Chapter Text
It was a well-known fact that Rumi loved teddy bears. Her girls knew it, variety shows loved it, hell, Celine had to deal with it as a kid.
What’s lesser known is that Rumi undoubtedly had a favorite bear. Over the years, her collection grew thanks to the gifts of Mira, Zoey, and even the fans. But, nothing could beat the ragged, worn-out bear that sat atop her bed every night. Yeongie had always been her favorite. After all, she was the first; the one Celine had bought for her when they first went to the teddy bear museum.
It had been a particularly rough day when Rumi plopped onto her bed, exhausted. Preparations for their Comeback showcase meant hours and hours of dance rehearsals and interviews. The latter of which put Rumi into a slightly miserable funk. Her facial muscles were sore from the strained smiles worn throughout the day. The interviewers, looking for the next big scoop, attempted to pry about both that fateful night of the Idol Awards and her new appearance. Though it felt less like questions being asked and more like an interrogation. Thankfully, her girls managed to steer the conversation away to lighter subjects, but the bitter taste remained at the back of Rumi’s throat throughout the evening.
Still lying with her stomach on the bed, Rumi turned her head to the side and let out a groan. Her gaze landed on the bear sitting next to her pillow. Rumi couldn’t tell if it was the moonlit lighting or her mind imagining it, but Yeongie looked sad. Maybe she was projecting. But projecting meant admitting she herself was sad, which she definitely wasn’t.
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
Okay, maybe she was sad. And maybe the longer she stared at Yeongie, the sadder she got because all she could picture was the day Celine took her to that teddy bear museum to buy Yeongie in the first place.
She hadn’t talked much with Celine since the Idol Awards. Their relationship was strained, for lack of a better word. Looking at Yeongie reminded her of the easier times, before the patterns, before the faults and fears, and before that night at the tree.
She reached for Yeongie, smoothing her ruffled fur gently. Expecting to feel the matted fur texture on her shoulder, confusion rang through her mind as she felt a puff of soft cotton.
Oh, she thought to herself. Yeongie had a tear.
That did it for her. Rumi clutched the bear close to her chest and bawled her eyes out. The tears wouldn’t stop coming as they fell and soaked into Yeongie. The one lasting symbol of her connection with Celine lay broken in her arms. It was ironic, really. Her relationship was torn at the seams, just like Yeongie. Rumi wondered if Celine could ever accept what she was. All of what she was. Her patterns shimmered in hues of pink and purple, reflecting onto the mattress below her. For the past few months, she worked hard to remind herself that her patterns weren’t an abomination, nor were they disgusting to look at. Relearning everything she was taught was difficult, but she had both Mira and Zoey to help her every step of the way. And yet, there were always those bad nights when the thoughts clouded over reasoning. Just like tonight.
As she held onto Yeongie like a lifeline, all she could think about was how she missed Celine. About how if she had just fixed her mistake of patterns, maybe the gap between them would’ve been bridged. Maybe they could’ve gotten past it all, and maybe, just maybe, they could have visited that teddy bear museum again. God, she really missed her.
Eventually, the sobs settled into sniffles as her emotional breakdown amplified her previous exhaustion, leading her into a fitful sleep.
Little did she know Mira had watched everything from the crack in the doorway.
———
The next morning, Rumi awoke wrapped in her favorite weighted blanket. The one reserved for particularly rough nights, and one that she definitely did not remember grabbing the night before. Memories of her breakdown flooded back. Blindly, she reached for Yeongie. Only, Yeongie wasn’t there. Panicked, she flailed off the bed with a loud thud as she hit the floor.
Blankets and pillows were thrown wildly as she searched desperately for Yeongie. Seconds away from throwing her mattress off the wooden frame, she heard a knock on her door.
A bit too frantically, she opened the door wide to see Mira, adorned in her familiar polar bear pajamas with hands behind her back. Her stance was a bit awkward, as if unsure whether the door would actually open—which was ridiculous because Rumi would always answer her girls. Their gazes met. Rumi noted the tired look in her eyes, almost as if she hadn’t slept the whole night. The faintest blush crept onto Mira’s cheeks as she tore her eyes away from the purple-haired leader and into her room. Glancing back at Rumi, she raised her eyebrow. Suddenly too aware of the state of disarray of her room, Rumi quickly narrowed the door gap, leaving only her own body visible and hiding the crime scene behind her.
An awkward pause filled the air as Rumi struggled to articulate her words.
“Mira! Hi! You, uh, you come here often?” Rumi mentally stabbed herself 28 times with her saingeom.
Mira raised her eyebrow even further, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips. Rumi was about to explode.
“Sooo, what was all of that about?” Mira asked, gesturing to the room behind her. The teasing glint in her eyes was gone, replaced with a lilt of concern.
“Oh, that? I was just looking for something.” Rumi confessed. She rubbed her at patterns anxiously, an old habit of sorts.
Mira cleared her throat, and Rumi glanced up to meet her eyes again. Only this time, Mira’s focus was on her own hands, the ones suspiciously behind her back like they were holding something. With a deep breath, Mira brought her hands forward to reveal… Yeongie?
“I, uh, I sewed her up for you. Here.” Mira rushed out as she plopped the bear into Rumi’s hands.
Instinctively, Rumi ran her finger over the tear in her shoulder. This time, she was met by jagged, uneven lines. The sewing was imperfect, but it was also so deeply authentic. As her thumb stroked Youngie's shoulder, it was like she could feel the care embedded into every stitch. On closer inspection, the lines of thread shimmered in the morning light. They were iridescent, a mix of pink, purple, and blue glittering across Yeongie’s fur. Iridescent, just like her own.
“Oh,” Rumi choked out, voice thick with emotion. Her fingers rubbed over the stitches once more, “I didn’t know you could sew.”
“I don’t.” Mira answered honestly, followed by an uncharacteristic ramble, “If you don’t like it, we could redo the sewing. Zoey could probably help out since she knows more about arts and crafts than I do. I got the thread from across town at that one place open 24/7. You know, the one idols use for fashion emergencies. Oh, but if it's the thread you don't like, then we could also redo that. I just figured—”
She was cut off by a warm weight smashing into her chest. Arms circled her in a crushing hug.
“Mira,” Rumi voiced, muffled by Mira’s shoulder and by her own unshed tears, “I love it.”
Mira gave a noncommittal hum. “No problem, Ru. I got you.”
Slowly, Mira's arms clutched onto her small frame.
"Thank you. Thank you for fixing her," Rumi mumbled.
Pulling away slightly, Mira kissed her forehead, then hugged deeper than before. A comfortable silence washed over them; the only sounds to be heard were Rumi's sniffles disappearing into the warmth of Mira's skin.
“You know, she never needed fixing.” Mira whispered, “She just needed a bit of love.”
Rumi laughed and choked on a sob. She buried herself into Mira’s shoulder as she soaked up her own bit of love.