Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mira and Zoey knew. They saw her patterns. Knew she was a demon. They drew their weapons.

It was sickening how quickly the relief of seeing them, the real them, had been replaced with the sting of rejection.

Rumi knew it was her fault. She saw the hurt and betrayal in their eyes. She was a demon. It was what she deserved. But it still broke something within her. Something small and fragile.

Hope.

She confronted Jinu. He had betrayed her. Abused her trust. He was a demon, just like her. And she deserved this.

Nothing but pain and misery.

All at once, Rumi was eight, learning that she was a monster. She was 12 knowing that Celine hated something so intrinsic to her being, that Celine must hate her too. She was 13 trying to cut the monster out of her. She was 16, trying to hide the blood on her arms from her first and truest friends. She was 19, trying to convince Celine, convince herself, that her friends would understand and still find her worthy of love even though she was a monster. She was 23 and her friends proved Celine right. She was unlovable.

Celine had known it. Mira and Zoey knew it now. Jinu had exploited it. Exploited the truth at the very core of her being.

Rumi was a monster. She needed to be gone from the world if she had any hope of protecting it. After all, she could see the damage her very being was doing to the honmoon. She needed to fix it. To make it right.

But Rumi was a coward.

She couldn’t bring herself to finish it. To fix the mistake her mother made. She had opened her skin more times than she could count, but she could never slay the demon within her. Rumi had failed her duty. She couldn’t protect anyone. Not her friends. Not her fans. Not the world.

She didn’t know how she got there, but Rumi found herself climbing the familiar steps to ancient hackberry tree, surrounded by the graves of the Hunters that had come before her. Those that she failed.

Celine stood bellow the tree, watching the honmoon tear itself apart. Watching Rumi tear the honmmon apart, even if she didn’t know it yet. Her foster mother must have felt the wrongness, the evil, in this sacred place as she whirled around on Rumi, eyes wide, sickle drawn. Only it didn’t glimmer like starlight. Had Rumi damaged the honmoon so much that it didn’t recognize Celine anymore?

It didn’t matter. Rumi choked on the bitter words as she told Celine that Mira and Zoey knew. That they had seen her for the monster she really was. She fell to her knees and offered her saingeom to her mother mentor, and asked her, begged her, to fix the mistake her mother made all those years ago. To do her duty as a hunter and kill the demon before her.

Rumi knew that steel wasn’t effective in slaying demons and with how weak the honmoon was, Celine needed to act fast. Rumi’s very presence was a threat. A mistake. Celine had always known it. The way she held Rumi at a distance. The ways she insisted that she needed to hide. That her faults and fears should never be seen, when all of what Rumi was a fault.

Rumi knew Celine’s hatred of demons was strong and her sense of duty was stronger, but the frightened child in her hoped that whatever sentiment Celine felt for her would allow her to be merciful and end Rumi’s suffering quickly.

But the moments ticked on, and Rumi felt herself shake with fear and shame. She begged again. Her voice, her most important weapon against the dark, echoed across the honmoon with a wrongness that hurt. A demon’s cry. That’s all she was. Why wouldn’t Celine do her duty and slay her on the spot?!

In the blink of an eye, Celine moved. Rumi braced herself for the pain and the sweet release her heart had craved for a decade. She was ready.

But Celine didn’t strike. She knocked the blade from Rumi’s hands like it had burned her and grabbed at Rumi’s arms. Touching her patterns. The shock of that was startling enough. Rumi couldn’t remember a time when Celine had ever willing touched the grotesque markings that now spread like a cancer over her skin. Telling her she couldn’t, wouldn’t kill the monster before her girl she had raised. And for a brief moment, Rumi dared to hope that Celine loved her. All of her.

But just as quickly, Celine’s hands were hovering next to the new patterns on Rumi’s cheek as if she couldn’t bear to touch it and the words Celine said sunk in. “Child like you…Did my best to accept.”  Rumi knew that that meant mistake. “You were wrong, but I made a promise.” The words were like physical blow. Confirmation of a truth she had learned at age twelve. Rumi was a monster and Celine couldn’t love her. Nobody could.

She felt almost numb as she tried to explain the hurt caused by Celine’s words and actions. How could covering up and hiding be mistaken for acceptance? But Celine smiled, as if Rumi were a particularly dense child who had finally understood. And perhaps Rumi was. She had always hoped believed that Celine cared about her not just the memory of Mi-Yeong.

Rumi felt Celine wrap her in her green cardigan, Celine’s favorite one. Telling her to hide again. That they could still salvage this. To lie, again, to Zoey and Mira. Rumi took a shaking step back and looked at Celine, noticing that the older woman’s eyes were searching for something, someone, that wasn’t there.

A hopeless anger bubbled in her chest as she shrugged off the jacket, patterns pulsing a horrendous, sickening magenta. Rumi was done hiding. It brought her nothing but self-loathing, shame, and fear. Why couldn’t Celine see that? She stood before the woman who raised her, tears streaming from her demon eye, patterns cracking her apart like a broken teacup hastily glued back together by a child’s inexperienced hands.

And Celine backed way. Hand out. Like she was trying to placate a vicious, rabid animal (perhaps she was), eyes dancing anywhere but Rumi. She was still saying that they could fix it. Fix her.

And for the first time Rumi verbalized the question that had eroded her very soul away over the years. Why couldn’t Celine love her? All of her?

It was question she desperately needed to know the answer to. She needed it at 8, at 12, 13, 16, 19, 23 and every age in between. Why was Rumi so unworthy of unconditional love?

But Celine didn’t answer, just reminded Rumi that faults and fears should never be seen. And Rumi was, to her very core, a fault. A monster, a mistake, a lonely child desperate for love, a demon.

Rumi swallowed the broken glass that had settled in her throat. If Celine wouldn’t do her duty as a hunter and slay the demon before her, Rumi would have to do it herself. It was a suicide mission for sure, but Rumi had already made her peace with dying. She looked at Celine one last time. She saw how shattered and frightened her guardian looked. It was something she had never seen before, and she hated that that would be her last image of Celine.

She told Celine she was glad the honmoon was destroyed. Perhaps it was out of spite, emphasizing Celine’s failure to keep her pet monster in line or do her duty as a hunter. Perhaps it was to help soften the blow when Rumi actually did die. After all, who could mourn a demon?

In a puff of smoke, Rumi disappeared to face down Gwi-Ma on her own. She held every certainty that she would die, but hopefully this way she would die a hero and finally be worthy of Celine’s love, even if she would never know it.

Chapter Text

The honmoon was in danger. It was splitting and tearing in a way Celine had never seen. It had happened so fast too. Only moments prior, gold had rippled through a healthy honmoon, now sickly, rotten, fuchsia tore it apart.

How could this happen?

What had happened to her girls?

Were they in active danger?

Obviously, they were, judging by the state of the honmoon. It almost looked like it was rotting from the inside out, like an infection deep under the skin. Celine’s chest clenched in worry. Worry for the world, sure. But more acutely, worry for her girl.

The air had an eerie stillness to it that night. Like there should have been a cold and biting wind, but nature, too, was holding its breath. Celine knelt in front of the ancient hackberry tree. Mi-Yeong’s grave caught the corner of her eye, and she sent a silent prayer that the current hunters were safe. That Rumi was safe. She couldn’t bury her purple again.

The barest of breezes slipped through the air and the hair on the back of Celine’s neck prickled. Something was off. Something was wrong. Intruder. Every sense within her screamed at the threat to the scared spot.

Without thinking, Celine whirled around lifting her sickle only to freeze when she saw one of her worst nightmares.

Rumi stood before her. Hair disheveled and frayed. Unnatural purple makings spread all over her body. Hand a rotten discolored greyish purple, fingers elongated, nails sharpened. A claw, her brain provided after a moment. The worst, though, was her eye.

Rumi had always had Mi-Yeong’s warm brown eyes. They were kind and gentle. Celine had always loved looking at them. But now? His influence had infected them. Taken them away from Celine too.

“Rumi, no,” Celine whispered in horror, her voice carrying over the quiet. What had happened to her little girl?

Rumi was rambling, saying something about how she had failed and run out of time, her voice cracking with emotion and crackling with an unnatural edge. Somehow the other girls had found out and Rumi seemed… hopeless. And that more than her monstrous visage, shook Celine to her core.

Rumi had always been full of life and laughter. Her heart too big for her body and too kind for her destiny. Her hope and optimism were infectious. They were inspirational. It was a key part of what helped connect her to her fans and strengthen the honmoon.

But this Rumi? The one that stood before her? She was a shell. A broken and discarded doll. Empty and alone.

Then, her girl was kneeling lifting her saingeom in offering. Asking Celine to “do what she should have done a long time ago” to fix her mother’s greatest mistake. And Celine was frozen.

Suddenly, Celine was kneeling under this same tree holding Mi-Yeong, watching the light fade from her eyes. Begging her to stay, whispering apologies. It had been an accident. Mi-Yeong should have never been there. Her purple was supposed to live. Celine needed her. Rumi needed her. But the blood didn’t stop and Mi-Yeong grew colder, wipping tears away from Celine’s eyes. Making her promise to take care of Rumi. To keep her safe. Make sure she was loved. And Celine would have promised anything in that moment if it meant that her purple would stay.

Celine was opening the bathroom door. An unnatural red stained the sink and floor. A pool of lavender silk was slowly being dyed red by it. Thirteen-year-old Rumi lay unconscious in a pool of her own blood. A chunk of purple hair was missing and a shallow cut on her ear. But her arms… Rumi’s arms were flayed around her patterns. Her shoulder mutilated. And Rumi wouldn’t wake up! She couldn’t lose her purple again. She couldn’t fail Mi-Yeong. Couldn’t fail her little girl. Why wouldn’t Rumi wake up?!

The honmoon rippled again bringing Celine back to the present. Rumi was still kneeling in front of her. Asking, no, begging Celine to do the impossible. To kill her little purple. How could Rumi ask that of her. Had Celine really failed her girl so much?

She was on her knees knocking the saingeom out of Rumi’s hands without a second thought. She needed Rumi to understand. To understand that Celine had done her best to love and accept Rumi. That being a mother was never something that Celine saw for herself, let alone for a half demon. But Celine tried so hard to see past his purple and love the purple her Mi-Yeong had left her. Was still trying to see past her own prejudices.

Celine’s hand hovered over Rumi’s newly patterned cheek and forced herself to look into her purple’s mismatched eyes.

Rumi was speaking again, her voice unnaturally hollow. She was talking about how Celine had instructed her to cover up her patterns, to hide her faults and fears. And Celine couldn’t help the small smile from crossing her face.

Yes. They could still hide it. They could still fix it. Celine was shrugging off her cardigan and wrapping it around Rumi, smoothing the green over his purple, like the moss that grows over ancient trees sharing warmth. If her friends didn’t know then Rumi wouldn’t feel so hurt and alone. This would protect her little girl.

Mira and Zoey would believe that this was an illusion. That Gwi-Ma had sown the seeds of doubt. And together the girls could still fix and seal the honmoon. (The treacherous part of Celine’s brain said that this was her doing. That she was the cause of Rumi’s breakdown. And worse, Celine knew in her heart of hearts that it was right.)

But Rumi didn’t seem comforted by these words that had always soothed her little purple in the past. Always given her hope. Instead her eyes flashed with anger, with betrayal. She threw off Celine’s love and stood before the older hunter with patterns pulsing a repugnant fuchsia. Glowing in the dark of the night. Her eyes were wild and Celine found she couldn’t look at them.

She took a shaky step back and tried to reach her girl. She knew that her Rumi was in there somewhere. The little girl that cried with regret and empathy when she saw her first demon slain. Who chased after butterflies and laughed softly when they would land on her nose. The soft, pudgy baby who would look at her with Mi-Yeong’s eyes and smile with her smile. Who trusted Celine to keep the monsters away from her and kiss her boo-boos better. But she couldn’t force herself to look at the hurt on her baby’s face.

“Why can’t you look at me?!” Rumi’s anguished wail echoed around them “Why couldn’t you love me?”

A million little moments rushed to Celine’s mind. All of the nights Celine stayed awake rocking a soft, pudgy, purple haired baby, soothing her cries with song and kisses. All of the days spent laughing and playing with a bubbly toddler. The moments of sitting and singing together, braiding her long purple hair. The hugs and praises shared. Trying to reassure a new teenager that she was loved. Holding a tiny hand in hers while they walked together. Tucking a sleeping teenager in bed after her debut. A whispered “I love you” floating in the air.

“I do!” Celine choked out suffocating behind the weight of her words. How had she failed so completely? Where had she gone wrong? What right did she have to meet Mi-Yeong’s Rumi’s eyes?

But her reassurance seemed to fall on deaf ears as Rumi let out a vicious strangled cry that reverberated across the honmoon, shaking it with fear.

“All of me?!” she wailed into the otherwise silent night.

Celine watched in horror as the words tore at the already fragile and rotting honmoon, tearing it further apart. She needed to help Rumi pull herself together. To guard her heart so the demons couldn’t use it against her.

“This is why our faults and fears must never be seen,” Celine insisted, her voice shaking with fear of the wild and raw hurt in Rumi’s voice. The kind of desperation that lead to doing something unthinkable. Celine swallowed hard before choking out her next words. “It’s the only way to protect the honmoon.” To protect you, Celine wanted to say.

Something seemed to snap within Rumi. She took a breath and stood up straighter, gripping her saingeom tightly in her clawed hand. She looked forward, eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance.  Her voice, while hollow, echoed unnaturally with a demonic timbre. “If this is the honmoon I’m supposed to protect. I’m glad to see it destroyed.”

Celine’s eyes widened and she tried once again to reach out to her little girl, but Rumi had vanished in a haze of fuchsia smoke. And Celine was left standing alone in the sacred space. Alone under the failing honmoon, surrounded by generations of hunters passed. Alone with the weight of her mistakes.

She sank to her knees, replaying her conversation with Rumi again and again. Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she turned to Mi-Yeong. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed her. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

But there was no absolution from the grave of her purple. Celine didn’t deserve any. She had tried to love Rumi. To guide and protect her. From the world. From herself. But Celine had failed at every corner. And now, she had to live with the consequences.

(Why was she always left behind? Didn’t the universe know that green needed purple?)

Chapter Text

She stood at the edge of the stadium, feeling the thrum of the demonic music. The pull of Gwi-Ma himself as she walked into the fire. Rumi didn’t know how, exactly, she got here. She wasn’t sure if it was the final threads of the honmoon or the demonic call of her master. But here she stood, shattered, broken. The very monster she swore to destroy.

Rumi was going to die. That much she knew with a certainty that should have scared her. But, if anything, the thought gave her comfort. She would at least die trying to be a hero with the vain hope that she could make a difference.

As the last notes of the Saja Boys petered out, Rumi let out her own answering call of heartbreak and betrayal, drawing all eyes to her.

The words sprang from her chest. A mantra she had heard her whole life. Words that had given her hope, meaning, and shame all in equal measure. But rather than sing the first song Rumi could remember ever sparking within her soul (did she even have a soul?), she spoke them with a hollow hopelessness echoing in the odd demonic timbre her voice had taken.

“We are hunters, voices strong. Slaying demons with our songs. Fix the world and make it right. When darkness finally meets the light.”

The fire of Gwi-Ma burned and the weight of her failure, all of the people crowded around her ready to sacrifice themselves to a cruel master, kept Rumi’s eyes cast down. If she hadn’t been so empty already, perhaps she would have flinched with the Demon King spoke directly to her.

“You come here like this?” Gwi-Ma scoffed, his voice mocking with a cruel levity at a joke only he found funny. “You think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can’t.” Rumi responded, voice still echoing with the emptiness of someone with nothing left to lose. There was no point in denying the cold, hard, truth of the matter. Rumi had failed to fix the world. To fix herself.

“And now everyone finally sees you for what you really are.” Gwi-Ma mocked, knowing full well, curtesy of Jinu, that that was Rumi’s biggest fear.

And a little over an hour ago it had been. Her patterns revealed on stage to the world. To her friends. The shame and fear erupting across her body, consuming her whole. Seeing betrayal in her friends’ eyes. The hatred they had poured into Takedown directed at her, even though Rumi had always known the song was about her. Rumi had always sang it to herself at any rate. But that was then. And now Rumi was done hiding. It didn’t matter much anymore. It’s not like she would live past tonight to deal with the fallout at any rate.  So, Rumi simply agreed, “They do.”

“And the honmoon is gone.” This one was a gloat. Gwi-Ma was certain in his victory and taunting the hunter that had unwillingly assisted in that would have been too sweet to pass up.

“It is.” Rumi agreed, her eyes which had been trained to the floor finally closed. She took a steadying breath. She was a hunter. One that had failed. But still one that would use her dying breath to try to make it right. With a conviction she almost felt, Rumi’s eyes snapped open, leveling a glare at the demon king. “So we can make a new one.”

She stepped forward and let the words pour from her heart. She laid herself bare for the world, barely noticing the way her patterns shifted in a kaleidoscope of colors across her body. Rumi didn’t see any point in hiding anymore. She was tired and if she was going to die, she might as well die with a clean slate. Rumi let the hurt and loneliness that she had held so close to her heart out. She called out to the other hunters, begging their forgiveness, seeking a chance to explain.

She expected silence. She expected death. But what she heard was an answer.

Zoey.

Mira.

Zoey answered her plea with a question of her own. Then Mira acknowledged the pain that hiding had caused. All of them had hidden something and their voices healed something shattered within Rumi.

Hope. Fragile and gentle, budding deep within her shattered psyche.

She called to them more desperately. Rumi craved their forgiveness before she died, even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. Rumi could feel the honmoon quiver weakly around them, sharing the tentative hope of every note connecting their souls.

And Gwi-Ma flinched.

Rumi reached for the familiar weight of her saingeom as she sliced through fresh hordes of demons, uncaring of the slashes and scrapes she received on the way. Her heart and soul guided her to her girls. Her first and truest friends. The keepers of two thirds of her soul.

When they finally met in the middle of the crowd, Rumi dared to hope they could forgive her. She found herself enveloped in their arms, her own desperately holding them, as if to say: I’m sorry. So sorry. I lied. I hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.

Warmth so much like love and forgiveness erupted between them weaving new threads of the honmoon around the girls, giving them strength when they had none.

For the first time since the Saja Boys had made themselves know, (for the first time ever, if Rumi was truly being honest with herself) Rumi felt truly in sync with Mira and Zoey. She felt sure that she and her girls would succeed. They were a team.

The Saja Boys joined the fray as Rumi continued towards Gwi-Ma. Jinu held back, his slitted, golden eyes flashed through so many emotions that Rumi didn’t have the energy to unpack. He had been the first person she had trusted with her secret, with her bruised and fragile heart. And he had betrayed her in the cruelest, most vicious way.  But now he just stood there watching with an inscrutable look on his face. And a traitorous part of Rumi still clung to the hope that she could save him.

Gwi-Ma was getting nervous. Desperate. The taste of victory slipping away with each moment. He recalled the Faceless to supplement his power before directing it at the Hunter in front of him.

Rumi stood defiantly in front of the flames. They licked at her skin, burning and branding her. She knew she would die. She didn’t deserve to live. It was obvious. But she would hopefully die a hero with the forgiveness that she didn’t deserve. She held her saingeom against the demon king, staggering back slightly under his weight. Rumi had come to terms with her death. She had accepted it. Welcomed it, even.

But suddenly it stopped.

Rumi looked up to meet Jinu’s warm brown eyes. No. No, no, no, no. Why?!

Rumi didn’t understand. He had betrayed her and now he was saving her. Didn’t he know she wasn’t worth it? Didn’t he know she was past redemption? That she was ready to die.

“I wanted to set you free,” Rumi pleaded, her voice shaking with a fresh wave of betrayal.

Jinu just smiled with the same disarming smile and vulnerability that had allowed Rumi to lower her guard and let him into her heart. “You did. You gave me my soul back.”

And true enough, a glowing blue orb had bloomed over Jinu’s chest. His soul returned. But Rumi could only whisper “no” as Gwi-Ma’s fire slowly ate away at his body. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to die.

But Jinu smiled, “And now, I give it to you.”

And he was gone.

Rumi felt the tears stream down her cheeks without her consent. Jinu’s soul had strengthened the honmoon, strengthened her saingeom, and she sliced through Gwi-Ma’s flames.

The souls of the fans gathered around the girls, giving them strength, allowing them to weave new threads of the honmoon around them and over the world. The truth and vulnerability Rumi, Mira, and Zoey shared with each other and the crowd resonated in their hearts and souls and together. Finally, together. They vanquished the darkness.

Somehow, miraculously, they had done it. Rumi stood with Zoey and Mira gazing at the new honmoon they had woven together. One that shined opalescent like a mother-of-pearl. One that radiated love and warmth. It wasn’t golden. But it was theirs.

A peace washed over Rumi as she took in the contented smiles of her girls, her first, best, and truest friends. Soft smiles that held the promise of understanding. Not quite forgiveness, but something close. A chance. Hope. And Rumi let that fragile hope fill her chest as she smiled back at her girls.

They held each other close for a moment and Rumi savored that moment. The peace, the joy, the hope. The overwhelming feeling that the ship had been righted and that they were on the correct path. Together. Just as they always should be. Maybe, just maybe, Rumi thought she could stand with her girls in the Sun. That she deserved to stay with them for just a little longer. She looked at Zoey's kind warm eyes, at Mira's guarded smile. She felt their hands intertwined and felt peace.

Then Rumi pitched forward and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Zoey couldn’t stand it. Rumi had been pulling away since the “Golden Fiasco,” as Zoey privately called it, maybe even before that if Zoey was being completely honest with herself, and it seemed to get worse with Takedown. Rumi seemed to recoil from the song. Which didn’t make sense since Takedown was Rumi’s idea to begin with. She was fighting it. Fighting Mira. Fighting them. And each time the distance seemed to grow. So desperately did Zoey want to reach in and pull Rumi back to them. But all she could do was write down the thoughts and theories in overflowing notebooks lest they split her head clean open.

The truth was that Zoey had been worried about Rumi for a long time. Almost as long as she had known the older girl, really. She had watched Rumi pull away from them before. Watched her request separate changing spaces. Seen Rumi demand sleeves that went to her elbows, then to her wrists, and the neckline kept rising. Zoey could only imagine what she was hiding under layer upon layer of clothes. And none of her theories painted a good picture.

Her mind couldn’t help but flash to Michelle, Mickie, one of her middle school friends from America. Mickie had seemingly randomly started wearing long sleeves all the time. Or jackets, even when it was over 100° F outside. She had deflected at the time, saying she was cold, or it was a new style she was trying out and Zoey stupidly believed her. Then Mickie started pulling away. She stopped hanging out with Zoey or Dani or Emma or Sung-Mi or Julia. Stopped going to the skate park with them. Stopped coming over their houses to listen to the Sunlight Sisters and read cheesy fanfic to each other. Then one day Mickie came back to them. She was all warm smiles and big hugs. They listened to music together and went skating. The day was full of laughter and Zoey had genuinely thought Mickie was better. Two days later she was gone.

And Zoey swore she’d never ignore the signs again.

But the reality was that Zoey had no idea how to reach out to Rumi. Especially when Rumi seemed so intent on pulling away. So, Zoey just tried to be there for her. To make sure that Rumi knew that she belonged with them and was loved. But Rumi was making it so hard. And Mira was too.

Zoey hated the tension and fighting that had been building between Rumi and Mira. It almost felt like her parents’ fighting all over again. Not that Rumi and Mira were her parents! Of course not! But the way that neither one would just talk to each other was infuriating. And a very small part of Zoey was worried that their fighting was her fault.

Zoey knew she could be… well… a lot. But Rumi and Mira always made space for her and seemed to genuinely like hearing all of her wild ideas and even went along with them. Even if Zoey knew that sometimes they were just humoring her.

It was why she was so ecstatic this morning when everyone shared their heart with each other and decided to sing Golden at the Idol Awards. And seeing Rumi on stage, looking like an absolute queen, and sounding like an angel, just felt right. Like things were finally returning to normal.

But Mickie still weighed heavily on her mind. Was this performance like that day at the skatepark? Too good to be true?

Then those demons took Bobby. And Takedown started playing. And Bobby turned into a laughing demon. It had been a trap laid for Rumi and Zoey and Mira were too late. Zoey knew how much Rumi hated Takedown. She didn’t know why Rumi hated it, but she knew that she did. And that she was alone.

She ran.

And the sight that met her caught the breath in her throat. There was a demon in front of her. Wearing Rumi’s face. Sounding just like her best friend. There was a wild, crazed, almost panicked look in the demon’s too human-looking eyes. One that almost seemed to melt into relief at seeing her and Mira.

Zoey backed away slowly. No. No. There was no way that Rumi would have sold her soul to Gwi-Ma. Absolutely not. Rumi hated demons more than anyone else. Except maybe Celine. But how else could Rumi have patterns? Was this another trap? It had to be. There was no other explanation.

But the demon seemed confused and relieved and kept talking to them like it really was the other third of her soul. She seemed embarrassed and frustrated and ashamed, and Zoey began to think that it wasn’t a trap. That this… thing… really might be their Rumi. And that thought was sobering and shocking.

How could she trust Rumi now? Not when she had been lying to them about something so profound and important. Where had Zoey gone wrong in trying to make sure that Rumi knew she was safe and loved. Why was Zoey never enough?

Rumi was begging with tears streaming from her eye, one of which was so wrong.

I’ve never seen Rumi cry before. The thought caught Zoey off guard for a moment. Rumi had always seemed so strong and sure and all of Zoey’s worries rushed back in.

But as Rumi’s voice took a demonic edge and the honmoon quivered under her, reverberating pain like an eerie echo, Zoey let her training take over. With slow movements and tremendous effort, Zoey lifted her shin-kals to Rumi. To one of her best friends. One she promised in her heart to protect.

And Rumi shattered.

She ran blindly.

And Zoey just stood there. All the thoughts that usually bounced around her head like pinballs came to a screeching halt.

What had she done?

Exchanging a heartbroken look with Mira, they slowly made their way outside the stadium and the reality hit Zoey harder that a steam engine could have.

The honmoon was breaking. Tearing itself apart. Rotting away to nothing. It was almost the worst thing Zoey had ever seen.

Then a news covering of the Idol Awards came on saying that HUNTR/X had publicly broken up on stage. She saw what looked like herself and Mira practically attacking Rumi. And Rumi looked so scared.

No wonder Rumi had looked at them with hope backstage. And they had destroyed it. Crumpled it beneath their platformed boots.

But Zoey didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the stinking Saja Boys appeared on the screen. Gloating over their victory. Summoning everyone to their doom.

They had to do something! But what? They needed Rumi. Hunters always came in threes, and all of their songs were three-part harmonies.

But Mira brushed her off.

And Zoey knew. She knew she was too much and not enough. She had been too much for her parents to love each other around her and not enough to keep them together. She hadn’t been enough to keep Mickie with them. Hadn’t been enough to keep Rumi with them. Had been too much for Mira. Not enough to keep her family together.

The promise of somewhere to belong was too great to resist. She let herself be swept into the crowd. Let herself wash away. She just wanted to be loved for who she was. Fault, fears, sins, and all. And the world faded to the hypnotic rhythm and promise of acceptance.

.

.

.

.

A voice cut through the darkness. One she knew so well. One she loved form the first time she heard it. One she was so sure she’d never hear again.

Rumi.

She sounded shattered and broken. She sang of heartbreak and flaws. She begged for forgiveness like a dying star.

And Zoey answered.

She wanted, she needed, Rumi to hear her. To know she wasn’t alone.

And Mira answered too.

Zoey could almost cry as her heart reached out to its other thirds. They sang together in a way that almost felt like the first time all over again. They let the words pour from their damaged hearts, directly from their souls.

Zoey cut through the demons in her path with a practiced ease. Almost uncaring in her desperation to reach Rumi and Mira. And when she did… It was all she could do not to collapse into their arms.

She felt the honmoon welcome them, feeding on their love for one another. Wrapping them in an embrace of its own. Enveloping them its threads. Zoey felt stronger than she ever had. And suddenly the fight to end all fights didn’t feel so daunting. They were together. Just like they always should have been.

The Saja Boys had decided to join and now Zoey found herself between Mystery and Baby. She almost wanted to laugh at herself for being foolish enough to fall for Mystery’s stupidly handsome, dewy, perfect look. It really was just her type, but she also knew it was fake. She kept on singing the song that sprung deep from her very soul. She was so much stronger than they thought she was.

 Gwi-Ma must have been feeling desperate, and the thought almost made Zoey laugh, as his voice shook with something Zoey couldn’t identify. The demon king recalled all of the Faceless, almost causing her to trip on a now empty space. His flame grew taller and he sent out a torrent of fire towards…

“Rumi!”  Zoey heard herself call as their leader seemed to buckle under the force of the demonic flames. Her saingeom the only thing between her and the fire. Then Rumi’s foot slipped and Zoey was so worried that she would never get the chance to tell Rumi how sorry she was. Then a movement in the corner of her eye and Jinu. JINU. Was shielding Rumi from Gwi-Ma.

A swipe from Baby drew her attention back to her own fight. She shot out her shin-kals and the demon narrowly avoided the hit. Then, sparing a glance back at Rumi, Zoey noticed Jinu was gone. Rumi’s saingeom was larger as she landed a strike against the demon king. What had happened? Where was Jinu?

But Zoey couldn’t dwell on that thought for long as she felt the soulds of the crowd gather around her, strengthening her every move. She lunged at Mystery finally seeing his stupid, perfect face. He really was just her type. Oh well! And she slashed him into dust. Baby seemed to shrink back in fear as one of her shin-kals made contact. A quick glance told her that Mira was more than handling her own and Rumi seemed to be doing ok.

With all support of the gathered crowd, and the harmony from the other two thirds of her heart, Zoey felt the new honmoon weave and dance around them. It felt like love. It felt like a friend. It felt strong. It rippled around them bathing Seoul in its warmth and light.

Zoey’s fingers were interlaced in Rumi’s and for the first time in a long time, Zoey felt truly hopeful. They had done it. Really done it! Together! HUNTR/X, Zoey, Mira, and Rumi, had really and truly saved the world with the power of friendship. How awesome was that!

Zoey had turned to say just as much with a soft smile on her face. She caught a similar look on both of her girls and opened her mouth to share her thoughts when she noticed Rumi’s eyes close, her face going slack. Their leader began to tip forward and Zoey scrambled to try and catch her, a scream ringing in her ear.

Belatedly, Zoey realized the scream came from her.

Chapter Text

Mira was frozen. She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. It didn’t make any sense and Mira couldn’t make her body move.

Rumi had sounded amazing, sounded strong, while she sang Golden. Then those stupid awful demons lured them away from the stage on wild goose chase. Takedown began to play and Mira knew.

A trap had been laid for Rumi and panic coursed through Mira’s veins. She didn’t know why Rumi hated Takedown with such intensity, but it didn’t matter right now. Rumi was in danger and she and Zoey exchanged a panicked look as they began to run.

But she stopped short looking at the stage. And Mira couldn’t understand what she was seeing.

Rumi had been lying to them for a long time. She had been hiding something. Something big. And Mira knew this for a fact. She was good at reading others, the best of the three of them, in fact.

Zoey was too trusting, always trying to see the best in others and give them the benefit of the doubt. She never tried to rush others in their feelings, but was just open and honest with them until they reciprocated. And they almost always did, because Zoey was just that kind of person. A people pleaser through and through.

Rumi was naïve and sheltered. She had high walls and didn’t like to let others truly in, but she always defended the actions of others even when it put herself at risk. Celine pushed them so hard because she cared. The photographer was being ass because he just wanted the best shot. The fan that was a little too handsy with Rumi was just excited. Though for the select few that were able to breach the layers and layers upon walls around her heart, Rumi was protective and fierce. She was so willing to put herself in danger if it meant saving someone she cared about that it scared Mira.

The lying did too.

More than anything, Mira didn’t understand it. She had, stupidly she guessed now, thought that they were past hiding and lying. That they had left all that shit behind in their first few weeks of training. That Celine had practically beaten it out of them with the intense Idol training and Hunter training. They had promised as teenagers not to hide anything from one another. To be open and honest. A real team. A family.

Yet there was Rumi. Trying to face the world alone and pushing those that care about her away.

Mira knew she had a temper. She had been told all of her life that she was too quick to anger. Too brash and violent. Her girls had accepted that about her and had given Mira an outlet for her anger. She trusted them and thought that both Zoey and Rumi had trusted her in return.

Yet here they were.

A million thoughts raced across. Emotions passed too quickly to identify. Hurt. Anger. Fear. Betrayal.

What Mira was seeing had to be a trick. It had to be. There was no way- absolutely no way- that Rumi was… was a demon. The very thought felt like acid corroding her veins.

The feral creature slinked off the stage looking somehow both crazed and scared. Its hair frayed out of its tight braid. Its patterns pulsing a sickening fuchsia. Eyes wild. The demon’s claws dug into its arms as it tried to curl into itself.

This… thing couldn’t be their Rumi.

But then it looked at Mira and Zoey with confusion that melted into relief. No! It didn’t get to feel relief. Not when it had lied.

Mira took a step back and the demon tried to explain. Explain that it had been lying to them. That it was working with their enemy. For how long?

When did Rumi sell her soul to Gwi-Ma? Why had she felt like she needed to? Weren’t they a team? A family?

Had Rumi really been plotting behind their backs the whole time? Biding her time to turn on them?

For all of her faults, Mira’s first reaction had always been anger. The sting of betrayal and uncertainty had sharpened into a poisonous rage that boiled beneath her skin. How dare Rumi do this to them?!

Mira’s gok-do materialized in her hands without conscious thought. She held it defensively, ready to strike if needed. Rumi’s eyes widen with betrayal, heartbreak, and acceptance. And Mira’s anger doubled.

How dare Rumi look at them like that when she was the one to betray them?! Rumi didn’t get to cry like this wasn’t her own fault!

The demon that Mira had once considered her friend turned to Zoey. Soft-hearted, gullible, people-pleaser Zoey. And begged. She kept insisting that she could “fix it” and the honmoon shuddered in fear and pain at the demonic influence. Mira shot the maknae a look to help her stay strong. They had a duty, even if one of them, their “leader” (ha), had forsaken it. They were demon hunters. And before them knelt a demon.

Rumi’s eyes widened as Zoey drew her shin-kals from the honmoon, only one blade per hand in a testament to her uncertainty. Then acceptance washed over the demon as tears poured from her eyes.

They all stayed there for a tense moment. Rooted to the ground in fear and resignation for what must surely come next.

Then Rumi ran.

And Mira and Zoey didn’t chase her.

How could they truly hunt a part of their soul?

In a shell-shocked silence, the two hunters lowered their weapons and looked at each other. Zoey was falling apart. The youngest clearly needed something to hang onto so she didn’t get lost in her own thoughts and fears. And despite the fact that something vital within Mira had become untethered, leaving the choreographer unmoored and adrift in a sea of uncertainty, Mira knew she had to be strong for Zoey.

She banished her gok-do and pulled Zoey into a brief hug. One that had Zoey quivering and heaving for a moment, before pulling away.

But Mira felt hollow.

Empty.

The pair slowly made it outside the stadium and Mira felt her breath catch in her throat.

The honmoon was rotting away.

All of the work they had put into it stripped away in a matter of minutes.

All the laughter. All the joy. All of the pride.

Gone.

News coverage of the Idol Awards caught her attention for a moment. The words washed over Mira without making much sense. “Public breakup” Hadn’t that happened backstage? “Saja Boys… Saja Boys… Saja Boys.”

They had lost.

And the world had lost with them.

Mira’s parents were right, a traitorous voice rang in the back of her mind. She was never going to amount to anything. She was always going to be a failure. Unworthy of love and family.

Those awful, hateful demons had the audacity to spring up on screen, gloating about their victory goading the remaining hunters.

But Mira lost in her own thoughts as the wreckage of what she had thought of as her family, the one built on love and trust, lay at her feet. She didn’t deserve a family. She never had. She was to brash and violent. Too broken and jagged to ever be worthy of love.

Zoey’s hand was on her shoulder, begging for guidance for support. They had been a trio. They needed three. But they had broken beyond repair.

So, Mira did what she did best and lashed out in anger. “There is no we, Zoey!”

She felt the younger girl flinch away and a bitter laugh clawed at her throat. Mira didn’t get to have a family.

Her shame and despair lead her in a trance like state to Nansam Tower and she felt the hypnotic tones of the Saja Boys wash over her in an eerie facsimile of peace.

Until a heartbreaking wail cut through the sound, shaking her free of the demonic influence that had flooded her brain.

One she knew intimately.

One that had once felt like home.

Rumi.

Rumi walked towards the fire of Gwi-Ma, towards a certain death, patterns on display, changing colors, and singing of heartbreak and self-doubt.

Rumi sang of uncertainty, and she begged for someone, anyone, to hear her apology.

She sounded so sad and defeated.

So alone.

And Mira needed to get to her. She pushed past the crowds of people, her mind drawing parallels to how she had fought her way to Rumi earlier. Before everything fell apart.

Then Zoey answered Rumi’s plea, and Mira couldn’t help but add her own voice to theirs.

Demons poured in around them as Gwi-Ma must have felt something akin to fear and ordered his minons to keep the girls from one another. To stop the song that poured from their very hearts. Mira felt her gok-do in her hands and it suddenly felt stronger than it had in weeks. She felt stronger.

And as they sang and fought together a weight lifted from her chest. Mira wasn’t ready to forgive, just yet. But she was ready to listen. To be what they had needed her to be.

When they finally met in the middle, Mira couldn’t help but fall into Rumi and Zoey’s arms. Her heart felt whole again. Like everything that had been missing was miraculously back as threads of the honmoon wove themselves around the girls and began to ripple out in waves.

There was something cathartic about facing down Romance and Abby. They were part of the reason her family had fractured and they were going to pay. Mira slashed through the hordes of Faceless and wove and dodged away from the Saja Boys, until Gwi-Ma recalled his pawns. Romance and Abby had both frozen as Gwi-Ma’s flames grew until they were directed at…

“RUMI!” Mira distantly heard herself call as the demon girl buckled under the weight of Gwi-Ma’s attack.

Mira had to do something. She had already failed Rumi once that night, and she needed Rumi to explain herself. She couldn’t fail her again.

But Romance and Abby had regained their focus and resumed their onslaught. Mira dodged and parried. She sliced through the air but nothing seemed to hit. Then suddenly, they stopped as Rumi, miraculously, landed a hit against the demon king.

The souls of the assembled crowd began to swirl around Mira, supplementing her strength, as she finally managed to slice through those stupid, ridiculously good-looking abs, disposing of them forever. She landed a blow to Romance as he vanished.

With this new power, Mira found her voice grow stronger as she finally reached her girls.

Her family.

And a feeling of contentment washed over her as a new honmoon snapped into place, banishing the darkness and enveloping the world in love. Their love.

The peace was shattered only a moment later by a scream from Zoey and a sudden weight pulling her arm.

Rumi had collapsed. Face soft and peaceful. Heart still.

Mira had never deserved a family.

Chapter Text

She didn’t know how long she had sat under the great tree, weeping over her failure. Mourning the spark of hope in her child’s eyes. Celine hated to admit that she had been scared of Rumi. Not necessarily of her demon visage, though it had been frightening to see, but of the hollowness and hurt in her baby’s eyes. It was the look of someone with nothing left to lose and nothing left to live for. And it looked so out of place on the face of the little girl she had loved so much.

Rumi had Mi-Yeong’s warm, chocolate eyes that light up like stars shining for all to see. They were so full of love and life. Of kindness and warmth. Eyes that looked towards the future with hope.

But tonight they were empty.

Where had Celine gone wrong? She tried everything she knew to keep her little purple safe. To hold the girl’s demon half at bay. Celine had tried to balance the love that she felt for her girl with discipline and guidance. True, she had once tried to keep Rumi at an arm’s length, but after her baby had torn apart her arm with a dagger- a dagger Celine had stupidly given the thirteen-year-old, she had tried to be better. Celine tried to keep her little purple safe in a world that was determined to wear her down.

But clearly she had failed.

How could Rumi ever think that Celine could kill her?

Celine sat, tears rolling down her cheeks as the honmoon withered around her. She crawled over to Mi-Yeong’s grave, finger’s delicately tracing the characters on the headstone.

“Why did you leave me, Mi-Yeong?” Celine whispered, not for the first time. “I can’t do this by myself. I keep failing our girl. And now she’s gone. What am I going to do?”

But silence was the only answer Celine received.

Celine didn’t know how long she sat there replaying her conversation over and over. Hearing Rumi’s anguished cry “Why couldn’t you love me?! All of me?!”

The words haunted her.

She loved Rumi so much it hurt. The knowledge that Rumi couldn’t see it, broke her heart. She tried to think of all the moments she and Rumi had shared. All of the small things Celine had done over the years to show how much she cared, but now her mind only supplied the moments that could have driven her Rumi away.

“Celine, do we kill all demons?” An eight-year-old Rumi asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Rumi,” Celine responded, tying the purple braid off. I had been a warm day, the kind Mi-Yeong had loved, and Celine had thought it had been a perfect day to visit.

Little Rumi sat in silence for a moment as if working through a thought too complex for her young mind. “So,” she continued softly, lifting the sleeve of her shirt to expose his unsightly purple, “everything that has patterns?” Her voice was unsteady as if she unsure if she really wanted the answer.

“Cover those up!” Celine snapped, harshly brushing her own hand down her ward’s sleeve.

It hadn’t been a “no.” Celine hadn’t told Rumi, a child at that, that Celine wouldn’t kill her. And that is what Rumi had needed to hear.

Gods. Was that conversation what led to Rumi trying to carve her patterns out of her skin only a few years later?

“Go away, Rumi,” Celine sighed, exhaustion eating away at what little patience she had.

The four-year-old hesitated for moment before holding out a small handful of delicate purple flowers, “I thought these were pretty, Celine. And you’re so pretty, too. You should have them!”

Celine stared at the flowers. Mi-Yeong’s flowers. How dare this…this thing try to give her her purple’s flowers?!

Her hand acted on its own and Celine knocked the flowers out of Rumi’s tiny hands.

The little girl’s eyes filled with tears, “S-sorry, Celine. I just thought you’d l-like them.”

Celine didn’t have the energy to comfort the child and simply sighed, “Go away, Rumi. I need to be alone.”

Rumi nodded once and scurried out of the room, tears rolling down round little cheeks. Celine wanted to cry, too. But more than that she wanted Mi-Yeong back.

Celine couldn’t remember if she had ever apologized to Rumi for that. How could Rumi have known that those were her mother’s favorites? But the Celine then had been too consumed with grief to see clearly and acted in anger.

“Get up, Rumi!” Celine barked at the twelve-year-old. “Do it again!”

Rumi tried to right herself, but her legs buckled as she pushed herself up from the ground. A massive bruise was blossoming over the preteen's jaw and blood was beginning to seep through the knee of one of pants’ legs. “It… It hurts, Celine. Could I please take a break?”

“You are a hunter, Rumi. You should not need any breaks,” Celine stated coolly. She knew Rumi could do it. She just needed to push herself more. “Try it again!”

Rumi’s lips trembled before she could school her expression into something more neutral.

“Don’t let your face give you away, Rumi. Your faults and fears must never be seen.” Celine snapped.

“Yes, Celine,” Rumi whispered, her voice tired and resigned. She staggered to her feet managing two steps before collapsing in a dead faint.

Perhaps Celine pushed a little too hard, but her little purple needed to be strong if she was going to fulfill her destiny.

Celine had trained Rumi as she herself had been trained, but Celine had failed, at the time, to remember that Rumi had still been a child when she started. And children needed encouragement not criticism to grow.

“Maybe they’ll understand,” Nineteen-year-old Rumi whispered hopefully, looking after her two best, and only friends with a wistful expression, fingers idly rubbing the patterns through her shirt.

“No, Rumi,” Celine dismissed, not even looking up from her newspaper. “Nothing can change until your patterns are gone."

Celine had been trying to protect her child. She couldn’t run the risk of Mira or Zoey attacking Rumi. Killing her, potentially. But now… Now Celine could she how much it hurt Rumi.

She felt the honmoon fade away until only thin strands were left. Barely a whisper of the shield she once protected.

She couldn’t believe that Rumi wanted to destroy the honmoon. Rumi loved the honmoon. More than anything. And it had loved her back. Celine had always watched in awe and pride as Rumi played with it and reveled in its embrace as a child. Its threads would wind themselves around her. Embracing the young half-demon in a way that Celine had never seen before.

Celine had been so proud when Rumi summoned her saingeom at only nine years old. She hadn’t let Rumi train with it for another several years, of course, but being able to connect to the honmoon like that so young? It was a gift.

With red-rimmed eyes she looked at Mi-Yeong’s grave again. “I tried, Mi-Yeong. I promise, I tried. I’m so sorry. I failed. I failed you both.”

Celine was out of tears and with that came a bone deep exhaustion. She tried to focus on her girls. The current hunters. But with the honmoon as weak as it was, she couldn’t feel them.

She was fairly certain that none of them had died. At least she prayed that that was the case. She told herself she would feel the honmoon weep and writhe in agony like it had for Mi-Yeong and Eun-Seo. That she would feel the ripples of heartache. But with how weak the honmoon had been, there was no guarantee.

The feeling of unease had grown as evil had seeped through the broken honmoon and Celine knew she needed to something. But she didn’t know what.

Then with a force that nearly knocked her over, the honmoon snapped back to life, pulsing and opalescent wave of love around her. It enveloped her and for a moment everything felt alright.

But reality dowsed her in ice water. Rumi had wanted to destroy the honmoon and if it was back… Then Rumi was most likely dead. The hunters had done their duty. A duty Celine herself had failed. And the honmoon had the audacity to try and wrap her in love. But it only lasted for a few moments. Because a few agonizing moments later grief rippled across the newly reformed honmoon and Celine wept anew.

She knew it with certainty.

Her little purple was gone.

Chapter Text

No. No, no, no, no, no. This could not be happening.

They had just gotten Rumi back. Just saved the world. She couldn’t be leaving them already.

No. Absolutely the hell not.

Zoey hadn’t even had the chance to apologize yet. And she needed to. Desperately.

It couldn’t be like Mickie again. No!

It wasn’t fair.

Rumi was dead weight in her arms as Zoey gently lowered themselves to the ground, grateful for the semi-privacy the alcove provided. They were in a backstage area, one Zoey didn’t know how they got to, tucked in a little forgotten, almost hidden corner. Away from prying eyes.

And Rumi had the audacity to look peaceful. A small smile curled around her lips, face otherwise relaxed as if she was having the best dream of her life. But she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing!

And the honmoon, their new honmoon that had bathed them in acceptance and wrapped them in love, now writhed in agony. In grief and pain.

It wasn’t fair.

Distantly Zoey could hear herself begging and crying. She could just barely feel the hot tears on her face and the snot bubbling from her nose. She was shaking Rumi. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!

Why wasn’t she waking up?

What had Zoey done wrong?

She had thought, truly thought, that everything would be alright. That she could apologize and hold Rumi close and promise not to let go again. To be the friend Rumi could trust and confide in. That they would forgive each other and grow stronger.

Zoey wasn’t naïve, though she knew everyone thought she was. She knew life didn’t tie up all the lose ends into a pretty bow. She knew real life wasn’t like a Disney film with a guaranteed happy ending.

But they had just saved the world from the ultimate evil using the power of love and friendship and songs.

So sue her for thinking they could be happy.

“Please, please, Rumi,” Zoey wailed into the leader’s chest. A chest that wasn’t rising or falling. That was scarily still. “Wake up, Rumi! Please!”

The honmoon rippled around her in ghostly plea. Wrapping as if trying to clam the broken edges of Zoey’s heart.

Suddenly, Zoey was shoved off of Rumi as Mira’s shaking hands yanked down the zipper at her neck. Then two hands pressed down on Rumi’s sternum. A steady rhythm forming. Then Rumi’s nose was pinched and her head tilted back ever so slightly. Two breaths. Then the rhythm returned.

“…Gonna be, gonna be golden.” Tears were pouring from Mira’s eyes as she sang under her breath, matching the pumps of her hands to tempo of a song that meant so much to them. Thirty compressions. Two breaths.

“You promised, Ru,” The dancer whispered, keeping a steady rhythm. “I’m done hidin’/ Now I’m shinin’…” Two more breaths.

Zoey joined in, though tears clogged her throat, “like I’m born to be/ It’s our time, no fears, no lies/ That’s who we’re born to be.”

It sounded off without Rumi’s voice singing the melody. Empty. And sadder. And the honmoon responded by shimming softly as it tried to wrap itself weakly around Rumi’s still form.

And Zoey felt useless. Mira was trying to save Rumi’s life and here she was just sitting there and singing. Singing the song that thy had written to turn the honmoon gold. The song that was supposed to unite them and their fans. The song which Rumi had pinned all of her hopes on.

Zoey was so stupid! She was the lyricist. Yeah they all collaborated, but Zoey was the one to make their ideas whole. And Zoey finally, finally, understood Rumi’s part.

Rumi had been trying to tell them about her secret. About her patterns. Rumi literally sang it. It’s why she rushed the Golden release. Why she put so much emphasis on achieving the golden honmoon. She had been so hopeful that with the golden honmoon she would be free of her patterns. And the realization made Zoey cry all the harder.

She was such a bad friend.

Rumi was perfect just the way she was. She always had been. And Zoey hadn't been able to make her see it. Had proven her fears valid.

She knew Rumi was struggling. She saw the same signs that she had ignored all those years ago. That she hadn’t understood all those years ago. With Mickie. And Zoey had promised she wouldn’t lose another friend to inner demons. But this time she literally had!

Mira was still doing CPR. Trying to save Rumi. And what was Zoey doing? Getting lost inside her head. She needed to help, but her mind couldn’t figure out what to do.

She should call for help!

She patted her outfit down and realized with sinking, creeping, dread that she didn’t have her phone. It was still in the Green Room backstage of the Idol Awards. She never had it on her while she was performing. It interfered with the mics. And left unsightly lines in most of her costumes.

Zoey stood up abruptly causing Mira to look up for a moment.

“AED.” Zoey said, barely noticing that she had spoken in English. “And help. I’m gonna call for help. Phone. I need a phone.”

She didn’t wait for any response as she blindly ran down the hall. They had performed here before. She knew she had seen one. Somewhere. But where?

There! And a phone!

Zoey needed to call for help. Rumi needed an ambulance. She lifted the phone and dialed 911 before hanging up. No. That wasn’t right. That was the number in America. She wasn't in America. She was in Korea. What was the number for Korea?! Why couldn’t she think of it?!

Maybe it was by the phone? Yes! 119!

She dialed and, in a haze, told the dispatcher that they needed an ambulance. At Namsan Tower. Immediately. That her friend was unresponsive. That she wasn’t breathing. That her other friend was doing CPR and that Zoey was going to use an AED. That they none of them had their cell phones with them.

Zoey couldn’t remember anything the dispatcher had said. Couldn’t even remember if she had spoken in Korean or English. Her mind was a haze of panic and adrenaline.

She grabbed the AED off the wall and ran back to Mira and Rumi. It was a miracle that she made her way back to them as she couldn’t recall how she did or what halls lead where. It was almost as if the honmoon itself had pulled her back to her girls. Perhaps it had.

Like a baseball player sliding into homebase, Zoey slid to a halt next to her girls. Mira was still doing chest compressions. Still singing Golden under her breath. And Rumi was still. Completely unresponsive.

Zoey pulled open the kit with trembling hands. She read the instructions both in Korean and English, neither language seemed to make much sense to her right now. She read it again. And again. Studying it until it finally made sense.

While Mira did the next set of breaths, Zoey cut Rumi’s top and bra away. Mira resumed compressions. Two breaths. Pads were attached to Rumi’s chest. The machine turned on. It read her heartbeat. A shock was administered. Rumi’s body twitched. CPR was continued. Another reading. Another shock. More compressions.

Zoey lost count of how many times the process repeated, lost in her own sea of worry. Praying, begging, silently and aloud to anyone that would listen. Wake up, Rumi! Please! Just wake up! Don’t leave us!

The irony wasn’t lost on Zoey that just earlier Rumi had pleaded for Zoey to stay. Not to leave her. Now Zoey was the one pleading. More tears ran down her cheeks. Idlily, distantly, Zoey thought how dehydrated se was going to be later. But she’d rather be headachy and dehydrated and have Rumi with them than anything else at the moment.

Then the mechanical voice said “No shock advised.”

Then paramedics arrived.

And Zoey let herself feel hope.

Chapter Text

Mira sat in the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair with her elbows braced against her knees and her head cradled in her hands. Long pink hair cascaded around her like a curtain that could shield her from the harsh, sterile, fluorescent lights and the harsher reality.

Zoey was pacing.

They had been waiting for any updates on Rumi. They had been waiting for hours.

And Mira was exhausted.

But every time Mira closed her eyes she was there. She saw Rumi’s soft smile and peaceful fucking face. Saw the complete lack of rise and fall from the purple haired girl’s chest. Heard Zoey begging and crying. Felt her own hands plunge down into Rumi’s unresponsive chest, forcing the blood to circulate through her body because her heart couldn’t do it without assistance. Forcing her own air into Rumi’s lungs to try and help oxygenate it. Singing Golden because she had read online that the song had the right number of beats per minute as needed for CPR.

Plus, it was a song they had written for their future. Filled with the promises of all that tomorrow and all the days after would be. And it was Rumi’s favorite of all the songs they had written and performed together.

Now, though, she felt helpless.

At least while she was doing CPR, Mira was doing something. Now she was just sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair and waiting under unforgiving hospital fluorescents.

The hospital staff had been extremely accommodating to them. Setting Zoey and Mira up in a privet area. Providing extra security for the girls.

Being world famous pop stars had its perks sometimes.

But seriously, the staff had been nothing short of professional. When the EMTs had arrived only one of them seemed to stumble as they realized that the call was for HUNTR/X and the patient was the Rumi. But quickly they shook themselves out of their momentarily stunned stupor and jumped to assess the lead singer, taking over CPR and hooking Rumi to countless monitoring equipment.

In that moment relief had crashed into Mira. Medical professionals now had Rumi. She was in more experienced, expert hands. Mira was relieved of her burden and left bereft. She didn’t have time to dwell on that newfound emptiness and dread as the paramedics started asking questions.

What happened? Rumi collapsed after their last show and was unresponsive. How long has she been unresponsive?  Mira didn’t know. How many sets of compressions had Mira done? She lost count. How many shocks had been administered? Mira couldn’t remember. Was Rumi taking any medications or doing any drugs? Not that Mira knew of. Did she have any allergies? Rumi was allergic to relaxing None. And more and more questions that Mira didn’t know how to answer.

Zoey had been too much of a stressed-out mess to be helpful during the Q&A portion of Rumi’s medical assesment. Not that Mira could blame her. If they could have afforded to both been too panicked to help, Mira would have given in to that desire too. And  Zoey in her panicked state wouldn’t, couldn’t, be separated from Rumi. And despite how angry and hurt as Mira had been feeling, she refused to be separated from Rumi either. So they had all piled in the ambulance together and rushed to the hospital, hoping and praying that Rumi would make it.

Now, Mira groaned and sat back, head lightly tapping against the wall. She was beyond tired. Her head hurt from cry and her contact lenses had long dried on her eyes, leaving them to feel itchy and uncomfortable. She blinked against the harsh lights, slowly and deliberately, trying to force her mind into something that could pass as relaxed.

She wasn’t even close.

“Zo,” Mira’s voice was low and hoarse, “stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy. Come sit for a moment.”

Zoey’s head had snapped to the older girl at the sound of her voice, “Can’t, Mira. I think if I stop moving my head will explode. Rumi seemed to be doing better in the ambulance. The EMTs even said so! So, why haven’t they told us anything here yet?”

Mira sighed taking in the maknae’s frantic voice. I was true the paramedics had said Rumi was almost stable and that Mira doing CPR had probably saved Rumi’s life. “I don’t know, Zoey. But, please,” Mira had never been one to beg, “come sit with me.”

She felt foolish holding her arms open. Why would Zoey want to sit with Mira? Didn’t she know this was all Mira’s fault?

But sweet, caring, foolish, forgiving Zoey crashed into Mira. It felt almost suffocating yet grounding to have the younger girl’s weight press Mira deeper into the stupid little plastic chair. The lyricist’s arms wound their way around the dancer’s neck and back, and Mira felt Zoey’s lips tremble slightly against her neck. Slowly, Mira wrapped her own arms around Zoey and let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding. She closed her eyes and squeezed Zoey closer, holding her firm as if she, too, might slip away.

“Why haven’t they told us anything yet?” Zoey whispered, unable to hide the wobble in her voice. “I’m so scared, Mira. What if we lose her?”

Mira swallowed, her throat suddenly too tight. “I’m scared too, Zo.”

And with that the floodgates had opened anew. Mira had been so angry and hurt by Rumi’s lies that she had lashed out. She threatened her friend with her gok-do. But she didn’t want Rumi to die. She wanted to, needed to, yell and scream at the singer. Shake sense into that stupid thick head. Make her understand just how much it hurt Mira and how much work it would take for them to move past it. Because more than anything Mira wanted to do that work.

And now… Now they might not have that chance.

All because Mira was too quick to anger. Too brash. Too violent. Her birth family must be laughing at their problem child now.

The paramedic’s words rattled around Mira’s head. Probably saved her life. It felt like a judgement. Like they knew her actions had caused Rumi’s heart to give out. Probably, they had said. Rumi might not survive. And vaguely, Mira thought that if Rumi didn’t survive, neither would she or Zoey.

The door opened and Mira and Zoey both turned tearstained, hopeful eyes towards it. Hoping it was the doctor with an update. Or that somehow, miraculously, Rumi would be the one to stroll through the door like this was all some sort of horrible dream.

It wasn’t.

It wasn’t Rumi. It wasn’t a doctor. It wasn’t a nurse.

It was a member of the hospital security team that was helping them. He hesitantly told them there was someone to see them and in walked the second-best thing they could hope for in this particular, awful, terrible, moment.

Bobby.

When HUNTR/X had arrived at the hospital the staff had asked if there was anyone they could call, and Mira immediately asked to call one of the few phone numbers she actually had memorized.

A fond smile had played at her lips, though it hadn't fully formed, as she remembered when Bobby had first become their manager. He had stressed the importance of learning his number to all three of them. Made them practice and practice it until they could do it blindfolded. Told them if anything ever happened, he should be their first call. That he would always be there for them. Mira had thought it silly and had rolled her eyes at the time, but now she was so grateful for his overbearing insistence.

“Girls!” Bobby’s lips were already wobbling as he looked over Mira and Zoey. Mira found herself shrinking under his gaze.

“Hi Bobby,” She and Zoey managed weakly, but gratefully as his warm and steadying presence grounded them back in reality.

Bobby wrapped Mira and Zoey into a tight hug, “You both are being so brave. Have you heard any updates on Rumi yet?”

Mira didn’t trust her voice and just shook her head.

“Ok. Ok,” Bobby said his own voice shaking, though he tried to hide it. “I brought both of your phones and a change of clothes. And some drinks and snacks. Mira, I also brought you a pair of glasses so you can take out your contacts. Go change. Have a sip of water and a little something to eat. I’ll stay here. Don’t worry.”

Mira let Bobby be a calming pillar against the raging storm that was her mind. She quickly changed into the loose-fitting sweats Bobby had brought, not even caring that Bobby was in the room. Her eyes relaxed as she took out the old, dried contacts and slipped on her black, rectangular frames on. A quick glance told her that Zoey had also wasted no time in changing into the similarly comfy clothes Bobby provided. (He had actually brought a few different outfits for all three girls, because that was just the kind of person he was).

Bobby seemed unsure for a moment before holding out his hands, and Mira melted into him. She let herself be soothed by his gentle reassurances, so relieved to not have to be the strong one, if only for a moment.

And Bobby just held her and allowed her to crumble under the weight of her responsibilities and guilt. No judgement. No questions.

Mira’s mind was finally blank. Finally relaxed. Until the door opened again.

Chapter Text

Stable. Rumi was stable. Her heart had stopped twice more since they arrived at the hospital. But she was stable now.

If Mira had any more tears, she would cry.

They could see her. Finally see Rumi for themselves. Mira didn’t remember the trek back, didn’t remember most of what the doctor had said. She was too focused on seeing Rumi again.

The singer lay in a hospital bed, pale and unmoving. Cords and tubes connected her to all sorts of monitors and medical equipment. Rumi’s chest rose and fell subtly under the ugly hospital gown and blankets. Bandages were wrapped around her forearms and hands. Mira vaguely wondered what they were from. A mechanical beeping filled the room. Steady and rhythmic.

Under normal circumstances, Mira would have found the beeping annoying. But now? Now it was the sweetest music she had ever heard.

It was proof that Rumi’s heart was still beating.

And Mira swore she would never take that for granted again.

Zoey practically flung herself at Rumi, fresh tears already streaming down her face. A reminder to be careful left unheeded. She clutched Rumi’s hand and began whispering to their leader. Mira couldn’t make out the words Zoey was saying, but in this moment it didn’t matter.

Rumi was alive.

Stable.

The doctor was asking her something. Mira needed to focus.

“… burns across her leg, arms and hands,” the doctor was saying, “Do you have any idea where they came from?”

Mira swallowed and nodded. Gwi-Ma’s fire licked at Rumi. She was buckling under the force of his fire, her saingeom the only thing between demon king’s fames. She couldn’t say that. Obviously. But she had to say something.

“There was a pyrotechnic malfunction in our last show. Rumi was the closest, but I didn’t think she got hurt. She didn’t say anything about it…” The lie tumbled easily from Mira’s lips.

“Hmm…” the doctor nodded, “An explosion may have contributed to her heart failure. Unfortunately, we won’t know if there is any permanent damage, especially because we don’t know how long she was without oxygen, until she wakes. We’d like to keep her here under observation a little longer.”

Mira nodded, letting Bobby take over the conversation with the doctor.

The words “permanent damage” echoed around her head. What did the doctor mean by permanent damage?

Mira had only envisioned two scenarios. One: Rumi would wake up and everything would be ok. They would work together to rebuild the broken trust between them. Or Two: Rumi wouldn’t.

Now there was a third, terrifying option. Rumi could wake up and not be alright.

Mira had never considered it and now it was all she could think about.

Mira slowly made her way over to Rumi’s bedside. Rumi looked so small, covered in bandages and monitors, braid unusually messy, eyes closed, looking almost peaceful. Rumi never looked small. She always stood tall and proud; confidence always seemed to exude from her every pore. It felt wrong to see their leader like this.

Mira gently squeezed Zoey’s shoulder and looked down at the two people she had once thought of as her closest, chosen family. The two people that she had irrevocably hurt. She swallowed hard. All of her hurt and anger had burned out into smoldering embers of hopelessness and despair. Guilt was creeping in. This was her fault. She was the protector. It was her job to funnel her righteous anger into a shield that kept her girls safe. But instead, Mira had let the hurt turn her anger sour and direct it at Rumi and Zoey. She had failed them so much it was staggering.

Zoey looked up and lightly squeezed Mira’s hand. “What did the doctor say, Mimi?”

Mira shook her head and gently stroked Rumi’s cheek. How dare Rumi look so at peace when Zoey and Mira were falling apart. “He asked about her burns. I… I didn’t even know that she had them.”

Zoey nodded, her gaze still focused on Rumi. “…Did he say when she’ll wake up?”

Her voice was so quiet like she was afraid of asking the question. Or maybe she was more afraid of the answer. Mira wished she could shoulder Zoey’s fear. Wished so desperately that she could protect Zoey from the truth.

“Soon, hopefully,” Mira whispered, her own voice tight with emotions she couldn’t identify. “But… but he said…” why was it so hard to get the words out?! “He said there could be permanent damage.” She swallowed again, forcing the words around the lump in her throat, “But we won’t know until she wakes up.”

Zoey turned wide panicked eyes towards Mira and the eldest wished she had kept her mouth shut. The panic was like a knife straight to her chest. Your fault. Your fault, her mind supplied.

“What do you mean, Mira?” Zoey’s voice was shaking. “Wh-what kind of damage?”

“I don’t know, Zo. I really don’t know,” Mira’s voice shook, tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry, Zoey. I’m so sorry.”

Zoey stood and wrapped her arms around Mira, burying her face in the older girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too, Mimi. I’m just so scared. But it’s not your fault, Mira. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

Mira let herself relax into Zoey’s hold, nuzzling her nose in the smaller girl’s hair. She didn’t believe Zoey’s words, how could she? But she still, selfishly allowed her to be comforted by the lyricist. Even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. How could Zoey forgive her so easily? Mira knew she wasn’t worth it.

Eventually, they returned to their vigil at Rumi’s bedside. More uncomfortable plastic chairs had been placed there for the popstars, though Zoey had chosen to kneel on the floor to be as close to Rumi as she could. Mira gently cradled one of Rumi’s hands, praying to anyone that Rumi would wake up.

Bobby made his way over, placing a gentle, but firm hand on Mira’s shoulder. If pressed, she would adamantly deny that she had startled and jumped at the physical contact, but Bobby just smiled and apologized for startling her.

“She’ll be ok,” Bobby promised in a reassuring tone. “We’ll be here to make sure she is. You girls are the strongest, bravest people I know. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”

Something between a wet sob and laugh forced its way past Mira’s lips.  “Thanks, Bobby,” Both Mira and Zoey responded weakly, voices quiet and wet with emotion.

“I know this has been hard on you girls,” Bobby continued, using his reassuring dad voice, “and I am so, so grateful you called me. But have either of you notified Celine? As Rumi’s adopted parent, surely, she should know about this, right?”

Mira blanched. Celine. No one hated demons as much as Celine did. Did she know about Rumi’s patterns? How would she react knowing that Mi-Yeong’s daughter, her daughter, bore the marks of the very thing they had sworn to destroy? Would Celine draw her own weapon against Rumi, like they had? Or had Celine been hiding this from them too? The thoughts came one after another and for the first time Mira realized just how loud Zoey’s head always was. No wonder the youngest needed all those notebooks.

But more pressing than any of the hundreds of questions bouncing around in her head was how could the tell Celine, their mentor, that Rumi had almost died. That her heart had stopped at least three times. And that while she was stable now, there was a chance that Rumi might not make it. Or could wake up with permanent damage, whatever that meant.

Mira did not want to make that call. She wasn’t sure she could face her mentor, Rumi’s adoptive mother, if things went poorly. Dread settled like a cold weight in her stomach at the thought.

Mira shook her head, unable to form the words. Zoey was looking at them both with wide-eyed panic, undoubtedly having similar thoughts as Mira was having. She offered the younger girl, what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze, though her mind continued to remind her that this too was something she had failed at.

Bobby took pity on them, though. He gave them a warm smile and offered to be the one to call Celine and tell her that Rumi was in the hospital. That her heart had stopped- three times- but was stable now.

And Mira, selfish Mira, deflated in relief.

“Ok, I’ll give her a call,” Bobby said with an authority that felt reassuring, like Bobby really would take care of everything. “You girls stay here with Rumi. Make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up. Everything’ll be ok. You got this!”

And when Bobby stepped out the room seemed to grow quieter and colder. The fear Mira had been trying to push down came rushing back as she stared at Rumi’s still form. Mira remembered forcing Rumi’s heart to pump blood and forcing air into her lungs. She hook her head and focused on the mechanical beeping of Rumi’s heart monitor. She’s alive. Her heart is beating. She’ll be fine. Wake up, Rumi. Please.

Zoey took a stuttering breath next to her. “She’ll be ok, right? Celine wouldn’t hurt Rumi, right? She loves her.”

Mira swallowed. She knew just how much parents could hurt children, even without meaning to. Vaguely, she was aware that Zoey did too. Mira didn’t want to lie. That’s not what either of them needed. They needed hope. They needed Rumi to wake the fuck up. So Mira thought her words over carefully.

Leaning over and resting her head on Zoey’s, Mira whispered, “I hope so, Zo. I really do.”

Chapter Text

Celine wasn’t drunk per say. Just… inebriated. Lightly.

There wasn’t an empty bottle of wine next to her as she looked over baby pictures of Rumi. Pictures of her little purple growing up. Pictures of Rumi going through idol training. Pictures of her meeting Mira and Zoey. Pictures from their professional careers. Of all the little moments Celine held close to her damaged and guarded heart.

No, the bottle next to her still had wine in it. The empty bottle was on the floor next to the photo album containing pictures of her times with Mi-Yeong and Eun-Seo. The Sunlight Sisters. Pictures from when the three of them were together and happy. Young and unburdened by betrayal. When they held hope for a brighter tomorrow that they could bring about with their music.

Celine’s eyes lingered on a picture of fresh faced, 26-year-old Mi-Yeong holding a onesie over her very slightly rounded stomach, nothing but love and wonder in her warm chocolate eyes. The bracelet Celine had given her, with the amethyst flower with emerald leaves, shone brightly and proudly on her wrist. Celine wished she could travel back to when that picture had been taken. Things had been so much simpler then.

Mi-Yeong opened the last gift, a tiny box wrapped in pastel purple paper. Her long finger carefully pulled out a pale onesie with the Sunlight Sisters' logo on it and held it up for the others to see. "Surprise?"

"Mi-Yeong?" Eun-Seo looked at the older girl with confusion. "I don't get it. Why did you get a onesie? Who is the gift from?"

But the cogs in Celine's head had been grinding away as she began connecting the dots. The fatigue. The oversized bulky sweaters. The nausea. The weird snacking habits, weirder than normal anyway. "You're pregnant?!"

Mi-Yeong simply smiled and nodded. "Congrats, girls. You're going to be aunties!"

Disbelief and joy flooded through Celine in equal parts as she wrapped her purple in tight hug, Eun-Seo joining in quickly. "We're going to be the best aunties ever!"

"But I'm gonna be the cool favorite!" Eun-Seo laughed. "Cici'll be the stick in the mud!"

Mi-Yeong laughed at Celine's indignant "Hey!"

"Don't worry, Celine. My baby is going to be so lucky to have you."

The next picture in Rumi’s baby album was an exhausted Mi-Yeong holding a squirmy, pudgy, baby, with its tiny face scrunched up in some sort of emotion and a tiny tuft of purple hair, to her chest. Her love and devotion could still be seen so clearly even 23 years later. To her side sat Eun-Seo, looking warily at the baby as if it might spew bodily fluids all over her. Which, in fairness to Eun-Seo, baby Rumi had done on more than one occasion. On the other side of Mi-Yeong sat a much younger Celine, looking at mother and daughter with wonder. Celine’s heart had never felt fuller than it had at that moment with both of her purples safe and healthy.

She had promised Mi-Yeong right there and then that she would always keep Rumi safe. That she would always love her precious treasure. Her little purple.

But Celine had failed.

She took another swig from the open bottle, not even bothering with a glass. The alcohol burned slightly as it warmed her throat and settled in her chest. It was a nice wine. An expensive one that was made to be sipped and thoughtfully paired, not chugged with vigor and used to drown out unpleasant realities. But it was what Celine had on hand. She rarely had soju or other hard liquors in her home after a teenaged Mira had decided to get her younger teammates drunk. And subsequently a barely 15 year-old Zoey tried to pick a fight with a mirror. They both lost.

She flipped though domestic pictures. Celine giving baby Rumi a bath while Eun-Seo splashed both of them. Eun-Seo backstage tossing a laughing purple-haired baby in the air with both Mi-Yeong and Celine hovering worriedly in the background. Baby Rumi decked out in Sunlight Sisters' merchandise. Mi-Yeong sharing an ice cream cone with the baby strapped to her chest. The tiny baby holding onto the couch, pulling herself up to standing, and looking at the camera with a few tiny teeth in her gummy smile. Eun-Seo and Rumi both covered in baby food, while the later sat laughing in her highchair, the former looking disgusted and defeated.  Celine passed out on the couch with a sleeping Rumi sprawled across her chest, leaning against Mi-Yeong who was playing with Celine's hair, looking at both girls with love. There were a few professional photos mixed in. Mother daughter portraits. Publicity shots. But the album was mostly soft warm moments of Rumi. But, shortly after pictures from Rumi’s doljanchi, Mi-Yeong and Eun-Seo stopped appearing in Rumi’s baby album.

And it still broke Celine’s heart to think how her sisters had died so young. Mi-Yeong had barely been 28 when she died, then Eun-Seo joined her a few months later. She had only been 25. Mira’s age. And now… Now her baby, her little Rumi was gone too.

Dead. Her tiny, sweet, happy, little, baby girl was dead.

She needed another drink. It was too much. She lifted the bottle to lips, tipping it back and letting the warmth fill her. Celine barely registered the tears burning her cheeks and glistening on her eyelashes.

Ok… Maybe Celine was a little drunk.

The next picture had been taken by some PA after some industry event Celine had done to try and keep the honmoon somewhat stable, despite being the last Sunlight Sister, the only hunter, left. Celine had just come off the stage and had been greeted a purple-haired toddler who had been utterly enamored by what she had seen on stage. But more than anything was happy to be reunited with her guardian. (Seeing Rumi’s round, happy, little face looking at Celine with love and adoration broke something in the older woman. Had Rumi always looked at Celine like that? Like she had hung the moon and the stars? Or was that just the way all toddlers looked at grown-ups?)  A much younger Celine, still done up in stage make-up and styling held two-year-old Rumi in gentle embrace, but her own eyes seemed distant. Haunted. Those shows had been terrible and lonely. Celine hated doing them.

Now Celine traced the toddler’s face wishing that she had savored those moments with her little purple. That she hadn’t let grief cloud her heart. That she hadn’t let the betrayal, hurt, anger, and fear prevent her from showing Rumi the love she had promised Mi-Yeong and Rumi when the girl was born.

Another gulp of wine.

Celine couldn’t wallow. She needed to… She needed to plan Rumi’s funeral.

The very thought turned Celine’s stomach. She shouldn’t be the one to plan her daughter’s funeral. Rumi should have outlived her. But now, just 23 years old, Rumi was joining her mother and Eun-Seo and all of the other hunters that had come before them in the honmoon. She knew she would bury Rumi in the sacred grave yard with all of the hunters that had fallen before her. With Mi-Yeong. It gave Celine a modicum of comfort to think that Mi-Yeong was reunited with her daughter, but it left a hollow pit in her stomach. She had been left behind again.

The funeral would need to be big and flashy, as much as Celine wished it wouldn’t be. Rumi was a well-loved idol, and the world would want to mourn with them.

Like they had known her sweet little girl instead of the carefully curated public image, the façade that Rumi wore. The little girl who would run to Celine for comfort and ask for her boo-boos to be kissed better. Her baby who cried when she stepped on a caterpillar and loved to splash in the mud but hated being dirty. The young woman who named all of her plants but struggled to make friends with people her own age. No, the world didn't know her Rumi.

But they would mourn her, nonetheless.

Celine had seen it with Mi-Yeong and Eun-Seo.

And now she would experience it again.

She took another swig of wine, tipping the bottle all the way back to get the last drops. Empty. She resisted the overwhelming urge to throw the empty bottle across the room in ager and frustration, and merely staggered to get another.

It wasn’t fair. Celine wondered, not for the first time since Rumi asked that of her, what she could have done to prevent this outcome. Could she have hidden Rumi better? She knew she could have been better at showing Rumi how much she loved her (and now she never could). Should she have been gentler? Harsher? More open?

It didn’t matter now, though. She had failed Mi-Yeong. And both of her purples were gone. Gone far too young. And Celine was left alone again.

Celine found herself singing Rumi’s favorite lullaby under her breath. It had been Mi-Yeong’s favorite Sunlight Sister song and the three of them sang it often to Rumi as she grew beneath Mi-Yeong’s heart. And Celine continued to sing it to her soft, pudgy, purple-haired baby as she grew. Tears burned against her eyes and raw cheeks. She would never get to sing this song to her Rumi again.

She would never get to feel her embrace. Or see her smile. Or laugh. Or hear her voice again outside of recordings. But Celine knew just how painful those recordings could be. She had only ever played recordings of her own music and interviews so Rumi could hear her mother’s voice. Now… Celine didn’t think she was strong enough to hear any of the young women she had lost. The women she had failed.

A faint buzzing drew her out of her pity party and Celine belatedly realized her phone was ringing. Where was that stupid thing? She rifled through the scattered albums and papers littering the coffee table until the buzzing stopped. It must not have been important. She would deal with the call later. When she wasn’t inebriated.

Then the buzzing started again. Celine groaned and looked for her phone with more fervor. There! Under the baby album. She lifted it and looked at the contact. It was probably Mira or Zoey calling her to let her know they had defeated Rumi sealed the honmoon.

Celine didn’t want to take that call. She didn't want her girls to tell her that Rumi was dead. Celine already knew that.

But it wasn’t Mira or Zoey. It was Bobby. Why was he calling?

“Hello?” Celine answered holding the phone cautiously to her ear.

A deep sigh of, what sounded suspiciously like, relief echoed across the line. “Celine? Thank goodness I got you. There’s been… How do I say this? There’s been an accident. Rumi’s ok now! She’s stable! But she’s in the hospital.”

Celine was stunned. Rumi was ok? She wasn’t dead? But she had felt the honmoon snap back into place. She had felt the intense, keening, grief that rippled through the honmoon to tug at her heart. The same thing she felt with Mi-Yeong and Eun-Seo.

“What?” she finally managed to croak, disbelief coloring every aspect of her being.

“There was some kind of special effects malfunction,” Bobby continued, sounding nervous and angry, “and she went into cardiac arrest. But she’s stable now! The doctor thinks she’ll wake up soon! The girls are with her. They probably saved her life, honestly. But we… I thought you should know.”

Celine let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. A shaky, wispy little thing. Rumi was alive. “Thank you.”

“O-of course, Celine,” Bobby stuttered. “Anything for my girls. I’ll send you the hospital information so you can come and see her for yourself. And don’t worry. I’ll get the legal team to draft up some NDAs so we can try and keep this as contained as possible.”

Of course Celine was going to see her girl. She needed to see her right now! But…

“I’m at my home on Jeju now,” Celine told Bobby over the receiver, already itching to charter a privet flight to get to Seoul as quickly as possible, “But I will get there as soon as I can. Hopefully within two hours. I’ll see you soon. Keep me appraised of any changes.”

“Of course, Celine.” Bobby agreed. “Safe travels. We’ll see you soon.”

Celine hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket. She grabbed her coat and her keys and realized that she was probably too intoxicated to drive. So she called one of her regular and trusted drivers, who assured her he would be there within 20 minutes. Celine then called a pilot she worked with frequently, who thankfully was available to fly her to Seoul within the hour.

Never before had Celine been so grateful to be a retired world-famous idol and the President and CEO of the most successful entertainment label in Korea.

She used the time to it took for her driver to arrive try and sober up. Celine washed her face, applied fresh make-up, and donned large dark sunglasses. Before she knew it, she had boarded the privet jet she had chartered.

I’ll be there soon, baby, Celine thought shortly after takeoff. Everything will be ok. I’ll keep you safe this time. I promise.

Chapter Text

If Rumi could wake up now, like right now, it would be greatly appreciated. Like right now, right now, please and thank you. Zoey needed to hug her and hold her close and promise not to let her go again. So everything could be ok again.

Or at least they could start to work towards ok.

Zoey was well aware that things wouldn’t be perfect. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that they would have to work hard to rebuild the trust that had broken and their now strained friendship. But they couldn’t start that until Rumi woke up.

The relief at seeing Rumi again had worn off so much quicker than Zoey had expected it to. Like, of course she was grateful and relieved that Rumi was breathing on her own again and that her heart was beating without assistance. So, stupidly grateful. But! But now she was just waiting again.

And waiting meant thinking. And, oh boy, were her thoughts going wild in her mind.

It helped that she could hold Rumi’s bandaged hand and hear the stupid beeping of the heart monitor to know that Rumi was alive. It was grounding in a way. But it also sucked because Rumi was hooked up to all these different machines to keep her hydrated, to monitor her heart and breathing, to help provide oxygen, and so much more that Zoey didn’t know and couldn’t begin to guess. And Rumi had the absolute audacity to look peaceful while she and Mira and Bobby were all panicked messes.

Honestly, Zoey wasn’t sure the last time she cried this much was. And that was saying something because Zoey was a real crier according to Mira. (A traitorous part of her mind told her the last time she cried so much was after Mickie died and Zoey absolutely refused to go down that train of thought. Again. The comparison was already too heavy on her mind.)

So instead of staring at a sleeping Rumi like a total creeper, Zoey focused on Mira. The older girl’s stage makeup was smudged in places where Mira had cried it off and those that she had hastily rubbed with makeup wipes. Her eyes were puffy and red behind her dark frames and her pink hair, normally pristine, was frizzy and messy.

Zoey couldn’t imagine that she looked much better, honestly.

But this wasn’t about her. It was about Mira. Because the older girl looked like she was being crushed by guilt.

And Zoey didn’t know why Mira was holding onto so much guilt. Like, yeah, Mira raised her gok-do first, but Zoey had questioned, no, interrogated Rumi backstage. Read into every word their leader had rambled. And, ever the verbal processor, Zoey had pushed. Zoey had pushed an already cracking Rumi until she shattered. And then! And then, icing on the betrayal cake that Zoey had baked and hand delivered, Zoey had drawn her shin-kals at Rumi when she had begged Zoey to believe in her. Not to leave her. And Rumi never begged.

So, yeah. Definitely not Mira’s fault.

Like sure. Rumi should have just told them. They could have helped her. They would have helped her. Totally. Like Zoey already had like 27 ideas for things they could have done to help and she didn’t even know why Rumi had turned to Gwi-Ma in the first place. If she even did, a cruel voice in her head taunted her. Zoey had just jumped to conclusions and hadn’t even listened while Rumi tried to defend herself.

Focus Zoey! Mira needs you now. Don’t wallow in self-pity.

Mira’s eyes were glassy and glazed over and Zoey couldn’t stand it. She curled into Mira’s side, trying to use her weight to ground the older girl.

“She’ll be ok,” Zoey whispered into Mira’s shoulder. “She has to be.”

Mira nodded, “Yeah, sure, Zo.”

“And… and we’ll be ok, too,” Zoey continued pressing more firmly into Mira, leaving a trail of smeared makeup and snot in her wake. Wow. Zoey was like super gross right now.

Mira merely hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving Rumi’s prone form.

“Mira,” Zoey started and waited until the older girl’s eyes had settled on her face. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m so sorry, Mimi. I knew she was hurting and hiding something. Like obviously not this. But I just thought if I stayed by her side and supported her, she would let me in. And… and then I broke her. Why couldn’t she just trust me?!”

Zoey was scratching at her arms, leaving angry red lines and crescent imprints behind. She was crying and sobbing big heaving breaths. Snot was bubbling again. She knew she wasn’t a pretty crier. No. Zoey was the ugliest of ugly criers.

“Zoey! Zoey, breathe!” Mira’s arms were grounding on hers. “Zoey, stop. It’s not your fault, Zo. Please stop hurting yourself. I can’t lose you too, Zo.”

Zoey was kicking herself. She was supposed to be comforting Mira, not falling apart and making everything about herself. She really was the worst friend. She was too much of a burden and not enough of a comfort. She couldn’t find the balance. Again.

“Sorry,” Zoey whimpered. “Sorry. I’m just so scared. I don’t wanna lose either of you. You’re my family. I… I just love you both so much!”

“Shh… Zoey,” Mira soothed, eyes lingering on Rumi again. “I don’t want to lose you guys either. I’m so sorry I tried to push you away before. You both… You both are the most important people to me. My family.”

“Mira,” Zoey said with a surprising firmness as she tried to lock into Mira’s gaze. She needed to make sure she heard her. That she was really listening. “Mira, you do deserve a family. And Rumi and I are so, so, so, lucky to have you. Please don’t push us away again.”

Mira opened her mouth to say something in response but paused as the door opened. Both girls turned to look to see who was entering, sagging when they saw Bobby reenter.

“Hey girls,” he was trying to sound reassuring, but Zoey could tell he was fading. He wasn’t fairing much better than either of them, honestly.

“Hi Bobby,” they intoned, also sounding more hollow than anything.

Bobby took a deep breath before plastering his Showbiz-Smile™ on. “I just got off the phone with Celine. She’ll be here in about two hours, maybe a little more or less. Can I get you girls anything? Literally anything, just name it. I mean it.”

Zoey shook her head. “Thanks, Bobby. You’re like seriously the best.”

A silence settled over the room, the only sounds to be heard were the beeping of the heart monitor and the whirring of medical machinery. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either.

Rumi needed to wake up. Zoey was tired of waiting. She needed to know Rumi would be alright.

Zoey was also worried. Celine hated demons. More than anything. How would she react seeing the patterns that littered Rumi’s body? Like Zoey knew that Celine loved Rumi. But she was strict. And had ridiculously high expectations. And could be harsh sometimes. Especially towards Rumi.

And Zoey knew, she knew that sometimes parents hurt their children even without meaning to. Even with hearts full of love. Her own parents had. They had even weaponized their love for her and her love for them to fuel their own fighting, seeming not to care that it was hurting Zoey in the process.

But it wouldn’t be like that for Rumi, right? Worst case scenario, Mira and Zoey would protect her. They failed earlier. When everything fell apart. But they wouldn’t, they couldn’t, fail now. Not this time.

Zoey swallowed. “Um… Bobby? Umm… There is actually something I’d like.”

Bobby jumped up like an eager puppy. “What can I get for you Zoey. Just name it, and it’s yours.”

Zoey smiled weakly, her voice unusually quiet, “Could I… um… Couldyoupleasegivemeahug?”

Bobby seemed to melt as he wrapped his warm arms around the youngest girl, “Of course, Zoey. I’ve got you, my girl.”

Zoey melted into the embrace for a moment before she felt Bobby shift one of his arms in an open invitation for Mira. Zoey didn’t expect the lithe body of the older girl to crash into them.

“There you go, my girls,” Bobby was murmuring into their hair, using his patented Dad Voice. “I’ve got you, my strong girls. I’ve got you.”

Zoey would have been content to stay like that. Letting Bobby hold them and bear their burdens, at least for a little while. But movement caught her eye.

It was subtle. Barely a twitch. But Rumi was stirring. There was a slight change in the monitors. Her heart rate picked up ever so slightly. And Zoey threw herself at the hospital bed. She gently but desperately grasped Rumi’s bandaged hand, eyes trained on the singer’s face. Barely, she registered Mira hovering right behind her. Close enough that they were touching.

Then warm eyes fluttered open. And Zoey let out a breath of relief. “Hi, Ruru.”

But then the chocolate eyes widened, and her breath spread up. The monitors went crazy, and doctors and nurses filled the room. Zoey was pulled back, losing the grasp on Rumi’s hand, and the three of them were ushered out of the room.

She had wanted Rumi to wake up. She really, really did. But as new tears formed in her eyes Zoey realized that she needed to be more careful what she wished for.

Chapter Text

It was warm. Calm and peaceful. Waves of contentment washed over Rumi as she drifted in a loving embrace.

The air around her seemed to hum. It was a melody that filled her. Like she had known it her life. Like it was a part of her, and she was a part of it.

It was nice. Quiet. Peaceful.

And Rumi was so very tired.

It wouldn’t hurt anything if she just rested in this soothing peace for a while.

There was something that Rumi needed to do. Something important. But she couldn’t remember what it was. She let the thought drift into warmth surrounding her.

Later. Rumi would get to it later.

After she rested.

Without much conscious thought, Rumi allowed herself to rest for what felt like the first time in her 23 years. She let her thoughts drift away as contentment, warmth, and love washed over her and lapped at her mind. The gentle ebb and flow soothing something she didn’t even know was broken.

A new, but familiar, melody surrounded her. One well-loved and grounding. It was her mother’s favorite song. Celine sang it to help Rumi sleep over the years. To comfort and soothe her. Rumi sighed and relaxed further into the peace that surrounded her.

The next thing she was aware of were voices. They seemed familiar. Like a memory long forgotten. Hazy and foggy around the edges. Grasping at it was like trying to hold onto smoke as it slipped through her fingers. And Rumi was too tired to try and catch it. Instead, she let the words flow around her, catching only snippets of sentences.

“…can’t be her.”

“…so big now…”

“…too young… be here”

“Well, it’s not… send her…”

“…do you know?”

It was exhausting to try and follow the words spoken by voices that Rumi felt like she should know. She just wanted to rest. Rumi never took breaks. Celine had always emphasized the importance of what they did. Of their duty. To the honmoon. To the world. And keeping everyone safe, turning the honmoon gold, wasn’t something you could just take a break from. Celine taught her how selfish it would be to put herself, a half-demon mistake, first. So, Rumi had always pushed through the exhaustion and the pain. And now she was tired.

Didn’t she deserve to rest?

But the voices were persistent.

With all of the effort she could muster, Rumi peeled her eyes open only to look at a pair of chocolate eyes that looked just like hers. Ones that she could only remember looking into in pictures and recordings.

“Eomma?” Rumi’s voice was weak with disbelief and shock.

Warm brown eyes crinkled with joy and sadness in equal measure, “Hi baby.”

Rumi’s brow furrowed in confusion. If she was seeing her mother, she must have died. Rumi knew it was a possibility. Or rather, an eventuality. She had made her peace with it. Had craved this sweet release for so many long years. But the knowledge that she was done fighting didn’t give her the comfort she had envisioned. Instead, she just felt exhausted and hollow.

Rumi tried to force herself to form words. To ask the questions she had always wanted to know the answers to. But all that came out was a strained, “Where?”

“Shh, Rumi,” Mi-Yeong’s voice washed over Rumi. It was so much warmer than it had been in the recording she had watched with Celine, pretending not to notice her guardian’s tears. It felt like love. A warm blanket to chase away her demons. “We’re in the honmoon, baby. All hunters become part of it after death.”

“But I destroyed the honmoon,” Rumi whimpered, the memory of her greatest failure coming back to her, “‘M a monster. Don’ deserve to be called a hunter.”

“Oh, my poor, sweet, baby,” her voice was like honey, thick and sweet. “You have never been a monster. You’ve worked so hard. Of course you are a hunter.”

“Besides, you sealed Gwi-Ma, so you have a better success rate than the rest of us. Maybe we all should have screwed a demon, huh Mimi?” A new, but familiar voice added. The ribbing felt gentle, but Rumi still shrank from it.

“Eun-Seo!” Mi-Yeong sounded exasperated and scandalized all in one breath. If Rumi hadn’t been so tired, perhaps she would have even found it funny.

The new voice, Eun-Seo, the other Sunlight Sister, merely huffed. “What? It’s not like I’m wrong.”

Mi-Yeong groaned, “What your aunt is trying to say, baby, is that you are every bit as much as a hunter as the rest of us. And Rumi-ya, even if that wasn’t the case. Even if you weren’t a hunter, you could never be a monster. I love you so much, my baby. And I am so proud of the woman you’ve become. I just wish I could have been there to watch you grow.”

Those were words that Rumi had always wanted, always needed to hear. They soothed her battered heart and shattered psyche, but not in the way Rumi had expected them to. It was almost like they came short of reaching their goal. Like they had come from the wrong person.

“And as happy as I happy as I am to be with you again, sweet girl,” Mi-Yeong continued, her honeyed voice taking on a firmer tone, “you can’t stay here.”

Rumi whimpered, feeling a slight twinge of rejection. But more than anything, she was tired, and she voiced as much.

Mi-Yeong’s tone softened as the lullaby Rumi had always loved resumed, “Then rest, baby. Rest for a little. But do not linger here.”

Rumi let herself drift into the comforting peace of the honmoon and her mother’s presence. But all to soon the hazy, iridescent cloud dissipated into darkness. New voices flooded her ears. Mira. Zoey. They sounded so sad. So scared. She needed to get to them. But her limbs were heavy. And the inky tar she was stuck in dragged her back down.

Briefly, Rumi caught the shimmering calm of the honmoon twice more as it tried to break through the darkness, but each time she was pulled back under.

Beeping was the next thing Rumi was aware of. It was steady and annoying. The tone of it pierced through the darkness, preventing Rumi from resting.

Pain. Pain coursed through Rumi’s heavy limbs, setting like lead in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. It hurt. Everything hurt. She needed to shift. To do something to alleviate the overwhelming pain that consumed her.

She wanted to go back to the comforting darkness. To the hazy, calming, peace of the honmoon. Of death.

Instead, her eyes twitched open and she was inches away from warm, light brown eyes. Eyes she knew. Eyes she cared about. Eyes she had lied to. Eyes she had hurt. Eyes that held weapons to her. Zoey.

It was too much. The pain. The fear. The guilt. It was all too much. Her heart beat wildly, as if trying to escape her chest. And it hurt.

Rumi’s vision grew fuzzy and suddenly Zoey was gone. Strangers poked and prodded at Rumi, doing things and asking questions Rumi couldn’t understand. They had replaced one of the only two women she had ever dared to call a friend. Rumi had chased her off again. Why would Zoey want to be near a monster like her anyway?

Eventually the strangers were satisfied with whatever they were doing and Rumi’s heart had settled as a fog settled over her, dulling the pain that had been trying to consume her. All except one left, leaving Rumi alone with a strange man.

It was too difficult to follow what the man, the doctor- he had introduced himself as, said. Something about her heart stopping. Rumi knew that. She knew she had died. But she didn’t understand why she was here now. She had been ready to die. She had welcomed death like an old friend, but even death had rejected her.

Rumi tried to stay focused, she really did. But she couldn’t. His words washed over her. Something about tests. Something else about burns and broken ribs. He asked her something and Rumi tried to form the words to answer, but her tongue didn’t seem to want to work, so she nodded and hummed in answer. Then he mentioned her girls. Zoey and Mira. They wanted to see her.

Why?

Why would they want to associate with a monster, a demon, like her? One that had nearly plunged the world into darkness. Did… did they want to finish the job?

Then the doctor said something about them saving her life and Rumi didn’t understand. She couldn’t. But then he asked if she wanted to see them.

And even though she didn’t deserve it, Rumi craved their company. She wanted, desperately, to see them again.

“Please,” Rumi forced the words past uncooperative lips and an unresponsive tongue. Her voice was heavy and hoarse with effort and disuse. But the passion and need was clear.

The door opened and Zoey and Mira inched into the room. They looked shattered and scared. Like they had been crying. And Rumi couldn’t understand why. Had they lost? She thought they had won, but perhaps she was mistaken. Surely, they weren’t crying for her.

“Hey, Ruru,” Zoey whispered, gently taking one of Rumi’s hands. She was moving slowly, carefully, like she was approaching a wounded animal. Perhaps she was. “How’re you feeling, Ru? Stupid question, Zoey! Of course you’re not ok. Stupid, stupid, Zoey. Sorry, I’m just so glad you’re awake! We were really, really scared, Rumi. Please don’t leave us again!”

“Zo, take a breath,” Mira cut in, her voice calm to the inexperienced listener. But Rumi could hear the tension underneath. “You’re going to overwhelm her. But… same. Don’t do it again, Rumi.”

Rumi was confused but nodded. She couldn’t fathom why Mira and Zoey were so upset. They must have known by now that Rumi wasn’t worth it. But she didn’t want to hurt them. Not again.

Mira placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Rumi’s cheek, “We have a lot to talk about, Rumi, but I’m glad you’re alive. I need you to promise to be honest going forward. And I need you to promise not to be so reckless with your life. You really scared us, babe.”

Zoey nodded so hard that Rumi was worried that it was going to pop off. “Like totally, Rumi. We’ll talk more when you’re feeling better, but we are so, so, so glad you’re still here. We’ll be with you every step of the way. Oh! Bobby’s here too and he really wants to see you! He was really worried too. Can he come in?”

Rumi’s mind went blank, but she nodded anyway. It was all too much. Their words, their care, the pain. Rumi just wanted to rest. To close her eyes and not open them.

“Rumi!” Bobby cheered, tears already streaming down his face. “I’m so glad you’re ok! Do you need anything? You’re in good hands and the doctors will help you recover in no time! Don’t even think about going back to work anytime soon, Rumi! I’ll clear your schedule for as long as you need. Just focus on getting better.”

Rumi let herself sink into Bobby’s steady, reassuring presence. It was grounding in a way that Rumi hadn’t expected it to be. He just supported her and let her be herself. It was exactly what she needed. Tears glistened on her eyelashes as she let Bobby and her girls give her strength and a reassurance, she hadn’t been aware she needed.

“Where is she?!” A voice Rumi knew all too well, echoed from the corridor. One that gave her comfort and fear in equal measure. One that had once felt like home but now filled her heart with dread. Celine. The mechanical beeping sped up, causing concerned, almost panicked looks from Mira and Zoey. “Where is my daughter?!”

Chapter Text

“Where is she?! Where is my daughter?!”

Celine was not a woman who was used to hearing the word “no.” She was rich and powerful. She was a retired world-famous popstar and the CEO and president of the largest and most successful entertainment company in Korea. People literally leaped into action to accommodate her. Rumi had seen it all of her life. She had been in awe of the power her guardian commanded. And she had been afraid of it too.

Now Celine was prowling around the hospital making demands that Rumi knew no one would deny her. No one would be able to gainsay her, even if they wanted to.

The annoying beeping from the various machines Rumi was hooked up to got louder and more erratic, mirroring Rumi’s own breathing.

What was Celine doing here? She hadn’t been able to oblige Rumi’s wishes under the sacred hackberry tree. Was she here to fulfill Rumi’s deepest, darkest desire now? Perhaps with the help of Mira and Zoey. Or perhaps she was going to try and lie to the girls like she had suggested. To tell them all this was some sort of trick.

Rumi wasn’t sure she wanted to find out which it was.

“Shh, Rumi,” Zoey soothed gently, carefully squeezing one of Rumi’s bandaged hands. “Just breathe, Ruru. We’re here. You’re safe. Do you want us to call a doctor?”

Rumi shook her head. She didn’t want any more doctors. She just wanted to sleep. Was that too much to ask?

There was an odd glint in Mira’s eyes as she exchanged a look with Zoey. “Rumi, you don’t have to see Celine if you don’t want to. We can tell her to leave if you want.”

Rumi’s mouth went dry. No one told Celine no. At least no one who walked away, anyway. Panic was evident in her eyes and her quick and erratic breathing. Gods, breathing hurt. Rumi tried to swallow past the growing panic. Her vision was getting fuzzy along the edges.

She felt a gentle but firm burst of air against her face, then another. Rumi blinked and startled slightly, her mind pulling out of the panicked haze. She took a breath in, then another. Her eyes focused on the light brown eyes that were, again, mere inches from her face.

“Breathe, Rumi,” Zoey instructed gently. “Breathe with me. In. And out. Good. Let’s do it again. In. and out.”

Rumi tried to focus on Zoey’s unusually calm voice and her own breathing. In and out. The haze began to pass leaving exhaustion in its wake. Rumi closed her eyes for a moment. Now that her heart wasn’t trying to escape from her chest, and her own breathing wasn’t echoing in her ears, the thick tar she had been trapped in seemed to lessen its grip.

“There you go, Rumi,” Zoey praised. “Can you open your eyes for me, pretty girl?”

It was a struggle, but Rumi didn’t want to hurt Zoey again. So, she peeled her eyes open with tremendous effort. The smile on Zoey’s face was worth it.

A quick glance told her Mira had pulled Bobby away to have a hushed conversation in the corner. Idly Rumi wondered what they were talking about, but found that it took too much effort to try and listen to their hushed voices.

“Thanks, Ruru,” Zoey sighed. “I know you said you didn’t want to, but I really think the doctor should look you over. And like we said you don’t have to see Celine if you don’t want to. We can tell her you need to rest.”

Rumi didn’t have a chance to answer as the door burst open to calls of “Ma’am! Ma’am! You can’t go in there!”

And suddenly Celine was in the room. Her hair was more wild and unkept than Rumi had ever seen it. Large sunglasses obscured her face, but Rumi was still able to tell when her focus had zeroed in on her. Years of reading Celine’s posture and expressions couldn’t prepare her for the pained sound that escaped Celine’s throat, as if torn from her very soul.

In a few long strides, much quicker than Rumi was prepared for, the older woman had closed the distance between them.

“Rumi,” Celine said her name like a prayer. The faint scent of alcohol caused Rumi’s nose to twitch and her eyes to burn.

Her heartrate sped up. The stupid beeping got louder and faster. She needed to calm down. A drunk Celine was an unpredictable Celine. And an unpredictable Celine was dangerous.

“My baby,” Celine continued, either unaware or uncaring of the rising panic coursing through Rumi’s body. “You’re alive.”

Rumi couldn’t understand the pure relief in Celine’s voice. It went against everything that she knew of the woman. Surely Celine would have been happier if she had died a hero. If she had fully banished the demon within her. But Rumi was pretty sure she hadn’t.

She had failed Celine. Failed to make the honmoon gold. Failed to keep it save, having destroyed it, after all.  Failed to rid herself of the patterns. Failed to fix herself. Failed to slay all of the demons. Failed to be a normal girl. The kind Celine could love unconditionally.

But there were hands on her body. Touching her gently. Turning her head and rubbing small circles on her cheekbones. Wiping away tears she didn’t even realize were steadily leaking from her eyes.

“Shh, baby,” Celine cooed, using a tone Rumi barely remembered from her childhood. One that had once upon a time made her feel safe and loved. Back before she knew Celine couldn’t truly love her. “I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe this time. Don’t worry, Rumi. It’ll be ok.”

It defied logic, but those words sent an icy fear through her veins. Celine’s words should have been comforting. Celine had kept her safe for so long, right? Celine always took care of her. But somehow, now, the notion of surrendering herself to Celine’s care seemed impossible.

Rumi needed to take a deep breath. She needed to calm down. Had it always been so hard to breathe? It hurt. Her vision seemed to blur again. Why was it so hard to breathe?!

“Back away, Celine,” growled Mira, suddenly between her and her guardian, tension so thick it pressed Rumi down into the hospital bed.

“What do you think you are doing, Mira?!” Celine snarled, seemingly uncharacteristically angry to everyone in the room except Rumi. “She is my child! My daughter! She needs me!”

“She’s clearly scared of you!” Mira yelled, causing almost everyone to flinch back. Mira’s volatile temper had ignited like a powder keg.

Rumi whimpered low in her throat. Celine wouldn’t hurt Mira, right? Mira was a good hunter. A normal person. But Celine was drunk and that made her unpredictable.

The beeping had gotten more erratic. Rumi longed for the slowly creeping tar to swallow her whole. It all was too much.

“Stop! Stop it guys!” Zoey was now yelling. Her voice sounded scared and frustrated, but had an iron edge to it that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. “Rumi needs to relax and rest! And… and you two posturing and fighting is going to make her worse!”

“Zoey…” Mira’s voice was suddenly soft. Placating, almost.

“No!” Zoey continued. Rumi wished she could see the younger girl more clearly, but the inky spots had filled her vision once again. “I know you both care about Rumi. We all do! But she… She died! Her heart stopped! More than once! So please! Please just… don’t fight.”

Rumi could hear the tears in Zoey’s voice. She wanted to say something to break the tension. She needed to. To reassure Zoey and Mira and Celine and Bobby that she was ok. But her tongue felt like lead.

“Zoey’s right,” Bobby interjected, ever the peacekeeper. “Let’s all just take a deep breath and focus on helping Rumi get better. Can you both do that? Please. For Rumi.”

Twin weights were on either of Rumi’s hands. She felt the gentle squeezes. And for the first time in a long time, Rumi felt like everything might be ok after all.

Chapter Text

It had been just over a week. Just over a week since Rumi woke up. Just over a week since Celine had caused Rumi two panic attacks. (Just over a week since Zoey had caused one, too.) And Rumi was doing better. She was. Not just the kind of better that doctors say to reassure families, but the kind of better that showed.

Rumi was able to stay awake for longer periods of time. She seemed a lot less confused. She was killing the physical therapy stuff they had her doing. She was even speaking more!

But just over a week still felt like a week too long.

All four women had spent the whole-time walking on eggshells around each other. After that first disastrous day, the doctor had pulled everyone aside to remind them all that Rumi needed a calm environment for her heart to heal. Too much stress could cause it to give out. Again. So, no fighting or yelling or arguing in front of her. Which should have been obvious. But nooo. Celine and Mira couldn’t keep their disagreements privet. Like, totally, Mira had just been trying to protect Rumi. And Celine was just trying to show that she cared. Which, like, wow. Totes unexpected. But fighting in a hospital room was still a big no-no.

It was wild that Zoey had to be the adult in the room. Being the responsible one in the group was so not her job. Thank goodness for Bobby. The only other rational person right now.

But credit where credit was due. Celine and Mira had both stopped fighting. At least in front of Rumi. But it was still tense. Mira’s eyes followed their mentor with skepticism and mistrust.

She read into everything Celine did or said. Ready to step in every time Rumi flinched at Celine’s words or sudden contact. Which had, concernedly, happened a lot the first several days. Like a lot a lot.

Still, Celine refused to be separated from Rumi and Mira refused to leave Rumi alone with Celine. Zoey was pretty sure though that Mira was actually more worried that if she didn’t keep an eye on Rumi, that their leader might disappear again. Which, fair. Zoey felt the same way, honestly. But it meant that the only one that had actually left the hospital in the last week was Bobby.

And thank goodness for Bobby. He brought them more clothes. Better food. Made sure they were taking care of themselves in addition to Rumi. Just being his reassuring self. He really was such a dad sometimes. And Zoey was so, so grateful to him.

But they still hadn’t talked at all about what had happened.

The one time someone had brought up Rumi’s patterns, she had had a panic attack so severe that Zoey thought the older girl’s heart was going to stop again. Which had led to the doctors threatening to kick them all out if they kept sending Rumi into a panic. She needed to rest and heal. And clearly difficult conversations about demons and patterns were off the table.

Another thing that had caused tension in the room was when the doctor had gently asked about the scars that lined Rumi’s arms and the thick, but faded, scarring on her shoulder. Rumi had paled and shut down. Celine looked sick and grasped Rumi’s hand too tight. And Mira’s lips pinched into a tight line as she stared into the middle distance. Zoey’s heart sank. She knew it. She had been right. And Zoey hated it. One of her best friends had been hurting so much and Zoey had. Done. Nothing. Nothing to help. Nothing to stop her. And they couldn’t talk about it.

So, things were awkward to say the least. And Zoey had a million and ten thoughts bouncing around her head. She had already filled up two of the notebooks that Bobby had brought her with thoughts and ideas and theories. Zoey needed answers. And waiting had never been her strong suit.

Work was also strictly off limits as a conversation topic, as per Bobby’s orders. He insisted that he would take care of the mess that was this year’s Idol Awards and the impromptu ‘concert’ at Nansam Tower. And the sudden disappearance of the Saja Boys. Normally Rumi would have been all over this. That workaholic never knew how to relax. But, rare as it was, everyone (except Rumi) agreed her health was too fragile for her to try and work. Rumi had pouted and insisted that she was well enough. The current explanation was that the Saja Boys were an industry plant and HUNTR/X’s “public breakup” was to set up for the release of “What It Sounds Like.” It seemed like a stretch, but it was honestly the best plan they could think of. Even Celine was on board.

Thinking of Celine, thing had been… weird with their mentor. Like Zoey always knew that Celine loved Rumi, but the older woman had never been so overt in showing it before. She sat by Rumi’s bedside, running gentle finger through long, slightly greasy now, purple hair. Encouraging her to eat more and rest. Singing softly a melody that Zoey recognized as a Sunlight Sisters song. Which, wow! Hearing it live was like a dream come true. And, while it had taken some time, Rumi was no longer flinching at Celine’s touch or voice, which was definitely a good thing.

Mira still watched all of their interactions like a hawk. And Zoey got it. Really, she did. But it didn’t make it any less tiring.

“Celine,” Rumi’s voice was still weaker than it should be, but that didn’t stop it from carrying across the hospital room. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you’re not,” Celine insisted. Her tone wasn’t as sharp as it usually was when she thought they were being stubborn was, but it still left no room for arguments. “You are clearly in pain, Rumi. Let’s call the doctor to have a look.”

“She said she’s fine, Celine,” Mira cut in, voice tight. “Give her some space.”

Rumi winced as she sat up straighter, her breath coming in more raggedly, ready to try and stop the incoming argument. “Guys. Please.”

“Hey, Ruru!” Zoey chimed in, also hoping to dispel the growing tension. “Do you wanna listen to my new audio book? It’s narrated in both English and Korean, so you can choose the language!”

Rumi shot the maknae a relieved look and nodded. “Thanks Zoey. I’d love to listen to it.”

Zoey slid up to Rumi’s bedside, between Celine and Mira, and slipped her headphones over Rumi’s ears. “There. I’ll set it to Korean for now, but if you want to try it in English, we can always switch it.”

Rumi smiled and let herself relax as she listened to the audiobook. Unfortunately, it was on Zoey’s phone, so she was now phoneless. But that’s fine. Maybe she could work on song lyrics or something. Zoey wasn’t banned from working, anyways.

Mira was giving her a look and Zoey couldn’t help but swallow. She offered her own smile, though she wasn’t sure it reflected in her eyes. “Yes?”

Mira frowned and looked away. Clearly, she had something to say but was worried that it might set off Celine or trigger Rumi into another panic attack. Zoey reached out and squeezed Mira’s hand in a silent promise that they would talk about whatever Mira needed later. Maybe after Rumi fell asleep again. Maybe after Celine fell asleep.

Zoey sighed again, trying not to let her face fall. This sucked. She just wanted Rumi to get better so they could all talk and eventually, hopefully, get back to normal. She glanced at the entry in her current journal titled: “Panic in Rumi’s hospital room: DON’T DO IT!!!! Topics to avoid to prevent another heart attack.” It broke Zoey’s heart that she needed this list. It reminded her too much of the lists she had made about her parents shortly before and immediately after their divorce. Not that any of those topics could have killed her parents! No. They just led to a lot of yelling.

Rumi gave her other hand a soft squeeze, clearly feeling badly about putting everyone through this. Which was totally not her fault! But that was another thing Zoey had written down. Rumi felt a lot of guilt. And, agh! They couldn’t even talk about it.

The door opened causing everyone to turn as the doctor strolled in A pleasant smile plastered to his stupid face. OK, Zoey. Cool down. He’s doing his job and keeping Rumi alive. He motioned for Rumi to remove the headphones, which she did quickly, and made short work of testing her vitals and doing other doctor-y things that Zoey didn’t understand. Seemingly satisfied with whatever the test showed, he smiled at Rumi with a smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

Zoey was on the edge of her seat. What was he going to say?! Was Rumi getting better? Was she getting worse?! Was she dying?!?!

Deep breaths, Zoey. Don’t spiral. Deep breaths.

“Well,” the doctor said, “it looks like you are healing remarkably well. If you continue to heal like this, I think we can get you discharged in the next few days. You will still need some care at home, so we’ll just need to make sure you won’t be alone. Does that sound ok?”

Rumi was nodding eagerly. She, like everyone else, was ready to get out of the hospital Suddenly, the joy that Zoey felt hearing that Rumi might be going home soon dissipated like steam on a windy day as she looked towards Celine a Mira, fully expecting to see joy on their faces. But the gleam in Mira and Celine’s eyes sent a chill down Zoey’s spine.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Mira was happy. She was. Rumi was alive. She was recovering. She was coming home. They were finally leaving this godforsaken hospital. And Mira didn’t have her friend’s blood on her hands. She was happy. She had to be.

But simmering just below the surface was something a lot more sinister. Something volatile and dangerous. Something that Mira didn’t want to acknowledge. The hurt and betrayal. The anger and frustration. It all festered and grew and rotted within her. Searching for an outlet.

Mira had already taken those feelings out on both Rumi and Zoey. Something she’ll never forgive herself for. And Mira couldn’t let that happen again. She didn’t deserve Zoey’s easy forgiveness, but it had been given to her all the same. And Mira couldn’t help the sinking suspicion that Rumi was afraid of her. Of both Mira and Zoey, honestly. That the purple haired woman was swallowing down her own discomfort to appease her bandmates. To keep herself safe. And that thought alone went a long way in dousing the anger and resentment she carried towards Rumi.

Mira had always viewed herself as the protector of HUNTR/X. It was her job to protect the bubbly people-pleaser with a fragile heart. It was her job to protect the sheltered and shy nepo-baby that was so eager for friends that it hurt. And she had failed.

But she wouldn’t fail again.

When Celine had burst into the hospital room, so relieved to see Rumi, so overtly affectionate in a way Mira had never seen her mentor act before, something ugly snapped into focus in Mira’s mind.

And those ugly feelings suddenly had an outlet.

Mira knew that adults often hurt children. That they could do it even when they had the best of intentions. That they could do it even without meaning to. Her own parents had been neglectful at best, abusive at worst, but that they had always held steadfast in the belief that they thought that they were doing what was best for their daughter. Even though they were doing what was best for them and their perceived public image.

Mira knew from long talks with Zoey that her parents’ anger at each other poisoned the genuine love that they felt for their daughter. And that, while unintentional, their actions left deep emotional scars in the girl. A testament to the ways they hurt her, woven into Zoey’s very being.

Mira knew that adults often hurt children. She had just thought that Rumi had been lucky enough to be an exception.

But now, seeing the way Rumi’s heartrate sped up. Seeing her flinch at the sound of Celine’s voice of the touch of her hands. Seeing how small Rumi would make herself in an effort to please the woman who raised her… Now Mira could see just how wrong she was.

She thought about the first time she met Rumi, before she knew their fates would be intertwined. When Mira had been barely fifteen and relatively new to Sunlight Entertainment’s idol training program. Already jaded to the realities of the world around her, but eager to make a fresh start. To make something of herself. She remembered being struck by seeing the Celine in person, seeing a woman who seemed like everything Mira aspired to be. She remembered feeling a pang of jealousy, masked by aloofness, when a small, but lanky purple-haired child (because thirteen-year-old Rumi had really only been a child) followed behind like a little duckling. A girl who had every opportunity handed to her. A girl who had connections Mira could only dream of. A girl with one arm nestled in a stark, black sling marring an otherwise perfect picture. A bad spill, little Rumi had told one of the oldest girls in the training program with a sheepish smile. Just a little accident. Why would it be anything different?

Mira was no longer a star-struck fifteen-year-old, who had essentially run away from home to try and fight her way out of the too tight mold her parents had tried to force her into. She was no longer that jaded teenager looking desperately for a family of her own and a place to call home. No. Mira was a strong, independent young woman, with a decade of more experience. And now she couldn’t help but wonder if Celine was the reason thirteen-year-old Rumi sported a sling.

Mira had clearly missed the signs over the years. She racked her mind trying to sus out what exactly those signs were because she sure as shit wasn’t going to take any chances now. She wasn’t necessarily ready to forgive Rumi, at least without talking first. Which she couldn’t do because it could literally kill Rumi. Gods, this sucked. But she wouldn’t fail her again. She would protect Rumi. This time.

Even from Celine herself.

Because Rumi was scared of Celine.

And that scared Mira.

So Mira watched. She watched every interaction between Celine and Rumi. She watched how Rumi recoiled from sudden touches as if afraid that she would be struck. She watched as Celine struggled to look at the iridescent patterns that spread across Rumi’s body (something that Mira also struggled with, if she was being honest with herself). She watched for signs of panic. She watched for signs of aggression. Always ready to step in if interactions between the two got to be too much for Rumi, which it almost always did.

Unfortunately, subtlety had long since become an afterthought as her righteous rage took root in protecting Rumi. And both Rumi and Zoey were paying the price of that. It wasn’t fair that Rumi’s heart literally couldn’t stand the strain of arguments (Mira was also pretty sure it couldn’t take Celine being around either) and poor Zoey was caught in the crossfire. Mira knew it wasn’t fair to either of them, so she tried to swallow back the worst of the vitriol.

At least while Rumi was awake.

The worst argument by far was the one that landed them in their current position: getting ready to move Rumi back to the tower, with Celine, unfortunately, joining them to “help take care of Rumi.” Mira rolled her eyes at the thought. The only thing Celine could help Rumi with was causing panic attacks.

After the news of her improvement and the newfound motivation to leave the hospital, Rumi poured herself into her physical and occupational therapies. That workaholic couldn’t relax if her life depended on it. Which it did. But with her discharge looming in the nearing future came the question of exactly where Rumi would convalesce.  

Celine had insisted that the fresh air and relative quiet of the compound on Jeju Island would be more restful and restorative for Rumi. That being in her childhood home would give her comfort and speed up her recovery.

Mira thought that was all bullshit. The compound hadn’t been Rumi’s home in years. It was too far to travel in her weakened state. And being in a place where she had been potentially abused would put too much strain on Rumi’s fragile heart. No, Rumi needed to recover in their home. In the HUNTR/X dorm in Seoul. Away from Celine.

Their confrontation had been hissed at a low volume in difference to the sleeping singer, but the tone had been one better suited for yelling. It had been filled with barbs meant to wound from both parties and had practically escalated to physical blows, rather than purely metaphorical ones.

Neither woman had been willing to yield. Mira knew she was right. Celine insisted, and she was not a woman accustomed to being gainsaid. The argument had escalated. It became heated and personal. It would have continued, perhaps even to the point of waking Rumi if Zoey had not stepped in.

“Stop it, both of you!” the maknae had hissed. “When Rumi wakes up, we’ll ask her where she wants to go. And I know you’re concerned about the travel, Mira, so if Rumi wants to go to Jeju, we can ask her doctor if she’s well enough for the travel.”

And after talking to Rumi a compromise was made. Rumi would return home, to the tower, and Celine would come with her. Mira couldn’t keep her feelings on the matter off her face. She was pretty sure the grimace was going to become a permanent facial feature. How was she going to survive having Celine in her home? For at least another week?

Someone was going to die. She was sure of it.

But Mira was determined to keep Rumi safe, this time, even if it killed her in the process.

So, after getting instructions from the doctor for home care, settling Rumi in wheelchair, wheeling her to the waiting car, saying goodbye to Bobby with the promise he would come and visit soon, the four hunters headed home for the first time in almost two weeks.

Rumi leaned against Mira, eyes closed, humming their Mantra softly. Soon Mira found herself joining in. And Zoey softly after. Celine’s voice added another layer of harmony. And the honmoon swelled around them, wrapping the four of them in its embrace.

And Mira was happy.

She had to be.

Chapter Text

Home.

Rumi was finally going home.

She rolled the word around her brain, searching for the deeper meaning it held.

Home.

It felt surreal. It felt exciting. It felt terrifying.

Rumi hated being in the hospital. She hated being so weak and dependent on others. Celine had raised her to be resilient. To be independent. To be strong. Celine had taught her that her faults and fears should never be seen. And within the hospital walls, her faults and fears had been on full display.

She had felt vulnerable under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Like everyone could see how broken she was. How poorly she had held herself together. Rumi knew she had been on display for the other to see and she knew she had been found wanting.  It was like being on that stage. Having her patterns exposed for the world to see. To see what a monster she was. And it scared Rumi.

Mira and Zoey stayed with her, though. They didn’t seem to hate her or be afraid of her. And Rumi reveled in their warmth, even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. And they both tried to protect her from Celine. Who also stayed with her. Who touched her gently and spoke softly. Who sang songs and insisted that she listen to the doctors. Celine. Rumi genuinely didn’t understand.

And it was more than the thick fog that seemed to wrap itself around her head, from the base of her skull to right between her eyes. The fog that made thinking difficult and even speaking a challenge sometimes. The fog that the doctors said was caused by lack of oxygen to her brain and had warned might be permanent. She shook her head trying to clear that dread and the fog.

They should hate her. Didn’t they know she was a monster? A demon? The very thing they had all sworn to destroy. Yet here they were. Together. Suspended in an odd sort of cotton bubble. Rumi might be confused, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew everyone was walking on eggshells around her and treating her with kid gloves. And as eager as she was to leave the hospital, she was terrified of what was going to happen when the bubble would eventually burst.

And what would it take to break the relative peace they had? Would it be one wrong word or a too fast movement? They all had drawn their weapons on Rumi, even Rumi herself. What would it take for them to do it again?

The worst part was that Rumi couldn’t blame them, even though it hurt so badly. Because she was a monster. She was a demon. She had been lying to Mira and Zoey since the moment she met them. She had been lying to the whole world. Takedown really had always been about her. And of course Mira and Zoey should be furious at her. They should hate her. Rumi deserved it.

A sudden jolt pulled Rumi out of her spiral as the car came to a stop and a gentle hand settled on her hair.

“Wake-up, Rumi,” Mira whispered gently, “We’re home.”

Rumi peeled her eyes open slowly. She hadn’t been sleeping, merely getting lost in her head. She looked at the hopeful expressions of her friends as their words washed over her.

Home.

She let them bundle her out of the car and into the elevator. She felt their hands on her, grounding her, as her panic and excitement grew with each floor they ascended. Tears prickled behind her eyes by the time the elevator doors opened into the antechamber of their penthouse dorm. She didn’t know exactly what caused them, be it fear or joy, but Rumi refused to let them fall.

Then the security codes and biometrics were entered and the doors opened. And Rumi was home.

It felt like a lifetime ago that they all had sat in the living room bearing their souls to one another, with only Rumi holding back. Would things have gone differently if she hadn’t been such a coward then?

Yet, despite the changes they had all been through, the space was exactly the same.

Just how they had left it before the Idol Awards. Before everything had fallen apart. Before Rumi’s secret had town them apart.

Vaguely, Rumi was aware of herself being maneuvered to the couch and settled in the soft cushions. Idly, Rumi wondered if she could just slip back to that time nearly two weeks ago when everything had seemed like too much, yet was all so much simpler. She didn’t notice the blood pressure cuff being fitted to her arm or the medications being placed in her hand. The voices around her seemed so far away and underwater. The thick fog rolled back in and wrapped itself around Rumi’s mind. It was too much work to fight it, so Rumi allowed herself to get lost in it.

“…mi? Rumi?” a tap to her cheek and light brown eyes brought Rumi back to the moment. “Hey, pretty girl. You back with us again?”

Rumi nodded slowly as Zoey smiled at her and helped her take the pills that had been resting her loose fist. Unfortunately, moments like these, where Rumi seemed to get lost in her own head had been a common occurrence since waking up in the hospital. The doctor said it was to be expected after her brain had been deprived of oxygen for a period of time. He had said that these episodes should decrease in severity and frequency, but could be permanent. Only time would tell.

“Sorry,” Rumi rasped, mouth suddenly dry. “Were you saying something?”

Mira was on the other side of Rumi and held a glass of water to the singer’s lips, “Slow sips, babe.”

Rumi obediently sipped the water as Mira tipped the cup back, grateful for the cool liquid wetting her mouth and sliding down her throat. A wave of shame washed over her. Gods she was pathetic. She couldn’t even drink by herself. Surely, they would all see what a burden she was and get tired of caring for such an invalid.

“Hey,” Zoey said firmly, pressing both hands to the side of Rumi’s face as soon as Mira removed the cup, “don’t say mean things about my friend.”

Rumi’s brow furrowed. She had been drinking. She hadn’t said anything.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly, Ru” Mira smirked. “That’s what Zoey meant.”

“Yeah,” Zoey agreed, face still set like a serious puppy, “I mean it. Don’t say or think mean things about my friend Rumi. She’s so nice and kind and is working really hard on recovering from nearly dying. So be nice to her.”

Rumi gave a panicked look to Mira. Had Mira almost died?! Why hadn’t they said anything?! Here Rumi was taking up all their energy and focus when Mira had clearly needed it more! Rumi really was the worst. And why would Rumi ever say or think something bad about Mira? Just because she was part demon and didn’t deserve the older girl’s friendship didn’t mean that she would be cruel towards her.

A gentle flick to her ear, just below a decade old scar, brought Rumi back to the moment. “She means you, dumbass,” Mira said without any heat. “I’m fine, I promise. No major injuries. None for Zoey, either.”

Rumi didn’t understand but nodded all the same. She was reassured by Mira’s words that neither she nor Zoey had been majorly injured, though, but she couldn’t help the sinking suspicion that they were hiding something from her. But rather than continue down a path that was honestly too complex for her right now, she changed the subject.

“Where’s Celine?” Rumi asked. It was odd. Her guardian had been hovering so much, barely leaving Rumi’s field of vision since she arrived at the hospital, like she was worried that the demon would let loose and attack the others.

Mira made a face at the mention of their mentor. That was another thing Rumi didn’t understand. There was a weird tension between the two, but neither of them would acknowledge it around Rumi. She might be confused, but she wasn’t stupid. She had eyes.

“She’s making us something to eat,” Zoey cut in before Mira could open her mouth. “A welcome home feast. I’m looking forward to it. Celine is such a good cook and it’s been sooo long since she’s made us anything.”

Rumi knew she was being handled. She knew Zoey was playing mediator and treating her with kid gloves. Giving her the illusion of normalcy and Rumi so desperately wanted to give into the urge to pretend that everything was fine and that their lives hadn’t been torn apart by Rumi’s deception.

“Anyway,” Zoey continued, “Before all that,” she waved her hand slightly, “Mira and I were talking about new routines. You know, all the boring stuff the doctors told us we needed to do to keep you out of the hospital again. Are you up for that convo, or would you rather just cuddle and watch baby animal videos?”

“I think we’ve used up all her available bandwidth, Zo. Queue up some animal videos for us,” Mira answered before Rumi could even process the question. She pouted slightly. Mira wasn’t wrong, per say, but it would have been nice for her to let Rumi answer.

However, as the videos played across their large TV, Rumi found herself relaxing into the moment. Into the security her friends were offering. Into the pretense if normalcy. They would talk about what happened. They would. But maybe it would be ok if they put it off for just a little bit, right?

Chapter Text

It was warm, unusually so for this time of year. The final frosts of winter should have still been clinging to the grass, yet spring was already breathing new life into the trees and flowers. Tiny shoots of purple buds poked their way out of dark green grass. The sky taking on hues of gold and rose, with streaks of periwinkle and indigo intertwining along the edges. The honmoon shimmered a soft blue under them, enveloping all in a blanket of love and protection.

Laughter like little bells rang through the ancient and hallowed garden, shaded by the tall hackberry tree, lined with the graves of the hunters past. Of all the fallen women in their sacred sisterhood. A small blanket was laid out in the grass, woven together with strands of purple and green, accented the lightest of blues. Two women sat, leaning against one another in companionable silence, drinking in each other’s presence. Somewhere, a child ran unheeding and unaware of what this space meant.

It was calm and peaceful. Contentment washed over Celine as her hand carded through Mi-Yeong’s long dark hair, freed from her signature braid. A gentle song carried in the wind as Mi-Yeong caught Celine’s fingers and drew them to her mouth for a soft kiss. Celine couldn’t help but lean down and replace her fingers with her lips, savoring the sweet taste.

The pair broke apart with fond smiles and whispered declarations of love, before settling against each other again like puzzle pieces. Celine closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against her purple’s hair.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Celine sighed.

“So do I, Ci,” Mi-Yeong laughed, sweet and soft, as purple-haired toddler came into view, face bright with joy and exertion, “but I think somebody else might disagree.”

“Eomma! Auntie Cici! I saw a bubberfly!” Little Rumi crashed into the pair, tiny arms trying their best to envelope the two women in her embrace. Mi-Yeong caught the girl easily and settled her in her lap, peppering tiny kisses to the equally tiny face. Squeals of laughter erupted from the toddler. “Stahp! That tickles, Eomma!”

“A bubberfly, you say?” Celine asked with a teasing tone and fond smile, repeating the mispronounced word with amusement. She looked at the pair fondly, her own hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of purple hair behind a delicate seashell ear.

Little Rumi nodded eagerly and began describing it in great detail. Excitement for the mundane shining clearly in the way that only young children ever really find. And Celine and Mi-Yeong hung on every word, giving it the gravity that the toddler clearly thought was warranted. Eventually the excitement of the day proved to be too much for the child as sleep crept its way into her voice. Tiny fists rubbed at tired eyes and gaping yawns escaped. But wide chocolate eyes blinked with determination to stay awake.

Mi-Yeong began humming her favorite song. One that had long been used as a lullaby for the child in her lap. And Celine joined in only a few bars later. Gentle hands caressed soft purple hair as the toddler began to lose the fight against sleep.

“Love you, Eomma,” Rumi whispered as she succumbed to slumber, “Love you, Auntie Cici.”

“I love you too, Rumi, baby,” Celine whispered in return, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to a tiny forehead. “And I always will.”

A soft sigh escaped the toddler’s lips as she closed her eyes to sleep. Safe and secure. Wrapped warmly in her mother’s embrace. Steadfast in the knowledge that she was loved.

“But you didn’t,” Mi-Yeong’s voice was hollow. The condemnation echoed around them almost sadly, like a lament.

Celine’s head snapped up. The sky, which only moments ago had been alight with colors, now looked a sickly grey. Mi-Yeong’s eyes were empty as she stared into middle distance, hand still curled protectively over her sleeping child. Streaks of unnatural red and magenta flashed through the honmoon, giving it an eerie and threatening look.

“Wh-what?” Celine choked out, taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “Of course I do! I have always loved her and I always will!” The words were desperate, tumbling free like a plea.

Blood began seeping form an unseen wound in Mi-Yeong’s chest, soaking through the soft white sweater. Dying it red with Celine’s failure. “You promised us.”

Celine was panicking.

Gone was the idyllic spring evening. Gone was the gentle love and peace. Only darkness and terror remained in its place.

Celine gathered Mi-Yeong in her arms, the sleeping toddler with her. Tears poured from her eyes as she tried to hold her purples tighter. “No. No. You can’t leave me, Mi-Yeong. No. I love you. I’ll keep you both safe. Please don’t leave me. I promise. Please.”

A cold hand rested on Celine’s damp cheek; a bloody smile sent a chill down her spine. No! Her purple couldn’t be leaving her behind. Green was nothing without purple.

“You already broke that promise, Ci,” Mi-Yeong’s voice was hollow, like she was merely stating a fact.

Celine wanted to deny it. Desperately. She tried to open her mouth to do so, but the scene was already changing.

Dread pooled in Celine’s stomach. She couldn’t find Rumi. Normally the thirteen-year-old greeted Celine when she came home, but this time it was different. The house was eerily silent and none of the rooms she had looked in produced a teenager.

Surely Celine was overreacting. They were safe in their house on Jeju. Safe in a spot where the honmoon was strongest. Safe in a home filled with love. (Or the echoes of it, anyway.)

But that did nothing to quell her fear as Celine pushed open the door to Rumi’s bathroom, left slightly ajar.

The sight was wrong. Blood pooled on the floor next to a prone form with long purple hair. Rumi! Celine was kneeling a pool of blood trying to gather her child into her arms.

“Your fault,” Mi-Yeong’s voice whispered in her ear. “You promised. You failed.”

Celine’s head shot up and caught Mi-Yeong’s reflection in the mirror behind her. Her purple was pale, almost grey, the deep red blood bloomed across her chest stood out strongly, marring the white sweater.

“No! No. No. No!” Celine begged, cradling Rumi’s still body to her chest, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I can still fix it. There’s still time. I can fix it!”

She was back under the hackberry tree. Night had fallen and shrouded everything in silence. Rumi stood before her. An adult. Broken and defeated. Demonic patterns covered her body like something had clawed its way out of her skin. But still her baby.

Rumi fell to her knees and held out her saingeom and begged Celine to do the impossible.

No. This couldn’t be real. Her baby couldn’t be asking her to… to kill her. No. Celine backed up until her back hit the trunk of the tree. Warm chocolate eyes met hers. Eyes once filled with love, now only held sorrow.

“You did this,” Mi-Yeong whispered, a ghostly embrace enveloping Celine. Icy dread coursed through her sending a chill down her spine and stealing her breath. “You broke your promise, Celine. Watch the consequences of your actions. Watch the damage you caused.”

No.

Rumi looked up at Celine with mismatched eyes, begging and pleading with her to end her life. Suddenly Rumi shrank and, in her place, sat a toddler with bright purple hair. Her body was still covered in angry purple patterns, one eye glowing golden. She looked up at Celine with eyes that once held wonder and now seemed so desperately broken.

“Why couldn’t you love me?!” Her tiny voice cracked as she wailed. “You promised! You promised you would!”

And Celine could do nothing but watch in terror as Rumi, once again an adult, plunged her saingeom into her own chest.

Celine sat bolt upright, tears on her cheeks and “No!” on her lips. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she scrambled to check on the sleeping girl next to her.

Rumi was alive. She was breathing. She was safe. They were tucked together in Rumi's room in the HUNTR/X dorm in Seoul. They were in Rumi's bed. An arrangement that Mira had not been happy about. Rumi was alive. Celine would stand guard. She would make sure it stayed that way.

She brushed a stray strand of purple behind a delicate seashell ear and pressed a tender kiss to Rumi’s forehead.

“I love you, Rumi baby,” Celine whispered like a prayer in the dark room. A promise. Celine curled around her sleeping adult child, wondering when she had gotten so big. “And I always will.”

Chapter Text

Rumi was doing better. She was. They were home. She was alive. She was breathing. But Zoey couldn’t help but feel like the other shoe hadn’t dropped yet.

It felt weird to be back home. A good weird. But still weird. Everything was exactly how they left it nearly two weeks ago. Like they could almost just step back in time to before the Idol Awards. Like they could just try again. But they were all so different then they were two weeks ago. Zoey just hoped it was for better, not worse. But it still was nice to be home again. It felt hopeful. And that was good.

And never before had Zoey been more grateful for their couch and her own bed. Like her bed always felt good after a long day of rehearsals or performing. And it always felt great after returning from tours. But after the hospital? It was heaven.

Animals of all kinds sat on her bed. Zoey greeted her plushies with a smile, running her hands over their soft fur, felt, and yarn. Bears, otters, turtles, tigers, sea lions, turtles, cats, dogs, and turtles waited patiently for their owner’s return. She missed them so much! But who would she sleep with tonight?

“I’ve missed you all, but you know the rules,” Zoey stated seriously to the assembled stuffed animals. “No more than three can sleep in the bed at night. I’m sorry! But if we don’t limit it, you all just end up on the floor. Don’t look at me like that!”

Zoey frowned as she apologetically began sorting through the plushies and moving them to the large dog bed she kept for just this purpose. She wanted her stuffies to be comfortable at night even if they couldn’t all share the bed. Giving each one a gentle hug and kiss, Zoey tucked them in for the night until she was left with just four plushies.

Shelldon, the weighted turtle. Mimi, the knit polar bear with a little pink bow. Sirs Cheese and Quackers, the little ducks in soft silk armor. Yes. Zoey knows the rule is three, but she wasn’t heartless. She just couldn’t separate Sirs Cheese and Quackers.

She settled into bed, turned off the lights, pulled the stuffed animals closer, and closed her eyes.

And nothing happened.

Zoey turned over with a frustrated huff and tried again. Deep breaths, clear mind. Sleep.

No sleep.

This sucked.

She was so tired. And her bed was so comfy. But sleep kept eluding her.

Maybe a sleep aid? She had some melatonin somewhere in her medicine cabinet, but she didn’t really like taking it. Instead, she tried listening to music.

Zoey cued up her favorite playlist. It had a wide variety of music. Really any song that Zoey liked ended up on it. There was a good mix of Kpop, classical, American pop, American rap, Euro pop emo, Jpop, and even some American country mixed in. Zoey was not ashamed to admit that the Sunlight Sisters featured heavily and even some HUNTR/X songs made appearances. They were good songs, so sue her.

She let her mind drift away to the hypnotic beats.

“It’s your fault!” the screaming came from the living room. Her mother sounded so angry. Zoey curled in further in on herself, hidden under her desk, clutching Shelldon closer and turning up the volume on her iPod.

“Of course it is, Jenny! Everything is always my fault!” Her father roared back.

Zoey didn’t know what they were arguing about. But it wasn’t good. The fighting never was. Tears pricked at her eyes. Why couldn’t they just be happy? What did Zoey need to do to keep them together. Why wasn’t she ever enough?!

“What a loser!” Tommy sneered, shoving Zoey into a nearby locker. The cool metal shuttered under her weight. It was definitely going to leave a bruise on Zoey’s arm. “You and your d*ke friends are so lame. What you gonna cry like a little baby?!”

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but she didn’t want to give Tommy the satisfaction of see them spill.

“What’s that little ching-ch*ng got in her hands?” David taunted, pulling at the notebook in her hand. Her lyric notebook.

“I bet it’s more of those lame poems,” Rachel jeered, looming just behind David. “She’s so weird. I can’t believe anyone would actually be friends with her!”

The trio laughed as they cornered Zoey. They pried her notebook from her hands, tearing pages in the process. Tears finally overflowed as Zoey tried to gather the torn pages of her most important notebook. Cruel words washed over her and she felt like she was underwater.

“Does she really think she has what it takes to be an idol?” Yuna whispered just loud enough to be overheard. “I mean she barely speaks Korean.”

“Yeah. And she’s so fat,” Soh-Ah agreed, false sympathy dripping from her voice.

“Ugh! Are you talking about that American?” Ji-Yeong added, rolling her eyes. “She’s so pathetic. She can’t dance. She can’t sing. And she raps like those heathens in America. I don’t know how she was accepted into the program. She’s never going to make it.”

A demon stood where Rumi should be. Wearing her face. Using her voice. The demon was begging. Saying something about how Zoey and Mira were never supposed to see the patterns that spread across its skin like a cancer. Insisting that she could still fix it.

Tears poured from the demon’s mismatched eyes. “Please Zoey. Don’t leave me. Please.”

But Zoey was a hunter. She raised her shin-kals and took aim. Blood bloomed in the center of the demon’s chest and the patterns retreated, leaving only pale skin in its wake. Rumi looked up at Zoey with hurt and betrayal. Eyes damning in the dim lighting.

Rumi tried to speak, but blood simply dribbled from her lips. More blood began weeping from cuts all along Rumi’s arms. Rumi’s warm chocolate eyes began to dim as the light slowly fade.

What had Zoey done?!

Zoey tried to gather her friend in her arms. Tried to hold her tighter. But Rumi shifted as suddenly 14-year-old Mickie lay in Zoey’s arms.

“You couldn’t save me Zoey,” Mickie whispered, voice strangely free of condemnation, “And you can’t save her.”

Zoey, Mira, and Rumi stood before Celine under the sacred and ancient hackberry tree, swearing to slay demons and keep the world safe. They promised to support each other. To love each other. To always be a team.

The sky darkened and Zoey turned to see a fresh grave. Kang Rumi.

Tears mixed with rain as Zoey fell to her knees. She did this. It was her fault. She was always too much and never enough. She didn’t deserve to call Rumi her friend. Her hands were dripping in blood.

Zoey sat bolt upright, practically throwing Shelldon, Mimi, and Sirs Cheese and Quakers off of her bed in her haste to scramble to the bathroom. She emptied her stomach before turning to blindly run to Rumi’s room. She needed to make sure the singer was ok. That she was alive.

It took everything in her not to slam Rumi’s door open. Instead, Zoey cracked it open slowly. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw Rumi asleep in her own bed, Celine curled around her. Zoey crept in further, the feeling of being a creeper coming a far second to the need to make sure that Rumi was breathing. She stared at the older girl for a while, just watching her chest rise and fall. It was good.

Rumi was alive. She was getting better.

But Zoey wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

Mira was worried. They had all agreed that Rumi shouldn't sleep alone. That someone should be in her room with her just in case something happened. Rumi had vehemently disagreed. The purple-haired singer insisted that she was an adult and that she would be fine. But she was overruled much to Mira’s satisfaction.

Unfortunately, Rumi had only relented if Celine was the one to stay with her overnight.

Mira’s lip curled at the thought. She still didn’t trust Celine with Rumi. It was bad enough that their mentor was staying in the penthouse dorm with them. But sleeping in Rumi’s room? Without someone else to make sure the older woman didn’t do anything to Rumi? Unthinkable. What if Celine did something to hurt Rumi?

It also hurt to think that Rumi trusted Celine more than Mira or Zoey. Mira tried to rationalize it. Saying that it was because Celine had raised Rumi, but it didn’t make it much better. Because then that led to the question that Mira had been avoiding.

Had Celine already known about Rumi’s patterns? Had she been hiding them too? How long had Rumi’ skin borne the marks of the very thing they had sworn to destroy? Did Rumi betray them? Why hadn’t she trusted them enough to help?

Did Rumi think they were going to kill her?

Each question was like a knife to Mira’s heart. So, she had been avoiding them. Focusing her energy on keeping Rumi alive and safe from any perceived threat, instead. It just so happened that the most obvious threat was Celine and Rumi kept running back to their mentor. It made her sick.

Mira didn’t know the extent of the damage Celine caused Rumi. She didn’t know if it was emotional or physical in nature. She didn’t know what signs she had missed, but she abso-fucking-lutely wasn’t going to take any chances now.

But like a mistreated dog, Rumi kept going back.

And then there were the scars that the doctor had tried to bring up. The ones that ran along Rumi’s patterns and crisscrossed over themselves. The intense webbing along Rumi’s shoulder, the one she had always kept covered, even before she began wearing long sleeves and high necks. The scars clearly caused by a blade.

Had Celine caused those? Or had Rumi done them to herself?

The thought was chilling. It sent a shiver down her spine. Mira could barely protect Rumi from Celine. She had clearly failed in the past and missed all of the signs. How would Mira be able to protect Rumi from herself?

The thoughts circled her mind like angry and hungry sharks, waiting for their prey. Taking a deep breath, Mira tried to push the thoughts away. She ran through her nighttime routine, taking the time to do the skin care she had neglected while they were in the hospital. She tried to let herself unwind with yoga and meditation, but she was only moderately successful. With a sigh, Mira came to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep until she checked on Rumi.

Just to make sure she was ok.

She padded down the hall and pushed Rumi’s already ajar door open just slightly more. That had been part of the deal. Rumi’s door couldn’t be shut all the way. Mira let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she saw the two hunters curled together in the large bed. As much as Mira didn’t like that Celine was holding Rumi, as much as Mira didn’t trust Celine, it helped to see Rumi breathing. To see her sleeping calmly. Peacefully. It helped enough to quiet the part of her brain the protested so vehemently to the arrangement.

Mira couldn’t help but check on Zoey. The maknae had been pushing herself too hard to try and play peacekeeper. Another failing on Mira’s part. Mira was supposed to protect both of the younger girls. Both Rumi and Zoey. Yet all she was doing was hurting them. She was placing too much of a burden on Zoey. The poor girl was getting so overwhelmed and lost in her head and Mira was just making it worse.

With a sigh, Mira knocked softly on Zoey’s door. When she didn’t get an answer, she pushed it open slightly. Zoey’s room was shrouded in darkness save for the soft green glow from her turtle shaped nightlight. Mira smirked at the mountain of stuffed animals arranged in the dog bed next to Zoey, as the girl in question clutched four plushies to her chest. Mira also noticed the thick headphones over Zoey’s ears. They were the ones that Mira bought her for her last birthday. Excellent sound quality, wireless, and comfortable enough for sleeping in. The gentle rise and fall of Zoey’s chest was enough to satisfy the dancer as she closed the door.

Next Mira checked all of the locks and windows. She knew that the tower had 24hour security and that their biometric locks were extremely strong. But it still helped to double check.

Once Mira was sure everything was secure and that everyone was where they were supposed to be, the dancer made her way back to her own room. She crawled under the covers, taking only a brief moment to savor the feeling of being home, before closing her eyes and finally allowing herself to rest.

~~~

Cold hands clawed into Mira’s tiny shoulders, forcing her to stand straight. Back long, head down, hands tightly clasped in front. A perfect little demure doll to show off at parties. No traces of the child she should have been.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

“Stand up straighter.”

“Look pleasant.”

“Too fat.”

“Don’t embarrass us.”

“Too thin.”

“Don’t be so pathetic.”

“Can’t you follow simple directions?”

“Just be a good little girl.”

The faceless forms of her parents and older brother towered above her. Judging her. Condemning her. Tearing her apart and unraveling her thread by thread. Carelessly harsh words danced around her.

“You are an embarrassment to our family,” Mira’s father stated plainly, not even looking at her as he signed a contract that he hadn’t even read. Selling Mira off to the highest bidder.  She felt smaller. Impossibly so. As if she were only the size of a doll rather than a child. “I’m glad to be rid of such a failure of a daughter. You don’t belong here. You never have.”

The room shifted to black and suddenly all Mira, tiny eight-year-old Mira, could see was herself as an adult. The adult Mira stood tall and confident. Platform boots added height. Spikes and chains gave her a menacing look. A cruel scowl marred an otherwise pretty face.

“Gods, you’re pathetic,” Adult Mira sneered. “You thought you found a family? You thought you deserved one? Ha! You’re a monster. To angry and hot headed. Too violent and stubborn. Nobody will ever love you, Song Mira. You don’t deserve it.”

The harsh words sent a chill down Mira’s spine and tears formed in her eyes. Older her was wrong! Zoey and Rumi were her friends! Her family!

A mirthless chuckle escaped Adult Mira. “Why would they be friends with you? You killed them.”

And Mira, still locked in her eight-year-old body, could do nothing but watch as Rumi looked at them with wide, wild, desperate eyes. Demonic patterns littered her body. She begged and pleaded for them to listen to her. Rumi’s voice shook the honmoon and Adult Mira rammed her gok-do into the demon. Into Rumi. Impaling her with a sicken squelch and crunch.

Rumi looked at Mira, both Miras, with heart wrenching betrayal. “I’m sorry.” The former leader whispered as crimson leaked from her lips and the light faded from her eyes.

Zoey turned panicked eyes towards them. “What are we going to do? All of our songs are three part harmonies!”

Adult Mira turned a cold shoulder to the rapper. “There is no we, Zoey.”

Mira watched in horror as Zoey shrank in on herself and was swallowed by Gwi-Ma’s flames.

“See,” Adult Mira sneered. “You’re just like your parents. Just like Celine. Always hurting those you care about.”

Tears poured down Mira’s cheeks. She was wrong. She had to be. Mira couldn’t be the type of person that could hurt her friends. She just couldn’t!

A scream roused her from her sleep. It only took a moment too long before Mira realized that the scream wasn’t coming from her.

Chapter Text

Rumi was annoyed. Celine, Mira, and Zoey were treating her like a child. They insisted that she couldn’t be alone. It was ridiculous. Like she couldn’t be trusted to complete simple tasks on her own. The others weren’t wrong, per say. But Rumi was an adult. Surely, she should have at least some say in her own care. At least Zoey was giving her choices. Simple ones that she could make through the thick fog that wrapped itself around her brain, but choices, nonetheless.

And that’s how Rumi found herself in her room with her guardian helping her get ready for bed. Celine had even washed and braided Rumi’s long lavender hair, something that had soothed Rumi as a child, and honestly still did.

Still, it was hard to relax around Celine. Rumi couldn’t figure out why her guardian was acting the way she was. So tender and attentive. It made no sense. She knew Celine hated her patterns, had always told her to hide them. And she knew that Celine hated her, at least a little. How could she not, after all? Rumi was part demon and had taken her mother away from the woman. From the world. She had destroyed the honmoon and almost let the world fall to Gwi-Ma. She was a monster down to her very core.

Celine should have killed her in the graveyard.

But she didn’t for whatever reason and here they were.

Rumi had opted to spend the night with Celine because if worst came to worst, Celine would (hopefully) put down the rabid demon inside her. And Rumi still didn’t know how Zoey or Mira felt about the whole demon thing.

They had been ridiculously gentle with her since she woke up in the hospital, but neither of them had been alone with Rumi. What if they were just trying to protect each other and put on a show? What if they were just waiting for their moment to eliminate the threat in their very home? Or what if Rumi hurt one of them? More than she already had?

Rumi couldn’t take that risk.

So, Celine it was.

At least Celine knew the truth about her patterns. Celine knew what a monster Rumi truly was. Celine had known she was a mistake since the moment she was born. At least with Celine, she knew what to expect. Or, at least Rumi thought she did.

“There you are. All clean, baby,” Celine smiled a smile that Rumi couldn’t read, as she finished helping Rumi brush her teeth and wash her face. Gods, was Rumi pathetic. But her healing ribs made moving her arms so difficult. “Let me help you into your pajamas. Nice and slowly now, Rumi.”

Rumi let Celine guide her limbs through her sleep clothes like she was a very young child, face aflame with crimson shame. Unfortunately for Rumi, she couldn’t deny that she needed the help. She just hated that she was making Celine look at and touch the hideous patterns that denoted her as a monster.

It also hurt. Broken ribs were literally the worst.

Soon Celine had Rumi settled in her bed. She slipped on the blood pressure cuff and heart monitor and recorded Rumi’s vitals. Per doctor’s orders, Rumi needed to sleep with the heart monitor. Then Celine handed Rumi a few pills and helped her with the glass of water. It was so embarrassing. To be so dependent on others. Surely Celine thought she was a pathetic excuse for a hunter.

But Celine didn’t say anything about it. About how Rumi was being weak and showing her faults. She just helped her get comfortable in bed. It was odd how gentle Celine was being. The older hunter tucked her into bed and began singing. It was the song Celine had always sung. She once had said it was Mi-Yeong’s favorite. It was nice. Almost like when she was a child. Before she knew that Celine didn’t love her. It was dangerous, Rumi knew this, but still… She let herself melt into the lie. Surely it would be ok to pretend that Celine still loved her just for one night.

And, so, Rumi let herself drift into the soft embrace of slumber.

…

They had done it! The fans in the stadium cheered, their souls practically bursting from their chests. Gold shone through the honmoon, shimmering triumphantly, protecting the world for good. Rumi’s hands found Zoey’s and Mira’s. Her best friends. Her only friends. They had done it. Celine would finally be proud of her. Finally love her. Rumi was free. She closed her eyes for just a moment and let the world fade away.

“We are Hunters voices strong/

“Slaying Demons with our song/

“Fix the world and make it right/

“When darkness finally meats the light.”

Voices washed over Rumi. Voices Rumi had never heard. Voices Rumi knew. They were part of her. Part of the honmoon.

The soft waves of pearlescent light welcomed Rumi and lapped at her skin. Quiet. Soothing. Calm.

Rumi was home.

She could finally rest.

She was so tired.

“DEMON.”

The world shifted and gone was the soft glow of the honmoon. Red and purple flames enveloped her. The sky now a smokey, hazy, grey.

Flames licked at Rumi’s skin. A pained scream bubbled from her chest as she patterns erupted across her skin. It hurt!

No.

No!

This couldn’t be happening!

They were supposed to be gone! Why was the honmoon rejecting her?! Hadn’t she done everything right? She dedicated her life to being a hunter. To the honmoon. She and her girls had even turned it gold! Why was this happening?!

“Oh look!” Mira sneered cracking her knuckles, “You’ve got the patterns. Now you’ve got to die!”

Rumi held her hands up and backed away slowly, “Please Mira! It’s me. Rumi! I’m not a demon! Please!”

“Oh Rumi,” Zoey’s tone was saccharine with a steel undercurrent, a lazy and cruel smirk playing at her lips. “How can we trust you if we can’t tell your lies from your truth?”

“No. No, no, no, no. Please! Please, Zoey,” Rumi begged, tears leaking from mismatched eyes, her body falling to her knees. “I’m sorry. Please, no.”

“You are a mistake, Rumi,” Celine stood above her now. No trace of anything other than pity and contempt in the older hunter’s eyes. “You have been since the moment you were conceived. How could you ever think you deserved love? That you could be human?”

Rumi was trembling. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bobby flinch away from her, trembling with fear. Monster. She was a monster.

Laughter filled her ears. Jinu stood before her, purple skin and patterns clearly on display, Gwi-Ma’s purple flame danced behind him. They were both laughing. At her. At her pain and misery.

“Jinu,” Rumi whimpered, looking up at the man, the demon, she had trusted with her fragile heart.

A clawed hand dug into her jaw, lifting her off the ground and forcing her to look at Zoey and Mira. At Celine and Bobby. At the crowd of fans still watching from the stadium. She took in the disgusted and fearful looks. Shame and fear washed over her, burning through her ever growing patterns, scotching her to her very soul. Cruel laughter filled her ears.

“Look, Rumi,” Jinu sneered, a mirthless chuckle hung in the air, “Look at all the masses you were fooling. Look how quickly they turned on you after learning the truth. You are a demon. Just like me. All we get to do is live our pain. Our misery. It’s all we deserve. It’s all you deserve.”

Mira, Zoey, and Celine advanced, weapons drawn. Rumi didn’t fight back. She couldn’t. She didn’t deserve to. Takedown played distantly in the background. Rumi had always known that song was for her, now the others did too. She sank to her knees as Jinu released her, vision completely obscured by tears. Jinu was right. She deserved this. She was a mistake and derived nothing but suffering.

Rumi opened her mouth to apologize. Apologize for her failure. For her betrayal. For her very existence. But only a strangled puff of air escaped. Her voice! It was gone. The only thing that gave her purpose and value. Gone. But what did she need her voice for anymore? What good would it do a demon mistake like her?

An unspoken I’m sorry hung in the air as shin-kals pierced her skin, a gok-do impaled her chest, and a sickle sliced her neck. Blood poured from her wounds, though none appeared on the glowing weapons, the honmoon cleansing them of filth. A silent scream bubbled up from her fractured soul.

The world grew darker and faded around her.

“…mi! Rumi, baby! Wake up, Rumi!”

Celine.

Rumi didn’t understand. Hadn’t Celine just killed her? Why was she calling her? Why did she sound so distraught?

“Rumi! It’s just a dream, baby. Come back to me now, love. You’re safe, Rumi, baby. I promise. Just wake up!”

Rumi’s eyes snapped open only to meet Celine’s mere inches away. She couldn’t help the loud scream that pushed its way out of her lungs. It wasn’t safe. She needed to get away. They all knew. They would kill her. They had killed her. She needed to get away. Rumi tried to scramble back, but her damaged ribs impeded her progress.

Hands were touching her. They burned. Someone was talking, maybe Celine, maybe Rumi herself was. But she couldn’t tell. The world was underwater and her ears were ringing so loudly that she couldn’t make out anything.

Then the hands were gone and Mira’s gok-do filled her vision. She tried to make herself smaller. She needed to hide. It wasn’t safe. Mira was finally going to kill her. And Rumi deserved it.

Then something heavy settled in her lap. Something cold and wet bit into her hand. A gust of air hit her face, then another. The world was coming back into focus and Zoey was looking at her, concern etched into every feature.

“…eathe, Rumi. Just breathe, Rumi. Match my breath. In and out. In and out. Just breathe, Rumi. There you go. You’re doing so well. Keep breathing, Ruru. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Rumi took in a stuttering breath. The dream and panic faded, leaving only the now familiar fog that seemed to dog her every step. She noticed the other three hunters staring at her, no weapons in sight. Rumi found herself relaxing slightly.

“Are you back with us, Rumi?” Zoey asked gently, as Mira inched herself closer until she was sitting next to Rumi. Her hand rested softly on Rumi’s knee in silent support.

Rumi gave a tired nod before letting her head fall heavily on Mira’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” She croaked.

“Don’t be sorry, Rumi,” Celine said softly, softer than Rumi could ever really remember her being. Perhaps she truly had died, the Rumi thought idly. “All that matters is that you are alright. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Rumi shook her head against Mira’s shoulder. Exhaustion was dragging her back down underwater, but fear kept her awake. The other hunters exchanged a look that Rumi didn’t have the energy to decipher. And an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. It made Rumi feel small. Like she was a bug under their microscope. A disgusting creature left to squirm under their judgmental gazes.

Rumi’s finger idly traced the patterns on the weighted turtle plush in her lap. She knew it was Zoey’s, she had seen the maknae use if often enough. It was well loved and soft under her touch. Shelldon, Rumi thought it was called. Rumi looked at its stitched smile. The plushie’s gaze easier to meet than her companions. She didn’t understand what they expected her to do. She felt like she was sixteen and trying to navigate new social interactions for the first time again. Something else she had failed at.

They would have to talk about it. About all of the topics they had been avoiding. But no one, especially Rumi, knew where to start.

They were home again. But things were far from normal. Far from alright.

Chapter Text

Ok, party people! This is, unfortunately, not a chapter. I just wanted to give you all a quick update that there probably won't be any updates for about a week and a half because I'm traveling and won't be taking my laptop (I also really don't enjoy typing on my phone). Sorry!

I was really trying to get the next chapter up before leaving, but real life got a little hectic, so big apologies for a long wait!

So here's a preview of the next chapter. It's still pretty rough and might change when I actually finish the chapter. But I hope you all enjoy!

"Morning had broken in their penthouse dorm, with golden rays and warm soft hues painting the sky, but the awkwardness and fear from the night before had yet to dissipate. Nightmares were not new. To any of the dorm’s current inhabitants. It came with the territory of demon hunting. A necessary toll. But after their first night home everything felt unusually off kilter.

It had definitely been too much to hope that they could just step back into the lives that they had left behind almost two weeks ago. Things were different now. They were different now. And the hope that everything could and would just slip back to normal, the carefully crafted illusion of normalcy, lay shattered at their feet.

They needed to talk about what happened. At least what had happened last night. But, as Zoey breathed in the rich and sweet scent of her coffee, she realized that she had no idea where to start.

When she heard Rumi screaming… Gods. It had sounded like someone was trying to kill her. And Zoey’s mind had turned a white haze of panic. Especially since it had only been an hour or so since she had been so rudely awakened from her own nightmare. But this one had been real. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard Rumi sound so scared before…

(Don’t leave. Please. I can still fix this. Please Zoey.)

So she ran.

Mira had gotten to their leader’s room first. Gok-do in hand, leveled at Celine. Snarling threats and expletives. Celine had been leaning over Rumi, hands gently but firmly placed on the singer’s arms and shoulders. An attempt at grounding, Zoey was pretty sure. But she was also arguing with Mira, seemingly oblivious to the way Rumi was flinching back so violently. Both Mira and Celine lost in righteous rage and fear to notice the damage they were doing to the one they thought they were protecting.

(It felt like she was back in her parent’s house in Burbank again. Back when everything had fallen apart.)

But Zoey saw the wild and frantic fear in Rumi’s eyes. Saw the way she wasn’t focusing and present. Saw the way her chest rose and fell with ragged, jagged breaths. Like she couldn’t get enough air in. Like breathing was painful. Which it probably was, honestly, with her broken ribs and all. But Zoey saw Rumi in the midst of a panic attack. A bad one. Probably worse than any of the ones she had had in the hospital.

And Celine and Mira were making it worse.

After getting some ice and Shelldon and yelling at the other two to stop fighting, Zoey was finally, finally able to draw Rumi out of her panic. But then the purple haired girl just sort of… shut down. And no one seemed to want to break the uncomfortable stillness that settled around them.

And now it was morning and Zoey had the largest coffee in her largest turtle mug. And it wasn’t helping."

Well I hope this preview will tide you over. And thanks for your patience! Until next time!

XO- Little Fish

Chapter Text

Morning had broken in their penthouse dorm, with golden rays and warm soft hues painting the sky, but the awkwardness and fear from the night before had yet to dissipate. No one had been able to sleep again. Nightmares were not new. To any of the dorm’s current inhabitants. It came with the territory of demon hunting. A necessary toll. But after their first night home everything felt unusually off kilter.

It had definitely been too much to hope that they could just step back into the lives that they had left behind almost two weeks ago. Things were different now. They were different now. And the hope that everything could and would just slip back to normal, the carefully crafted illusion of normalcy, lay shattered at their feet.

They needed to talk about what happened. At least what had happened last night. But, as Zoey breathed in the rich and sweet scent of her coffee, she realized that she had no idea where to start.

When she heard Rumi screaming… Gods. It had sounded like someone was trying to kill her. Like Rumi was dying. And Zoey’s mind had turned a white haze of panic. Especially since it had only been an hour or so since she had been so rudely awakened from her own nightmare. The one that ended with Rumi dying like Mickie and Zoey being powerless to stop it. Zoey causing it to happen. But those screams had been real. The terror was real. Zoey wasn’t sure she had ever heard Rumi sound so scared before…

(Don’t leave. Please. I can still fix this. Please Zoey.)

So she ran.

She came skidding to a halt just inside Rumi’s door. And the scene that she witnessed sent shivers down her spine for reasons she couldn't quiet articulate which was really saying something because words were like her whole thing.

Mira had gotten to their leader’s room first. Gok-do in hand, leveled at Celine. Snarling threats and expletives. Celine had been leaning over Rumi, hands gently but firmly placed on the singer’s arms and shoulders. An attempt at grounding, Zoey was pretty sure. But she was also arguing with Mira, seemingly oblivious to the way Rumi was flinching back so violently. Both Mira and Celine lost in righteous rage and fear to notice the damage they were doing to the one they thought they were protecting.

(It felt like she was back in her parent’s house in Burbank again. Back when everything had fallen apart.)

But Zoey saw the wild and frantic fear in Rumi’s eyes. Saw the way she wasn’t focusing and present. Saw the way her chest rose and fell with ragged, jagged breaths. Like she couldn’t get enough air in. Like breathing was painful. Which it probably was, honestly, with her broken ribs and all. But Zoey saw Rumi in the midst of a panic attack. A bad one. Probably worse than any of the ones she had had in the hospital.

And Celine and Mira were making it worse.

After getting some ice and Shelldon  to help ground Rumi, and yelling at the other two to stop fighting, Zoey was finally, finally able to draw Rumi out of her panic. But then the purple haired girl just sort of… shut down. And no one seemed to want to break the uncomfortable stillness that settled around them.

And now it was morning and Zoey had the largest coffee in her largest turtle mug. And it wasn’t helping.

Celine sat to the side, sipping at her coffee, using one of Rumi’s favorite mugs, Zoey had noted absently. Mira had also noticed and bristled like an angry cat but, thankfully, refrained from saying anything. Instead, her lips had simply pursed into a tight line, going bloodless and white in the effort to keep in the vitriol that clearly wanted to escape. But Zoey could tell. Mira was trying. Mira’s own coffee sat abandoned on the coffee table as she tried to help Rumi take slow sips from her herbal tea. No caffeine for Rumi right now. Poor Rumi.

But it wasn’t like the caffeine was helping anyway.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Mira was shielding Rumi from Celine, while glaring daggers at their mentor. If looks could kill, Celine would have been dead already. Like yesterday. Like a week ago. Celine was returning the favor, though perhaps not quite as intensely, but the retired idol was never one to back down from a challenge. It was more like Celine’s whole focus was on Rumi, which was good in theory. Like it was really nice to see how much Celine cared about Rumi! Celine had never been the most affectionate person, at least that Zoey had seen, so to see her all Mama Bear™ was pretty cool. However, in practice, the whole Mama Bear™ thing was too overbearing and Celine clearly wouldn’t be gainsaid about anything regarding Rumi’s care. Especially not from Rumi, Zoey, or Mira.

And Rumi… Well Rumi seemed to be completely disassociating. Which, well, wasn’t fine but was to be expected? The doctor said it was normal after her brain had been deprived from oxygen. After she died. And Zoey had been useless and just stood around crying while one of her best friends literally died right in front of her. Because Zoey could never be enough to make anyone stay… No- Don’t go there, Zo. Stay focused.

Zoey ran through the senses grounding technique to try and preemptively stop the spiral. She felt the cool ceramic handle on her coffee cup, the steam on her face, the soft fabric of her turtle nightshirt, her lips as they pressed together, and the way her bangs tickled her forehead. She saw the morning sun poking through clouds washing everything in soft hues, the bows that Mira put in her hair to match the one on her nightgown, the tension around Celine’s eyes as the older woman watched Rumi and Mira like a hawk. She saw Rumi’s patterns shifting and shining like mother of pearl. So different from backstage of the Idol Awards. Focus Zoey! She heard Mira murmuring encouragements as Rumi took a small sip of tea, the clicking of ceramic making contact with the table, liquid sloshing in cups, and the gentle hum of the electronics, like the fridge and coffee maker. She smells her coffee, rich, bold, nutty, and sweet, and the chamomile, lavender, and honey of Rumi’s tea. She tastes the bitter burn of her own coffee under the copious amount of milk and sugar she added.

There. No spiraling. Ten stars for Zoey. She took another large swig of her coffee. Which still wasn’t doing anything to help her feel more awake. Why had the caffeine betrayed her like this?! She swirled the coffee around thinking of what to say to break the tension, building up the courage to speak. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Zoey opened her mouth with every intention of bringing up last night. Of sharing her soul and mentioning how scared she was. She was going to do it. She was going to share her own nightmare and hope that it opened the door for the others to do the same.

“Bobby said he’s coming over later.”

That was not what she meant to say.

Not even a little bit.

She was supposed to share how scared she was after her own nightmare and how scared she had been when she heard Rumi screaming. But her mouth just didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

Rumi perked up. Because of course that workaholic would perk up at the mention of Bobby and work. Zoey nearly missed Mira’s matching eye roll at Rumi’s reaction. But on the other hand, this was probably the most alert Rumi seemed since coming out of her panic attack.

“Bobby’s coming?” Rumi asked, her voice still had a slightly rough, hazy edge to it, but the eagerness couldn’t be hidden.

“To visit,” Zoey clarified. “No work, yet. Bobby’s orders!”

“But,” Rumi protested, a slight pout to her lips, “the fans. The honmoon. We…”

“No, Rumi,” Celine’s voice was firm but gentle.

Heads snapped towards Celine, mouths agape. Zoey looked at Celine like she had grown a second head, and Mira and Rumi both wore incredulous looks of astonishment. Celine never said no to working. Never put the honmoon and their sacred duty on the backburner. A day taking a break was a day that they weren’t protecting the world.

“But, Celine,” Rumi managed to wheeze out, disbelief and confusion bled in tone, “the honmoon? Our duty to the world?”

Celine took a deep breath and rested her hand on top of Rumi’s, seemingly oblivious to the slight flinch she received in response. “No, Rumi. You need time to rest and recover. The fans are important, yes. The honmoon is necessary to protect the world. But your health is more important. You need to rest. You need to heal.”

The silence that filled the room in response was deafening. Rumi’s mouth open and closed like a fish on dry land. She seemed to be short circuiting.  And, in all honesty, Zoey was too. Mira seemed surprised, but oddly pleased by this turn of events.

“Perhaps I haven’t done enough to emphasize this, Rumi,” Celine sighed, gently squeezing a lightly patterned hand, “but you are important to me. And I cannot bear the thought of losing you like I lost your mother and Eun-Seo. I need you to take the time you need to heal, baby.”

Rumi blinked slowly. Zoey could practically see the wheels turning in Rumi’s head. It absolutely gutted her to see how much Rumi struggled to accept Celine’s words. How much damage had been done to the young woman? Why didn’t she understand how loved she was? It made Zoey want to cry.

With a shuttering breath, Zoey took her moment. She was going to say what she needed to. Totally. For real this time. Her fingers tapped nervously against her mug.

“Hey. I was really scared last night.” Zoey’s voice was quiet, and she kept her eyes trained on her coffee. It was easier that way. She didn’t need to see everyone’s response. To see the disappointment in their eyes. “I… I honestly have been really scared for the last two weeks. Ever since the Saja Boys and everything else. I thought we were doing really well and then… You almost died Rumi. We almost lost you. And… and I feel like any moment I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone. I’m scared. I love you. I love HUNTR/X. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. And... I feel really... helpless. So please, Rumi. Please, let us take care of you, Ru. Please.”

A warm hand settled on her shoulder. Zoey couldn’t look to see who it was. Probably Mira. But, Zoey had done it. She had said her piece. Of course she had more to say. More questions to ask and feelings to share. But it was a start.

And that had to be enough.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

Rumi let herself be led out of her room and settled on the couch like a doll. She barely noticed the way the others hovered around her, cossetting her with tea and blankets. Angling her so she could feel the warmth of the sun as it sent light through the large windows. Trying to keep her grounded as the world slipped further and further into the deep fog that was so easy to get lost in. The warmth of the sun and their company did little to dispel the tendrils of fear and anxiety from her dream and waking up with Celine leaning over her and Mira’s weapon drawn that had left icy hooks lodged in her chest.

It was easier to get lost in the fog. She was a demon. She didn’t deserve to live. It was so obvious. Mira and Zoey knew it. Celine knew it. She had been right, after all. Nothing could change until her patterns were gone and Rumi had seen them still branding her skin. She had failed.

The others were so close. Hovering over the monster, waiting for the demon within her to strike. Why else would Mira have drawn her weapon again? Why hadn’t she finished her off? Rumi didn’t understand.

It was hard to think through the fog that wrapped its way around her brain and settled in her limbs, making them heavy and shaky. It was easier to let herself drift. Drift back to the place where it was safe. But was safety even an option for her anymore? Rumi knew she didn’t deserve it, but she craved it nonetheless. She could be good for the hunters. Obedient. It was easier that way. To just let them lead and let herself follow. She didn’t have to try and understand their expectations. Expectations that a demon like her could never live up to. Rumi could be good if it meant not seeing the hurt and betrayal and fear in the eyes of the people she cared most about.

So, she let them puppeteer her. She let warm sun and the words of her family the hunters wash over her. Like waves on the beach and static on the radio. Rumi was cold. She was numb. And it was safe.

“Bobby said he’s coming over later” Zoey’s words pierced the through the fog and Rumi clung to them like a lifeline. Bobby meant work. Work meant purpose. Something she could do to help atone for nearly destroying the world. But then Zoey had said that it was just a social call. Didn’t they understand what was at stake?

But then Rumi’s world came to a shattering halt for the second time in two weeks. Celine said no. Celine. Celine had said no to working. Rumi didn’t understand. Her whole life she had been taught that that the honmoon came first. That her sole purpose and duty was to keep the fans happy and united. To keep the honmoon strong and the world safe. Celine had taught her that her fellow hunters came a close second. That it was her responsibility to keep them safe. And the only way to do that was to work. To pour every ounce of herself into HUNTR/X, into training, into her girls, into the fans. Until there is nothing left of Rumi.

Celine had taught Rumi that her own, personal, health and safety came last. That she was a half-demon mistake that didn’t deserve things like breaks or time off. Time off was failure and failure was unacceptable. Rumi needed to atone for taking Mi-Yeong away from the world. She needed to atone for the crime against nature her very existence is.

But now… Celine said no. Said that Rumi was important. That she needed to rest. And Rumi didn’t understand.

Before Rumi could even begin to articulate her confusion and disbelief in Celine’s words. Zoey began speaking. Rumi couldn’t catch all of the words. It was too much right now. Was she forever going to be this broken burden? Celine really should have just killed her. It would have been better for everyone.

Zoey said something about being scared. And she should be. Rumi was a demon who destroyed the honmoon. A demon who nearly plunged the world into darkness. A demon who had lied to them, to the world, for the last six years. Zoey had every right to be scared.

Rumi was so lost in her head that she barely noticed Mira saying something. Rumi needed to listen. Mira and Zoey deserved that much at least. But the world was underwater again and sounds blurred and washed over her. Her head felt heavy again. It was too much work to stay focused and present. When would her girls the hunters decide that she wasn’t worth keeping around? That the threat within their home was too great? When would they do their duty and put down the rabid animal they once called a friend?

“Hey, kiddo,” A new voice cut through the fog. Bobby. When had he gotten here?

Rumi looked up and noticed the sun in the penthouse had shifted dramatically. It was now early afternoon. How had she lost so much time?! The thought of losing so much awareness terrified her. What else was slipping from her fractured mind?

The couch sunk slightly as Bobby sat down next to her. He looked exhausted. Not in the same shattered way that Mira, Zoey, and even Celine did, but it was still evident in the dark circles under his eyes, and the tightness of his smile. Seeing Bobby like this was a sucker punch to her stomach. She hated that she had caused him to so much stress and anguish. Bobby who was her first friend. The only other adult who had cared about a tiny Rumi. Who had been a stable and strong support as she grew, even if they had drifted when Celine got more serious about hunter training and Bobby’s own career had taken different paths. So, Rumi did what she did best. She put on her own Showbiz Smile™ and pretended that everything was fine.

“Hi Bobby,” Rumi smiled as if Bobby couldn’t see the way she was fading and losing herself. She felt a gentle hand on her arm and let herself be pulled into the softest of side hugs.

“It’s good to see you back home, Rumi,” Bobby’s smile was evident in his voice and Rumi wanted to bask in its warmth.

“Yeah… It’s good to be home,” She hummed, almost sounding convincing to her own ears.

A scoff could be heard from across the room, followed by a soft groan. Rumi could see Mira and Zoey sitting next to each other. Mira had a small scowl and she rubbed at a spot on her ribs.

“Oh my gosh! Yes!” Zoey continued like nothing had happened. “I literally can’t tell you, Bobby, how good my own bed felt last night! Like a cloud made of silk and puppies. I have never felt anything more comfortable in my entire life!”

Mira rolled her eyes fondly and Zoey’s anticks and Rumi felt her own lips twitching in a smile.

“Way to be super extra, Zo,” Mira drawled, a smile inching its way on Mira’s stoic face, “but same, Bobby. Being in the hospital sucked.”

Celine appeared with a tray of tea and for the first time Rumi registered her guardian’s absence. She let the thought slip by as Celine settled on her other side. Rumi didn’t know how to react to the sudden proximity. On the one hand Celine meant safety. She had guided and shielded her for most of her life. Rumi could almost pretend that Celine loved her, if she didn’t know better. But on the other hand, Celine was someone to fear. She had trained and controlled Rumi for her whole life, keeping the demon within at bay. And now the demon was visible for the world to see. Rumi flinched slightly, involuntarily. Barely noticeable. Hopefully something that could be chalked up to a reaction to the sudden movement. To being taken by surprise.

The flare of Mira’s nostrils said otherwise.

“The change of scenery has certainly been noticeable.” Celine’s commentary had been neutrally polite and non-committal. But Rumi still felt her shoulders inch towards her ears in Celine’s silent judgement.

“It’s also nice not to have the doctor’s poking and prodding at me,” Rumi continued with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I don’t feel like a zoo animal on display anymore!” Only a caged and violent dog.

Bobby hummed and pulled Rumi closer for a moment. “That’s good, kiddo. Hopefully now you can take the time to actually relax!”

Two poorly hidden snorts of disbelief sounded from across the room.

“Rumi? Relax? I don’t think she knows what that word even means, Bobby.” Mira snarked, a smirk playing at her lips.

“I mean we’ve been trying for years, Bobby,” Zoey chuckled, elbowing Mira. “But it’s like she’s allergic to fun and relaxing!”

 Rumi turned a sharp look at Mira and Zoey. She could so relax! She just happened to find working relaxing. Simple. She pouted and went to cross her arms, only to wince at the way it jostled her ribs. “Just because I enjoy what we do doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun.”

“Of course, Rumi,” Bobby soothed her ruffled feathers like he had been doing since she was four. “It’s good that you enjoy dancing and music so much. It’s why the fans love you the way they do. But it’s important to also do things for Rumi outside of HUNTR/X.”

Rumi grumbled under her breath but nodded all the same. Why did Bobby have to be so reasonable? “Speaking of the fans,” Rumi saw her opportunity and leapt at it. “How have things been going since Idol Awards and everything? Do you need us to make a statement or post something on social media? I can-”

“Nope!” Bobby cut in before Rumi could even finish her sentence. “No work, Rumi! Just recovery. I have it handled. Don’t worry your pretty, little, very intelligent head over it!”

“But I-,” Rumi started to protest.

“No, Rumi,” Celine’s voice cut through like ice and Rumi shrank in on herself, words dying on her lips. “Listen to Bobby. He’s very capable of handling this. You need to recover, remember?”

Rumi nodded, tears burning at her eyes. It was stupid. She didn’t even know why she was feeling so emotional. She just didn’t understand how to make Celine happy.

“Well,” Bobby started, trying to dispel the growing tension, “How about we all watch a movie, hmm? Or I heard about this new K-Drama. Well, it’s not really new, it came out a few years ago that I never saw and it’s supposed to be really good. What do you say, kiddo? We watch something and eat junk food? I won’t tell the label if you won’t.”

Rumi couldn't hide the weak chuckle as Bobby winked towards Celine, knowing full well that the label was in the room with them.

Celine rolled her eyes and sighed. “I suppose it’s fine. Just this once.”

Zoey, Mira, and Booby all cheered as the girls scrambled to assemble all of the junk food they had in the penthouse. Bobby already had his phone out to order more.

Rumi let herself sink into Booby’s side and felt his hand free hand come up to stroke her braid. A smaller, calloused hand with long delicate fingers came to rub gentle circles on Rumi’s back. And Rumi allowed herself to relax into Celine’s ministrations in a way she hadn’t in years. It was odd, but between the two people that had cared for Rumi since childhood, she felt oddly safe. And Rumi thought that just maybe things would be alright.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Relaxing on the couch with her girls, gorging herself on junk food, watching mindless television, together, was all Mira had wanted. To have the three of them take their hiatus and relax. But cocooned together on their ridiculously comfortable couch, with the soft glow of the TV bathing them all in faint light, while a K-drama played forgotten in the background, Mira just felt hollow. Empty and cold.

It was like the world was laughing at her. They had taken one of her truest, deepest desires and made a poor facsimile of it. She swallowed down the bitter laughter that burned at her throat.  Here she had everything she could have wanted only two weeks ago and it still wasn’t enough. They were together. They were relaxing. But Rumi wasn’t really there with them. And it was all her fault.

When she heard Rumi screaming and saw Celine leaning over her. Touching her. Mira’s mind had just gone blank. She drew her gok-do without thought and tried to get between the two. She knew Celine had done something to hurt Rumi. She knew it before they went to bed. And yet Mira still left Rumi alone with the older hunter. How stupid could Mira be?! She let all the frustration and anger that had been building over the last few weeks boil over as she exploded at Celine. She ignored the older woman’s words. She ignored Rumi’s fear. It wasn’t until Zoey started yelling and physically knocked the weapon out of Mira’s hands for her to see the damage she was causing. Again.

Rumi’s eyes were glazed over in fear. She hadn’t realized that Mira’s gok-do was pointed at Celine. Rumi had thought that Mira had drawn her weapon on her. Again. While Zoey had managed to draw Rumi out of her panic attack, the singer had almost immediately sunk back into her head. And she had barely surfaced throughout the day.

To say that Mira was worried would be an understatement. She was terrified. They had barely been home a day and it already felt like Rumi was losing ground. She should be getting better now that they were home, not worse. But after such a terrible night for everyone, Rumi had spent almost the full day in a daze. It was like she was just going through the motions and letting Mira and Zoey guide her through daily routines. Mira wasn’t ready to let Celine be alone with Rumi again, just yet. But Rumi had barely strung ten sentences together and she barely seemed aware.

Mira didn’t know if Rumi even heard Celine say that she needed to focus on herself, a sentiment that Mira was surprised to hear out of the eldest’s mouth. Or if Rumi heard Zoey share how scared she was last night and how terrified she was of losing Rumi. Mira didn’t know if Rumi had her own words sharing that sentiment and reassuring the youngest that they could get through it together. Mira wasn’t even completely sure that Rumi was even there or if she had gotten lost inside her own head.

And most importantly, Mira didn’t know how to fix it.

Thankfully, Rumi had roused when Bobby came, because as much as she loved Rumi, that girl was allergic to relaxing and completely obsessed with work. Though now knowing that something had been going on between the singer and Celine made that particular trait less endearing and much more concerning. Still, the morning had been fraught with worry.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Mira that this was beyond her skill set. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Mira was becoming increasingly worried that the fog that seemed to engulf Rumi was permanent. That this brain damage would always dog Rumi’s steps and inhibit her daily life. Forever.

And it was all Mira’s fault. As much as she wanted to blame Celine, Mira knew that it was her fault. She hadn’t even given Rumi the chance to explain herself before drawing her weapon on her friend. Her family. She had been prepared to slay the demon in front of her, even if it would have rent her heart in two. Mira had acted in anger and now Rumi paid the price.

A sickening voice in the back of her head tried to absolve her of her own guilt by placing the blame on Rumi. If the singer would have just talked to them, then perhaps the whole damn thing could have been avoided. Mira could feel the anger that she had been tamping down returning. Why had Rumi sold her soul? Were they not enough for her? Was Mira not enough? If Rumi had just been stronger, if she hadn’t been so secretive, if she had just trusted them, then Mira would never have drawn her gok-do in the first place. If Rumi hadn’t betrayed them, hadn’t ruined them by working with demons, by becoming one herself… Mira had to catch herself from descending into that pit of anger.

True, Rumi had made mistakes, but those mistakes didn’t erase Mira’s. It didn’t change or excuse the fact that she drew her weapon on her friend. That she turned her back on Zoey. Those mistakes were purely Mira’s. And surely the consequences of Rumi’s actions shouldn’t be death or brain damage. Because more than anything Mira wanted to work through the hurt that Rumi had caused. And work through the damage that she herself had caused. And they couldn’t do that if Rumi was lost in her own head.

A gentle squeeze brought Mira out of her thoughts enough to notice that the episode had ended. Zoey was looking at Mira with assessing eyes, as if the maknae was trying to read Mira’s mind. Mira didn’t deserve Zoey’s easy forgiveness. Couldn’t Zoey see how wicked and cruel Mira really was? But by the same token, Mira would do anything to earn back the trust she had so carelessly broken. She would protect her girls from the monsters in their own heads and the threats that lurked around the corners.

She squeezed Zoey’s hand back in silent support as the next episode started. They could get through it together. And if taking care of the shell that was left of Rumi was her penance, so be it. She would guard her friend until she felt safe enough to return to her mind.

Mira spared a glance at the Rumi curled into Bobby’s side. He had an arm loosely looped around her shoulder and was absently petting her hair. Mira didn’t know all of their history, (another thing that Rumi hadn’t shared, she thought bitterly) but she knew that they had known each other for a long time. Bobby had mentioned something about meeting Rumi when she was still a kid. And it showed in these quiet moments when Bobby would be such a dad. Mira was glad that Rumi had at least one person she could trust growing up, though a quiet, private part of her brain also resented Rumi for that.

Rumi’s had glazed over again, but not in the scary, not-really-there way they had been for most of the day. It was hard to explain the difference. And perhaps if Mira wasn’t so good at reading people (ha! She had missed so much about a person she supposedly cared for) she wouldn’t have noticed it. But this time, Rumi seemed calm. Relaxed. Like she knew she was safe with Bobby.

It killed a part of her to know that Rumi no longer felt safe with her. Perhaps she never had, the dark, twisted, and cruel voice and her head supplied.

Unfortunately, Celine sat on Rumi’s other side. Mira’s lip curled at the closeness and the causal caresses the older woman insisted on giving. Mira knew Celine wouldn’t do anything in front of Bobby, probably wouldn’t do anything in front of Zoey or herself, but she still didn’t like it. Mira hadn’t missed the way Rumi flinched when Celine had sat down. It had taken every ounce of strength within her and Zoey’s firm, grounding presence not to leap up and physically put distance between the two. But nothing could stop Mira from seething about it. Mira couldn’t wait until the older woman was out of their home. She honestly didn’t know how much longer she could last. Certainly not the full week they had agreed to.

Celine needed to go. She inhibited their healing. But Rumi wanted her, for some horrible reason. And there was a small part of Mira that wondered if Celine wasn’t there to take the brunt of Mira’s explosive anger, who would it fall to? She couldn’t hurt her girls again. She couldn’t. She couldn’t chase away the only family that had ever meant anything to her. Again.

But, then again, Mira had never truly deserved a family, had she?

Chapter Text

Rumi stood in front of her mirror, really looking at herself for the first time since before the Idol Awards. She barely recognized herself. Iridescent patterns marred her face like brands marking her as a monster. Her eyes were dull and hollow. Deep, bruised bags seemed to have made a new home on under her eyes and her cheeks were sunken. Rumi’s purple hair was limp and dull, her braid seemed almost unkempt despite Celine’s best effort.

She looked broken.

She was broken.

They had been home for three days now and since their explosive first night things had been tense. Mira and Celine had been hovering and hanging over her every move, all the while glaring daggers at each other. And Rumi didn’t know why. Mira had always looked up to Celine. Not like Zoey’s obvious idol worship and fangirling. Instead, while the older girl had bristled at the thought of an authority figure in her life, it was clear just how much Mira respected Celine. And why wouldn’t she? Celine was a hunter, a world-famous idol, and a polished and well-respected businesswoman, dominating in a man’s world. What wasn’t to appreciate? But now it felt like Mira was a breath away from attacking their mentor.

Rumi didn’t understand, but it was clear that it was her fault.

Looking at the revolting patterns that branded her body in ways that Rumi could no longer conceal, made her sick. How could anyone trust her or look up to her when her very skin told the world she was and unfeeling, unremorseful, untrustworthy monster? She wanted them gone. She wanted herself gone. A demon with no feelings doesn’t deserve to live, after all. With shaking hands, Rumi did something she hadn’t done in years. Not since a year after their debut.

She reached for the razor blades, still fresh and unopened, in the medicine cabinet.

It was pure muscle memory that had her unsheathing the tiny blades and observed how the light bounced off them in a sickening invitation. Without thought, Rumi brought the blade to a mess of patterns on her right bicep, where they had first started to grow and she had first tried to carve them out ten years ago, and pressed down. The now familiar feeling of the bite of the blade cut through the haze and Rumi felt tears building behind her eyes.

She slashed again and again. Not deep enough to cause lasting damage, but just enough for blood to bubble and bead along the cuts. Rumi tried to choke back the sobs that were threatening to escape.

She switched to her other arm. Why?! Why hadn’t her patterns disappeared like Celine said they would? Why hadn’t the hunters slain the demon crawling under her skin when they had the chance? It was still there, visible for the world to see, and yet they were all so gentle with her. Like she was made of glass. And Rumi didn’t understand. She didn’t want to be a burden. A broken shell of a person so dependent on others. They should have killed her when they had the chance. What if she hurt one of them?

A knock on the startled her and Rumi almost dropped the blade in her hand.

“Rumi-ya,” Celine called just beyond the door. “Are you ok in there? Do you need help?”

Rumi swallowed back a sob. She couldn’t make Celine suspicious. This was the first time anyone had let Rumi have a moment to herself, with the door closed. She needed to hide the new markings on her skin. She needed to hide what she was doing. She couldn’t worry Celine more than she already had. If she did, Rumi would never have a moment of privacy again.

“Rumi, sweetheart?” Celine called again. Clearly Rumi had taken too long to respond. “I’m coming in, baby.”

The door opened before Rumi could hide the fresh cuts and blood on her arms. The razor still clutched in her hand as she quickly shoved her hands behind her back like a child caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. She saw the moment the cuts registered to Celine as her guardian’s face fell. Her eyes softened and her mouth formed a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, Rumi,” Celine sighed reaching out like she was soothing a wounded and skittish animal. Perhaps she was, Rumi thought idly. “Again? I thought this was all behind you, Rumi. Come. Let’s get you patched up.”

Rumi let the bloody blade drop into the sink with, at least to Rumi, a deafening chime in the lingering silence. Damning her. Judging her. She had failed again. Her head felt heavy as her chin dropped to her chest. Tears that she had been holding back started to fall. Shame washed over her as she followed Celine out of the bathroom like a chastised child.

Chatter and laughter died down almost immediately as Rumi stepped foot in her own bedroom. Her ears began to ring. Looking hesitantly through her eyelashes, she saw Mira and Zoey perched on her bed. Any trace of mirth had vanished as her girls the hunters took in her bare, bloody, patterned arms.

Blood drained from their faces as ashen shock took over. Zoey’s mouth opened for a moment before her lips puckered and quivered, unshed tears glistened in her eyes. Mira’s shocked look lasted only for a second before anger flashed in her eyes and a deep scowl twisted her lips. Before the silence could stretch, Mira had shot up and shoved her way between the monster and Celine.

“What did you do?!” the venom and cold accusation dripped from Mira’s lips like ice. Rumi flinched at the tone. She deserved it. She shouldn’t be flinching.

“I didn’t do anything, Song Mira,” Celine sounded exasperated. And tired. Rumi knew she was the cause of that. She was always causing Celine trouble. “Now move so we can get Rumi cleaned up.”

“No! I’m not going to let you hurt her again!” Mira sounded angry. Rumi deserved anger.

But Rumi was confused. When had she hurt Celine? She couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past her lips. Was she really losing so much control that she had hurt Celine?

“Move, Mira,” Celine commanded, the last bits of patience leaving her voice. Rumi instinctively Shrank back into herself.

“Make me,” Mira bit out, half snarling. Then a gentle hand pressed against Rumi’s cheek. Rumi flinched slightly at the sudden contact. “Shh, it’s ok, Rums. I won’t let Celine hurt you again. You’re safe.”

Oh. Mira thought Celine had caused the bloody cuts that littered her skin. Mira was trying to protect Rumi from Celine. Not the other way around. Confusion furrowed her brow. It should be the other way around. Mira was a hunter and she should be protecting the human from the monster in front of them.

Celine groaned, “Mira. I was alone with her for less than a minute. How do you think I could have caused all of this in such a short period of time? Now, I won’t say it again, Song Mira, move out of the way so we can treat Rumi’s wounds and find out exactly what happened.”

Mira seemed to snap as she whipped around to level Celine with an icy glare that seemed to burn with cold fury. “I know exactly what happened! You keep hurting her, Celine! She’s clearly afraid of you! Why would-”

“STOP!” Zoey demanded, stomping over and putting herself between Celine and Mira. Almost shielding Rumi from their fury. Rumi noticed for the first time that her whole body was shaking. “Stop fighting this instant! Can’t you see you’re both making it worse?! Rumi needs you both to be calm and not at each other’s throats. Take a breath and calm down so we can help her.”

The fog was encroaching again, causing distance from the explosive scene in front of her. Allowing Rumi to become a spectator, taking in the view from outside her body. She watched, detached as Zoey led her to the couch and set about cleaning the shallow cuts on her arms and methodically bandaging them. Zoey had tears in her eyes and Rumi wondered distantly what had caused them. It was probably the fighting. Rumi knew Zoey was sensitive fighting. And she could still hear raised voices from her room. With tremendous effort, Rumi set her hand on top of Zoey’s, hoping to lend her friend the lyricist some comfort.

It clearly didn’t work as Zoey’s face crumpled and tears and ugly deep sobs poured from the youngest’s very soul. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The maknae whimpered again and again.

Rumi opened her mouth to ask why, but was cut off as two arms pulled her into a gentle but fierce embrace. She felt Zoey’s nose in her hair and her tears on her own cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t keep you safe. I’m sorry, Rumi. So sorry.”

Rumi wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It would have been seconds or minutes or hours. But all too soon the embrace was broken. Celine and Mira had joined them on the couch sitting as far away from one another as possible, both looking worse for the ware. Distantly Rumi wondered if they had exchanged physical blows in addition to the verbal ones they had thrown at each other.

“Rumi,” Celine’s voice cut through the growing tension in the room. Her voice was unusually gentle while still being firm, like she was talking to a very young child who had done something naughty. “Can you tell us what you were doing in the bathroom? How you got those cuts on your arms?”

Rumi’s brow furrowed and her mouth worked trying to find the right words. Surely Celine knew what she was doing. Celine had found her after the first time Rumi had tried to cut the purple out of herself a decade prior. Celine knew Rumi was trying to rid herself of the demon that lived under her skin. Why did she want Rumi to say it? Maybe so Mira and Zoey knew she was still a hunter? That she was trying to slay her own personal demon? She could do that. She could be good for the hunters.

“I… I was trying to… to,” Rumi tripped over her words, barely a whisper in the quiet, “to cut the… my patterns out. So… So I could be… normal.” Like the girl they all see.

Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. It was like a weighted blanket settled over them, drowning them in silence. Rumi picked at her fingers, not daring to look up at the looks of horror that no doubt painted the faces of her family the hunters. They must be so disgusted by her. She was disgusted by her. Weak. Broken.

“What?” Mira’s voice was shocked and cold. Disbelief left her voice hollow and empty.

“I… I need to get rid of them,” Rumi babbled, once the floodgates had opened, they couldn’t be closed again. Words tumbled from her lips in uncontrolled torrents. “Our faults and fear must never be seen. I can’t hide them anymore. You've seen my real face and it’s ugly as sin. 'Cause I’m rotten within. I'm just a broken soul trapped in the nastiest shell.”

“No, Rumi,” Zoey gasped wetly trying to squeeze her hand. Celine and Mira were silent. And that was damning enough.

 Rumi couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t stomach the looks of rejection and disgust. The hurt and betrayal. Again. It would break her fractured mind even further.

“Rumi,” Mira’s voice cut in. There was something unreadable in her tone. Something hurt and fragile. Something angry. Something vulnerable. “Rumi, how do you have patterns?”

Those words. She was backstage after her armor had been torn away by the two people she trusted most in the world. Her secret revealed for the world to see. Hurt, shame, and betrayal coursed through her body as her patterns erupted and spread across her body in searing pain. Relief at seeing Mira and Zoey and realizing that it had been Gwi-Ma’s trick onstage bled to desperation, fear, and shame as quickly as it came. They saw her true face. They knew she was a monster. She had betrayed them. And they proved Celine right. Rumi was unlovable. Mira’s gok-do glowed in her hands as it was pointed at Rumi, hurt and betrayal carved into Mira’s very being. The light from Zoey’s shin-kals reflected in the tears pooling in the youngest’s eyes and the spilled tears on Rumi’s face. She deserved their ire. But it hurt all the same…

“Rumi?” hands were on her. Gentle. Grounding.

“I… I’ve always had them,” Rumi whispered. "I was... I was born with them." Air was tight in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Words floated around her and the world was once again under water.

“GET OUT!” Mira’s harsh words cut through the haze.

Rumi looked up and saw the raw fury on the older girl’s face. The sting of rejection hurt more than she expected it to. She knew this would happen. How could they ever accept a monster in their home? She couldn’t make Mira angrier. She couldn’t hurt Zoey more than she already had. She could be good for the hunters. She could listen.

And in a puff of magenta smoke, she was gone.