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“Why does Rumi only wear long sleeves?”
Zoey had never really thought about it until a fan asked.
They had been doing a Q&A booth to try and boost more independent popularity, since their last booth was crashed by the saja boys.
Zoey glanced over to where Rumi was signing another ‘RumixJinu’ poster. Sweat was beading along her forehead, but no one seemed to notice. Zoey frowned as she thought, why did Rumi wear long sleeves?
She shook her head and looked back at the fan, whose eager demeanor was replaced with a soft smile. “It’s okay if you don’t know, I was just wondering.”
Zoey smiled, eyebrows still creased, she shook her head. “Sorry, have a nice day!”
The fan took their leave and the next one filled their place. Even after the process repeated (minus asks of Rumi’s long sleeve habit), Zoey still couldn’t shake the unease from that particular fan.
——
The question took Mira by surprise, fans never asked such personal questions. Even fewer would say it as bluntly as the fan did. Mira did a double take, “Sorry?”
“Why does Rumi only wear long sleeves? I know you girls aren't afraid to show skin, both you and Zoey have had short sleeved outfits. But never Rumi. Do you know why? It’s okay if not.”
Mira scowled. She didn’t know the answer, and that’s why she scowled. Mira didn't like not knowing. She prided herself on her knowledge and ability to read people. Despite this, she never even thought to figure out the answer to a question as simple as the one posed. It took all of her strength not to look over at Rumi.
If she did look, Rumi would catch on and most probably deflect the concern away from her. Just like when they asked her to go to the bathhouses with them. That’s what Rumi always did, deflect. And sadly, she was good at it.
Mira focused back on the fan, cursing internally for getting distracted. She shook her head, “No I don’t. Maybe don't ask such personal questions.”
The fan paled, quickly said an apology and scurried away.
Mira took a breath, grounding herself before smiling for the next fan in line.
——
It had been three days since the Q&A, and neither girl could get the fan’s question out of their head. Mira was training twice as hard, a bad habit. Zoey was stress eating.
Had they missed something? Were the sleeves a sign? Maybe Rumi…
No. Neither girl wanted to think the worst. But maybe -just maybe- Rumi wasn’t as okay as she appeared. At some point all the girls had felt useless at one point in time. Zoey when she couldn’t perfect a weapon immediately, Mira when a demon outsmarted her. Maybe the same was occurring with Rumi? Was Rumi feeling useless, yet instead of inviting a healthier coping mechanism into her life… She had turned to harming herself?
You had to be blind and an idiot to say the girls didn't have access to weapons, it’s how they killed demons after all. So it wouldn’t be so fetched to say Rumi had, instead of on a demon, turned the blade on herself.
And weren’t the wrists -a place easily hidden by long sleeves- the most common place?
So, after a quick discussion before bed, the two decided to intervene. Not dramatically, just voice their worries to Rumi. They settled on the next night at dinner, a neutral territory that would hopefully allow Rumi the energy to be truthful.
——
Their chef had prepared a delicious hotpot. It had both spicy and sweet sides, with tons of noodles and vegetables. Meat sat on plates stacked to heaven, with sauces lined up around the woman’s plates.
Once the women filled their first bowl with cooked delicacies, Mira nodded at Zoey, signaling the start of the intervention.
“So, Rumi.” Mira waved her chopsticks at the woman in question.
Rumi glanced up, slightly suspicious. Normally they didn’t start chatting until after the second bowl.
“Yes Mira?” She replied, hoping none of her fears leaked into her voice.
Rumi followed Mira’s gaze to Zoey. Slowly, her blood turned cold. Zoey had always been bad at keeping a poker face, it was one of her defining features after all. What showed was a mix of pity and concern. Not two things the purple haired singer wished to see over dinner.
In a fearful voice, fully expecting the duo to say they wanted to separate, Rumi repeated herself, “Yes Mira?”
Zoey inhaled softly -Rumi’s attention turned to her-, she closed her eyes, then shook herself out and replied to the prompt. “We’ve… taken notice of a few…” she paused.
Mira took over, she had waited long enough it seems, “Are you harming yourself?”
The question floored Rumi, her heart skipped a beat and her mouth fell open with a choked sound.
Zoey took the reaction as negatively as expected. “You never show us your arms, you keep putting off going to the hot springs with us, Hell, you barely even change in the same room as us with a curtain!” Tears began to pour out of her eyes.
Rumi flicked her gaze to where Mira was sitting with a sorrowful expression. Rumi’s throat became clogged with emotion, she hadn’t realized hiding her stripes would cause the others to take such a drastic stance.
“Where…” Rumi swallowed, “How-”
Mira cut her off, “It isn’t that farfetched. Don’t lie and say we are exaggerating. I don’t know what you want us to think when all the signs point to self-harm. So, either tell us what is going on with you or I will make Bobby send you to a psych ward.”
If this was a song, the beat would have dropped. Rumi stumbled over her words, Zoey was no aid as when Rumi looked at her Zoey turned her face away, tears streaming down it.
“We just want to help.” Zoey’s voice broke.
Seeing how heartbroken her best friends were made Rumi start to tear up. Seconds pasted as minutes. At last, Rumi made a decision.
Damn Celine saying it would just cause more pain if they knew. Even if this broke their friendship, Rumi wanted them to know the truth. She couldn’t handle knowing she was lying to them every day of their lives.
Slowly, her jacket was unzipped. Rumi pulled the sleeves off of her arms. Cold washed over the bare skin. For a moment there was no reaction, both Zoey and Mira having turned their heads away.
“I’m not harming myself,” came Rumi’s weak voice.
Both girls’ heads swivelled to look at Rumi, obviously not trusting the words. Their mouths fell open at the purple-pink lighting bolts spread across her body.
“You’re- You’re-” Zoey stuttered.
“YOU’RE A DEMON!?” Zoey and Mira screamed simultaneously.
Tears began to water in Rumi’s eyes, “I’m sorry I lied.”
Mira’s face softened. She climbed across the table to get over to Rumi, not caring if she had to push dishes out of the way. Zoey followed in a much more reasonable manner, pushing out of her chair and rounding over to Rumi’s side of the table.
Rumi had screwed her eyes shut and curled up in her chair, convinced they were going to attack her. Warmth was not something she had expected. Zoey and Mira had tightly embraced Rumi, pulling her out of the stiff chair and onto the not much comfier tile floor.
Rumi let out the sob she had withheld. Her body wracked with tremors, shaking violently. Faintly, she could make out soft coos and praise from the other third of their trio. Soft, familial kisses began to bless her patterns. They lingered with warmth, slowly turning the cold skin into a warmth only fire had previously provided.
They stayed like that until Rumi pulled away, which she didn’t.
——
Bobby wandered into the kitchen of the flat, intent on making his girls a breakfast for the big day. His arms swelled with grocery bags, a collage of different breakfast ingredients spread between them. He set them down on the counter, careful not to break the eggs he had gotten in hopes of making an omelet for Zoey.
Distantly, alarm bells rang in the back of the manager’s head at the lack of noise throughout the flat, as the girls were normally up by now.
What definitely didn’t seem right was the lack of dishes in the sink. Now, his girls did a ton. They kept the flat clean and worked long hours, so it was no sweat for him to wash the dishes when he came over. Normally, when they knew he was coming over they would put the dishes that could be in the dishwasher in there and left the rest neatly stacked up beside the built-in sink.
They had probably decided that they could do the dishes, how sweet. Bobby lets himself believe.
——
The smell of delicious eggs and bacon filled the flat. Bobby was almost done with breakfast. All he had to do was plate the meals family style and place them on the table.
The first part wasn’t too complicated, just scoop and place. The second, though, proved to be complicated. When he went to the dining table to put out heat-resistant mats, he found the previously missing dishes. They were still on the table, full of food.
The table was in a state of disaster. None of the chairs had been pushed in, food scattered the floor, flies had begun to flirt around the food. Bobby’s breathing sped up. The girls were not this messy usually, maybe Zoey sometimes when she got in a state, but otherwise cleaner than in IKEA showroom.
He rushed around the table, trying to see if anything had been left. Instead of seeing the terrifying scene his brain had mustered up within seconds, he found the girls cuddled up on the floor. Rumi had only a t-shirt on, surprising, but they seemed unharmed.
Bobby, still unsure as to what happened, decided to clean up and wait for the girls to wake up and explain.
Minutes later, the table was spotless and the prepared food was in a warm oven.