Chapter Text
No matter how many times Rumi awoke next to her girls, it didn’t feel right. It hadn’t for weeks now. Even here, wrapped in Zoey’s trademark koala grip that made it quite difficult to breathe, and blinded by the sliver of sunlight that sliced its way across the room and into her eyes (blocked only partially by the flyaway strands of Mira’s strawberry hair as she rolled over, letting out the most adorable of huffs as she did so), something in the vocalist’s nature wouldn’t let her settle. Wouldn’t let her feel safe, here in her girls’ arms. If the beads of sweat that stubbornly remained on Rumi’s brow were any indication, her dreams weren’t helping.
As Mira had intelligently observed, they seemed to be linked to her demon side. Visions of another world, glimpsed through her demidemon powers and the ability to travel between worlds. Rumi hadn’t tried to teleport since the night of the Namsen Tower concert, although whether that was because she couldn’t or wouldn’t was impossible to decipher.
The sheer terror that had gripped her girls when she had confessed her trip to the hunters’ tree that night had led to many a long night of tense conversation and unrestrained tears for weeks. Even during their hiatus, it had threatened the integrity of HUNTR/X and all three could sense a change in their relationship. It was subtle at first, a few less nights spent in each other’s rooms than before, the confessions they had shared hanging between them. Mira was cautious to broach any of Rumi’s boundaries, which had been wound tightly around her for her entire childhood and were only just beginning to relax. Zoey was terrified of making Rumi feel bad about herself, but her need for closeness led her to stay with Mira again and again. Eventually, Zoey’s army of marine plushies began a steady march into Mira’s fashion haven, and it became a room for two. Only Zoey’s desk saw much use these days.
Despite her girlfriends’ best efforts, though, Rumi was coiling in on herself again, spending more time alone and covered by hoodies and leggings.
It took about two weeks after That Night that Zoey had boiled over with anxiety and called a group meeting.
***
“Okay, we’re going to talk now.” Zoey grabbed Rumi’s hand and positively yanked, a little harder than she might have on any other day. The urgency to talk to her girlfriends about what was happening between them had grown to a fever pitch in her mind, and she had been patient long enough. Mira stalked ahead of them towards the living room, and a distant part of Zoey growled at her for being so fucking tall. Another part of Zoey growled at Mira at the same time for being so fucking gorgeous. Zoey contained multitudes.
It was these multitudes that had landed both of these incredibly hot women in her life, and made her skilled at killing demons and writing lyrics simultaneously. Containing multitudes was the only way Zoey could be the badass she knew she was born to be. The double-edged sword of containing multitudes, however, is that it was painfully obvious to Zoey when someone around her was trying to hide parts of themselves. Especially when they were bad at hiding things. And especially especially when that someone was Rumi.
The living room was soaked in that kind of early afternoon light that gave the impression the sun would stay in the sky forever. The multistory windows guided the warmth of the summer onto the couch, where the illuminated fluff adorned with throw pillows awaited the three of them. Remnants of the previous night’s cuddle pile were still visible if you knew what to look for: a crumpled napkin with tyeotbokki crumbs, the occasional wavy strand of purple hair, and one or two of Mira’s black hair ties that had fallen into the cushions in the dim light when the trio was distracted by the American cartoon Zoey had roped them into watching together.
As Mira padded into the living room, she continued past the couch and over to the kitchen, where she set about doing what she did best—making sustenance for her girls. Although they had all eaten breakfast, Mira knew full well that Zoey’s bowl sugary cereal and Rumi’s dry toast was not enough brain food to have a conversation like the one they were about to have. With a parting glance towards Rumi’s hoodie-framed face and Zoey’s set jaw as they emerged from the hallway and grumpily trod towards the couch, Mira began her long-practiced dance of gathering ingredients and utensils to make something more filling. The scent and sound of sizzling eggs and oil in a skillet soon permeated the space as she busied herself with her favorite activity.
“Mir—are you making gyeran mari for us right now?” Zoey had perked up already, it seemed. Mira let herself release a quiet chuckle at the sound of her excited words.
“Yes, baby. I know you love your Fruit Hoops or whatever, but you need to eat real food before having deep discussions, okay?” Without even turning around, Mira could sense the maknae’s jaw dropping as a consternated defense rose from her lips.
“I will have you know that the delectable American delicacy you have just maligned so inconsiderately, my dear Mira, is in fact called Froot Loops. And if that doesn’t count as real food, then I guess I didn’t eat any real food as a child before noon.” Zoey held her chin high and puffed out her chest, expectorating significant pride for her childhood home as she defended the honor of her favorite multicolored breakfast. “And for your information, the box says that it’s part of a complete breakfast. So there.” With that, she stuck her tongue out at Mira even though her pink-haired girlfriend wasn’t even looking in her direction.
Rumi remained stationary and silent throughout the entire interaction. Her face, although partially obscured by the well-worn grey hoodie she wore when she needed comfort, was a sight to behold. Her eyes were sunken and ringed with purple, a few shades darker than her hair. Sleep had been evading her for days, ever since that vivid nightmare of Zoey the half-demon. The flurry of emotions that fought within her mind ever since had drained her of her tireless energy, stoic demeanor, and even her workaholic tendencies. Mira and Zoey hadn’t bounced back immediately after Gwi-Ma was destroyed, but they had come around soon enough. Rumi felt trapped inside her own mind, numbly going through the motions of daily life on autopilot as her thoughts consumed her. It had become painfully obvious to the lead vocalist that her own fears were just as effective at breaking her as the Demon King’s voice had been.
A hand brushed Rumi’s cheek, interrupting another spiral. Zoey’s face shifted from an anxiety-tinged grimace into a warmer, softer smile edged with concern as she lifted her finger under Rumi’s chin to lift her gaze to her own. Her large brown eyes, sweet saucers of caramel and chocolate both, searched the older woman’s face for signs of life expectantly, glinting brightly in the reflection of the well-lit Seoul outside the tower windows.
“Rums, are you with me? Earth to Rumi!” Zoey’s tone was light, gentle, tinged with just the slightest hint of humor. Rumi's hoodie rustled quietly as she took in a shaky breath, nodding uncertainly in response.
“I’m here, Zozo.” Zoey’s thumb swiped carefully across Rumi’s cheek, tracing the edges of the iridescent patterns that extended there, and Rumi found herself melting into the contact as though she hadn’t felt it in years, a dim pulse of robin’s egg blue dancing under her girlfriend’s touch. When Zoey pulled her hand away seconds later, a pensive whimper found its way out of Rumi at the loss of contact, and her eyes remained fixed upon her girlfriend’s constellations of freckles as her patterns flickered a dim orange. For a moment, her worries were forgotten as she reached out to cup Zoey’s face. A soft blush crept up the maknae’s neck at that, and her breath caught a few times.
“Ahem!” Mira cleared her throat as she turned off the heat on the stove and turned to plate the egg rolls. “If you two are done making goo-goo eyes, lunch is ready.”
Rumi reluctantly pulled her arms in and, after a brief moment of hesitation, brought her face to Zoey’s and connected their lips with a short kiss. Zoey’s eyes widened impossibly further at the intimacy, then leaned into the kiss as her eyes fluttered shut. It had been a hot minute since Rumi had initiated a kiss between them, and she was determined not to waste the moment. Rumi’s lips always managed to quiet the storm raging within Zoey’s mind, bringing her back to the present and allowing her to focus. In this moment of kiss-drunk clarity, Zoey pulled back just a hair and whispered against Rumi’s lips.
“Let’s eat first, then we’ll talk. Okay?”
“O-Okay.” Rumi croaked uncertainly. She usually struggled to maintain eye contact when she was scared or stressed, but as Zoey reopened her eyes, she found a pair of hazel irises gazing deeply into hers. Zoey could feel the blush from earlier return with a vengeance as she patted Rumi’s hands and guided her to rise with her and walk over to the counter.
Mira was putting her apron away and toweling off the counter when her girlfriends made it onto their favorite stools. She slid a bowl over to each of them, and a pair of chopsticks followed. Mira picked up her own and slipped around the counter to sit alongside her girls. Unable to resist the temptation, she kissed both Zoey’s unrestrained wavy black hair on the top of her head and the lumpy outline of Rumi’s braid on the top of hers before sitting down to tuck in. There would be time to talk after the meal, Mira told herself distantly. With the first bite of eggs and green onions, she found her mind wandering to the countertop, which was inlaid with granite veins of dark green like an array of streams and rivers snaking their way across a flat world. As the sounds of her girlfriends eating to either side of her filled her ears, Mira found herself thinking of patterns.