Archive of Our Own ^beta

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There was no good time for idols to be sick of course, but everyone knew you did not get sick before idol awards season.

Last year, Rumi was an exception, since she wasn’t sick so much as her demon patterns were affecting her voice, but it would’ve been fine anyway because Zoey would literally pay Rumi to take off for twenty-four hours straight. So that instance was okay, obviously.

It was not okay that Zoey was cramping and feverish and throwing up long before she considered morning to actually start. Mere hours before final rehearsals for live performances.

She let out a few choice words that she’d initially refused to teach Mira and Rumi years ago when they’d asked, but had since become their strongest English. She wasn’t sure her stomach had ever hurt so much, not even the time she made the mistake of eating five cans of red beans in one sitting. She’d been eating the same stuff as Mira and Rumi, and they weren’t getting sick, so the ever-present question stuck in her mind, just in a new context:

What was wrong with her?

Zoey wiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist, trying shakily to stand as someone knocked on the door. “Zo? That you in there?” Mira’s voice was heavy with sleep still. It had to be, what, five? Maybe earlier.

“I’m fine,” she said as a reflex, nearly doubling over as a particularly strong cramp hit her. She bit her lip to stop from screaming, just a little.

The bathroom door opened before she could react. “That wasn’t a normal person answer,” Mira offered as an explanation, her eyes trailing up and down Zoey, gripping her stomach with one hand and the counter with the other, sweaty and probably pale, definitely not cute.

Rumi walked by the door, backtracking once she realized something wasn’t right. Zoey wasn’t ready to admit something was wrong yet, but something definitely wasn’t right. “Zoey? You’re still in there?”

Mira’s head whipped around so fast, Zoey thought she’d get whiplash. “What do you mean, still?”

“I got up a couple hours ago and heard you snoring, so I knew it was her in here.” Rumi took another step forward, into the bathroom that was thankfully big enough for all of them and probably a few more people.

“I’m fine,” Zoey repeated through gritted teeth. Her knees shook, threatening to send her to the ground. “It’s just cramps, I’ll be ready to start soon, I promise—”

Mira hooked an arm around her shoulders just before her knees gave out, gently lowering her to the ground. This time, she couldn’t push back the groan that escaped at the movement. “Rumi, call Bobby.”

Zoey tried to argue, she was fine, but Mira put a hand on her stomach. She was barely pressing, but it was some of the worst pain she’d ever felt.

She screamed.

“Tell him it’s probably appendicitis,” she shouted out to Rumi, now in the hallway. Then, as if sensing the question Zoey couldn’t voice, “I had a very, very short pre-med phase in middle school. Never tell the fans.”

Zoey tried for a smile that she was sure didn’t work, since soon she was over the toilet again, even though she didn’t have anything left. Hadn’t for hours. And it just made her stomach hurt worse.

“It’s okay,” Mira whispered, rubbing her back gently. “Rumi? ETA?”

“Two minutes. I think he’s breaking several traffic laws.” Zoey had her eyes squeezed shut, but she felt Rumi’s hand on her back, too. “We’re gonna get you help, Zoey.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed, just barely. Sorry they had to miss just about everything. Oh, “What it Sounds Like” released just after last season, she was so sure they were set to win so many awards!

She felt Mira press a kiss to her (very sweaty, very messy) hair. Somehow, she guessed exactly what Zoey meant. “You’re more important than the awards. This is a genuine medical emergency. Our fans will understand.”

Some would. Zoey trusted their fans, but there were others out there that would look at the timing, say she was hiding because Huntrix felt threatened by another group, even if that was so, so far from true.

Mira helped her shift so she was sitting again. Her mouth tasted horrible, her eyes felt puffy, but still she and Rumi looked at Zoey like she was the only thing that mattered. “Just a little while. We’ll help you feel better.”

And though Zoey still cried, still hurt, she already did.

Chapter Text

Nobody had ever accused Rumi of taking it easy. Sure, Zoey and Mira were usually on top of their own breaks and tried coaxing Rumi into them, too, but. Well.

Rumi was also nothing if not stubborn. Force of habit.

It was maybe three in the morning when Rumi emerged from the practice space she shared with Huntrix. Mira and Zoey had left hours ago, citing dinner and sleep among other things that she’d brushed off in the moment. Of course, her body reminded her of those things with a sore throat, headache, and an exhaustion that set deeper in her bones than she’d felt since they’d defeated Gwi-Ma. She was ready for some ramyeon and a couple hours of sleep before she got up and did it all again—

The lights flicked on just as she passed the couch. There were two pairs of eyes on her.

She turned slowly, trying to wipe guilt off of her face. Mira leveled her gaze with a sharp, questioning one of her own, taking up plenty of space on the couch with her long limbs. Zoey, on the other hand, sat cross-legged with crossed arms. It looked like she was fighting off a yawn.

Rumi didn’t know how to defend herself anymore. It was almost easier to just surrender.

Ramyeon could wait.

With a sigh that turned into a cough—she really had overworked her throat, hadn’t she—Rumi sank onto the couch between her two favorite people.

“...Okay, we were planning on being on you for being a chronic workaholic, but are you aware that you look like death warmed over?” Somehow, in her Mira way, all of the concern hidden under her words just dusted her face.

Zoey nodded, her balled-up posture relaxing. She flinched when she touched Rumi’s skin, her eyes widening when she put her hand against Rumi’s forehead. “And you’re burning up! Rumi, what have we said about working ’til you’re burning up?”

Rumi blinked. “Not to do it…?”

“Exactly!” Zoey lowered her voice when Rumi winced at the volume. “Mira, take her to bed? I’ll grab what we need.”

A frown settled on her lips as Zoey scurried into the kitchen. Mira looked right at her, lips just barely quirked up. “Wait, I can—”

“Too late.” In one swift movement, Mira scooped her up, holding her close even though she definitely smelled. And, knowing how strong Mira was physically, Rumi knew better than to try fighting. “Damn, Zoey wasn’t kidding. Are you coming down with something?”

Rumi simply shrugged, not trusting herself to not break out coughing the moment she tried answering. She already felt it building in her chest.

Mira kicked open Rumi’s door, thankfully not hard enough that it went off the hinges. That was usually a Zoey problem. Speaking of, Zoey rushed in just as Mira set Rumi down, her arms loaded with so much that Rumi couldn’t pick out any one thing.

“I brought water, cold medicine just in case, ramyeon’s cooking, um—” A couple items tumbled out of her arms, clattering on the floor. A laugh escaped Rumi’s lips at the same time, quickly devolving into the coughs she’d been holding back. “So the cold medicine is less just in case, got it,” Zoey amended, tipping that box out of her arms and onto the bed with Rumi.

“Here. Pajamas first.” Mira brought over one of Rumi’s favorites—loose t-shirt and old shorts. The perfect combination. “Do you want help changing?”

“I’ve got it.” It still felt a bit strange, not having to basically kick them out while she changed, but she deeply appreciated it in the moment. She changed slowly, fatigue creeping into her muscles now. Zoey milled around, setting things here and there while humming softly. Mira, meanwhile, set herself down behind Rumi, undoing and brushing out her braid with a gentle touch.

Zoey came back around the bed, a glass of water held out like an offering. “Drink up,” she said, still conscious of her volume. “Have some medicine, then I’ll get the ramyeon.”

Rumi took the water, then the medicine Zoey unpackaged. Now that they’d both mentioned it, there was probably a very small, very remote possibility that she maybe was getting sick, but she had a lot to do, so she couldn’t really think about that.

Once Rumi’s hair was brushed loose, she could feel Mira running her hands through it, scratching her scalp gently, just right. Rumi had to sigh, sinking into her touch.

It felt like just what her muscles needed.

“You’re still warm,” Mira murmured, hands continuing to move as Zoey darted out to grab the ramyeon. “We’ll have you eat, get something in your stomach, then sleep. And,” she leaned in, her voice tickling Rumi’s ear, “we’re taking tomorrow off. We’re still technically on hiatus, we can afford to.”

Under normal circumstances, Rumi would’ve argued until she was blue in the face. To her tired brain, though, a day off did sound pretty good.

“Here we go.” Zoey handed off the ramyeon and chopsticks, settling in on the bed with her arms wrapped loosely around Rumi’s waist.

Rumi couldn’t stop her heart from swelling. Even though she didn’t feel the best, she just felt so incredibly loved.

Chapter Text

The way Mira was raised, she had to be pretty self-sufficient. Living with Zoey and Rumi mostly knocked her to her senses in regards to, y’know, communicating with and relying on them. Old habits still died hard, as they knew all too well, but at least hers were mostly in low-stakes situations.

Like getting cold medicine for herself.

Mira’s colds were always interesting in that they usually presented one symptom at a time. Currently, it was a stuffy nose, her least favorite of the symptoms since it always seemed to last the longest. Not that there was a “favorite” to begin with.

She’d already warned Rumi and Zoey that she wasn’t feeling her best, so it was no surprise that she felt their eyes track her as she went into the kitchen, snagging a pear for baesuk. For the most part, she ignored them—apart from sticking her tongue out at them when she felt Zoey staring just a bit too hard.

Until she heard Zoey—clearly Zoey first, she wasn’t exactly as light-footed as Rumi when it was just the three of them—rummaging in the kitchen, too, and found her with the honey and ginger.

“Zo. What.” She didn’t find the need to finish her question, or make it a question at all.

Another clatter on her other side. And that would be Rumi, taking out their steamer and a soup bowl.

“Just thought we’d help!” Zoey said, failing to sound nonchalant. Maybe she didn’t even try.

“Girls, I’m sick, not stupid. I can handle making baesuk.”

After setting down the bowl and steamer, Rumi slipped her arms around Mira’s midsection. “Nobody said you couldn’t. We just wanted to help out a bit.”

“You’re always so good to us when we’re sick, let us return the favor! Please?” The two of them—Rumi letting go to join Zoey—put on their best wide, innocent eyes that they knew Mira could never say no to.

“Fine,” she said with a sniff. “But I could do this on my own.”

Nobody offered any platitudes, which Mira preferred. She didn’t need any of course you coulds that just felt condescending. The silence was preferred.