep your precious Rumi.”
The moment he said it, it sealed your fate. The decision was made before you could voice anything, your resolution and resolve clear, and you clenched your jaw. For Rumi, yes, anything. For her, you wanted to be stronger. For her, you were going to do this. You didn’t want her to have this broken version of you. Rumi deserved the best, and if he claimed that he could do it, then so be it. You looked at the entity and nodded once as your hands curled into fists by your sides.
His smile spread wider, and if it were possible for him to have teeth, they would be flashing at you. “ Perfect .”
It happened too fast. Before you could think of the ramifications of what you just agreed to, before you could think better on what you just did…. before you could even think , tendrils of flames exploded out of his body. First two, then four, then ten, multiplying faster than you could see them. Violet energy licked towards the gray sky. The fire burned bright, the flame hotter than you’ve ever felt it. They thrashed in the air, moving erratically, before they all coiled and shot towards you at the same time. You backed away. One step. And another. Not moving fast enough to escape even though you knew it was futile. A force you couldn’t see anchored your feet down. It felt like you were grafted to the rock beneath you, but it didn’t matter. The tendrils of fire were already surrounding you, encircling you, and cutting off your gaze to the outside world. There was no escaping. Your knees buckled, and the jagged edges of rock dug into you. The sweats protected your skin from getting sliced open while you watched, in terror, as fire began to circle tighter around you.
It was a whirlwind of heat. Purple and magenta chased one another, surrounding you, enclosing you, trapping you in a barrier that blended the colors until you saw nothing but fire. You gasped, huddling into yourself to keep from burning, but the space was rapidly disappearing. Just when you felt the first touch of fire against your body, something jerked you upwards. You were rising into the air, held suspended by a force that was stronger than you. The whirlwind of fire got smaller still and you closed your eyes. Never in all your life have you ever felt this terrified. Your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You were going to die. You were trapped within a cyclone of fire, the malicious laughter encircling you like the fire did. It felt wrong. It felt malevolent. And however much worse you thought it could get, it didn’t prepare you to feel searing agony on your body.
It started at your feet, the pain intense and immediate. Your eyes widened, your body seized, and a guttural scream tore from your throat. It was eating you alive, searing everything in its path, but it didn’t stop there. No. The fire traveled up your body. It slithered like a serpent, more fire engulfing your limbs and burning you alive while you screamed and screamed.
He laughed. He was laughing at you, his laughter louder than your cries of agony as his energy sank past skin, past muscle, and straight into your bones. The fire continued to crawl upwards. It engulfed your legs, unfurled to cover your torso, and inched across your arms. You were helpless. Trapped. Suspended. Your eyes stared open and wide at the sky above you while energy beyond your understanding ravaged your body. More fire climbed higher up your chest. Towards your collarbones. Up your neck. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think past the pain. You were stuck and you were burning alive.
Once the tendrils engulfed you entirely, they snaked to your gaping mouth before entering you, one by one. You choked, whether on a scream, or in fear, or on fire, you didn’t know. It was all blurring together, nothing more discernible as you felt searing agony within you as well. You could feel them intrude your body, could feel them pressing against the column of your throat as they made their way down. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Any tears that you shed were instantly scorched away. It went on for a lifetime. Every neuron screamed for mercy. You wanted to die. You needed for it to stop, but it didn’t.
The world was beginning to fade. Black shadows at the edges of your vision crawled inward like millions of ants. This was it. This was the end for you. You were going to die and the last person you could think of was Rumi. Even through the agony, her face was crystal clear in your mind’s eye. He was still laughing in twisted glee, and you could only submit to what was happening to you as his fire continued to incinerate everything that you were. He didn’t say anything more, and he didn’t have to. When the world went mercifully dark, and everything fell away from you, you were suddenly struck with his name. Despite the heat licking across your skin, the knowledge of who he was sent a shiver down your spine.
Gwi-Ma.
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