Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mira, are you okay?”

Mira looked up from where she had been staring at the empty plates from their lunch and glanced over at Zoey. Zoey was curled into Rumi who had snuggled back into her neck and crashed from all the emotions. Seeing as Mira had rarely seen Rumi cry that much… ever, she wasn’t surprised. She’d always been so collected, not in the way Mira tried to be, where any emotion she shared was muted and fully controlled, but in what seemed far more effortless. Collected but genuine.

And Mira had known some of it was a facade. The public certainty knew nothing of her anxiety spirals and extreme social awkwardness she had been slowly growing out of—but it hadn’t hit until recently that Rumi could get just as angry and just as sad—no crushed—as Mira could.

She just hadn’t been trusted enough to see it before it had gotten to much for Rumi to hold in anymore.

“Mira?”

Mira blinked and shook her head slightly. Zoey was glancing at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Tear stains still staining her cheeks reminding Mira of how she had found her a few hours ago—alone and so small. She swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you were alright?” Zoey asked softly, one hand slowly unraveling Rumi’s dragon braid.

Mira wanted to snort at the thought. She was anything if alright but her mouth turned dry at the thought of saying so. Of giving Zoey that ammunition.

What was she doing? Thinking of Zoey like an enemy. Like her family. Like she would use it to try and hurt Mira.

She would never. She was to good.

But Zoey didn’t need to be dealing with Mira’s problems.

“I will be,” she finally managed. Zoey hummed in acknowledgment—maybe even agreement to the idea, her eyes dropping back to where Rumi was curled in between them. While she had leaned herself into Zoey in her sleep, her hands still hadn’t released their pajamas, meaning she was all but on their laps, holding them as close to her as she could.

Mira didn’t want to leave.

But being this close to Rumi made her tense if she let herself spiral to long. Every time she looked at her she risked seeing her tear streaked face as she begged them that she could still fix things.

Fix herself.

She made Rumi feel like she had to change to have Mira’s love.

Mira closed her eyes in defeat.

Zoey’s hand on the back of her neck had Mira jolting slightly, opening her eyes to glance at Zoey, startled.

Zoey just smiled as she rubbed at her neck and shoulder with her one free hand. Rumi’s braid was as unraveled as Zoey could reach without getting her to move, and she had switched to playing with it instead.

Mira, despite herself, relaxed into the touch.

Her girls were to good to her. She didn’t deserve it.

And Zoey was way to good at massages. Even one handed and at an impractical angle it felt like heaven to Mira’s growing collection of knots. She closed her eyes with a little hum. Zoey giggled.

Then her hand stopped. Mira nearly whined at the lost only to flush and hold it back. What the hell.

“Do you hear… purring?”

Both girls looked at each other for a long moment, and then as one down at Rumi. Zoey leaned closer and then grinned wildly. Her hand lightly pressed against Rumi’s sternum. “She’s purring,” she squealed under her breath.

Mira shook her head in wonder. That was… an incredibly cute thing for a her demon side to have given her. Demon apparently purred when content… happy? Feeling safe?

But Rumi had never made that sound before. They had fallen asleep in a cuddle puddle plenty of times. Sure Rumi was covered in her long sleeves and her hoodies but they’d been just as close.

Why were they only hearing it now?

Had Rumi never felt safe with them before? Or had she never really been happy?

Mira’s eyes pricked with new tears. Her stomach turned and she had to swallow down the sheer pain that thought brought.

“But wait…” Zoey frowned staring down at Rumi. “She is purring but it’s not that loud… but then what…”

The purr was very loud.

Zoey and Mira stared at each other again and then turned to look over the couch.

A blue tiger with a massive head smiled brainlessly at them, one eye looking at each of them, while on his head a magpie in a hat stared unimpressed with all six of her eyes.

“AWWWWWW!” Zoey squealed, jumping up.

“What the FUCK!” Mira yelped flinging herself backwards.

Safe to say Rumi didn’t stay asleep.

… or on the couch.

Oops.

“So they were Jinu’s pets?” Zoey asked once everyone had calmed down and were back on the couch.

“I don’t know if calling them his pets is correct,” Rumi mumbled at her lap. “But they were his companions… they were how he got in contact with me.”

Mira stared at the blue tiger who at Rumi’s urging had happily walked around the couch and, without any urging, had decided to lay himself on their coffee table.

...Right on their empty plates from lunch. Thankfully, Rumi had managed to grab their drink cups before he settled fully.

Mira didn’t know how the coffee table was even still standing with how big he was. He was practically big enough to ride on.

“In contact?” Zoey pushed weakly. Prodding the elephant in the room that neither she nor Mira had managed to get the courage to touch.

Why were Rumi and Jinu talking? Why did Rumi think he was on her side?

Why didn’t she tell them about him? Why did she tell Jinu about her patterns and not them?

What had he done to get her trust? The trust that Mira hadn’t earned in the eight years she had known her.

Rumi was silent for a long moment, fidgeting with her hands, shoulders by her ears. Her patterns took on a slight purple hue that made Mira turn away.

What if this cause Rumi to run again? Could Mira live with never knowing if it meant Rumi stayed?

Could she live with tip-toeing around the elephant in the room for the rest of their lives, worried any wrong move could cause everything to fall apart?

Thankfully, she never had to find out as Rumi sighed and loosened slightly. “In the bathhouse…”

“The men’s bathhouse,” Zoey corrected. “Which was way worse than the women’s bathhouse.”

A ghost of a smile passed Rumi face. “In the men’s bathhouse—when we tracked the Saja Boys in… my sleeve got torn… Jinu saw…”

Oh…

Oh!

Rumi hadn’t told him.

He’d found out like they did. Without Rumi wanting him too.

Something sharp in Mira’s chest, that she hadn’t even realized was there, vanished.

“He saw when the wall fell and I froze...” Rumi voice cracked in dismay and Zoey reached over and took one of her bunched up hands. In the chaos of the Tiger and Bird showing up Zoey had ended up in the middle. Mira wasn’t sure if she regretted that or not. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have froze. Hiding my patterns… that shouldn’t have come before your safety. You needed me and I froze...”

Zoey squeezed her hand.

Mira didn’t know what to say. Because Rumi was right. It shouldn’t of had.

But it did. For a moment at least.

Before she could find anything to say. Anything to take the grief from Rumi’s face, Rumi continued. “But instead of calling it out, even as he realized you didn’t know, he wrapped it in a cloth, allowing me to keep it hidden and go help you…” She closed her eyes. “That night… they came.” she nodded to the two on the table. The Tiger was back to purring, crossed eyes staring functionally at none of them though his head was positioned roughly in their direction. The bird on his head had lost interest in them and instead was preening her feathers. “They scared me but… uh…

To both Mira and Zoey’s visible surprise Rumi let out a snort of laughter.

“Well, safe to say it became very clear how non-threatening he was.” She reached down to the floor where she had placed their cups and grabbed her own. Quickly gulping back the mouthful of water left she set it in front of the tiger’s face, then gently tipped it.

Mira watched dumbstruck as the tiger’s pupils narrowed and seemed to focus on the cup. Slowly, he reached out with one massive paw and pawed it. By some miracle it didn’t go flying and instead half rose before falling again. He tried again. After the third time Rumi reached out and fixed it.

His paw stilled and his eyes lost his focus. The bird on his head heaved what could only be a sigh. Since when could birds sigh?

Mira guessed demon birds could sigh.

“He did that with a plant he knocked over.”

“Ohh, which one?” Zoey asked, her eyes were practically sparkling as she took in the giant idiot in front of her. Mira could already feel her resolve crumbling for when Zoey would undoubtedly ask to keep them. “Are they okay?”

“Jennifer, and yes she’s fine,” Rumi explained before her smile fell and she looked away, shoulder inching up again. “He then gave me a message from Jinu… a letter... he wanted to meet… privately.”

“And you went. Without us,” Mira said dryly, protective fury welling in her chest. If it had been an ambush with Rumi all alone… she had always been the best of them, whether hunting or as an an Idol, but five to one—

Rumi would be dead. Dead or badly hurt and far from their protection.

They could have lost her.

Mira could have lost her.

A tear dripped down her cheek, but, thankfully, Rumi was still avoiding looking at them and didn’t see Mira wipe it.

Rumi turtled further down. Her free hand clenched into her hoodie. “I… if I told you… if you came… he could have told you… I had to make sure he’d never say a thing...”

And the chance of them finding out meant more to Rumi than her life.

Zoey took in a stuttering breath and Mira knew she had realized the same thing.

“In my defense, the first thing I did was try and kill him,” she muttered. “But… we talked after a bit more fighting. That when he told me how all demons do is feel shame. How I learned his backstory—the lie at least—that he lived 400 years ago as a poor man who failed to make money with his music and ended up getting tempted by Gwi-ma to sell his soul in order to become a noble musician. He told me at the time that he brought his mother and sister with him. I didn’t learn until after the awards that he lied and actually only saved himself…” She trailed off.

Mira stared down at her hands. Her mind rushing but it was just static. Nothing useful.

“How many times did you see him?” Zoey asked quietly.

“A few, not many. After the first time I tried to ignore this guy.” She reached out and petted the tiger’s giant ear. Mira winced at how close her hand got to his mouth but he just closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, purring growing exponentially. “But eventually… I… cracked,” she admitted.

“Did you love him?” Zoey asked even quieter.

“What?”

Mira glanced over and found Rumi staring at Zoey with complete bewilderment. Zoey shrunk away from her at the look, face going red.

Mira didn’t like seeing her so small.

“Did you love him?” Mira asked to get Rumi’s attention off of Zoey. Now Rumi was staring at her in confusion.

“You guys are serious?” she said after a long moment. “I though this morning was a joke—you guys actually thought I… what… like-liked him?”

Mira raised an eyebrow at the childish term Rumi used. She flushed in response.

“I…” she hesitated and looked back at the tiger. Mira would say she was trying to buy time if she didn’t look so thoughtful. “No. I mean… I only met him what—ten times? You can’t fall in love that fast…”

Okay, fair. Mira certainly have never been in love.

“Some people do,” Zoey muttered a bit defensively. That piqued Mira’s interest. Had Zoey been in love before? And with who? Was she still in love?

Why did her stomach clench at the thought?

“Well I don’t,” Rumi huffed.

“Did you think he was hot?” Zoey asked.

Rumi rolled her eyes. “For all of five seconds before he was a giant jerk, sure.” She gave them both a long look. “Why am I getting judged here—you two were obviously lusting hard.”

Mira flinched, her stomach churning at remembering that stupid hashtag and how Abby and Romance had pinned her between them at the signing. “I liked the abs—I like good abs—nothing else.”

Mira thought guys could be hot and appreciated them when they were—especially if they had nice muscles, and admittedly, especially if they had nice abs… but she’d never wanted to go father than some light flirting before all interest faded.

She had realized she was a lesbian in her teens after all—not that it mattered as a very famous Idol.

“And you, Zoey” Rumi urged dryly. Zoey threw her hands up in the air.

“It’s not my fault he was my type for guys,” Zoey whined. “Quiet, big sharp teeth, and everything.”

Both Mira and Rumi paused and stared at her.

Zoey went red as it hit what she said. She covered her cheeks and slid down the cushion. “Forget I said that—please.”

“For now,” Mira drawled, and Zoey groaned in distress.

“For guys?” Rumi asked instead, eyebrows shooting up.

Zoey peeked through her fingers. “I… you know I’m bisexual, right?”

“You are?”

Zoey sat back up straight, staring at Rumi with the doneist look. “Rumi when we met I was wearing a jacket with a bi-pride pin on it,” she said slowly. “You have heard me wish for multiple actress to step on me, there is an entire Chrip account that catalogs every time I get caught looking a people’s boobs and asses. Bobby has begged me to stop on more than one occasion, in front of you.”

“I thought that was just fans being fans!” Rumi protested, her own cheeks burning. “Making mountains out of molehills and… stuff.”

“If were coming out, I’m a lesbian,” Mira figured she’d toss her ten cents in. Rumi blinked at her stunned, mouth opening and closing.

“But.. but the abs?”

“Yeah, I kind of figured you were on the bi-team with me,” Zoey mused, thoughtful but without judgment.

Mira shrugged. “Like I said—I like abs. Guys can be hot but I don’t want to do anything more with them.” She shrugged, finding herself enjoying how Rumi floundered.

But then she frowned.

“Actually, though… I… don’t like how… obsessed by those abs I was,” she muttered to herself, a shiver going down her spine.

“Yeah… now thinking back… it feels wrong,” Zoey admitted rubbing at her her arms. “I’ve never… crushed on someone like that before, guy or girl. And certainty not on someone who thinks stealing souls is fun... That time I got stuck looking at his poster…”

“Do you think it was the demon magic doing it? The illusions?”

“Or maybe Soda Pop—there was definitely something magical going on with that song,” Zoey huffed, spinning her rings somewhat frantically. “And Your Idol too—why else would they still be singing and dancing with everyone all possessed unless it was directly related to keeping us under control...” Mira reached out and gently grabbed that hand. She looked at her and they grimaced.

Then they looked at Rumi who was staring out the window, eyebrows creased in deep thought. Her patterns flashing purple, darkening with each flash.

“Rumi?”

Rumi didn’t respond and they shared a look again.

“What about you, Rumi?” Zoey said louder. “It’s okay if your straight—we wont judge.”

That shocked Rumi from her thought and when she turned back she was flushed again. Her patterns lightened if not back to the scar white that seemed to be her new default.

“I… what?”

“You know, since Mira and I came out—though I really thought you knew I was bi already, honestly,” Zoey smiled at her.

Rumi blinked several times. “I… I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I never thought about it. It was never important. It wasn’t like… like I could do anything until the golden Honmoon and they were gone,” she laughed a bit hysterically, rubbing at her arm rapidly, and Mira frowned in worry. Zoey scooted closer to Rumi and wrapped an arm around her. “Not that it worked. But… I mean… there wasn’t time for it and it could never go anywhere... so I just… never thought about it…” She glanced down at her hands. “I don’t know if I would even know it if I did like someone.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know,” Zoey said seriously. “I was just trying to break the tension but really—It’s okay not to know—and for that matter it’s okay whatever it turns out to be. Straight, gay, bi, ace, aro—or just not labeling yourself. I think you’ve had enough paradigm shifts for the week, you know.”

Rumi laughed, rubbing at her eyes with a nod.

“How did we even get on this topic,” Mira mused.

“Zoey’s fault.”

“Ah, right.”

Zoey threw her free hand in the air with a grumble. They all laughed.

“So… we are keeping them, right?”

Mira groaned.

“I’m naming him Derpy and her Sassy!”

“Whatever you say, Zoey, but it’s your job to take care of them.”

“… Do demon animals even need to eat?”

“I don’t think they’re demons.”

“Wait—what?”

“I think Jinu gave me his soul.”

“WHAT?”

“Did Bobby get us ice cream?”

“Yup!”

“Thank the Honmoon.”

“You really need to take a shower, Rumi, you’re like… sticky...”

Rumi groaned.

Chapter Text

“Whatcha doing, Zoey?” Mira’s voice dragged Zoey out of the zone and she looked up to find Mira leaning against her door frame, doing her absolute best to ignore the six-eyes magpie in her hair. “That’s a lot of notebooks.

Zoey glanced down and had to agree. She’d raided her empty notebook stash and came up with four notebooks, just enough for her plans, and also dragged out her most current ‘mostly-finished-song’ notebook and her newest ‘dump-everything’ notebook as well. “Writing,” she offered shyly.

“Yeah, duh,” Mira’s voice drawled before softening. “Want to share?”

Zoey pushed herself up from where she was lying on her stomach and onto her knees. She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. Neither Rumi nor Mira ever looked in a notebook without her permission. Hadn’t since the beginning back when handing a notebook to them had made her tremble with ridiculous anxiety she didn’t like remembering. Built from years of her notebooks being mocked and destroyed.

She had never explained, but the girls hadn’t needed her to.

“Sure.”

Mira came in and sat at the edge of her bed.

“I keep thinking about last night and how we really don’t know much about—well anything supernatural despite being in this since, well for me, six years,” she said stretching her spine. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, apparently, and her spine hadn’t appreciated the position. “So I’m writing down all we do know and observations that we’ve seen to try and… I dunno, fix that?”

She pointed to one notebook. Purple with a tiger sticker and several star stickers on the front. “That’s for stuff about Rumi and her patterns and I guess maybe half-demons in general,” she explained. “In it I’ve noted stuff like how she heals faster then us, and she can purr, and how her marks glow iridescent or purple and what seems to trigger what.”

Then she pointed to the one next to it. This one was red and also had a tiger sticker on in. “This one is about demons. That they are ruled by Gwi-ma and humans can become them but look different from other demons so maybe not all demons were humans, and how they take souls. That has the most stuff in it because Celine might have been wrong about them having no feeling—” God, Zoey hoped Celine was just wrong and traumatized and not lying to them. She hoped so much. “But she still seems right about types of demons and their weaknesses and strengths—you know from experience.”

Mira made a hum of agreement, spurring Zoey on.

“And this one,” she pointed to the next one, which was green with—once again—a tiger sticker as well as a bunch of stickers of crystals, “Is about the demon world. It’s uh… mostly empty so far but I figured it deserved it’s own spot." She moved on to the last new notebook. This one was blue with, for the last time, a tiger and stars and crystals on it. “And this one is about the Honmoon and other supernatural things,” she explained. “Like Derpy and Sassy and Rumi’s theory that they are spirit guardians, and how they seem to be connected to the Honmoon and how they are like a real life minhwa painting, so I wrote down what the Tiger and Magpie are suppose to represent in case that matters.”

“I can’t imagine that giant lug as a protective spirit,” Mira rolled her eyes.

“I dunno, if nothing else he’s made Rumi feel safer,” Zoey countered softly and they both fell quiet. Derpy seemed to be following Rumi around wherever she went—even having to be kicked out of the bathroom when she went to take a shower. Whenever she seemed to go quiet or fall in on herself last night, Derpy had been there, shoving his face on her lap and demanding pets. It seemed to have helped.

Sassy meanwhile just seemed to enjoy annoying Mira.

(Zoey was not disappointed in their new pets favoring the other’s she was not.)

Too much.

“What’s with the tigers?” Mira asked to break the uncomfortable tension. “I thought we agreed he’s probably not a demon?”

Zoey shrugged. “It just seemed appropriate. I like using stickers to help organize my books, so the tigers tell me it’s my research notebooks.”

“And the other two?”

“Hmm, oh, those aren’t new,” Zoey looked down at the beat up blue notebook with a microphone pasted right in the center and a gold star in the corner, and black one that had a lot of miscellaneous stickers on it, with the exception of a happy face in the corner. “This one is where I put songs that are pretty far done,” she explained. “I wrote down ‘This is What We Sound Like,’ in it, just in case.”

She didn’t think she could ever forget the words from “This is What We Sound Like.” It still blew her mind that they had improvised it on the spot—harmony and all—without a single mistake and no lead up. It hadn’t felt like improvisation though—honestly—It had felt like a song that they had written long ago and that they had sung it every day since.

She half thought it was, like, their soul song or something.

Maybe she should write that down somewhere. In Rumi’s notebook? Maybe the Honmoon notebook?

But it seemed wrong not to enshrine it into her notebooks with the rest of the song’s she’s wrote for Huntrix.

“And this one is just a thought dump notebook, for when I’m thinking to hard or fast or don’t have my other notebook nearby I can jot whatever in here and then later, if I want, move it to it’s proper notebook,” Zoey shrugged. “I threw that line you said. The ‘Good excuse, still emotional abuse.’ I could totally do something with that—Oh and Pop Bop—that could be fun to turn into a song.”

Mira looked soft as she looked down at her mess. Not only the notebooks but a spilled box of pens and markers on her rug. Zoey flushed slightly. Mira was killing her.

To bad Mira didn’t consider her family.

Not enough to want to stay anyway.

Too much.

Zoey closed her eyes with force, glad to be facing away from Mira. She shoved those thought to the back of her head where the other’s lived.

It didn’t matter. She would take what Mira would give her. She would do better to be worthy.

“You almost always give us a notebook with a gold star on it when you show us your lyrics,” Mira mentioned. It didn’t sound like something she just realized but instead something she’d figured out a while ago and hadn’t felt the need to point out.

Zoey laughed sheepishly and shrugged, her smile feeling brittle. “I like you guys to see my lyrics a little less messily,” she admitted.

Mira simply nodded at her, not judging, and Zoey felt her smile grow a little more real.

“Not for Takedown, though,” Mira’s voice softened more and Zoey’s smile died as she glanced at her closet.

She’d thrown every notebook of demon insults into a box and pushed it to the back of her closet. She wanted to destroy them, rip them up and maybe set them on fire for what her lyrics had done to Rumi. How they were used to hurt her. How they hurt her before even that—but when she went to try she had frozen, sick and trembling.

It was ridiculous. She didn’t want them anymore but destroying them nearly sent her on a spiral.

So she hid them and hoped Rumi would never find out she still had them.

(She was just glad she’d never put the finished song into her mostly-finished-songs notebook. They had been so rushed and they’d worked on it far more together earlier on than usual that it had gotten skipped from brainstorming and loose leaf paper to written on a computer and finished. She didn’t know fi she could have torn it out if she had.)

“No… that was just a mismatch of random lyric ideas and… insults,” she admitted guilty.

“Zoey,” Mira said firmly, and Zoey glanced up with panic. Mira’s eyes had narrowed into something stern. “Takedown isn’t your fault.”

Zoey flinched. “But—”

“No buts, we all worked on those lyrics, and you are not at fault of what you didn’t know.”

“But it still hurt Rumi,” Zoey snapped. “My notebooks hurt Rumi. My lyrics—you guys helped but it was mostly picking out lines you liked and polishing them up for the rhyme. I wrote them. Some of them years ago.”

Zoey glanced down, eyes burning for about the thousandth time in the last 48 hours. Her thumb found her rings and twisted them rapidly. “I… Rumi knows I wrote them…” she admitted softly.

“Exactly,” Mira said making Zoey’s stomach lurch. “We picked them out. I, but more importantly, Rumi helped.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Did you write them with Rumi in mind,” Mira asked dryly.

“What, no!”

“And there are demons out there that deserve every one of those insults?”

“I…” Zoey closed her eyes. Remembering an empty train. Missing posters of everyone from infants to those in hospice. “Yes.”

“Then you’re not at fault.” Mira let out a shuddering sigh. “It hurt her, but it wasn’t on purpose. No more than… what I said on the plane.”

“The plane?”

Mira gave her a wry smile. “Aww, you got the patterns—now you have to die.”

Zoey winced then sighed with a pout. Logically, she supposed Mira had a point.

She didn’t like the point. Didn’t really believe the point, but she could see the point.

“At the moment you should focus on making Rumi realize how much you didn’t mean her in particular in those notebooks,” Mira said softly at her pout. “That’s going to do more than being guilty in silence.”

That was an even greater point, one Zoey was more willing to accept.

“You’re right…” She paused. “I wonder if I made a song about it—to counter Takedown?”

An opposite song. One about how wonderful Rumi was. How strong and brave and pretty she was. She could call it… the opposite of Takedown would be… Give Up—wait no, bad!

Whatever, she could name it later.

Mira laughed slightly. “Sure, but remember we’re on a forced break. Bobby will get on your back if you stress out over it.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoey replied, mind already lost in ideas and debating if she should grab her Rumi notebooks. Or, well, her other Rumi notebooks. The ones she wrote down her sappiest lyrics about Rumi in and never, ever showed the other girls.

(She had a collection for Mira too. It wasn’t her fault fate had decided to bind her soul with two of the hottest and sweetest women on mother earth. She was a simple bisexual women. She’d had no chance. Not a single one.)

Most of the lyrics were way to sappy, to… full of love, to use (Or to horny for that matter) but she still might find some inspiration and to make Rumi happy again she’d been willing to put herself a bit more out there then she usually was.

It was for a good cause.

“Just be careful ‘investigating’ Rumi,” Mira continued with air quotes, dragging Zoey’s attention back to her. “Don’t make her feel like she’s a… I don’t know…” she trailed off and Zoey’s eyes went wide.

“I don’t want to do that, I want to help, I…” she hadn’t considered how her notebook might seem. She’d been hoping to use it to help Rumi understand herself more. She’d said her patterns had never done a lot of things before now, and Zoey had been hoping to talk to her about it to get more data.

She could hurt Rumi doing this. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Why did she never think things through?

“I know you do, Just do it… tactfully,” Mira suggested and Zoey nodded sheepishly. “Or, you know, maybe just, ask if you can?”

Oh, yeah, duh. That would make sense.

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Hey, Rumi?” Zoey asked and hour or so later.

Rumi glanced up from where she was sitting in front of the TV. One of Rumi’s guilty pleasure K-drama’s was on—which was a good sign. She’d been more aware and active since they had the cry last night.

Derpy being curled up at her other side, giant face shoved into her armpit, probably helped a lot.

What wasn’t as good of a sign was that Rumi had covered up again. In pajama pants and a hoodie. But she wasn’t wearing gloves and—Zoey didn’t know—A ski mask to hide the ones on her hands and face so she would take what she got.

“I… um… well, I wanted to ask a question,” Zoey said while crinkling the purple notebook in her hand. She could hear cabinets opening in the kitchen and knew Mira was preparing lunch for them.

A blank looked passed Rumi’s expression and Zoey swallowed.

“About?” Rumi asked.

“Well, if your willing—and no pressure, it’s fine if you don’t want to say anything—and maybe I shouldn’t ask—and you know what, I’ll just go—”

Zoey turned to leave to hide in her room, but her elbow was caught in a tight grip. Zoey turned back to find Rumi watching her warily with concern.

“Zoey, it’s fine, you can ask anything.”

Zoey paused for a long moment trying to read her expression further but she’d never been the best Rumi reader—that was Mira. With a steadying breath through her nose she sat next to Rumi.

Rumi didn’t let go if her elbow and Zoey tried very hard not to react to that. In case Rumi noticed and let go.

“I… well its been bothering me—what I said last night—about how we don’t actually know that much about anything supernatural when you think about it,” Zoey explained, rolling her free hand’s thumb against the rings on her pointer finger. “So I’ve been trying to collect what we do know—Or I guess what we think we know since some of it is obviously wrong—”

From the corner of her eye Zoey watched how Rumi was watching her. Her focus entirely on her. It made her voice choke up a bit and she had to cough to continue. “And well—I was wondering if I could… ask about your patterns? But only if you want to talk about them? I’ll get rid of this notebook if you want!”

She gave Rumi what she hoped was a winning but also an assuring smile.

Rumi tilted her head, her gaze leaving Zoey and glancing to the side. She released Zoey—which, bummer—and pulled a sleeve further down her hand. Zoey swallowed. Disappointed.

“Okay.”

Zoey blinked. “Wait, really?”

Rumi smiled slightly with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, really.”

“Oh—wow, okay,” Zoey scrambled to open her notebook and grab the purple pen she’d brought out to mark Rumi’s words. She’d already written her questions in blue.

“So you have them because you’re a half-demon, right?” Zoey started. She knew this one but it felt proper to get Rumi’s own words.

Rumi nodded. “Yeah… my dad was a demon.” She looked back to her drama but no longer seemed to be seeing it. Derpy nudged her arm and she resumed petting him slowly. “Celine says… says he tricked my mom into believing that he loved her and then disappeared after learning she was pregnant, but I… don’t know if Celine ever even met him or…” She paused, her lip trembling. “Or if she just assumed.”

Zoey wrote that down slowly to give Rumi time to recover.

“So, you had your patterns since you were born?” she asked softly. Already half-ready to end this interview.

Rumi nodded again, her voice steadier. “Yeah, though they were just a tiny swirl then.” She placed a hand to her chest, right in the center. “Right here and a mirrored version on my back. They stayed like that for years.”

Zoey suddenly wished she hadn’t prewritten questions, or at least gave each question more room. “Do you still have them or did they change?” She asked, curious, reaching for a blue pen on the table to jot the question down.

“They’re still there,” Rumi said making a face, “More just grew around them.”

“When did they start growing again?”

Rumi frowned, obviously thinking hard. “I was about seven, not long after Celine told me what they meant. I’d known before that, that I couldn’t tell anyone about them, but not what it meant…” she trailed off, looking tired. “When I got really upset they would grow up and down my body, but for the most part they would fade back down to where they were—maybe a slight bit bigger. First they jumped from my chest to my upper arms, missing my shoulders for some reason, then down my arms slowly. ” She frowned. “They slowed down after that—I thought maybe it was… puberty or something. And then by the time we debuted I had moved to being in long sleeves. They stopped for awhile again… I thought maybe it was done but they picked up around the time we started writing Golden, growing up my shoulder and my collarbone until… until they hit my neck right after I released Golden.”

“Do you… have any theories on why the grew like they did?” Zoey asked slowly, chewing on the back of her pen. She already had some thoughts swirling around her mind from Rumi’s words. The fact they hadn’t grown until she was told what they were by Celine seemed important. The fact they grew when Rumi was upset even if they mostly shrunk back down also seemed important. The fact Golden almost seemed like a trigger for them seemed important, but also Zoey couldn’t figure out how that all meshed just yet.

Rumi shook her head—but then paused. “I… maybe.”

“Oh?”

“Jinu…” she paused as if waiting to be struck or shouted at. Zoey held down a slight wince at the name and managed to just look interested. She wasn’t happy with Jinu. He’d help steal hundred of souls even if he hadn’t done so directly—but he’d also sacrificed himself at the end too.

He saved Rumi’s life.

He was dead. Don’t think ill of the dead, Zoey figured and let her anger and resentment mostly fade.

Mostly.

Too much.

“He said all demons do is feel shame, guilt, fear, anger,” she murmured. “And… admitting… my heritage to him brought my voice back…”

“Your voice?” Zoey strengthened, suddenly obnoxiously curious. “What do you mean?”

“My patterns—when they hit my neck,” Rumi admitted. “That’s why I suddenly couldn’t sing,” she blushed, hard, a faint purple spiraled up from her neck. Zoey frowned, concerned. “My… demon form’s throat can’t make notes that high, I think… It’s why I had rushed Golden to begin with—it had been so close I was afraid the break would put me over but… talking to Jinu helped.”

“So you think… acceptance made the negative symptoms go away?” Zoey paused, rethinking Rumi’s worlds again. “Or rather, allowed you to shift back to a more human throat?”

Rumi shrugged, looking uncomfortable, tired. Derpy purred louder “I… don’t know. All I know is I could sing again…”

Zoey glanced back at her notebook and wrote what Rumi was saying down, hopefully letting Rumi recenter. The purple in her marking, even shiny and less bruise looking, was making Zoey nervous. She was afraid to mention them. Wasn’t sure if Rumi had even noticed sometimes the purple came back yet—and feared her reaction if she hadn’t.

But if the purple was for when she was feeling strong negative feelings and the iridescence for when she was feeling strong good and maybe neutral feelings… that could be something.

A horrible, horrible something if Rumi had hated herself so much that her entire life her marks had been purple with negative feelings.

(it made her feel a bit bad for the Saja boys too—but only a tiny bit. They had helped Gwi-ma after all.)

She didn’t say anything though. She needed to think more before possibly upsetting Rumi with her thoughts.

She looked back at her questions and blushed. “Umm, maybe I shouldn’t have written this one…”

Rumi raised an eyebrow, suddenly a bit curious. Zoey blushed harder.

“What?”

“Um, well, have you noticed any other things, physical or mental that… you don’t think come from your human side?” She smiled sheepishly and tried not to think of claws and a golden eye and purring.

(She was so messed up that she could remember claws digging into Rumi’s flesh from pain and desperation and still wonder what they would feel like against her skin. So, so messed up.)

Rumi just looked confused. “Well… you saw my claws,” she admitted looking down at her very human—ignoring the patterns—hand. “They… they come out when I get really upset,” she admitted. “But hadn’t… hadn’t since before I met Mira, until…” She sighed.

“Can you call them out on your own?” Zoey asked in to much of a rush.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

Rumi frowned at her hands, her eyebrows quirking a bit inquisitively. “I never… considered that…”

“Maybe if you learn to control them it will help stop them from spontaneously appearing,” Zoey offered. She had no idea if that was true or not but it would be super cool if Rumi could generate claws on the fly.

You know—like if they lost their box cutter or if Rumi wanted to peel a stubborn orange or if someone tried to mug them—and don’t think about it Zoey—Do. Not. Think. About. It!

By the heat in her cheeks she was thinking about it.

“Maybe,” Rumi muttered shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket, causing Derpy to huff in protest, and snapping Zoey from her totally-not-horny-thoughts with concern. Rumi’s patterns had returned to their scar like white though, so that was something.

“Any… any other things?” Zoey asked carefully. “I noticed one of your eyes changed… you know…” She motioned to her own left eye as a reference.

Rumi blinked once. “Oh yeah, I remember Celine telling me that my eye used to change when I was a baby and upset. Gold right?”

Zoey nodded. “It’s only ever that eye?”

“Yeah, my left,” Rumi said.

“Does it… like change your vision at all or is it superficial?

“It’s… I have better night vision, but I think less ability to see some colors,” Rumi started slowly. “Accept for when they are part of the Honmoon, I can see a full range there—maybe even more than usual.” She paused, thoughtful. “And with the Honmoon, I don’t have to try and see it, and it’s more vibrant,” Rumi mused. “It’s weird though since it’s only one eye so it gives me headaches sometimes.”

Zoey wrote that down quickly. She wondered if there was anything they could do to help with that. Sure Rumi normally had two human eyes, but she’d still like to help.

Plus the night-vision sounded useful for hunts—Zoey had no idea if the new Honmoon was strong enough that they wouldn’t need to hunt anymore, but if they did. Maybe an eye patch? But that would ruin Rumi’s depth perception.

Hmm.

“Anything else?’ Zoey asked offhandedly, mind lost in how hot Rumi would look in an eye patch. Mira would be an awesome pirate too. Maybe she could suggest a pirate theme shoot? Make a few pirate themed songs.

The Sunlight Sisters had a weird robot phase, maybe they could have a weird pirate one.

Rumi was starting to sound tired, pulling Zoey back into the present. “My… upper jaw hurt… that time too.” She glanced at Zoey as if nervous. Zoey smiled at her. “I think my canines may have grown sharper for a bit. I bit my tongue and it bled a lot.”

A crash in the kitchen startled both of them and they glanced over, but Mira just shouted she was fine. Zoey turned her head away to hide the smile she had. Once, while drunk, she’d managed to convince Mira to watch all the Twilight movies together—mostly to make fun of them—and Mira had admitted that the fangs were hot after a few to many cheap beers.

Zoey had concurred. And had admitted she’d be totally down for Mira or Rumi to bite her, she wasn’t picky. In fact they could each have one side of her neck.

At the time Mira had just laughed. The next morning, thankfully, Mira seemed to have blacked out that night so Zoey didn’t have to run away, get a fake identity, and live in New Zealand or Brazil or something.

“You also, um, purred last night,” Zoey continued, curious if Rumi knew she could purr. And to also pull her mind forcibly from the gutter before she said something she regretted.

Like “bite me” or “claw me” or “pull my hair.”

Rumi’s eyes went wide. “I did?”

“Yeah, it was super cute,” Zoey rushed. Rumi seemed to think every new little demon quality she had would spook them off but Zoey would probably die if she never heard Rumi purr again. “Is that new?”

Rumi flushed. “I… no… it’s old. I used to do it as a baby and little kid,” she admitted looking away. “I lost it after… I learned about what my marks are and how I have to hide… Celine thinks my throat needs to change for it to happen, so when I started suppressing those changes…”

A little bit of relief hit Zoey. Rumi purring in happiness and contentment and maybe even safety was super cute but only when you ignored how Zoey had never heard it before.

Her not purring in the past because she had such a hold on her demon self and her need to hide from them was still sad, but not as much as the idea she had never felt content and happy around Zoey.

Felt safe around Zoey.

She hadn’t been enough for Rumi, but she hadn’t been that bad at least.

“What about senses?” Zoey continued.

Rumi blushed and glanced away.

“Rumi?”

“Mostly my nose is a lot better than a human,” she said sheepish. Zoey eyed her strangely, trying to figure out why. “I can… um, differentiate smells better than humans even if they are overlapping, and smells scents they usually can’t?”

Zoey winced. “So when we hug you after practice or a show you get gas bombed by our BO,” she asked, a bit mortified. She wondered if spraying deodorant or perfume before the hug would help or just smells like stink and not stink. Was it like a bloodhound following a trail over a river where it just made the scent smell like the scent and wet?

Rumi shrugged. “Not really? Part of it is that while scents are a lot stronger I don’t think they bother me as much as they do humans. Like bad smells to you are usually just whatever to me. Not a good smell but it doesn’t make me sick,” she flushed. “Mostly you just smell really strongly of you.”

“Wait,” Zoey’s eyes lit up. “You can differentiate Mira and I by smell. Like we have our own scent?” She bounced slightly. “What do we smell like?”

Rumi’s flush grew and she hid her chin into her hoodie collar. Derpy chuffed and rubbed his head into her side. She hugged him with one arm. “Um… It’s hard to explain… there really isn’t words for what the scents are like, since… you know… humans don’t smell them, so…”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, just the best you can!”

Rumi hid more in her collar. “You just smell like—you!” she huffed. “Mira is a little sweeter, you’re a little spicier, I don’t really know how else—”

“Wait, really?” Zoey’s giggled. “I’m the spicy one and Mira’s sweet?”

“I don’t think scent cares about metaphors and symbolism,” Rumi grumbled. “It’s all just pheromones and stuff, I don’t know.”

Pheromones.

Zoey’s grin slowly fell as that word rattled in her head like a warning.

Did that mean Rumi could tell whenever Zoey had… taken care of herself.

God, did that mean Rumi could tell when she got aroused, period? Please, please, let Rumi’s oblivious ass not have made any connections to what was happening when that happened.

That she hadn’t put two and two together about all the times Zoey had unclean through in the dance studio, or gym, or… well horrifyingly everywhere. For years. Since practically they day they met.

Actually, probably since the day they met. Celine had introduced them by bringing her into a dance studio where the two had been mid-practice, both of them in shorts and crop tops.

Please, please let the fact she’d been smelling it since day one keep her from making a proper connection and not that she’s thought she was a horny freak since day one.

It wasn’t her fault that her girls were sexy, dammit!

And oh god, she’d just been horny over her claws and teeth too...

“Now you get it,” Rumi muttered head half in her collar.

Zoey forced on a sheepish grin, hoping whatever Rumi had decided she got wasn’t what was going on in her head. “Right, yeah, moving on.” She looked back down at her notebook to the next question and chewed at the inside of her cheek. Her hands shook a little.

“Okay, last question,” she decided. She had several more written and about a thousand rattling around in her head but she didn’t want to push Rumi to hard. Mira told her to be careful. She was trying really hard to be so.

(Plus she kind of needed to go scream in a pillow to let the realizations she just had work it’s way out. Not to mention mourn the fact she would never be able to masturbate ever again.)

“How about mental differences?” she asked softly.

Rumi popped her head back up, a bit like a turtle and the thought nearly cleaned Zoey’s mind from the horrible realization she’d come to. “Mental? Like what?” Her voice took on a shaky edge. “Like if I want to go around hurting people? Get angry? Am crazy?”

Derpy whined, more like a dog than a cat, honestly, and pawed at Rumi. She didn’t seem to notice.

“What—no, no not like that,” Zoey reached over and touched Rumi’s knee. “You’re not crazy,” she affirmed sternly and Rumi blinked at her, stunned. “I meant more like instincts. But you know, simpler stuff?”

Granted, it would be good to know if Rumi ever got… hungry or whatever for souls. Maybe Zoey and Mira could find a way to help with that?

Rumi blinked again. “Instincts?”

“Most human instincts are really mild or lost when we’re babies,” Zoey explained looking away. “And I don’t know if it’s the same for demons or whatever so I was just wondering… and if so how we could help?”

“Help?”

“You know, if an instinct bother you—how we could make it easier?” Zoey flushed harder. “Forget I said anything. I’m just too lost on AO3.”

She was ridiculous. She wasn’t even that into ABO in her fanfiction—for several reasons, such as in a petty protest about how the whole Alpha and Omega dynamics were not accurate wolf behavior and none of it made biological sense in any way—But she had read some of it and maybe internalized more than she wanted to admit.

Scent marking, nesting, resource guarding, prey drive…

Rumi had shown none of that behavior, so Zoey was being ridiculous. On the other hands she had been hiding herself so good she’d stopped purring for years so… maybe other things could be true?

(Purring while content would be instinctual, right? She’d been doing it since she was a baby so it probably wasn’t habitual. Zoey may need to look up what counts as instincts and what doesn’t after this.)

Rumi looked even more confused for a moment before turning thoughtful.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted hesitantly. “I might need to think about that one.”

Zoey smiled at her encouragingly. That statement made it sound like Rumi might be willing to answer more questions later. Maybe even get interested in figuring everything else out herself.

“That’s okay,” Zoey said reaching out to squeeze Rumi’s shoulder. “We have all the time in the world—I just wanted to make sure if there was something we can do, we know to do it, you know?

Rumi stared at her hand and then at her for a long moment before offering a small, hesitant, but true smile. “Thanks, Zoey.”

Lunch delayed her plans of screaming into a pillow.

Zoey tried to be normal. She really, really did.

Why now? She had been fine a moment ago, why now?

She talked because they would be worried if she didn’t. About turtles because turtles were safe and she didn’t have to think to spew out facts that she had memorized years ago.

Which was good because her brain wasn’t cooperating. Buzzing and swirling and full of bright colors that were blinding instead of inspiring.

God, Rumi must think she was such a freak.

She needed her dominate hand to eat so she couldn’t spin her rings to sooth herself, so she bounced her leg instead, careful to keep her toe on the floor but never let her heel touch the ground. Silent.

No wonder Rumi didn’t trust her.

The beehive under her skin was angry.

It didn’t help that Rumi had gone silent, eating slowly and staring out into the distance. Mira was also quiet, humming between Zoey’s facts to let her know she was listening, even as she frowned down at her phone.

Or maybe just pretending to listen.

Probably pretending to listen.

Zoey was boring her.

Too much.

A whine caught in her throat and she dragged her bottom teeth against her top ones slowly, catching herself clicking her chopsticks together. She forced herself to stop.

Zoey jerked as something soft—to soft—a thousand and one individual feelings instead of just one softness—touched her arm. She gasped, blinking wildly at Derpy who backed away immediately from her, eyes briefly focused.

“Zoey?’ Mira asked and Zoey glanced back, breath becoming tighter as she realized both girls were looking at her in concern. She avoided their eyes with years of practice, staring at the bridge of their noses.

“Startled me,” Zoey managed. New words were hard. Turtle facts were easier. Scripts were easier.

She took another bite of food. It was to salty.

Mira was a good cook, Zoey was the problem.

She drank more water. Offered another turtle fact. She had no idea which one. It worked, Mira turned back to her phone. Rumi back to the window.

She took three more bites—rice—simple—easy.

Rumi must think I’m such a creep.

She needed to get out of here.

Zoey jumped up from her chair, startling Rumi and Mira again.

“Song Idea!” she chirped as her normal excuse and before they could say anything dashed away from the table, taking the stairs two at a time and flinging herself around the corner and into her room. She pulled the door closed with a slam and was immediately pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she muttered as she paced, flapping her hands in a desperate attempt to get the bees to shut the fuck up. On her third circuit she grabbed her curtains—green, cutesy, and totally blackout—and pulled it across her windows and balcony door.

Darkness, only the slightest light from the sliver where the curtains didn’t hit the floor. A small knot of tension eased in her head. But it wasn’t enough. The bees still wanted out.

With a groan she pulled off her hoodie and kicked off her sleep pants and boy shorts. Clothing to tight and to soft and to much. She swiped her hand across her bed, dislodging pillows, stuffed animals, and the piles of blankets it contained, things normally comforting but now torture, before collapsing on nothing but the plain, cool, smooth sheet.

She pulled at her hair twice, the pain grounding enough to realize she shouldn’t do that and instead she found herself desperately rubbing at her arms—trying to stop the urge from scratching because they might notice that and they didn’t deserve to deal with her problems.

Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much.

She hummed brokenly, tears at the corners of her eyes, but refusing to fall.

Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much.

Bright blue light flashed and Zoey jerked in fight-or-flight, her nails catching at the next stroke, wide eyes finding her door where Derpy’s head had popped through.

“No. No. No. No. No.” Zoey whimpered as Derpy approached, remembering to-soft-fur and just to-much. He jumped on the bed and Zoey tried to push him away but he collapsed right on her and she gasped.

Derpy was no longer soft. It was like he had no fur at all, just smooth coldness and weight.

She burst into tears as Derpy purred.

Zoey stayed in quiet numbness for a few hours. Nobody came to check on her but that was normal. When she was in the songwriting zone she wanted quiet and space—they knew that. It was why it was the perfect excuse.

She probably slept some. Big meltdowns usually left her exhausted.

Derpy stayed the whole time. Still. As if knowing that any movement at all would take his weight from grounding to horrific.

His fur somehow non-physical, smooth instead of fluffy and soft. His weight much less than a creature of his size should be. He had stopped purring the moment Zoey had burst into tears and only started up again hours later when she felt more herself. When the rumble was soothing instead of painful. Even then it was far quieter than it had been the night before. More a rumble she felt in her body than a sound she had to process.

“That could have backfired,” Zoey managed to mutter as she slowly began to pet him. It was weird to stoke her hand through fur she couldn’t feel, finger scratching against his… skin? Weird but good, because she would not be able to manage softness right now. “Could’ve made it worse.”

Derpy chuffed quietly.

She had her words. That was good. It wasn’t strange for her to come out of a bad one of these semi-verbal, but she felt… okay. She didn’t really want to talk, but she could.

Derpy just slow blinked at her. Or well winked with one eye and then the other?

“You really are a protective spirit,” Zoey continued.

He slow blinked again.

“And tiger’s can’t purr,” she mused offhandedly. “Does that mean you can’t roar?”

Thankfully, if he could, he didn’t give an example.

Vaguely, Zoey noted she should write all this down in her notebook. Mostly she just felt exhausted.

And stupid.

Was it embarrassing that Rumi knew when she was horny. Yes.

Was it world ending that Rumi knew she was a horny freak. No.

Probably.

If Rumi was going to have a problem with it she would have done it ages ago.

Like tell Celine no when they first met and Zoey had certainly been thirsting over them and their sweaty arms and stomachs.

Celine knew she was a half-demon after all. And Celine wouldn’t want a horny freak for a Hunter. So she was fine.

Probably.

Rumi didn’t care she was horny as long as she kept it in her pants. And she was a pro at that after six years.

It was fine.

She was fine.

Too much. But not yet too, too much.

But by god, did it feel like she was losing control lately. From the mini meltdown when Rumi told them about releasing Golden with no warning that thankfully the girls had brushed off (They’d had an hour of a break, a single hour), to repeated partial shutdowns as the tensions grew higher and higher leading up to the Idol Awards (Maybe if she could bring herself to talk, to engage, she could have fixed everything), to her crying fit after the girls left her alone yesterday turning into a meltdown where she beat up their poor couch, to now.

It felt like she was in school again, where shutdowns during the day at school and meltdowns hidden in her room at night were common occurrences. Since becoming an idol, despite all thought to the contrary, and since meeting her girls, she’d had far fewer of them.

She had to get a hold of herself or the girls would notice. She could not let them notice.

Then she really would be too much.

Zoey ignored the fact she’d been building up the courage to tell them about her self-diagnosed Tumblr Audhd diagnosis. That had been before she learned she didn’t have Rumi’s trust. That Mira didn’t see her as family. She had known they would never love her like she loved them, that was obvious, but she had thought that they at least saw her as their tag-along little sister. Annoying sometimes, but loved.

She had been wrong.

Too Much.

Not Enough.

Zoey shoved at Derpy until he moved with a whine and forced herself out of bed.

She needed to shower. And then dress. And then make it to dinner.

She had to be normal.

“There you are, I was about to come check on you,” Mira called as Zoey walked down the last flight of stairs. She had grudgingly put back on her comfort hoodie and a pair of linen pants Rumi had bought her years ago. They were some of the only textures Zoey could manage right now.

Zoey threw on the smile she had perfected in middle school. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Mira waved her off, busy with the wok.

Zoey scanned the room, catching Rumi on the couch cuddling with Derpy again. Zoey’s heart sank. She hoped Rumi hadn’t needed Derpy when he was with her.

She hoped Rumi hadn’t realized what it meant that he’d left her alone for the first time for hours.

“Want to set the table?” Mira asked. “I’m almost done?”

Glad to have a task, Zoey did so. It was mindless, easy, something she had done hundreds of times before.

Something useful.

Comforting.

Dinner was quiet. Zoey might have her words but she felt to tired to try and use them. Nobody seemed to know what to say and so nobody said anything. Just eating silently, or it Rumi’s case, taking a few bites and then playing with her food instead.

“Should we watch something?” Mira offered when they were finishing up.

Rumi’s hands were rubbing at her arms, she glanced up first at Mira and then Zoey. “I… I think I’m going to turn in early,” she said as refusal.

Mira shrunk slightly.

“You sure, we don’t mind if you fall asleep on the couch?” Zoey offered.

Rumi nodded.

“Yeah… I’m sure, see you tomorrow?”

Mira glanced at Zoey and Zoey allowed her gaze to fall to the bridge of Mira’s nose instead of trying to force eye contact.

Eye contact with the girl’s didn’t usually bother her, but right now if felt like a herculean effort.

Not enough.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Mira sighed.

“Night!” Zoey chirped through the uncertainty.

Rumi gave them an almost-smile and turned to go upstairs, Derpy following at her heels.

It wasn’t strange for Rumi to refuses spending time together. Not so common as to be painful—not usually—but they had known how Rumi liked her space. Maybe even needed it. Zoey had always suspected she was a pretty big introvert and so needed alone time to recharge. Knowing about how she had been hiding patterns this whole time threw that into question—but it still could be true.

But Zoey still wanted them close, even if fully on top of each other would be a lot for her right now.

“You want to watch anything?” Mira asked, softly.

Zoey glanced at her. Part of her also wanted to retreat. She was still unsettled and she was afraid Mira of all people would notice that, but she also hated the idea of leaving Mira alone.

Zoey didn’t want to be alone.

“Sure.”

“Anything specific?” Mira asked, sounding a bit relieved.

Turtles, Zoey’s mind answered, but she shrugged instead.

“Whatever.”

They left their dirty dishes in the sink for future them to deal with and headed over to the couch.

Mira turned the TV on, moving to one of their streaming services and searching for something to watch. Zoey had expected bad horror or action, Mira’s favorites, or something historical so Mira could bask in the fancy clothing, but instead she dove into documentaries and found one on polar bears.

“Good?” she asked, glancing over.

Zoey nodded. No jump scares or screams and gunfire sounded… nice right now. And maybe it wasn’t turtles but Zoey loved documentaries of all types. The narrator’s voice was always soothing.

A weird choice for Mira, but polar bears were one of her favorite animals.

“Do you want me to brush your hair again?” Mira asked.

Zoey blinked at her, stunned, and then followed her gaze to the coffee table. Zoey had forgotten her comb there yesterday. She’d meant to comb her hair out when she first came down but had gotten distracted by dinner.

“I…” Zoey hesitated. “You don’t have to…”

Mira frowned at her. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to,” she corrected gruffly.

Zoey stared at her nose for a moment more before nodding. To tired to try and read Mira through her gruff mask. To tired to try and understand what wasn’t being said. To tired.

She would just take what she was given and hope it wouldn’t backfire.

She turned as Mira settled with the brush.

“How’d your writing go? Mira asked as she separated Zoey’s hair with her fingers, searching for knots.

Zoey’s nose crinkled. “It didn’t go anywhere,” she admitted.

“Didn’t come together?”

Zoey shook her head and her hair pulled.

“Careful, I don’t want to hurt you,” Mira scolded gabbing her head briefly to stop her.

Zoey liked the feeling of her hair being pulled, both when trying to ground herself and when… well… outside of that, but there was no way she was telling Mira that.

Tooooo much.

“How about your questions with Rumi?”

Zoey swallowed, but then smiled weakly. “You heard them—I heard you drop—whatever you dropped over her having fangs,” Zoey teased. Teasing was normal.

But maybe it shouldn’t be normal?

Did she tease to much? Had she been upsetting Mira this whole time? Mira was even harder to read than most people at times, how would she know?

“I don’t—shut up,” Mira grumbled.

“She… was uncomfortable,” Zoey admitted, guilt spooling in her gut. “Her marks went purple a little bit but she also seemed… curious… I don’t know…”

“I think you did good,” Mira murmured and Zoey’s chest swelled a bit before she shoved it down. “It is probably a good idea that we all know more about how she… works…”

“She can tell if we’re horny,” Zoey muttered, despite herself. It was still horrifying but it only seemed fair Mira also knew.

Zoey had survived enough UST between them to know Mira had definitely been horny in Rumi’s presence a number of times. Like every time they’ve competed against each other, over anything, ever.

Mira snorted, seemingly unbothered. “Yeah, I got that. Poor Rumi. Every fan meet must be overwhelming. Being ‘everyone’s type,’ and all.”

Zoey grimaced. She hadn’t even considered that, but it was true. Rumi was everybody’s type as she proudly proclaimed, and being able to smell how turned on everyone was for her probably gave her half of that confidence.

Maybe she was so used to being everybody’s type and everyone being turned on by her that she hadn’t thought anything different about Zoey. It was just normal for her. That would be nice.

It may also explain why she hadn’t made a move on Mira. Though her refusal to consider any kind of romantic relationship because of her patterns probably also didn’t help.

What it didn’t explain was how she didn’t realize Zoey and Mira weren’t straight but Zoey was to tired to put any thought into that.

“There, done,” Mira declared, letting Zoey’s hair go. She’d done them up in two braids again and Zoey smiled slightly as her fingers grazed one.

“Hey, are you feeling okay? You’ve been quiet?” Mira asked and Zoey’s smile fell.

Maybe, sometimes she just wanted to be quiet.

But her being quiet wasn’t normal.

Not enough.

She shrugged. “Tired,” she explained, pulling away and curling into a ball, eyes focusing on the polar icescape on the TV. It wasn’t a lie. She really was tired.

She could feel Mira’s gaze on her for awhile, but eventually she turned her gaze to the documentary.

That night they went to sleep.

Alone.

Chapter Text

“You’re pacing.”

Rumi stopped from her circuit around the couch, Derpy bumping into her as she did so. “...No, I’m not.”

Mira raised a single eyebrow as she set her book down. She adjusted her glasses and just stared at Rumi.

Rumi slumped. “Yes, I am…”

Mira huffed and pat the couch next to her.

It was the third morning since the Awards and things were… better? Maybe? Zoey hadn’t woken yet. Or if she did she hadn’t left her room. Mira had been a bit worried about her, last night. Zoey tended to comment on movies, especially documentaries, sharing more information from the encyclopedia that was her brain, or decrying information that she knew was wrong, but instead she’d barely shared a few words, and never without prompting.

Mira didn’t want to push. Pushing had led to this whole mess. And anyway, none of them were fully okay. It was to be expected they would be a bit off.

She just hoped the documentary had made Zoey feel better.

(And the polar bear cubs were super cute.)

Rumi and Mira, on the other hand, had gotten up at dawn as was their preferred choice when they hadn’t had a late night the night before.

Mira didn’t really know what to do with Rumi. What was okay or not, so she had kept to saying good morning and making up rolled omelets for them to eat, putting some in the fridge for Zoey for when she woke up. Rumi didn’t say much either, just good morning and thank you, and mostly just stared down at her coffee, eyes lost.

Rumi was still in her preferred clothing, leggings and an oversized long-sleeved shirt. Mira wasn’t sure how to think about that. On one hand, Rumi had every right to wear what she liked and was comfortable in—on the other Mira didn’t want her to think she had to hide. Didn’t want her to hide because she thought she had to instead of she wanted to. That Mira wanted her to.

She did eat the food Mira put in front of her at least. Robatically, like she didn’t really mean too—but it was still better than dinner last night.

Mira had let her be, not wanting to push her away again, and grabbed a book from her read pile. Settling down on the couch to try and read and keep an eye on Rumi as she did. In case something Mira could do would help.

She hadn’t gotten very far in her book.

Rumi had started pacing as soon as her coffee was done, Derpy following her like a lost puppy as she did so. Mira had let her for awhile but it quickly became obvious that whatever she was trying to get from her pacing wasn’t working.

Rumi hesitated but then sat next to Mira, holding herself defensively. To Mira’s surprise though, she leaned her weight into Mira’s shoulder.

Mira managed to avoid flinching but couldn’t help but tense up at the touch. She didn’t understand why Rumi was so… free with it now.

She didn’t understand why she couldn’t get a hold of herself.

Derpy meanwhile settled across both of their feet, leaning his side into their legs. Mira stiffened as he did so but didn’t push him away. The way Rumi released some of her tension was reason enough to ignore the instinctual ‘what the fuck’ of a giant tiger cuddling her.

Or the Magpie that was definitely judging her from her perch on the far end of the couch. She swallowed the temptation to flip her off.

She half blamed her for not being able to sleep last night, seeing as she had decided her headboard was the perfect perch.

“Ansty?” Mira asked, going for nonchalant.

Rumi sighed. “I feel like I have a beehive under my skin,” she admitted sourly.

“You’ve never been good at the whole relaxing thing,” Mira smiled slightly. “Why don’t you go for a run.”

“We can’t leave the penthouse.”

“We have a fully functional gym with several treadmills,” Mira countered with a raised eyebrow.

“Bobby said not to work…”

“Would it be stress relief for you to work out?” Mira countered.

Rumi paused and thought. “Probably.”

“Then it’s not work.” Mira finished simply, nudging Derpy with her knee to move and then standing up. “Let me get my kit and check your hands—and then you can go.”

Rumi said nothing in response, just following her from the living room, up the stairs, and to Mira’s bedroom door.

They passed Zoey’s on the way. It was fully shut. Which was odd. Zoey usually kept hers open a bit like Mira did. Maybe she was writing again? That the only time Mira had noticed her choose to shut out the sounds of the apartment.

Rumi hovered at Mira’s doorframe, as if she wasn’t allowed inside. Mira glanced over her shoulder and waved her in, nodding to her neatly made bed before ducking into the bathroom.

When she came back out she found Rumi sitting at the very edge looking incredibly uneasy. Mira winced. Rumi had never felt uncomfortable in her room before.

Mira had done this.

Mira had broken her trust.

Mira swallowed and approached, kneeling at Rumi’s knees in an attempt to seem smaller.

Rumi looked at her oddly but she ignored that. “Can I see your hands.”

Asking for permission to touch had been working so far. She wouldn’t push Rumi away again.

She refused.

Rumi offered them, face blank, and slowly Mira unwrapped the bandages. Her burns were better than the other day—but seeing how fast everything else had healed on her they were still much worse than Mira would expect. Zoey was probably right that Gwi-ma’s fire was specifically capable of hurting demons.

“I thought they would be more healed considering how tightly you were holding us the other night,” Mira offered quietly as she considered them, then she reached into her kit for some cleaning supplies.

Mira had fucked up and not checked on Rumi or Zoey’s wounds yesterday. She didn’t know how it had slipped her attention. She tried to take comfort in the fact Rumi’s burns were healing and infection free. That it seemed like Rumi had changed the bandages herself at some point. It felt hollow.

She was better than this.

Rumi shrugged.

Mira considered how much it should have hurt to hold them like Rumi had—even as she slept—and decided she didn’t have the mental energy to process that right now.

She blotted Rumi’s hands dry and as an abundance of caution added some antibiotic cream to it before she began to wrap it. “No lifting anything,” she cautioned. “Definitely no reps. Leg and core day only.”

Rumi rolled her eyes at her. Mira cleaned up her kit.

She expected Rumi to get up and be gone by the time she’d returned the kit from the bathroom, but she was still sitting on her bed when she came back.

“Rumi?”

Rumi glanced up and then back to her feet. “Could… could you come down and set up the machines for me?”

That… was a lot more help than Rumi was normally willing to accept. Her burn wasn’t that bad—for some reason most of it was on the backs of her fingers and the bottom of her palm. She should be able to handle pressing buttons.

But Mira wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, sure, I could use a work out myself.”

“There you are!”

Rumi stumbled on her treadmill and Mira looked away from her heavy bag to find Zoey huffing in the doorway, her eyes wide and wild.

Mira winced.

“I was about to call Bobby and tell him you ran away,” she accused as she crossed her arms, still in her pajamas and her hair a total mess from sleep. One of the braids Mira had put in had fallen out and the other was full of flyaways.

It was cute.

Less cute was how watery her eyes were.

“I’m sorry,” Rumi said jumping from the treadmill, looking gutted. “We wanted to let you sleep.”

“You could have left a message,” she humphed, eyes narrowing.

“I did, on the whiteboard, on the fridge,” Mira said approaching and unwrapping her hands.

Zoey flushed. “I… that’s usually for grocery stuff? I didn’t…” she trailed off, looking down at her feet, suddenly shy. “Sorry. I was dumb and panicked. You guys are allowed to do stuff—you don’t have to clear it with me. Or tell me. I’m not your boss. I’m being to—”

“No. None of that,” Mira cut her off before her spiral could take her fully. Zoey glanced at her with wide eyes. “Nobody is allowed to talk like that about my friends—even you,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“...Oh…” Zoey murmured, at a loss for words. Mira didn’t like the surprise in her gaze.

Or the bags under her eyes. She looked like she had slept as well as Mira had.

“Do you want to work out with us?” Rumi asked after several moments of uncertain silence. Her eyes were wide and Mira would say hopeful. Mira considered that look and then turned back to Zoey.

“Or just hang with us,” Mira suggested. “You don’t have to work out. You can be in charge of the music.”

Zoey looked up from her pajamas. One of the legs had rode up in her sleep and she was a missing a sock, the other was barely holding on.

So cute.

“You guys… want me here?”

Mira and Rumi shared a concerned look.

“Always,” Rumi said firmly and Mira nodded.

Zoey beamed at them. “Okay, I’m going to go change real quick, then I’ll be back. I could burn some energy.”

“Not without eating first,” Mira stopped her as she turned. Rumi jumped back on to the treadmill. “There are rolled omelets in the fridge for you—extra mushroom.”

Zoey beamed at her.

“And bring down my med-kit with you,” she continued as a thought hit. “I want to check that cut on your hip first.”

Zoey blushed, but rolled her eyes before turning and running from the room. “Fine, Mom.”

“Not my kink!” Mira yelled after her. Zoey’s laugh echoed through the hallway as Rumi almost went flying from the treadmill again.

Zoey returned changed into simple workout clothes, with the dish of rolled omelet, several reusable bottles of water, an entire bag of snacks, and a small speaker.

“The gym’s speaker is still being a pain,” she explained as she sat down against the wall. “Plus, this one has disco lights attached,” she said as she showed them the half-disco ball on top.

Mira’s lip twitched as she bent down and grabbed a protein bar from the bag. Rumi was behind them, still running.

“How long has she been running for?” Zoey asked, softer.

“About half an hour, including your entrance,” Mira admitted.

They were all good runners. They had to be to manage to get to demon rips in time and to chase demons all over the city. Celine had them running twenty kilometers daily, often more, during their training.

But Rumi wasn’t really pacing herself—running far faster then the pace they generally stuck to during their runs.

“You think she’s trying to run from her problems,” Zoey murmured through a mouthful of egg.

Mira shrugged. “Maybe. She was antsy, wouldn’t stop pacing. This seemed more likely to help than letting her continue that.”

Zoey tilted her head but then nodded slightly.

“If nothing else, maybe she’ll tire herself out enough to sleep more,” Zoey said softly. Based on the rings around her eyes Mira doubted Rumi’s sleep had been any better than Mira’s. Probably worse.

Her stomach clenched. Had she been seeing the same thing Mira had been? Mira’s Gok-do rising. Mira’s Gok-do meeting flesh. Mira’s Gok-do covered in blood.

Rumi told Mira she knew—even then—that Mira wouldn’t hurt her. Mira had her own doubts.

After all—Mira hadn’t know she wouldn’t at the time.

“You want to spar, then?” Zoey asked around another mouthful. Mira’s body tensed in a jerk. Her breathing grew shallow. Her tongue felt to heavy.

“I—” The idea of pulling her Gok-do out made Mira sick. She managed it without thought at Namsen tower but there had been a horde of demons between her and her girls.

But here. With Rumi in the room. Pointing her Gok-do at Zoey.

“No weapons,” Zoey said to fast and Mira flushed—knowing Zoey had seen something. “You know, just some hand-to-hand?”

Relief hit despite the shame. How could she be a demon hunter if she was afraid of her own weapon? Still, she managed half a smirk. “You just want to beat me into the dust again.”

Zoey grinned slyly. “Maybe.”

Zoey had been a 1^st Dan in Hapkido when they met. She’d become a 2^nd Dan just after they debuted. But before even that though she had been a 4^th Poom, and she’s explained sheepishly that her Sabom-nim had been incredibly strict on promoting any black belt, Poom or Dan. If Zoey had been able to find the time with their busy schedules, Mira didn’t doubt she could be promoted up to 3^rd and then 4^th Dan at the least.

Celine hadn’t known that when they first recruited Zoey. As Zoey’s first spar she’d had her go against both Rumi and Mira together in what Mira had felt was a little to much like hazing for the cute, to-nice, American, but Celine had defended was because she wanted Zoey to take thing seriously from the start and to see how long she could dodge their attacks.

All of them had been stunned when Zoey had both Rumi and Mira pinned in less than a minuet.

(Turned out that ten years of focusing on swordsmanship training didn’t mean much when it came to hand to hand, let alone Mira’s two years of catch up.)

“You could show me that move you did on the plane,” Mira suggested with a raised eyebrow. “The one where you climbed that demon like a tree?”

Rumi stumbled on the treadmill again. Mira glanced over concerned. Rumi was usually so balanced. Maybe she should put her foot down and tell her to stop before she went flying.

“Flying arm bar?” Zoey asked with an amused grin, eyes narrowed playfully. “If you want to get wrecked, sure.”

“But not until I see your wound. I don’t want it reopening,” Mira suddenly shifted, remembering it. It hadn’t needed stitches, but it had been in a crappy place movement wise so Mira was still a bit worried.

Zoey flushed for some reason. “You calf is closed already, so I should be fine, and it’s been days.”

“My calf is not on a joint, let me see,” Mira narrowed her eyes. Zoey’s hesitance making her suspicious. Had it opened again? Was Zoey hiding an infection? “Zoey,” she ordered lowly.

Zoey flushed harder. “F-fine,” She pulled up her t-shirt and down her sweatpants, only just enough to show Mira the bandage. Unlike Rumi, it was clear Zoey hadn’t changed it herself and Mira tsked. She stepped closer and squatted before pulling off the tape holding the gauze on, feeling Zoey’s abs jump under her had from the sting, and blinked to find the wound perfectly fine. Well into healed and not needing any more bandages.

Mira still cleaned it in an abundance of caution then stood. “See, easy, I don’t know why you kept protesting.”

Zoey let out a stuttering breath. “Right…”

Someone snorted. Mira blinked and turned. Rumi had finally stopped running, watching them with amusement glinting in her eyes, white linen shirt soaked in sweat enough that Mira could see the definition of her biceps and abs.

She could also see the faint traces of patterns swirling in a low glow.

Mira swallowed.

“Fuck,” Zoey muttered lowly.

Which, yeah. Fair.

“What?” Rumi blinked, amusement turning to confusion. She glanced down at herself and then hugged herself forcibly, tripping back a few steps before tripping completely over the treadmill. She fell.

“Rumi!” Mira and Zoey cried out together, rushing the shaking girl who’s patterns had turned a deep, bruise purple.

“I...I...I…” she stuttered as she sat up without the help of her arms, which were still locked around herself in a tight grip. Mira cursed as she realized Rumi’s hands had turned back into claws and that she was digging them into her biceps.

Small stains of blood dotted her shirt around her finger tips.

“No… don’t leave! Don’t leave!”

“MIRA!”

Mira blinked, lungs burning as she took in a deep breath. The smell of ozone from broken stage lights fading into sweat and cleaner.

“Mira, please!”

Mira blinked again and Rumi and Zoey came into view. Zoey had curled around Rumi’s back and had forced her hands under her arms. She was staring over Rumi’s shoulder with wild, terrified eyes even as she took exaggerated breaths. Rumi’s breathing was still ragged and uncontrolled, eyes darting this way and that.

“Mira, breathe, please, I can’t help both of you,” Zoey whimpered and Mira cursed herself for breaking down. She crawled over—when had she ended up on the ground?— and settled in front of Rumi, trying to catch her eyes.

“Rumi,” Mira tried, hands following Rumi’s arms until they reached her white hands. Her patterns flicked an aggressive purple—almost red really—and Mira swallowed thickly as she remembered that was the color it had been at the Idol Awards.

She bit her tongue to bring herself back, ignoring the taste of blood. “Rumi, can you breathe for us,” She soothed. “Follow Zoey.”

Zoey resumed her careful breathing. In for four. Hold for four. And out for four. Mira, meanwhile, tried to get her hands in between Rumi’s and her arms.

Rumi managed a few stuttering breaths. Not good, but better.

“We’re here for you. We’re not going anywhere. We know, baby,” Mira soothed as best she could, only half aware of what she was saying. “We know about the patterns and it’s okay. They are just marks, remember. They say nothing about you as a person.”

Rumi whined and then exhaled again, Mira manged to dislodge one of her hands and set it on her shoulder. If Rumi wanted to grip something Mira would take it happily. She started work on the second one.

“We love you, Sweetheart, nothing will ever change that—” Rumi sobbed and Mira’s stomach clenched— “We have you. You’re okay. You will be okay.”

Rumi took in another, deeper breath as Mira finally pulled her second hand free. She reclaimed the one from her shoulder—Rumi had only left it their limply, not biting in—and then started squeezing them to the rhythm of Zoey’s box breathing.

Slowly, Rumi calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” Rumi murmured through another sob as her breathing settled into safe territory.

Zoey shushed her and squeezed her tightly. “No sorrys. Never for something like that. You’ve never let me be sorry for a panic attack.”

Rumi opened her mouth but at Mira’s stern glance she closed it.

“It is the same thing, Rumi.” Mira corrected what she was sure Rumi had been about to say. “We are all people, and we go through so much shit. We all have the right to struggle. It’s part of being a human.”

Rumi opened her mouth again, Mira reached over and closed it.

“Part of being a person, then, happy?”

Rumi slumped into Zoey’s hold, slowly relaxing. Mira tried to let go of her hands but Rumi held on tighter, so she gripped back.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Zoey continued, having buried her face in Rumi’s shoulder again. “But it will help to know what triggered that.”

Rumi’s eyes glanced around as she shifted, uncomfortable. Mira squeezed her hands and Rumi, after a moment squeezed back.

“I… I have to hide my patterns. Nobody is suppose to see.”

“I though you wanted to stop hiding?” Mira asked softly.

“I can’t hide anymore,” Rumi whispered so softly Mira could barely hear her. “My hands, face… it’s not the same…”

“Then the one on your chest and arms,” Mira suggested and Rumi nodded.

“I had to hide them. I had too. If I didn’t everything would be ruined. You would be gone.” She continued, breath getting short again. “And I know that’s wrong. I know it but…”

“Trauma is often illogical,” Zoey echoed and Rumi flinched but then nodded.

Mira wanted to punch Celine in the face, but since she wasn’t here, she squeezed Rumi’s hands again.

“You don’t… you don’t have to show them off,” Mira started. She hated the idea Rumi felt she needed to hide. She wanted Rumi to be comfortable in her own skin. But she didn’t want her to be triggering herself either. “You never do. That’s entirely your choice.”

“But I want to.” Rumi growled deep in her throat. Mira shivered—that was not a human sound. “I want to go to the bathhouse with you. And to the beach. Or to just wear a tank top for the first time since I was seven.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. Mira lounged to wipe them away, but her hands were being held prisoner and she refused to let go. “I just… I can’t.”

Her breath was going shallow again. To quick. Mira squeezed her hands once more as Zoey shifted. “Hey, hey no, breathe for us. It’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.”

Zoey started up her box breathing and Rumi closed her eyes, matching it faster this time. By the time her breath was even, she was slumped back into Zoey’s hold, exhausted.

“Not today,” Mira mused as Rumi opened one eye to glance at her. “Definitely not right now, but maybe… maybe you need to do it a bit at a time?”

“Hmm?”

“Like, try spending a morning with your sleeve up a bit,” Mira suggested gently. “Just an inch or two. See what that does. And we’ll go from there. Okay.”

“I…” Rumi paused as she thought that over. “I… okay.”

Mira smiled at her. Rumi managed a smile back.

A purr distracted the three of them, and they turned to find Derpy sitting nearby, watching them with his unfocused eyes. Sassy settled on his head.

“You really are a service tiger,” Zoey murmured as Derpy stood and sauntered closer, rubbing his head against each girl in turn. Mira still froze as he did it to her, but she had to admit he was… sweet.

Sassy, meanwhile, was a menace as she took her favorite spot in Mira’s hair.

“Really,” Mira grumbled and to her relief, both Rumi and Zoey laughed.

They sat there for a while longer, not talking, just… being. Existing. Recovering.

“So…” Zoey broke the silence, as to be expected. “You want to watch me wreck Mira?”

A half smile formed on Rumi’s face and she glanced up from her sleeves. “Yeah.”