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Despite training her whole life for this, Rumi was feeling more...exhausted than expected after the debut. Everything’s fine! Really.
Both Mira and Zoey were very sweet and understanding and Rumi is finally understanding what Celine said about the honmoon creating her soulmates. So everything’s absolutely fine!
The music for their first album is received well by the fans, who have recently started to make fan groups for the trio (and Rumi is avoiding the fact that much of her fan group is simply because her mother was a sunlight sister and she’s looked at like a living ghost)
(At least those who like her voice are growing in number, or converting from pure fans of her mother)
(Small mercies.)
Since things were going so well, Rumi decided to treat the girls to a spa weekend; she wouldn’t be able to share a hot bath with them, but surely hanging out afterwards in robes (And undershirts) would be possible? She was one of the biggest pop stars in the world, and the spa was already sneakily booked thanks to the efforts of Bobby, now all she had to do is last until the weekend, where she’ll whisk the girls away.
Rumi honestly has no idea why she’s feeling so tired; when she and the other two were fighting demons the other day there was a scrawny one that was paler than the others. Rumi thought it might be one of the Gwishin, though it didn’t have the hair or cloak for it.
It sprayed some sort of abrupt mist at Rumi before she engaged with her sword and eliminated it, scattering it into the ephemeral glitter common with killing demons.
Once Rumi helped Zoey and Mira finish off the rest of the pack, she rushed to wipe her face, then jumped in the shower before it properly heated up to scrub further until she felt clean.
Sure, demons don’t have sickness, but the mist felt a lot like the Gwishin sneezed right in Rumi’s face. Disgusting.
Demons don’t get sick; they can’t, surely. Celine would’ve told her if they could, or at least she would’ve told her stories about Hunters attempting to use bio-hazards against them. Maybe Rumi can ask her about variations of demons, see if there’s one that uses mist attacks.
Maybe the demon poisoned her.
Rumi certainly feels poisoned. The room sways a little when she stands up, so Rumi, in her infinite decisiveness, decides to promptly find a couch in an unused room in the apartment to die behind.
Strong hands grab her by the shoulder once Rumi wobbles over to the staircase to the barely used other floors.
(This apartment was designed so stupidly.)
“Rumi? You don’t look so good,” Rumi distantly heard Mira’s voice, a worried tone under the gruff exterior.
“Unnie? Are you okay?” A higher tone. Zoey.
Rumi swayed despite Mira just about holding her up
“I’m...fine,” Rumi hears herself say, sounding as though she were speaking through a film.
Rumi takes a particularly heavy blink and when she opened her eyes she was laying in her bed, surrounded by plushies all staring down at her in silent vigil. A damp rag that was laid carefully across her forehead. It must’ve been recently changed by the temperature.
She would’ve jumped in surprise but she was practically swaddled by how tightly she was tucked into the bed. The movement led some of the stuffies to fall, some on top of her, others off of the bed’s edge.
The sound summoned Mira, Zoey, and oddly enough, Celine. All look at Rumi as she attempts to squirm out of her comforting prison with varying degrees of exasperation and concern.
“You’ve got the flu,” Celine says, tucking a strand of hair that escaped Rumi’s hair behind her ear and, despite what Rumi normally does around Celine, she can’t help but lean into her hand.
Celine’s hand, callused from years of weapon wielding, was still as warm as Rumi remembered as she cupped Rumi’s face gently.
Clearing her throat, Celine moved her hand from Rumi’s face to her shoulder, which she pats firmly, “I’ve moved what wasn’t already cleared from your schedule around, take this time to rest and get better,” Celine says in that tone that brokers no insubordination, another memory from Rumi’s childhood.
How nostalgic.
“Will you make me galbitang?” Rumi asks before she can stop herself, her voice thin and whiny. She hears Zoey cooing in the room but her head feels like it weighs more than the tree on Jeju so she can’t move it to glare at her traitorous teammate.
Once she’s off the verge of death Rumi shall exact her revenge.
More importantly, Celine, after a moment of silence, gives her a terse nod before shifting off the bed to walk out of her view. Luckily for Rumi’s dwindling dignity, she doesn’t vocally make the whine she wants to once she’s left wretchedly alone again.
Zoey walks into Rumi’s blurry view and grabs her hand, snuggling into Rumi despite the obvious health risks that come into mind from this action. Mira, having followed Zoey, looks down at their downed leader with an expression that Rumi can’t quite interpret, given how tired and dizzy she feels.
Instead of speaking out loud, she intones her most pathetic whine she can muster with her head aching and watches Mira’s expression shift to something that looks conflicted as she comes closer.
A tentative hand reaches out, removes the mostly warm damp rag, and tests Rumi’s temperature with the back of her blessedly cold hand that Rumi enjoys complaining about during winter.
It feels like a boon from the gods now as Rumi sighs in contentment and drifts off to a nap, surrounded by her favorite girls, her teammates, her partners.
The next time she woke up, she smelled food wafting through the air and the body heat of Mira and Zoey. Before she could drift off to sleep, Mira’s icy hand pressed to her bare forehead again, sighing lightly behind her.
Rumi attempted to say Mira’s name, only managing to mumble noises that sounded sort of like an alien’s recital instead.
“Shh,” Mira shushed her, scratching lightly at Rumi’s head, which apparently was now braid-less, “There’s no need for talking now, just rest well and we’ll see how you feel later.”
Rumi felt like heated lead as a sleepy Zoey and Mira shuffled her into a half sitting position, where they fed a small bowl of broth bit by bit. The two had some form of silent communication happening between them, given their glances at Rumi’s neck and her mouth, which felt useless even when drinking the painstakingly made bone broth.
The broth filled Rumi’s stomach, heating it comfortably as she snuggled back against Zoey, sleepily smiling up at Mira, who looked concerned. Rumi feebly reached her hand out of the hot pocket of a tightly tucked comforter, almost tearing up when Mira didn’t immediately grab her hand.
She did once she saw the teary expression that Rumi started, which saved Rumi the future breakdown about how she cried in front of Mira because she didn’t hold her hand.
There’s still going to be a breakdown over how Rumi is currently acting, but that can happen once Zoey and Mira aren’t looking at her.
“Celine’s in the kitchen, I’ll go and tell her that you’re awake,” Mira said, striding away before Rumi could use her most powerful weapon against her (puppy dog eyes). Zoey swiftly grabbed Rumi’s unoccupied hand and they snuggled in near silence after Zoey pulled up a compilation video of turtles to successfully distract Rumi from Mira’s betrayal and abandonment.
What felt like moments later, Rumi heard the door click open and Zoey shifted to see the room’s entrants, or re-entrants for Mira’s case. Celine was holding a bowl of galbitang, based on the smell; Rumi wiggled fruitlessly in her cocoon-ment before being turned around properly by a Zoey that was not hiding her giggling as well as she probably thought.
The giggles shook her as Rumi was fed bits of stewed radish and beef before Celine announced she shouldn’t be overfed and pulled the spoon back, ignoring Rumi’s piteous whine.
“You’re already looking a lot better than before,” Celine said, tentatively smoothing Rumi’s hair and tucking a strand behind her ear, “I have to go, but the girls promised to take care of you; they’ll call me back if you need me.”
Rumi wanted to tell her she needed them all, all the time, but instead she nodded and snuggled back into Zoey to shore herself up from the wave of emotions attacking her weakened defenses.
The next few hours passed by with more turtle videos until Rumi, freed from her cocoon, shuffled into the living room to watch something on the big screen or stare out the window, wishing she stabbed that demon harder back then. Mira and Zoey followed up from behind, leaning against Rumi’s shoulders, both knocking her slightly off balance and supporting her further.
Before Rumi could do something stupid like confess her love to Zoey and Mira, she led the two over to the couch, where she perched.
“I noticed your face earlier,” Rumi started, nodding at Mira.
Mira’s expression froze from her soft concentration at Rumi and her eyebrows furrowed before shaking her head, “I can talk later, you’re sick.”
“Mira, if you need to talk about something, it’s better we get it done while we can rather than it becoming a bigger issue on the battlefield, where we’re supposed to watch each other’s backs,” Rumi said firmly, ignoring her teddy bear pajamas undermining her authority.
Both Mira and Zoey looked at each other, their faces hardening. Mira clenched her hands,
“When you first passed out, Zoey and...we saw...patterns,” She said, staring at Rumi, who felt like she was dropped from a building, “I’m not...just tell me what deal you made with Gwi-ma and we can try and break it before he eats your soul.”
Zoey was holding Mira’s hand and avoiding eye contact with Rumi, who wasn’t entirely sure whether to start screaming or laughing.
This is still fixable.
Rumi just has to…tell the truth and hope her soulmates don’t kill her for it.
Easy.
“My father,” Rumi started, her throat tight. The other two leaned in.
“My dad was a demon, and then he and my mom…” Her voice trailed off.
“Boinked?” Zoey supplied, shattering the tenuous atmosphere, and Mira snorted.
“So what, you’re half demon?” Mira asked, her eyes trained on Rumi’s throat, which swallowed heavily. Rumi nodded, eyes blinking against the rising heat of tears.
“The only reason I didn’t try to kill you earlier, was because you’re my friend and I thought you got cursed or something, like when Zoey was blasted to muteness before the spring concert,”
“I nearly had a complete emotional breakdown then!” Zoey chirped, her smile strained at the memory. Rumi mentally notes to seek out a counselor for her if she doesn't get run through tonight.
“Anyways, we’re going to need to talk when you’re not leaking from the face every five seconds and I am mad at you, but we can...deal with this. Now stop looking like a cat left out in the rain,” Mira said, before shoving a tissue onto Rumi’s face to mop up some of the tears.
Rumi sniffed heavily and tried to smile at the two but that broke them into tears. Grabbed into a hug that was both damp and hot, Rumi let herself relax again, smiling with a face that was messy beyond belief but a heart with some lightness for the first time in a long time.