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It takes three days to creep back in.
The first day is just pure exhilaration. Nothing exists but relief and love and gratitude, coursing through Mira like it's replaced her blood. It sings in every part of her, the steady, sure beat of her heart sending wave after wave through her.
The second day is even better, somehow. They lay on the couch and in Rumi's bed and on the kitchen floor and they just… talk. They talk about Rumi's patterns and her thing with Jinu, and she even introduces them to Danjeon and Bandit - Zoey is, predictably, obsessed. It's like now that the Honmoon is strengthened, they've got the time to make sure they're strengthened.
The third day is… it's a day. There are fans outside and they have to call out a plumber because the shower breaks, and Mira burns her omelette. It's not enough to push her over the edge, or at least, it shouldn't be, but she's got so far to fall after the high of the last few days. Instead of stood firmly on solid ground she'd been wobbling on the edge of the aeroplane of exultation, and the relentless sound of dripping water and the smell of smoke are enough to push her before she can grab her parachute.
She's hurtling towards Earth, battered by winds of you thought you found a family? You don't deserve one, you never have, and not everything is about your insecurities!
It's not like Mira doesn't understand why Rumi had lied. She likes to think she would have handled it well if she'd found out a different way, but it's a hollow promise, not something she can back up. And even then, it's hard to live with the knowledge that one of her best friends - her sister, her life, her sanctuary - has been lying about something so important for their entire lives.
What had Mira done that had made Rumi so uncertain of her? Was it the harshness, the fake apathy, the judgemental eyebrows she practices in the mirror? Has Rumi fallen for the act Mira had built to keep herself - and Rumi and Zoey - safe? Did she think Mira was just too caught up in her own issues to really care?
If she was Zoey, she'd just ask. There's an awful vulnerability to Zoey, like she's been cut so many times she doesn't see the point of stemming the bleeding. She just offers herself up, like it doesn't matter if she gets hurt, like she isn't the most wonderful thing in the whole world. If Rumi said it was Zoey, Zoey wouldn't flinch or break. She'd go quiet, retreat, be the perfect victim.
Mira chainsmokes first. She has to tuck herself into the CCTV blindspot on her balcony to do it, because if anyone, any random Saturday cover security guy even saw a hint of haze while reviewing footage she'd be as good as dead. Zoey wouldn't mind, she knows - America doesn't have anywhere close to the same views - but Rumi has never lived a day of her life out of the glare of Korean press cameras. Mira doesn't know how she'd take the risk to their reputation, nevermind her personal views.
It's a delicate thing, being the bad girl of the band without being too bad. They have to be loved, still. Good role models, safe for work. Mira keeps her nails painted and her teeth whitened and she rations her cigarettes out to really bad days.
Once she's worked through her allotted cigarettes, she takes a moment to self assess. It's something Celine taught her, to make sure she's not injured and unable to tell because of mid battle adrenaline, but it comes in useful with days like this all the same.
Usually the burn in her throat and the heady, spinning feeling of being poisoned helps her take a step back. The curl of smoke in her lungs is like a drop of dye in a leaky well, showing her where she's hurting and how to patch it up so she can heal. Today she just feels dizzy, and a little bit nauseous.
Next, she heads to the gym. Mira had thought, for some reason, some childish foolishness that needs stomping out, that Rumi had been totally right when she'd said that once they defeated Gwi-Ma, they'd stopped being plagued by doubt and insecurities and unsureties.
It had been stupid, she knows that in retrospect, but she'd been clinging to it, hoping against hope that once they'd won, she could finally put her own brain down, and enjoy things whole heartedly.
She slashes at the dummy in front of her like it's holding the final fragment of Gwi-Ma, like once it's well and truly dead, she'll have peace
Its head bounces across the floor, making that awful bouncing rubber sound. Mira doesn't feel any better.
Finally, now that vices and violence have both failed her, she goes to talk to Rumi.
Not talk to her talk to her, duh. That would involve far too much whining about her own problems and feelings like she doesn't already know Rumi doesn't want to hear that. But maybe if they hang out, and Rumi's normal with her, she can convince herself they're really okay.
“Oh! Mira!” Rumi's smile looks normal, Mira guesses. Nothing secretive or cruel about the edges of it. “I was just gonna come find you, do you wanna come in?”
Mira nods. Danjeon is sprawled out on the floor, batting a paper ball between its huge paws. She doesn't see Bandit, but she's sure it's around somewhere. “Is that okay?”
Rumi shoots her a concerned look. “Of course it is. Have you been training?”
“What? Oh, um, yeah. I guess. Not much, I just… don't wanna get rusty.” Mira pats her hair self consciously, assuming it's the stray flyaways giving her away. “Never know when Zoey might drag me to queue up for concert merch again.”
They both shudder at the memory. It's easy, the synchronicity, trained into them by choreographers and stage crew and Celine. It eases something in Mira's chest to see they haven't lost it.
“Well, better you than me,” Rumi jokes. She lays sideways on the bed, head in Mira's lap. “Zoey says I'm too nice for those queues.”
Mira smiles to herself, fond. She tentatively rests her hand in Rumi's hair, unbraiding it from the end up. “She's right.”
“Zoey's way nicer than me,” Rumi protests, then cuts off whatever she was going to say next with a groan. “Oh my god, that feels so good. I didn't even know I had a headache til now.”
“Zoey's made multiple grown men cry in rap battles,” Mira reminds her, massaging her scalp slowly. She brushes her fingers over the patterns at the nape of Rumi's neck, cautious like they might shock her or something. Maybe she wouldn't have reacted well if Rumi had told them before, if she can barely even touch her now. “People tell you they're a huge fan and you're all like oh please you go ahead in front.”
Rumi presses into Mira's touch as her eyes flutter closed. “I just don't want our fans to think I don't value them! They do so much for us, the least we could do is queue a little longer.”
“This is why Zoey takes me.” Mira's hand pause, unbidden. “Do you… do you think I'm not nice enough?”
Rumi's eyes snap open. Mira can hardly bear to look at them. “Woah, Mira, what? Of course not, I don't think you're not-nice at all.”
Mira scoffs. “Don't be like that. I'm not nice.”
“Of course you are,” Rumi says, soft and insistent. Bandit appears out of nowhere and lands swiftly on Mira's shoulder. “You're so nice, you're always taking care of me and Zoey. You queue with her, and hold her bags when they're too heavy, and you give me scalp massages and touch me even though I'm all… different. Just because you're not nice to everyone doesn't mean you're not nice at all. It feels more special to us, and our fans, that you show us that.”
Mira isn't sure what she'd expected Rumi to say exactly, but it definitely wasn't that. She blinks back tears, ignoring the burning in her throat. “But. I- I just fuck everything up, Rumi. I only care about myself and how i feel and I push everyone away and-”
Rumi rolls up onto her knees and puts her hand across Mira's mouth. She presses their foreheads together, eyes so close Mira can see the flecks of purple, the same shade as her patterns. “Mira, none of those things are true. You're so caring, and so kind. You always have so much time for us, you kept trying to get me to open up and let you help even when you could tell I was lying to you. You've never given Zoey a hard time about being American even when you have to explain things over and over. If you being you pushes people away then they're not people worth your time or your tears. Okay? You're the best family I've got.”
Gwi-Ma's voice quietens in Mira's ears. Family. She imagines her mom's tight, displeased face, knowing Mira's stupid band passion project had worked out, knowing these people love her and value her. “I- I don't… I love you, Rumi. I'm sorry you never felt like you could tell me and I'm sorry I reacted so badly when you did. All I wanted was to be allowed to be there for you and I ruined it when you gave it to me.”
Mira can't tell if it's her crying or Rumi, or maybe both. Bandit licks the salt water off her cheek either way.
“No, I'm sorry,” Rumi whispers. “I lied to you over and over again, I even promised nothing was going on. But it was never because I didn't trust you, Mira. Or Zoey. Celine... she kept telling me I shouldn't tell anyone, and she… she could never look at me without them covered. She could never love me with them, not fully. And you and Zoey are just so important to me that I… I couldn't have lived with knowing you loved me less because of it.”
“I don't,” Mira promises, with more conviction than she's ever promised anything. “I think they're badass, actually. Who'd have known you'd be the first of us to get tattoos?”
Rumi laughs wetly. “At least they're purple. That's my colour.”
Mira hugs her so tightly she can't breathe. She doesn't need to anyway, not knowing they're okay, not knowing Rumi loves her still, not knowing she always has. “I'd love you even if you'd gone total demon mode. I'd go demon to stay with you.”
Rumi sobs, nails digging into Mira's back. She doesn't mind. “You brought me back, Mira. You and Zoe. Knowing you still needed me is what brought me back. You love me out of being ashamed. It keeps me human.”