Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumi doesn't consciously decide where she's going when she leaves Celine under the Seonang Tree. She's hurt, and frustrated, and furious, and just wants to be somewhere else. Her body dissolves into mist, and in barely more than a blink she re-forms somewhere entirely different.

It's less dark here. Still night time, but city lights filter in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Rumi's night vision—always a little too good, a little bit wrong, but now even more so—easily picks out the shape of a large kitchen island and a massive, many-cornered couch, and... Oh.

She's come home.

All the anger in her body drains away at the familiar sight of their living room. It's exactly as they left it earlier; blanket hanging off one end of the couch, one of Zoey's notebooks on the coffee table, a half-empty water bottle forgotten on the counter. No lights on, no sound from anywhere nearby. Wherever Mira and Zoey are, it isn't here.

The thought of them feels like a vise closing around her heart. She should leave, before they get back. They won't want to see her now. The memory of Mira raising her weapon, betrayal hardening the lines of her face, and Zoey following suit, eyes full of pain, is like a physical blow. They hate her now, they must, and she can't blame them. She's a demon, there's no hiding that anymore. And more than that, she lied to them.

("How could we be together, when we can't tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?!")

Because that is it, isn't it? The lies. If she hadn't lied, then maybe they wouldn't have... But if she hadn't lied, maybe this would have all just happened much sooner.

She takes a few tired, stumbling steps towards the couch, but gives up halfway there and sinks to the floor, head in her hands.

Of course this would have happened sooner. They would have seen her patterns and dealt with her the same as any other demon.

Except.

Except they didn't, did they? She stood before them, patterns bared to the world, overrun with the evidence of her demonic nature, and they didn't kill her. Raised their weapons, yes. They'd warded off her approach, protected themselves (from a threat, they were threatened, they were afraid of her, and it hurts ), but they didn't attack. They should have attacked. They would have attacked, if it were any other demon. But they didn't.

So maybe Celine was wrong about that, too. Maybe "Nothing can change until your patterns are gone" was as false as "You're not one of them, Rumi."

Because she is one of them. She's a demon. She always has been, no matter how little Celine wanted to admit it. It's always been there, and not just in her patterns; it's there in the way she moves too quietly, unless she makes an effort not to, and in the way she can always eat everything that's put in front of her, no matter how much of it there is, and in strength a little too great for a woman her size, and in senses that have always been just a little too sharp. This has always been what she is. She's just not hiding it anymore.

Something loosens in her chest at that thought. She doesn't have to hide it anymore. Sure, it's because the choice was taken out of her hands, but now that it's done, even with all the pain it's caused, Rumi can't deny a feeling of relief. No more checking if her sleeves have ridden up, or if her collar is high enough. No more panic when her jacket slips off her shoulder in the middle of a fight. No more turtlenecks in the middle of summer, and no more excuses when Mira and Zoey ask why.

If they ever ask her anything again.

She cranes her head back and stares up at the ceiling. What would have happened if she'd come clean weeks ago? When she'd come home to find them waiting for her, offering soup and reassurance in the wake of a PR disaster that she had caused?

She had expected anger then. She had expected them to demand answers, to berate and to scold and to seethe. And they would have been justified in doing all of those things. But they didn't. Instead, they had offered comfort without needing to be asked. They took the explanations she gave them and asked only gentle questions, never prodding at the things she didn't want to discuss.

They've always been better to her than she deserves. Better and kinder and more loving than she had ever dreamed was possible. And every time she had thought she'd found the end of it, the limit of their care, they'd proven her wrong. Every single time.

She can't know if they would have accepted her then. Because she never gave them the chance to.

She didn't give them the chance to tonight either. Not really. They'd had it sprung on them with no time to process anything, with the fate of the world hanging over them and chaos raging above their heads. And she'd never really had the chance to explain anything (couldn't have, even if she had had the time, not with the panic in her chest and the fear in her stomach).

So maybe she should give them that chance.

She can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, they might still find something to love in the mess that she is now. Because, at the end of the day, it's the same mess she's always been.

She pushes herself to her feet, trying to figure out where they might have gone. Her phone was left behind in her dressing room, and she doesn't know if they'd answer a call from her anyway.

It's then that she feels a long, final shudder from the decayed Honmoon. A final breath as it expires for good. One last warning pulse, from one specific direction.

She turns, looking out across the city, and sees it. With human eyes, the magenta glow emanating from Namsan Tower Arena would have been faintly visible. With demon eyes, it's a glaring beacon.

Gwi-Ma is here.

And somehow she knows, deep in her bones, that that is where she'll find Mira and Zoey.

She squares her shoulders and takes a steadying breath. One way or another, this will be over soon. She's going to show Zoey and Mira that she's sorry for lying, for hurting them, and then she's going to take the fight to the demon king and end this once and for all.

And if her girls can forgive her, can fight beside her again, they might just be able to win.

Her body vanishes into mist, and this time she knows exactly where she needs to be.

***

Zoey is vaguely aware that her feet are moving, but it doesn't feel important right now. Just follow the crowd, don't cause a fuss. You can at least do that right, can't you?

Her eyes are probably looking at something, but that doesn't matter. Not when she can't stop seeing Rumi cowering in front of her beneath the Idol Awards stage. Can't stop seeing the patterns stretched across her skin, jagged swirls of pink and purple and betrayal.

She'd had patterns, and she'd lied about it. Why? And for how long?

She'd stopped wearing shorter sleeves years ago.

Had she made a deal with Gwi-Ma, for.... Zoey can't even fathom what she might have made a deal for. Why wouldn't she have come to Zoey and Mira first?

Because you weren't good enough. Maybe if you'd listened better and talked less, she might have trusted you.

Maybe if you'd been better, you could have kept Mira too.

("There is no 'we', Zoey.")

("Zoey, please!")

Rumi had begged. She had begged, and pleaded, and when Zoey had raised her shin-kal (at your friend, you threatened your friend ) and killed her last hope, Rumi had run from them sobbing. She was supposed to be their friend, their teammate, and they hadn't even let her explain. Some friend you are.

And then Zoey couldn't even hold on to Mira. Zoey should have been able to hold on to Mira, to be there for her like she always had been. But Zoey hadn't been enough, and Mira had let go.

Zoey is moving towards something, she thinks. There are voices; singing, calling, enticing.

Don't worry, soon you won't have to feel any of this anymore.

That sounds nice. No more guilt. No more sadness. No more loss.

One line from the song in the air resonates hazily in her mind. "No one is coming to save you!" No one is coming. Zoey isn't anything worth coming back to.

Come to me. I'll make it all go away.

Zoey is so, so tired.

A new voice breaks through the others. It's just on the edge of Zoey's hearing; a single faint, indistinct note. It's so, so familiar, but she doesn't know why.

She needs to hear it again.

Her feet stop moving.

Why were her feet moving, again?

She is...somewhere. She's doing...something.

She's sad. Her girls left her. She's alone.

Isn't she?

The new voice is singing again. There are words, Zoey can tell there are words. So why can't she tell what they are? They slip off her brain like water, leaving only traces behind. Or maybe her brain is the water, slipping away from its shore. The only thing she can grasp is the tone of that warm, angelic voice.

Zoey has always thought it was the most beautiful voice in the world.

She needs to hear those words. She needs to hear those words.

The fog around her brain begins to thin.

"I tried to fix it, I tried to fight it."

She blinks, suddenly aware of red light and a stadium full of people, and the crystal-clear song of a voice as familiar as her own heartbeat.

"My head was twisted, my heart divided."

Rumi.

She came back.

***

Mira turns, hardly able to believe what her ears are telling her. It could be yet another trick, the scared, defensive part of her hisses, some ploy by Gwi-Ma to break us for good.

But it isn't. She knows it isn't, even before she sees Rumi on the stage. No demon trick could fake the way Rumi's voice resonates in Mira's chest, or the way her soul lights up in response.

"I don't know why I didn't trust you to be on my side."

She really came back. Even after they had pulled away, after Mira had pointed her blade straight at her, she came back to them.

Mira can't help but drink Rumi in as she makes her way up the stage. She's glowing softly, her patterns shimmering and iridescent and somehow entirely unlike the stark, livid marks they had been under that stage. She walks slowly, hands loose and open by her sides. There is softness in every line of her, obvious even from this distance, and Mira feels the knot in her chest—the confusion, the pain, the regret—begin to unfurl in response.

They're too far apart for their gazes to properly meet, but, without really knowing how, Mira knows the moment Rumi's eyes fall on her.

In that same moment, Mira notices another glow, twin to the one emanating from her own chest, shining from the far side of the arena. Zoey.

They're all here.

Mira is moving almost before she makes the conscious decision to. Her girls are here, and suddenly the thought of keeping herself away any longer is unbearable.

Rumi still lied to you, the angry part of her whispers.

But Mira hears Rumi's song for the apology it is, and lets the last of that anger melt away.

There's a long conversation to be had about all of this, and Mira owes apologies of her own to both of them, but they can get through all of it as long as they're willing to try together.

"My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like."

Mira steps onto the stage just as Zoey's voice soars into the air, and raises her own to join it.

Chapter Text

They don't make it past the couch that night.

It's not intentional. After the most physically- and emotionally-draining night of their lives, all Mira wants to do is sleep. But, after everything that has happened tonight, the relief at having Zoey and Rumi close—the need to keep them close—is heady and irresistible, and she doesn't have it in her to even try. Rumi and Zoey must feel the same, because they've made it home and neither of them has so much as twitched a finger away. So they linger together, migrating as a single mass of limbs and bodies and hearts over to the couch and curling together like it can keep them from ever being separated again.

It isn't long before Mira feels Rumi's weight shift more heavily against her, and hears her breathing slow and even out. Zoey follows suit shortly after. Mira holds back a fond chuckle, even as she extricates herself and gently lowers them down onto the couch cushions. In her absence they curl even tighter together, limbs winding around each other like vines. Mira doesn't even consider trying to separate them; even if she could manage it physically, she doesn't have the heart to. The couch is wide enough to hold both of them, provided no one rolls away. And the way they're clinging together, she doesn't think that's going to happen any time soon.

She retrieves the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over them both, gently running a hand over their hair. Their faces are softer like this, relaxed by sleep, and yet still there is the tiniest furrow in Rumi's brow, the faintest tightness around Zoey's eyes. Mira feels that tension in back of her own skull, where the hurt on Zoey's face, the hurt that Mira put there, burns like a brand, and the echoes of Rumi's sobs dance hand-in-hand with the question of how long?

But it can wait for the morning.

She thinks for a moment of her own bed, and then summarily dismisses the thought. She does slip into her room, but only for long enough to shed her jacket and pull the blanket off her bed. She settles herself just past her girls, the top of her head brushing against Rumi's, and lets the sound of their breathing lull her to sleep.

***

Zoey blinks awake slowly, content in a cocoon of warmth. She registers steady breathing from the body she's cuddled against, along with the purple of Rumi's hair, and marvels quietly that their leader is sleeping in for once. She can't feel Mira, but Mira's usually up before Zoey is anyway.

Honestly, Zoey's surprised any of them have slept in this long. It feels like they've fallen asleep on the couch again, still in stage costume, and the epaulette digging into her shoulder isn't exactly comfortable. Whatever concert last night was, it must have been eventful.

And then she remembers exactly what last night was and jerks upright.

Rumi and Mira—oh, there she is—are awake immediately. "Zo?" Mira croaks, pushing herself up.

Rumi just blinks up at her in concern, humming a wordless question. God, she must be tired, and it's no wonder why. More than any of them, she'd...

Zoey throws herself back down on top of Rumi, wrapping her whole body around her again, reaching up for Mira with one hand. "Zoey?!" Rumi asks, alarmed, but Zoey just nuzzles in closer.

"Just happy you're here," Zoey murmurs.

Rumi relaxes beneath her and Mira chuckles, lacing her fingers through Zoey's and stroking Rumi's hair with her other hand. For a minute none of them speak, letting the moment linger.

The lingering is broken by the growl of Rumi's stomach. Rumi groans in embarrassment, and Mira chuckles. Zoey glances up, ready to tease, and then stops short. Beneath the hand she's clapped over her eyes, Rumi's cheeks have coloured prettily...and so have her patterns. They glow only faintly, just barely visible in the daylight, but the colour change is unmistakable. Where before they were a steady silver-iridescent all over, now they're rippling with soft, pale lilac.

Her mouth asks the question before her brain can filter it. "Do they usually do that?"

Rumi peeks out at her, confused. "Huh?"

Mira is the one who replies. "Your patterns. They've changed colour again."

Rumi glances at her arms, seeming surprised by the pretty purple hue. "I— I don't know. I never looked at them for very long, before." As she's speaking, a pulse of darker storm-cloud purple runs through the patterns, chased with a flash of bright, lurid pink.

Those colours look far too similar to the ones she wore last night, beneath the Idol Awards stage, and Zoey grabs her hand immediately. "Well, that just means it's something we can learn together, right?"

Rumi's answering smile is tremulous and a little awed, like she can't believe this is real (and that thought makes Zoey's heart constrict in her chest). Her patterns settle back into a silver-sheened rainbow, though the greens and blues seem slightly brighter. "Yeah, I guess so," she murmurs.

There's a beat of silence, and then Rumi's fingers tighten around Zoey's. "I owe you both some explanations," she says.

Mira cuts in before she can say anything else. "Breakfast first. I think we're all going to need the energy for this."

Rumi blinks up at her in surprise, then smiles that heartbreaking awed smile again. "Okay."

As it turns out, fighting an army of demons, killing their king, and creating a whole new Honmoon (all on the heels of their Idol Awards performance, no less) drains energy like crazy. Now that they've rested, all three of them are ravenous. Breakfast is eggs and rice, because none of them have the inclination to make anything more complicated right now, but it's a lot of eggs and rice, and they finish every last grain.

Hunger sated, Zoey looks down at her stage outfit with a frown. "So, I don't know about you guys, but I could really use a change of clothes. Maybe a shower, too."

Mira grimaces, tugging at her choker. "Yeah, actually, now that you mention it. I want out of this costume."

Rumi's face is studiously even, in the way that means she's stifling nerves. "Yeah, you're right. Shower break, meet back out here in twenty?"

"Hey." Zoey lays a hand softly on her shoulder. "It's okay. We're okay. We've got a lot to talk about, yeah, but we're not going anywhere." She glances at Mira for confirmation and, despite the frown tugging at the corners of her brows, Mira nods without hesitation.

Rumi's face melts into a soft, doe-eyed expression of such unbearable affection that Zoey needs to immediately be somewhere else, before she does something none of them are ready for yet. She squeezes Rumi's shoulder gently and then makes a beeline for her room. "See you guys in a minute!"

It's a relief to wash off the sweat and dust of the night before, and to finally slip into something comfortable. By the time she makes it back out to the couch, she's feeling much more settled.

Mira is already there waiting, and she straightens in her seat when she registers Zoey's arrival. "Hey."

She's trying to be casual, but Zoey knows her well enough to recognise discomfort in the set of her shoulders. It's enough to tug on Zoey's own nerves, and her answering smile is a little shaky. "Hey."

She settles herself next to Mira, because despite the lingering whisper of 'there is no "we", Zoey', she also remembers what Mira had said after that. She might not be what Mira needs, but she can't let Mira think she's alone.

There was a time when Zoey had struggled to read anything from Mira's face, but after seven years together she's an open book. Regret is obvious in the lines around her eyes, self-recrimination seeping into her voice as she says, "I'm sorry. For what I said last night. For leaving you."

Zoey lays a soothing hand on her arm. "Mira, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Mira rears away from her touch, from her comfort. "You were just as hurt as I was, and I just—"

"Mira."

Mira stills immediately, eyes fixed on Zoey, waiting.

Zoey takes a steadying breath. Her instincts are screaming at her to brush it off, to pacify, to make everything okay, quickly, before anything gets worse. But that...Mira will know. She'll know it's a lie, and it won't help anything. Keeping things to themselves is what got them into this mess.

And Mira cares about her. Mira will listen.

When Zoey speaks again, her eyes are firmly fixed on her own hands, twined in her lap. "It hurt, yeah. It sucked, being left behind like that. But I know you weren't thinking straight. Gwi-Ma got in my head too, I know what his voice does to you. I understand that you didn't mean to hurt me, and I forgive you. So just," she feels tears prickle in the corners of her eyes as she meets Mira's gaze, "Don't leave me again? Please?"

Mira's eyes well up in kind, and she surges in to wrap Zoey in a crushing hug. Zoey clings back, pressing her forehead to Mira's collarbone. All the tension leaves her in a shaky exhale, and Mira's voice is rough when she whispers, "Never again. I promise."

For a minute, they just hold each other. Then Mira starts, just the tiniest twitch of her shoulders, and murmurs, "Rumi."

Zoey pulls back to see Rumi hesitating in the doorway, one arm curled across her chest. She's wearing an old shirt that Zoey hasn't seen in years, with sleeves that end at the elbows. She watches them warily, like she's afraid to interrupt, a tint of washed-out red slipping in and out of her patterns. Her fingers twitch towards her sleeve before she catches the motion and curls them back.

Zoey's heart aches anew, but she smiles gently and holds one hand out to her friend. She shifts aside, and feels Mira do the same, making space between them for their missing piece.

***

Now that she's been beckoned, Rumi stumbles forward helplessly; they're her sun, and she is powerless to resist their gravity. She curls between them, cautious and slow, leaving them room to change their minds, but Zoey takes her hand immediately, and Mira's arm curls around her shoulders like it belongs there. They settle against her, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee, and she cannot help but melt.

They're okay. They'll be okay.

(And if the sensation of someone else's touch on her shoulders makes her throat close up, aching for having missed it so long, well, she can address that another time.)

After a long moment, Rumi begins. "I should have told you both a long time ago."

"Why didn't you?" Mira asks, carefully.

"I wanted to," Rumi admits. "I thought about it all the time. But..." She shrugs. "Our faults and fears must never be seen."

Mira's eyes narrow, connections already forming. "Did Celine know?"

Rumi nods. "She's always known. She was there when they first appeared."

"Which was... when?" Zoey asks, cautiously.

"When I was three years old."

Mira recoils, and a strangled noise escapes from the back of Zoey's throat. Whatever they'd been expecting, it wasn't that.

"How is that possible?" Zoey whispers.

Here it is. "I'm half-demon. My dad. I don't know the specifics, but, well." She gestures at herself, at the patterns criss-crossing her skin. "There are only so many explanations. And Celine wouldn't have lied about that." Because whatever else is between them and whatever lies they have told others, Celine has never lied to Rumi. At least, not lies that she didn't also tell herself.

"But your mom was a hunter," Zoey says, blinking as she tries to process this information.

Rumi laughs briefly, self-deprecating. "Yeah, I guess palling around with demons is a family trait." And, oh, that's edging on territory she's not ready to think about just yet. She tucks the thought away, and ignores the ache behind her breastbone; there will be time for that later.

When Mira, who has sat silent and still for the last minute, speaks, her voice is low and boiling. "And you've had the patterns since you were three?!"

Rumi flinches. "Yeah. They're... I've always been hiding them, the whole time you've known me. I'm sorry."

"What? No, that's—! Rumi, no." Mira presses back in, holding Rumi tighter than before. "You... Look, I don't like that you lied to us. But you've been dealing with this since you were a kid. For something that isn't even your fault. And Celine's been feeding you that faults and fears line since you were barely old enough to understand it!" Zoey nods in vehement agreement, her grip on Rumi's hand tight as a vise.

Since she was old enough to understand it. That's... Oh, that makes a little too much sense, she thinks with a bitter chuckle.

Mira and Zoey look at her questioningly. "Rumi?" Zoey prompts.

Rumi shakes herself out of it, straightening up slightly. "Sorry. I was just—" She sighs. "Look, yeah, Celine taught me to keep it a secret. But I still made the decision, in the end. I should have trusted you, but I didn't, I was too afraid, and I'm so, so sorry." Her voice drops to a whisper at the end, stifled by choking regret.

Zoey's hand cups her cheek, guiding her gaze up to meet Zoey's own. "Okay," Zoey whispers back, like it's just that easy.

"Okay? It's— You can just...?" Rumi looks to Mira, eyes wide, and finds her gazing back with far too much softness. There is pain, yes, but mostly there is affection, and Rumi cannot comprehend being forgiven so incredibly easily.

"We won't be completely okay right away," Mira says, tucking herself closer still to Rumi's side. "Everything will take time to settle properly. But we understand now, and we love you, and that's enough for right now."

Tears begin to well up in Rumi's eyes, but she blinks them away. "I won't hide from you again. I promise."

"Good," Mira murmurs, her voice suspiciously rough.

"We'll hold you to that," Zoey says, with a slightly watery smile.

Rumi smiles back, at both of them, and for a moment they just sit, basking in the softness together.

At length, Mira ventures, "There was something else, wasn't there? Something about what I said before."

"Oh," Rumi sighs. She doesn't really want to think about it again, but she did just promise them that she wouldn't hide anymore, so... "You said I'd been taught the faults and fears line since I was old enough to understand it. I learned from—" Jinu's name is a rock in her throat. Her eyes sting, but she blinks it away. There will be time for that later. She's here with her girls right now. "I learned recently that it's shame that makes the patterns grow. Mine first appeared when Celine told me what I am. I don't think that was an accident."

Mira looks simultaneously heartbroken and furious at this, and Zoey's eyes promise murder, so Rumi hastens to clarify, "I'm not saying Celine meant to make me ashamed. I don't think she really...thought about it in that way. Honestly, I don't think she would have told me at all if she could have avoided it."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Mira seethes, her entire body rigid with indignation. "Next time I see her, I'm punching her in the face."

"Mira, no."

"I'll hold her down for you," Zoey says, with a chillingly sweet smile.

"Zoey, no." Rumi runs a hand over her face in exasperation. "Please don't punch our mentor. It isn't... She just did what she thought was best." And things with Celine would already be messy enough, after last night. Mira and Zoey, at least, should still be able to salvage a relationship with her, even if Rumi might never.

Mira takes Rumi's face in her hands, her gaze burning and earnest. "It doesn't matter that she thought it was best. She hurt you. You're allowed to be hurt by this."

"I am." Rumi sighs. Her eyes flutter closed as she drinks in the warmth of Mira's touch, taking from it the strength to continue. "I told her that. Kind of. I went to her last night, after... After." She feels both of her girls tense at the reminder of their confrontation, but she pushes on before her nerve fails her. "I...said some things. Told her I didn't want to lie anymore, yelled at her for never accepting what I am. It wasn't pretty. I—"

She hesitates then, the truth of the rest of that interaction sitting bitter and lead-heavy on her tongue. She doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want them to think less of her, after everything. But she told them, and told herself, that she wouldn't keep anything from them again. She can't do this again.

Mira and Zoey exchange a concerned look. Mira takes Rumi's free hand in both of her own, and Zoey strokes her thumb soothingly across the back of the other. They wait, patiently.

Rumi ducks her head, eyes squeezing shut. "I asked her to kill me," she whispers.

Zoey and Mira go rigid beside her.

"She didn't, of course," Rumi hastens to clarify. "Clearly. But yeah, I was... I thought maybe, if I was the one tearing the Honmoon apart, then maybe my death would fix it, somehow. I couldn't bring myself to do it," because maybe she's never believed she deserves to live, but that's never stopped her from wanting to, "and it turns out Celine couldn't either. And then she tried to encourage me to hide again, and I yelled at her, and....yeah," she finishes lamely, out of words to spend.

Still, she delays looking up at her partners, not ready to see whatever is on their faces. They say nothing. She can feel Zoey trembling, while Mira is statue-still.

Then Mira releases her hand and reaches up slowly, cradling Rumi's cheek in a too-careful palm. Rumi finally looks up, and immediately feels her own eyes begin to well with tears, because Mira—Mira, the strongest of them all—looks broken open. Tears run silently down her cheeks and her lips tremble as she whispers, "You wanted to die."

There's a wounded whimper from Zoey, who grips Rumi's hand like she needs to be sure it's real.

She hadn't wanted to die, exactly, but... "I thought it was for the best," Rumi replies, tears flowing in earnest now. "I'm... I've always thought of myself as a mistake, and I thought everything would be better off, if—" She breaks off, shaking her head silently.

"It wouldn't," Zoey insists, desperate and pleading. "It wouldn't be better without you, Rumi, it would never—" She chokes off, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob.

Mira's voice is impressively steady, only shaking a little despite the flood of tears rolling down her face. "You're not a mistake. You're our Rumi, and we love you, and if..," She takes a shaky breath, voice tightening with emotion. "If we'd never seen you again, we would have missed you forever."

Their words are the final blow to a wall that has already survived too much. The sobs shake her whole body, and Rumi curls in on herself, the way she always has, like she can physically hold herself together, even while she falls apart anyway. But she doesn't need to hold herself together now. She reaches out, and they come, falling into her and holding her between them, their own sobs blending with her own.

Warm, safe, and loved, Rumi lets herself break.

***

Later, once their tears have all run dry and they're left in a wrung-out pile in the corner of the couch, Mira murmurs, "I'm sorry, too. We should never have drawn our weapons on you. You didn't deserve that at all." And Mira will spend her whole life making up for it, if that's what it takes.

"We should have listened, let you explain," Zoey agrees, lifting her head slightly from Rumi's shoulder. "And instead we turned on you, and we—" She breaks off, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry." Mira is sure that Zoey would have started crying again, if she'd had any tears left.

"You were just doing what we were trained to," Rumi murmurs.

And if that isn't another thing on the long list of grievances Mira has for Celine. "That doesn't make it okay."

"We made you feel like you would be better off dead," Zoey whispers.

"No," Rumi interrupts, shaking her head. Her patterns shift, shades of pink becoming more prominent. "I've always thought that way about myself. It wasn't you." And, oh, that's a whole different kind of pain, that their Rumi was hurting for so long, right there in front of them, and they never even noticed.

"But we pushed you over the edge, didn't we?" Mira asks, and it hurts, god it hurts to think of just how close they'd come to losing Rumi permanently, by their own rejection. "You'd never tried to..." She can't bring herself to say it again. "To leave before." Then she pauses, stricken by a thought. "Had you? Tried to—"

"No!" Rumi hurries to assure them. "No, I've never tried to— to die, before. I haven't always cared about taking care of myself—"

"Understatement of the century," Mira mutters, purely reflexive, to a mirthless, shaky half-chuckle from Zoey.

Rumi butts her head into Mira's shoulder with a tired little snort. "Shut up. I haven't always taken care of myself, but I've always wanted to live. Even if maybe I...didn't think I deserved to."

Mira is going to murder Celine. She's going to murder her, and then find a way to revive her so that she can kill her again.

It's Zoey—beautiful, wonderful Zoey—who speaks the words that Mira is too suffused with rage and devastation to voice. "You've always deserved to live. It doesn't matter that you're a demon; you're Rumi. You're caring, and brave, and amazing, and our lives have been better with you in them." She looks up at Mira at this last point, and Mira nods fervently in confirmation.

"She's right. You've made our lives better." More so than Mira could ever possibly say.

Rumi sighs, breath fanning out across Mira's clavicle. "I'm working on believing that. It might take a while."

"Then we'll just keep saying it until it sticks," Mira murmurs.

Zoey hums in agreement. "We're not going anywhere."

Rumi tangles her fingers through Zoey's once again, and the arm she has around Mira's waist tightens. Her patterns shift again, throwing the blues and greens back into prominence. "Thank you."

Once again they lapse into silence, just breathing each other in. There will be more problems to deal with tomorrow—how they're going to explain lighting up the whole city at one in the morning is beyond Mira—but for now it's just them, here, together.

Eventually, Mira breaks the silence. There's been something poking at the back of her mind since Rumi had revealed everything, and it wasn't urgent, but now that the big things are out of the way... "Hey, Rumi?"

"Mmm?"

"You said Celine wouldn't have told you you were part demon unless she had to. Why did she have to?"

"Oh, that," Rumi says, chuckling slightly. "That's kind of a funny story. Sort of. If you ignore the whole...shame thing."

"I don't think we'll be ignoring the shame thing," Zoey murmurs, "But go on."

"So, when I was a baby, my hair was black."

"...Yeah?" This is not at all where Mira had thought they would start. Does this have something to do with Rumi's hair dye?

...The hair dye that Mira has never actually seen evidence of. No dye packets, no smell of fresh dye, not even any visits to a hairdresser.

Son of a bitch, the purple hair is totally a demon thing, isn't it?

"One day, when I was three," Rumi continues, oblivious to Mira's epiphany, "Celine had me out in the garden with her. I don't remember what we were doing, exactly, but I remember the orchids. Purple ones. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I remember thinking they were such a pretty colour. One second my hair was black. The next it was purple.

"Celine freaked out. She dropped everything she was holding and pulled me to her, told me I had to change it back. But I didn't know how. I didn't know how I'd done it in the first place. She... She tried to act calm, after that, but I could tell she was still upset. And when I asked why changing my hair was bad, she had to explain that it was something humans couldn't do. And then, of course, she had to explain that I wasn't fully human. I already knew that I was supposed to be a hunter one day. I already knew demons were bad. And then I found out I was one, at least partly, and that I'd used bad demon powers, and now Celine was upset." Rumi shrugs, deliberately careless, like the fact that she can recall this so clearly doesn't mean anything at all. "And that was when the patterns first appeared."

Mira, really, really wants to punch Celine in the face.

Rumi probably won't be any more receptive to that suggestion now than she had been earlier. Too kind and self-sacrificing for her own good. So instead, Mira says, "We really need to talk about your idea of a funny story."

Rumi barks out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess we do. Something else to work on, I guess."

"We can help you with that too," Zoey says, cuddling in closer.

"Thanks," Rumi murmurs, and Mira can hear the smile in her voice.

"So your hair really just...grows purple," Mira says, twirling a strand of said hair around her finger. "Cool."

"And you've never tried different colours?" Zoey asks, glancing up with an expression that says she's trying to imagine it.

Rumi shakes her head. "I never figured out how to do it on purpose. After that first day I was too scared to try. Although," she glances between the two of them, cautious but thoughtful, "If I'm fully embracing the demon in me now..."

"We can experiment!" Zoey gasps, bouncing upright with glee. "We can help you learn how to use your demon powers. And figure out if you have any more!"

"Well, I know I can teleport," Rumi says with a shrug. Like that's the kind of casual information you shrug about. Jesus Christ. "It's how I went to see Celine last night."

"YOU CAN TELEPORT?!" Zoey shrieks, loudly enough that Mira and Rumi both flinch back.

"Zoey," Mira grumbles.

"Sorry," Zoey laughs sheepishly. "It's just, that's so cool!"

"I don't really know how to use that properly either, though," Rumi says. "I used it kind of on purpose? But also I wasn't super focused on the actual teleporting bit at the time? I'm not really sure how it all works."

"We can figure it out another day," Mira says, before Zoey can start bouncing off the walls. "Can we just stay here, right now?" She wants to hold them close a little longer.

Rumi smiles, tucking her head under Mira's chin. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah, I guess we can leave it for later," Zoey grins, flopping back into the cuddle pile and nuzzling in close. "We've got time."

That they do, Mira thinks, wrapping her arms around them both. They have all the rest of their lives.

Omake/Bonus:

*One hour of cuddling later*

Zoey: "Hey, has anyone actually heard from Celine today? I would have figured she'd have called by now with a hundred questions about everything."

Rumi: "I don't know, I left my phone behind in my dressing room."

Mira: "Yeah, me too."

Zoey: "Me three."

Mira: "Oops."

Rumi, attempting to get up: "I'll go activate my backup."

Mira, pulling her back down: "Nope. No leaving the cuddle pile. She can stew for a while longer."

Rumi: "Mira!"

Zoey, climbing fully on top of Rumi to hold her down: "Cuddle time is mandatory, Rumi. We don't make the rules."

Rumi: "We literally do!"

Mira: "And you're out-voted. It can wait a few more minutes."

Rumi: "....Fine."

*Meanwhile, several city blocks away, Bobby (who was an A+ manager and went back to the venue in the morning to get all of their stuff) is on the phone trying to reassure a frantic Celine*