Chapter Text

Rumi couldn’t count the amount of times she had walked in on Zoe and Mira making out. She knew the two were awfully close (they’d been like this since 2 years or so after their debut) but walking in on them this many times? It honestly felt suspicious.

Hell, she wanted a midnight snack once and was flashed with the image of the two locking lips. She was still shocked to this day that Zoey hadn’t fallen off the countertop.

It’s not like she was mad about it or anything. Those were her favorite people ever. But she felt something. Something hollow right about where her heart was.

It was jarring. Something she hadn’t really felt up until now.  

She didn’t really have time to feel. Celine’s mantra of “Our faults and fears must never be seen” was etched into her brain as long as she could remember. The fans were more important. Defeating Gwi-ma was more important.

Covering up her patterns was more important.

There was no need for that now though. Gwi-ma was defeated for now and Rumi could live with her patterns visible and glowing. She didn’t have to hide from anyone anymore.

So why did it still feel like she was hiding?

She wasn’t sure when the ache had become fascination. Maybe it had always been there, buried beneath duty and distraction. But lately, that hollow feeling twisted into something sharper. Something warm and aching all at once.

It wasn’t just loneliness. It wasn’t jealousy either, at least, not the kind she was used to. It was the way her chest tightened when Zoey laughed at Mira’s jokes, the way her gaze lingered just a second too long when Zoey brushed a hand through her hair.

And maybe she was tired of pretending it didn’t mean anything.

-:-

Zoey was testing out some makeup for a late night stream and Rumi felt all of the air in her lungs disappear. She was absolutely gorgeous. The casual way Zoey pursed her lips as she applied gloss, the soft focus in her eyes as she concentrated on her liner, the small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head. Every movement was mesmerizing. It wasn't just physical beauty; it was the way Zoey existed, effortlessly captivating, that stole Rumi's breath.

Rumi stood in the doorway longer than she meant to, half-hidden by the frame, watching Zoey in silence. The light from the mirror cast a soft halo around her, flickering faintly against the metallic shimmer of her makeup. Rumi had seen her like this countless times. Before shows, on livestreams, during those wacky game shows and fanmeets. 

But this felt different. Slower. Intimate in a way she couldn’t name.

Zoey caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Not startled, not embarrassed but just that easy, open grin that always made Rumi's stomach twist in strange, unfamiliar ways. She said good night to the viewers before closing her laptop.

“Hey,” Zoey said, capping some lip gloss and turning in her chair. “You need the mirror or something?”

Rumi shook her head, the motion a beat too delayed. 

“N-No. I was just...passing by.”

Zoey raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

Rumi’s first instinct was to lie, say she was tired, say she was hungry, say anything that would slide under the radar. But for some reason, the words didn’t come. The hollow ache was too loud now, pressing against her ribs like it wanted out.

“I’m fine,” she said instead, which wasn’t a lie. Not really. She was fine. Just confused. Just aching. Just-

“Do you wanna hang out?”, Zoey asked, patting the edge of the vanity stool beside her.

Rumi hesitated then nodded slowly. She walked in and sat beside her, careful not to look too long, not to let her thoughts slip out through her expression. But it was hard. Zoey was still looking at her.

“Your patterns are showing,” Zoey said softly, reaching out to trace a glowing line near Rumi’s collarbone with her finger, not touching but just close enough for Rumi to feel the heat of it. “They’re really pretty.”

Rumi glanced down at where Zoey’s finger hovered near her skin, the light of her patterns pulsing faintly beneath the surface. She didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

She wanted to say thank you. She wanted to say don’t look at me like that unless you mean it. 

“Can we go to your room? We can talk more on the balcony.”

Zoey had successfully derailed her train of thought.

Rumi smiled, “Sure.”

Zoey followed her without question, trailing a few steps behind as they made their way through the quiet hallway. Rumi's heart thudded with every step, louder than the hush of their bare feet on the ground.

When they reached her room, Rumi slid the door open and gestured to the balcony. “He’s usually out there this time of night,” she said, her voice lower now, like the dark demanded softness.

“He?” Zoey echoed, curious.

“You’ll see.”

The balcony was bathed in pale moonlight, silver filtering through the ivy-wrapped railing and the strands of glowing charm-lights overhead. The air smelled faintly of night jasmine and city breeze. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt full.

And then-

“Awww, hi Derpy!”

The tiger demon blinked, chuffing as it rubbed up against Zoey’s legs.

There was something about seeing her out here that made Rumi’s breath catch like she was witnessing a secret she wasn’t supposed to see. Or maybe just one she wasn’t ready to admit.

Her chest tightened, painfully tender.

Rumi’s gaze lingered, drinking in the soft curve of Zoey’s jaw, the way the shadows played gently across her skin, and the quiet calm in her eyes that made the world feel like it had slowed just for this moment.

The cool night air wrapped around them, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and something indescribably warm. Something that truly felt like home.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to hold its breath, and Rumi felt her chest tighten with a mix of awe and something deeper. Something that hummed quietly beneath her ribs, asking to be noticed.

Her eyes flicked away, heart hammering, just before Zoey could catch her stealing a glance.

Rumi stayed by the balcony railing a moment longer, the cool night air brushing softly against her skin. Derpy’s low chuffing filled the silence as he circled at her feet, his molten glass eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. The world felt still suspended between breaths.

Behind her, Zoey shifted closer, the faintest sound of her feet on the floor. Rumi didn’t turn immediately, but she felt the warmth radiating from Zoey’s presence.

“Wait, what about the bird?”

“What?”

“Y’know, the bird with the hat. Where is it?”

Rumi chuckled, “Look in front of you.”

The six-eyed bird ruffled its wings as it perched on the railing.

“WHOA-” Zoey shouted, “When did you get here?”

The bird chirped before flying over to sit on the blue tiger’s head.

Rumi gestured to the tiger who nodded in response and it opened up a portal and sank in. The bird squawked a small goodbye before it disappeared.

Zoey’s gaze softened, studying Rumi’s face with an intensity that made her heart flutter in an unfamiliar way.

“You carry a lot, Rumi,” Zoey said quietly, “more than anyone probably knows.”

Rumi swallowed, the ache inside her twisting and blooming into something heavier.

Now where the fuck did that come from?

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet wrapped around them like a shared secret. Rumi’s fingers curled around the railing, trembling slightly as she tried to figure out what to say.

She felt a pang of guilt bloom in her chest.

They lingered a moment longer, letting the night fold around them like a comforting cloak, before Zoey nudged her gently.

“I did not realize how late it was,” she whispered, “we should head inside.”

Rumi opened her mouth before promptly shutting it and nodded, her heart still pounding as they stepped back into the quiet sanctuary of her room.

“Wait Zoey!”, Rumi’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a desperation she couldn’t ignore.

Zoey paused, turning back toward her.

“Can you at least stay?”

Without hesitation, Zoey crawled under the covers next to Rumi, her small figure nestling perfectly against Rumi’s. Rumi felt Zoey's warm breath on her neck as Zoey rested her face in the crook of it. A bead of sweat trickled down Rumi's temple. It was so hot, all of a sudden. Or was it just her? Oh god, was she sweating? And why? Her mind felt like static.

Zoey was the most affectionate of the group. She’d hold onto them like a koala would hold a tree. This was normal. Very, very normal. It totally wasn’t making Rumi want to explode.

“Rumi.”

“Hmm?”

Zoey’s arms tightened around Rumi slightly, a comforting weight.

“You know you can tell us anything right?”

Rumi sighed, the sound catching in her throat, “I know.”

But how was she supposed to talk about it if she had no idea what it was?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft whir of the AC that seemed to stir the humid air more than cool it.

It was suffocating.

Her thoughts were spiraling. Her heart was aching. How could she put a name to this emotion?

The quiet had grown awkward at that point. Zoey’s fingers were gently tracing circles on the taller girl’s back. Rumi tried to form the words, but they dissolved before they reached her lips. What the hell was wrong with her?

Rumi tensed up on instinct, her patterns glowing dimly.

Zoey’s fingers stopped moving.

Shoot.

Zoey shifted, pulling back just enough for Rumi to feel the sudden absence of her warmth. The quiet thickened, filled only by the frantic beat of Rumi’s own heart. She hated that she’d tensed, hated that she’d pulled away from the one person who always seemed to know exactly how to offer comfort. Now, Zoey was still, and Rumi could practically feel the unspoken questions hanging in the humid air between them.

“Did I… do something wrong?” Zoey’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, laced with a vulnerability that twisted Rumi’s gut.

“No! No, Zoey, never,” Rumi blurted, turning quickly to face her, her voice a little too loud in the quiet room. She met Zoey's wide, questioning eyes, and the sheer adoration she saw there, mixed with a hint of hurt, made her chest clench. It was too much. All of it was too much. The warmth of Zoey’s body against hers, the innocent comfort that felt so charged, the desperate, inexpressible longing that had taken root in her.

“It's not you,” Rumi managed, her voice barely a whisper now, the sound rough and strained.

Zoey’s lips curled into a reassuring smile, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Rumi’s ear. 

“Then we’ll figure it out together. No rush.”

Rumi’s breath caught in her throat. The weight of that simple promise made the ache inside her soften just enough to let hope creep in.

She closed her eyes and let herself lean into Zoey’s warmth, the quiet comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

“I’m surprised you kept your composure in there.” Mira commented with a wry smile.

Zoey slurped up more boba pearls from her milk tea.

“Barely. I felt like my heart was gonna burst. She literally asked me to stay over and then looked like she wanted to jump out a window the second I touched her.”

Mira chuckled. “Classic Rumi. Queen of emotional repression and panic-flavored affection.”

Zoey snorted. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re really into her aren’t you?”

Zoey’s eyes widened. Whatever she wanted to say next died in her throat.

“I’m pretty good at stuff like this.”

Zoey looked down at her drink, swirling the ice with her straw. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I think I’ve been into her for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.”

“Well, you’re not the only one who likes her like that, Zo.”

“What?”

Mira didn’t flinch. She held Zoey’s gaze, steady and unbothered, like she'd been expecting the question.

But just for a second the tips of her ears turned pink.

“I like Rumi too.”

Zoey blinked.

Once. Twice.

Her brain tripped over itself trying to catch up with what she just heard.

“You… like her,” she repeated, not as a question, more like the words didn’t quite feel real in her mouth yet.

Mira nodded once, her expression unreadable but her flushed ears betrayed her.

“I mean I knew you were ambi and in hindsight it’s sooooo obvious. It makes sense. It really does,” Zoey rambled, “but wow.”

“Yeah, kinda hard not to when she’s so…y’know.”

Zoey nodded, a breathy little laugh escaping her.

“Yeah. I know. There’s something about the way she sings, smiles, dances, smells, yawns-”

Mira gave her a side glance, eyebrow raised. “You’re a goner.”

Zoey groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I knowwwwwwwwwwwww.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the AC filling the space between them.

Then Mira added, more quietly, “It’s scary, huh? Wanting something like this.”

Zoey looked up. “Like what?”

Mira didn’t answer right away. Her voice softened.

“Something that doesn’t fit in a clean little box. Something that could break everything if it goes wrong.”

Zoey’s breath caught in her chest.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I think… not saying it out loud hurts more.”

“Maybe I can talk to Rumi about it,” Mira suggested, her voice thoughtful, but not pushing.

“I don’t know, we don’t even know if Rumi’s like us.”

Mira shrugged gently, “It’s worth a shot though. Rumi’s got more walls than the palace of Versailles but I feel she wants to let us in. We just have to figure out how.”

“I just- I don’t want to lose you two…”

“And you won’t,” Mira reassured, “You have my word, Zo.”

Mira leaned back against the couch cushion, exhaling slowly.

Zoey mirrored her, letting her head fall onto Mira’s shoulder.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Zoey murmured.

Mira tilted her head just enough to rest it lightly against Zoey’s. “Looks like it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks again.

“Do you think Comeback will be a great song, Mira?”

“I know Comeback will be the song of the decade once you start writing those lyrics,” Mira said as she booped Zoey’s nose, eliciting a giggle from her girlfriend.

“And what about Rumi?”

“Just leave that beautiful workaholic to me.”

-:-

Rumi adjusted her stance in front of the mirrored wall, her breath steady, her form clean. The choreography wasn’t particularly complex, just one of their older tracks, but she moved through it with the same intense focus she gave to everything.

“Again,” she said to no one in particular.

“Someone’s motivated,” Mira’s voice called from the doorway, teasing but not unkind.

Rumi didn’t break her stance. She finished the last step before letting herself breathe, the glow from her patterns flickering faintly beneath the collar of her tank top and across her arms.

“I liked the choreo for this one,” Rumi said, her voice soft but steady, breath still catching up.

“You mind if I jump in?”

Rumi hesitated before replying.

“Go ahead.”

Mira sauntered over, a little more theatrical than necessary, and stretched briefly, arms overhead. “This brings back memories, huh? Late-night rehearsals, sneaking extra ramyeon between takes, you scolding Zoey for going off-beat.”

Rumi chuckled, “We both know she was doing that on purpose. She wanted an excuse to freestyle.”

“And now she wants an excuse to freestyle her way into your heart,” Mira replied casually, letting the sentence hang like it meant nothing even though it clearly meant everything.

Rumi flinched a bit, enough that Mira caught it. The patterns told no lies after all.

Rumi just hit play and let herself run through the steps. She was precise, her moves clean and fluid. Mira knew the choreo like the back of her hand. She was the lead dancer after all. She knew how much skinship this song had.

Rumi remembered how she appeared under the stage lights. She was a silhouette carved from light and rhythm.

Out there, everything was lines — sharp, deliberate, perfect. Her body cut through haze and smoke like a blade, every gesture silhouetted in strobes. She’d learned how to make her movements speak, to turn longing into choreography and heartbreak into clean, fluid shapes.

Mira’s hand slid to rest lightly on Rumi’s waist, lingering just a heartbeat too long. Rumi felt the heat of her touch radiate through her, a jolt that sent her breath catching in her throat. The patterns glowed at the spot that she touched her.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them.

“You’re holding back,” Mira whispered.

Rumi gulped before continuing with her steps. Her shoes squeaked against the ground. She lifts her hand into the air, fingers grasping at the light before Mira walks over to her, placing her hands on her shoulders.

Her heartbeat lined up with the music just then as Mira’s hands went higher until they cupped her face softly, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones.

Rumi’s breath trembled in her throat.

What was happening?

“Rumi,” Mira said again, softer this time. Like a tether.

The music was drained out by the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She could feel it again. Suffocation. Panic.

Her breath hitched, shaky and uneven. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Mira felt the shift instantly. Her thumbs stopped moving. Her touch stayed soft, but she didn’t try to hold Rumi there.

Instead, she stepped back.

Just enough.

The space between them widened by inches, but the weight of the moment didn’t dissipate.

Rumi’s feet stayed planted on the same spot.

Her hands were shaking.

The mirrored walls suddenly felt too reflective, too honest. Her patterns flickered erratically beneath her skin, and she couldn’t hide them. Not right now. Not anymore.

Mira didn’t say anything.

She could feel her there just a few feet away but not pressing. Not reaching. Just waiting. Watching.

And that made it worse somehow.

But why?

They knew about her patterns now. She knew that they accepted her.

And yet-

Something inside her still didn’t believe it.

Her breath still came shallow, panicked.

Her skin still buzzed with the old fear, the one wired into her long before Mira and Zoey ever looked at her like she was something worth waiting for.

She spent years hating herself for something she couldn’t control.

She had to hide her past in the shadows of time.

She had to miss out on so much.

She wasn’t good enough for anyone.

She wanted desperately to claw at her skin. Her patterns.

She wanted to tear them away, scrub herself clean of everything that made her not normal.

Everything that marked her as something to be feared. Something to be hated.

“You’re not one of them, Rumi.”

“Rumi?”

“A hunter who’s part-demon?”

“Mira.”

“I hate them just like I hate all demons like I hate Gwi-ma.”

“Yeah?”

“A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live, it’s so obvious.”

“What does love feel like?”

Chapter Text

Mistakes are supposed to be erased.

It's why pencils had erasers.

At this moment, Rumi was a stray pencil mark on 23 year old paper. At this moment, below that tree, Celine could become the eraser.

She could fix this. She could fix everything.

With one single hard swipe, she could fix it all.

She could do what Rumi couldn't do: Fix herself.

Mira and Zoey hated her. Jinu betrayed her. The Honmoon was in shreds.

On her quest to fix herself, Rumi broke everything else in the process. She had lied to the very people who cared about her the most. The very people who had her back.

She lied to her soulmates .

The Honmoon she was supposed to protect could no longer protect the citizens. The gashes grew larger by the seconds. More people had their souls taken. It was over.

"You knew I was a mistake from the very start."

We are hunters. Voices strong. Slaying demons with our song.

"Do what you should have done a long time ago."

Fix the world and make it right. When darkness finally meets the light.

Mistakes are supposed to be erased.

It's why Rumi went along with Zoey's plan.

She found the idea of an "all-curing tonic" quite absurd but at this point she would take anything to get her voice back. And that just so happened to come with a nice warm hug from Zoey.

They were so close to making the Honmoon gold. They were so close to fixing her flaws. She couldn't have problems now it was absolutely unacceptable.

After all, she would finally go to the bathhouse with Mira and Zoey once they turned the Honmoon gold. She wouldn't have to cover up anymore and hide.

She could finally be the queen she was meant to be.

She cursed internally when she realized the tonics were nothing but pouches of grape juice. In hindsight, it was too good to be true. But there's no time to waste. She had to fix her voice.

She had to fix it somehow or else she was truly a failure.

Mistakes are supposed to be erased.

It's why Rumi never truly knew love.

Celine loved her yes but she didn't love all of her. To Celine she was just a reminder of someone she lost, someone she'd never get back. She saw a love in her eyes designated not for Rumi, but for her mother. The moments when Celine wasn't with the girls were usually spent in front of her grave. She'd always be there, kneeling with a sorrowful expression on her face.

She'd say a few things to the gravestone. A sort of one-off conversation. Sometimes her voice would break and her eyes would water as she recalled moments from their idol days. She'd laugh and then she'd cry, rinse and repeat. Rumi always wondered what that type of love would feel like but she was held back by duty. The Honmoon was more important. The fans were more important. Happy fans, happy Honmoon.

She thought she felt something with Jinu. Something beautiful in their struggle. Something that had her at ease with everything she was dealing with. However it seemed Jinu didn't share that sentiment. He had lied too. He revealed that he had abandoned his mother and sister in exchange for luxury many, many years ago.

He left them.

No. That couldn't have been right. This wasn't Jinu. They were going to fix themselves. Fix each other.

But the cold look on his face said otherwise leaving Rumi in disbelief.

She was shaking. She was tired. She was done.

Are you the queen or are you the pawn?

His words burn more than her patterns.

Will you master the night or wait for the dawn?

She walks away, the Honmoon wailing louder with each step she takes.

Is it worth all the blood and the damage done?

Huntr/x was gone.

Would you die under the spotlight just to hear all the applause?

Korea was doomed.

Mistakes are supposed to be erased.

It's why she asked Mira what love felt like.

She wanted to know if what she had been feeling this whole time was real. If all the things she thought were love were just fragments of something broken, distorted by her own self-doubt.

"Oh Rumi," she sighs, her voice soft.

Love is a very complex emotion. Mira knows that firsthand. From her experience, love felt like everything from warm blankets to tidal waves.

Love is fragile, love is powerful and love, as Mira had learned, is often both a curse and a salvation.

It was like a parachute falling with no fear of hitting the ground.

"Love feels like many things," Mira smiled, "It always varies from person to person."

"I know of one specific type of love because of you and Zoey." she said, her voice thick with an emotion Rumi couldn't name. It wasn't hate. It wasn't pity. It was something deeper, more profound.

Rumi felt her shoulders drop a bit. Her eyes searched Mira's face.

"What?"

Mira hesitated for a moment, her gaze softening as she looked into Rumi’s eyes. The words seemed to catch in her throat, as if they carried a weight she wasn’t sure Rumi was ready to bear. But the silence between them stretched too long, and Mira knew she had to speak.

"Do you remember when we recorded our first song?"

Rumi nodded. It was a day she could never forget. Her nerves were tearing her apart as she entered the booth. She had every line spinning around in her brain.

"Well, that's when I fell in love with you."

Rumi froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The words hit her like a thunderclap, echoing in her ears, reverberating through her whole body. Her patterns pulsed. She looked at Mira, searching her face, trying to make sense of what had just been said.

"B-But Mira," she stammered, her mind racing, "You never-"

"I know," Mira interrupted, "Because I loved Zoey too."

Rumi could only stare.

"I love the way you bare your soul when you're singing, Rumi. I love how Zoey can make the room brighter with her smile. I love both of you so much that I didn't know what to do with it."

"But you and Zoey are dating now."

"Yes, and she loves you too."

Rumi's heart ached at those words.

She loves you too.

They loved her. They really loved her.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Before Rumi could process any more of Mira’s words, the floor creaked under the weight of someone stepping into the room. Her head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock.

It was Zoey.