Work Text:
Rumi had never exactly been stuck in one location her entire life. By time she started school her passport had more stamps than some people would see in a lifetime. She'd been to dozens of countries – more now that she was traveling for her own career and not Celine's – and hundreds of cities of all different types.
They all had their charms in a way, but right now Rumi was having a hard time figuring out what exactly Zoey found charming about California.
What on Earth enticed the woman to come back time and time again to this place for vacations and family visits, and to speak fondly of it every time she was asked about it?
The sun was blazing leaving the pavement so hot the air was shimmering over it, the wind itself biting with heat instead of offering a cool relieving breeze, and everything outdoors held the risk of burning her if she touched it.
Zoey had been lecturing them their entire trip to drink water, even shoving kaiju sized water cups into their hands to keep with them – heavy metal things that Mira had joked could easily double as weapons if needed – and refill 'at least twice' in their day.
Drink water, lighter or less clothing, more breaks out of the heat as often as possible or so Zoey listed off every morning when they were getting ready sounding almost like Celine in her attempts to sound serious.
They'd even added a few more brief intermissions in their concert to allow for fans water breaks and for their own under the hot bright lights where the air stung from the heat even in the night.
They were almost set to go, only a few remaining items on the tour list to clear up and then they were gone again, off to the next stop, somewhere Rumi hoped might be a little cooler at least.
Otherwise she might find herself yet again overstating her 'love' for the state they were in with a smile fake enough even Mira giggled at her for it.
--
She'd left that giant over-sized weapon of a cup back at the hotel, Rumi realized on the first thirty minute drive. That wasn't too terrible though, they could always just stop and grab drinks along their way. A few destinations, a few dozen photos in a few poses showing off the California stop along the way, and then back to the hotel to ignore the sun until she got to escape this entire state.
Unfortunately the few clouds that had been around when the sun started coming up did not stick around, traitorously burning away before the morning was fully underway leaving no moisture behind in the air to shield them.
The world outside did not have the cooling air the rental car did, nor did it have fans anywhere to even cast an attempt at a breeze.
It wasn’t long until Rumi was sweating through her usual two layers, wishing she’d grabbed something different from the hotel before they left. Another button up, maybe in those silly flower patterns like Zoey loved, or maybe a lighter undershirt at least.
Now though because she hadn’t made different choices it didn’t matter that the thick hoodie she wore made her skin feel like she had been sitting in the sauna a little too long, or that the long sleeved compression shirt was sticking tightly to her skin, she had to leave them on.
The hoodie couldn’t come off, not without risking her shirt being just wet enough the patterns could show through the fabric becoming noticeable to anyone nearby.
Normal people would see and assume tattoos which would be instant fodder for gossip magazines and would spread so quickly even Bobby wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Their employee’s might not say anything, but anyone who might realize who she is would care, and that would spread like wildfire.
She couldn’t change clothes, couldn’t avoid the heat so Rumi focused instead on drinking water when she could find a bottle of it, and trying to work as quickly as possible to get through their list of tasks faster.
Pause, pose, smile for the camera with an ease she didn’t feel, pose again for a better shot just in case, a third in a new pose for an alternate. They’d tag it with the location and HUNTR/X love of California, shout out the fans and everyone would love it.
It’d be easier if she took her hoodie off, her inner voice reminded her petulantly, anything to get some cool air against her skin.
Rumi pushed the thought aside, it would be fine.
She had been warm before, she could be warm again.
-
It was fine. It was just heat, and she’d been hot before.
Never quite so hot that smiling hurt, so hot that it felt like her face was burn despite the sun leaving no marks yet through the layers of sunscreen she did remember to put on.
Never had she been so hot that even her eyes hurt from it and blinking made them sting like she’d been staring into a fan far too long. She was dying of thirst but they were out of bottles, so she could hold off until their next stop where she could grab one from a convenience store or something.
Smile, peace sign, make a note to shout out to Zoey’s home state look at those gorgeous views.
‘The views are amazing, and the sun is gorgeous here! We just can’t get enough!’
She declined politely when her PA of the day offered once again they could find a place to get her a different outfit if needed. There were things to do, and the sooner they were done the better.
Rumi refused to disrupt the schedule and make their employee’s days longer just because she was a little uncomfortable.
What kind of leader would do that?
No, she could bear with it, stick to the schedule, and get everything done on time. She’d chosen what to wear, she could deal with it.
She went to check in with Zoey and Mira out of habit, trying to make sure they were weathering the day okay and was confronted with a non working phone.
The universe must hate her, or California despised her, since the phone was currently setting off an alarm that it was too hot and would be shutting down to preserve itself.
Rumi huffed in annoyance, waving off a concerned look.
Damn thing, she’d have to sit it in front of the air vent in the rental car and hope it cooled itself down before it caught fire in her jeans or something equally as stupid.
-
It wouldn’t be that bad, she had some Gatorade in her system now. Sure it’d been over an hour before they’d gotten anything to drink so Rumi found herself downing an entire bottle of it in record time, but she’d drank it.
It made her stomach feel like a water balloon though, sloshing around each time she tried to take slower, smaller sips from her second bottle. Despite the thirst she still had, each drink made her feel like she might be sick, so she set the second bottle aside for later.
Between the cold in her stomach and the heat of her skin she wasn’t sure which was going to make her ill first.
But it was fine, she wasn’t helpless. She’d drank something, there was a little shade overhead from an awning where they’d paused for a drink break.
She just had to hold out a little longer and they’d all head back to the hotel and cool down, relax for the rest of the day.
Rumi took a moment catching her breath to remind her assistants politely to redo their sunscreen and drink more, things Zoey would have said if she was there.
If any of them had a sarcastic thought to voice they kept it inside much better than Zoey or Mira would have.
--
Her head was pounding, eyes still dry and hot like the time she had the flu and her fever went a little too high for comfort.
She must have been cooling down to some degree though, Rumi was sure, since she was no longer sweating. Her clothes had mostly dried out and no were longer sticking to her skin from the sweat but becoming stiff instead, which was almost more uncomfortable.
The headache was probably a lack of caffeine, she’d only had one energy drink much earlier in the day, and two gatorades to water it down. She’d get back to the hotel, change into something cooler, have something with some caffeine and something pain killer wise and it’d be fine.
“Rumi-ssi? You’re getting a little red.”
Rumi waved her hand dismissively, “I’m okay. Just a little warm. Maybe I need some more sunscreen. Listen to my own instructions, yeah?”
“But-”
“I’m good, I promise.”
Maybe she’d be a complete pest and order only cold desserts to call their dinner. It’d make Zoey laugh for sure.
Rumi made a mental note to tease and do the same for their employee’s, maybe it’d help them from the heat and maybe as an apology for worrying them. Not that they had reason to worry, she was a grown adult making her own choices, and perfectly able to weather just being uncomfortable for awhile.
She was pretty sure she caught one of them whispering about Bobby when she went to get back in their rental car, but ignored it. It was probably just a check in with their team lead. Her own phone when she pulled it out to check once again gave her a dire warning about overheating and powering off to save itself from damage.
Great, perfect.
--
It felt almost like a panic attack. Her heart felt like it was racing all the way up and through her throat. Her skin was buzzing, somehow warm and cold at the same time.
She might throw up soon, but nothing had happened to set her off that Rumi could think of. Panic attack, just find somewhere quiet, relax a little bit, it’ll go away.
They were back at the hotel anyway, back in the cool air inside which meant she could go upstairs and hide away in the suite reserved for HUNTR/X until they had to leave the next day.
Just focus, Rumi told herself, tapping her fingers together to try and keep herself grounded.
One foot in front of the other, just one then the other.
She wasn’t too dizzy but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling in her head right now. The headache warring with some empty fuzzy feeling she couldn’t place.
One foot, then the other.
Fingers together, 1-2-3-4.
4-3-2-1.
She had to lean against the wall in the elevator to keep herself from falling over on the way to the top floor.
1-2-3-4 4-3-2-1.
It took three tries to get the keycard for their room to work and she was greeted immediately with a blast of cool air, thank God.
She didn’t even bother trying to pull her shoes off, the effort of it seemed far too much. So did trying to make it into a bedroom and into a proper bed, if she was being honest with herself.
She’d just rest for a few minutes and then get cleaned up.
Shower, clean clothes, something to make herself feel better.
Pain killers. She’d find those too, her head, her chest, her back all were aching now.
The floor was probably cooler than the couch, Rumi reasoned, and stretching out her back that way might help.
Mira would make fun of her for it but Rumi wasn’t sure she could make it much further anyway right now, so she sat herself down heavily under the ceiling fan and let herself fall forwards with a thud.
Just a few minutes under the fan, in the cool.
Then she’d change, get some water, recoup.
Just a few minutes.
Zoey did not consider herself codependent. At least not openly.
Codependency meant she couldn’t function at all without the people she loved around, and that wasn’t true!
She was perfectly able to function without her girls with her. She could focus on her tasks – albeit with a little more redirection from Bobby occasionally– remember all her talking points for all the interviews with the ‘hometown idol’, and function just fine.
So long as she knew the people she cared about were okay.
It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t. There were demons, and stalker fans, and rabid paparazzi and god knows weird ex-family members probably waiting out in the darkness to strike at some point!
Maybe she’d seen a few too many K dramas but there were for sure known risks in their world on top of the unknown ones, and Zoey would do what she could to keep those risks away from them!
Mira was texting her updates constantly from her own errands including more than a few curses for the state of California, and sarcastic photos of her tumbler covered in chibi stickers of herself filled one again with ice and some sort of flavored water.
‘If I hydrate anymore I might pee for an eternity.’
‘GOOD! That’s a GOOD Thing. All the water.’
‘World tour who? We’re on a mfing Cali bathroom tour >_<’
Rumi however hadn’t responded much to anything besides a few saluting emojis early on in the day when Zoey sent reminders to drink.
She wasn’t codependent, she just needed to be sure her girls were safe!
California weather could suck if you weren’t used to it, and even if you were conditioned for it. They had lectures every year at school when she was growing up about hydrating, staying safe from the heat, avoiding heat sickness and heat stroke.
No one wanted to keel over in gym class, or in science lab right after lunch.
No hoodies, no heavy long sleeves, no overly thick clothing, drink all the water, use fans. Anything to keep yourself from getting sick.
All things, Zoey was sure, Rumi wouldn’t be doing for herself without prompting if she got too caught up in what she was doing.
The water maybe, but Rumi would prefer something less ‘bland’ if she had a choice of it.
Probably energy drinks in flavors they couldn’t get at home, not that Zoey could fault her there but in the heat it was a terrible idea.
The long sleeves however… God Zoey hoped Rumi had at least ignored her instructions with one of the athletic hoodies meant to be breathable.
Let it be one of the thin ones and not one of the fleece lined, or all cotton ones.
She’d sent a selfie of her own outfit pre-interview in a somewhat subtle attempt to get one back, something Mira had obliged with but Rumi hadn’t so Zoey couldn’t be sure if the woman was being obstinate about her clothing or not.
Rumi’s clothing… it’d been something that bothered Zoey and Mira both for years now. The slowly lengthening sleeves, the layers that became a thing seemingly overnight.
She’d expressed concern and Rumi had brushed her off many, many times swearing she was fine. Everything was great, it was just how she preferred to dress.
Zoey had eventually approached Celine about it instead and received more or less the same response.
‘Some people are just more comfortable in more modest clothing than others. Everyone’s entitled to what makes them comfortable, Zoey-ya. Let Rumi choose for herself, and you choose for you.’
There was no pressing the topic of shorter sleeves, but please let Rumi have listened to her warnings to some degree.
--
Zoey wished she had the ability to multitask that Bobby had. Sure she could rap, and dance, and hit all her marks on stage, and remember a thousand little details like exactly which camera to look at on stage, and the positions of her girls around her so if she fell backwards at the right cue Mira could catch and spin her, but Bobby could handle three different conversations in two languages while texting and on his Bluetooth.
Even still today he looked a little distracted sometimes, muttering to himself as he texted back on his dedicated work phone, juggling his personal one behind it.
“Mixed up travel plans?” Zoey pretended to read over his shoulder just to watch him scoff and tilt the screen away from her.
“Travel plans are still solid. Packing up is going as planned, Mira and Rumi are both on schedule.” Bobby replied, verbally ticking off a list as his thumb swiped over the screen.
“Then why the face?”
Bobby made another face, this time like he was trying to decide something, “It’s a little warm out for our people.”
“Then tell them to get inside! We have time to run behind don’t we? We can coast an extra day or two if we need to, work a little less. Oh we can get them drinks sent out. Doordash is a thing and it’s not like we can’t- oh I can just pay someone can’t I?” Zoey was already digging for her phone, “We have people for that. I’m sure we do. If we have people that can do last minute ramyeon runs we have people I can have fetch everyone drinks.”
“Ah well thing is they’ve elected not to stop early.”
Zoey looked up at him sharply, “What? Why?”
“To get things done faster and easier they’ll weather the heat for now. Or, more specifically,” Bobby sighed looking back at his phone, “they’ve decided if Rumi-nim can tough out the heat they can too.”
Zoey’s heart sank, hands clenching at her sides, “She’s running around in layers in the heat isn’t she?”
Bobby hummed in agreement, “Apparently she didn’t take anything with them that was lighter to change into. They’ve tried to get her to stop for even touristy clothing for a photo or two but you know how Rumi is when she focuses. I guess to her there are more important things to focus on, and things need to be done in a timely fashion. In another life that woman was a train operator.”
Zoey had a million things she wanted to say, a thousand reasons to call and lecture on the phone in her most annoyed tone until Rumi agreed that maybe she was being a little too rigid on the issue of how fast things needed to be done, and potentially would at least rest for a few minutes to cool down.
If nothing else maybe she’d agree for their employees.
Actually, Zoey was sure she would agree if it was framed that way. Rumi might push herself at all times to make sure she was perfect, to make sure everything went as smoothly as it could and was as professional as possible, but she would never push someone else the same way.
No one else had to be ‘perfect’ at all times in Rumi’s mind, just Rumi.
But they were too close to filming, too close to when Zoey had to be on a set with a bright smile and semi-manufactured childhood stories comparing California and Korea, armed with her bright amazing fairytale story of going from a silly little California girl to a big time idol overnight by being spotted in a youtube video by someone who whisked her away to stardom.
Instead she loaded up the group chat on her phone, rapid fire sending out several chunks of somewhat misspelled text in a row imploring Rumi to find somewhere cold to go sit down and cool off.
Their employees could use it, she added as a bit of manipulation.
Hey if she stopped at the right place she could even grab drinks for Zoey and Mira later.
Zoey wasn’t sure how many manipulation tactics were too many in a row, but whatever it was they were about to be added to given how Rumi hadn’t responded but now Mira had dots forming of a message back.
‘I swear to god if you’re wearing that old logo hoodie all day today it will disappear in the wash to never return again. At least until we’re out of this ungodly climate.’
There was a pause and then a follow up pinged just before Zoey got pulled up to talk on stage.
‘Or it might have an unfortunate accidental meeting with dye the next time I do my hair. If you come back smelling like gym shoes because you roasted yourself it might be bleach. If I have any spare.’
--
Rumi had not responded to any of Zoey’s texts by time they were done with interviews, quick re-shoots and even the obligatory social media photos and autographs.
She didn’t answer the group call either, though Mira did.
Mira who attempted to look unconcerned while in her own ride back to the hotel but Zoey could read her better than that. Rumi being quiet was always a worrisome thing.
Mostly because it meant their leader was plotting something to some degree and it might mean an influx of work, or a short cut vacation. Sometimes because it meant Rumi was pushing herself far too hard to complete something that had no reason to be done at the speed she was trying to accomplish it.
“If she knocks herself out from the heat I’m taking a pair of scissors to every hoodie she owns.” Mira had threatened, brow furrowed in concern that edged it’s way into her voice before she had to hang up again.
If she passed out from the heat they’d be worse off for it all. But Rumi’s location on her phone tracker said she was back at the hotel, so Zoey tried to breathe deep, push all the worry aside and planned to just complain loudly until Rumi remembered that her own health was important too.
Maybe she could use Rumi being a little irresponsible with herself as a way to con her into an actual vacation day?
Zoey twisted the shopping bag of drinks she’d picked up on the way home in her hands in an attempt to work off some of the nerves she was trying to repress. It didn’t help at all and each moment in the elevator her anxiety sparked more and more.
Everything felt wrong, the air around her humming, her chest tight suddenly.
It felt like a threat, but there wasn’t anything nearby that Zoey had been able to feel in days. Everything was secure as far as she had seen, there wasn’t really a reason to be this anxious.
Deep breath, push back the panic.
Push back whatever had even her skin buzzing now, her palms becoming damp enough to feel it on the plastic shopping bag.
Push back against the nausea and fear creeping up her spine.
It didn’t work. Not even a little.
The door dinged open onto their floor and the anxiety hit a new level: their door was open.
Only one door on the entire floor on this side, all theirs. Theirs reserved by their label, reached by private elevator. Four people with access besides employees.
The door was open.
She barely had time to register it before she heard her name being yelled with the same fear echoing in it that she felt in her bones.
“Mira?!”
There weren’t meant to be threats here!
There weren’t, everything was safe and contained, the honmoon was strong, they were meant to be safe.
“Mira, what—” The bag in Zoey’s hands crashed to the ground the moment she was through the door, bottles tumbling out across the floor.
Not Mira.
Rumi.
Rumi, laying curled up on her side still in that damn hoodie.
Rumi, not moving with Mira knelt next to her.
Zoey’s knees hit the floor with a crack she’d regret later but in the moment all she could think was to get to Rumi to check her.
No blood, no tears in Rumi’s clothing, no signs of assault. “Demons?” Zoey asked anyway, hands shoving at the collar of Rumi’s hoodie to touch her neck, almost recoiling from the heat of the skin.
“No,” Mira’s voice was agitated, her own hands shaking as she tried to help Zoey get Rumi sat up a little. “It’s your – your list. The oh shit list. She’s an idiot.”
The oh shit list?
Oh! OHSA.
The list of things to watch for, how to prevent heat exhaustion. A list that had very clearly been ignored.
Rumi was hot to the touch, but her skin still felt clammy under Zoey’s fingers.
Her face was bright red, but Rumi wasn’t sweating.
Not sweating was bad. Not sweating was very, very bad.
Had she drank anything through the day that was hydrating and not something that worked against the body? Had she cooled down at all at any point?
There was a boy before Zoey moved to Korea who’d collapsed after football practice.
He hadn’t come back to school at all that year.
“What do we do?” Mira’s frantic words broke through the panic fogging Zoey’s mind, snapping her back to the present.
Mira was scared.
Mira.
Her Mira who laughed facing demons, and had carefully stitched together a dozen injuries of Zoey’s without even flinching, was scared.
“Zoey?”
Zoey took a deep breath shoving her own fear aside for the moment trying to think.
The actual answer was 9-1-1. Call an ambulance, get to the hospital, ice baths and IV fluids and monitoring by proper doctors and nurses.
But that had never been an available answer for hunters. The answer for hunters was always, always ‘patch it the best you can yourself, and ask the honmoon to help’.
“Run the bath,” Zoey answered decisively, “Just the cold tap. Cold as it will go.”
“The bath?”
“We need to get her body cooled down as quickly as we can.” Zoey barely received any acknowledgment from Rumi as she not so carefully yanked the woman’s sneakers off.
How long had she been this hot?
“Rumi? Unnie?” Zoey tried to talk to her, tried to see if there was any awareness she could provoke. “Hey, can you look at me?”
Rumi groaned, wrinkling her nose but didn’t respond otherwise.
Rumi was modest to a fault. Rumi covered herself up constantly even in front of her friends she’d lived with for years now.
Rumi was not going to be happy about this.
“I’m sorry, but we need to get you cooled down, okay? You- you went and roasted yourself which is so uncool. Like- like totally shitty. Like if you wanted to make yourself sick there’s a thousand better ways to do it. We could have gone to Waffle house or something,” Zoey babbled as she worked, ignoring the guilt that ate at her when Rumi tried to shove her hands away from the bottom of her hoodie.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t. I-- I can’t. We need to cool you down,” Zoey kept her voice as stern as she could, tried to take on the voice Celine used when they had to do something they didn’t necessarily like but needed to learn anyway.
That voice worked on all of them, and if she was lucky enough she’d be able to fake it long enough to… to maybe get Rumi to listen.
“Please, don’t.”
Rumi’s voice wasn’t strong enough to be commanding, wasn’t much more than a raspy whisper but it pierced Zoey’s heart like a scream.
“I-- you have to get cooled down.” Zoey hated how easy it was to work around Rumi’s hands shoving uselessly at hers, how easy it was to get the hoodie up and over her friend’s head.
She had long sleeves on underneath. Of course she did.
Rumi was modest.
Rumi liked being modest.
Rumi hid herself away from the world despite shoving herself into the limelight at all times, making herself the star but accessible only by her terms.
It wasn’t an eating disorder, Zoey was sure of that. Rumi looked too healthy for that, participated too much in all they did. The girl ate the same diet as the rest of them, they’d know if it were that.
Which left Zoey with two competing theories clawing at her insides now even more than they had before.
“She’ll drown in that tub.” Mira threw the offending hoodie away when she returned, still worried but looking a little more composed. “It’s deep.”
“Congratulations, you’ve been elected. You used to like ice baths after practice, right?”
Mira cursed under her breath but nodded, “Fine. I-- fine. Is she-?” Mira trailed off, moving to help balance Rumi so Zoey could get her jeans unfastened. “Zoey…”
“I know. I know,” Zoey winced, shoving Rumi’s hands away with one of her own when Rumi moved to bat her hands away, “I know but I can’t-- I know you’re mad, Rumi, I know. But if we don’t get you cooled off you won’t be able to be mad anymore.”
Won’t be able to be anything anymore.
Please let it be scars on Rumi’s skin, Zoey found herself hoping for the first time.
Let it be scars that matched the cousin Zoey hadn’t seen since she was a little girl. Scars like the ones that had her cousin sent away for a while, then sent to Korea to live with their grandmother.
Let there be scars, and marks, and insecurities that maybe Rumi was just embarrassed or ashamed of, Zoey prayed to herself as if it could drown out Rumi’s mumbling upset ‘please don’t’ over and over.
If she thought loudly enough maybe it could cover up Mira’s attempted quiet reassurances to Rumi as if trying to convince her that Zoey wasn’t the bad guy right now.
Let there be marks from past self inflicted acts Rumi hadn’t felt the courage to talk to them about yet – though clearly she must have with Celine – because physical marks they could deal with.
Physical marks were just signs of what someone had been through and signs their body had healed. Scars were just there to show the past, and showed that Rumi was still living and alive, had survived anything she’d gone up against mentally and physically.
If there weren’t any marks on her skin, no scars to justify hiding herself away from the world so fiercely she’d hurt herself to preserve her modesty…
“Zoey, please.”
Let it be scars that they could talk through, let it be marks Rumi considered shameful, because Zoey couldn’t stomach the idea that it was something else that had happened to make her hide herself away so desperately
That it was something else that had Rumi crying without tears, barely aware and still trying to keep herself clothed.
All their money might by the best therapy in the world, but Zoey wasn’t sure it’d buy forgiveness for herself.
Let it be scars, let it be marks and shame and insecurities from the career they could never fully live up to the expectations of.
Let it be --
Not scars.
Zoey’s breath caught in her throat, the compression shirt now dangling from her fingertips leaving Rumi in just her underwear and bra leaning back against Mira.
Not scars.
Shame, and marks, and-- not… not scars.
Demon patterns.
If this was a trick, some horrible trap crafted by a demon much smarter than the rest Mira was going to be furious and she made sure Zoey was aware of that.
“If I end up fighting one more goddamn demon in my underwear while soaking wet I’m taking it out on you.”
Zoey hadn’t laughed though, hadn’t smiled or tried to ease the tension. She’d just nodded and voiced quiet agreement.
A completely unacceptable response, no matter the level of shock coursing through both of their systems.
Rumi had patterns.
Not scars, not visible ribs, not something else that kicked off nightmares for Mira some nights.
She had demon patterns. A lot of them too, from what Mira could see.
They covered Rumi’s torso, front and back, stretching down her arms ominously.
Rumi had stopped fighting – weak as her attempts were – once Mira had sunk down into the tub with the older woman in her arms. The cold bit at Mira’s skin badly enough so she couldn’t imagine how it felt to Rumi, but she’d stopped fighting at them.
Now Rumi just lay quietly in the water, face tucked against Mira’s neck, arms curled under her own torso, breathing finally evening out and becoming less shallow.
Her flush was starting to leave too, her skin paling making the twisted purple marks stand out even more.
Mira traced one with her fingertips, wondering a little at how it didn’t feel any different from the rest of Rumi’s skin, from any tattoo’s Mira had felt in her life.
Like it was just another blemish and nothing more.
It was something that’d always meant they were in danger but this time she couldn’t stop thinking about how it was Rumi that had been in danger.
“When do you think she made a deal?”
Mira made a noise acknowledging Zoey’s question, reaching outside the tub to rest her free hand on Zoey’s shoulder where their maknae sat against the side of it, knees up under her chin.
When had Rumi done it?
When could she have done it?
When did the clothes start changing? When did the modesty go from basic t-shirts to ¾ sleeves to full sleeves and collars that covered everything?
“I don’t know,” Mira admitted after a moment, squeezing Zoey’s shoulder lightly, “We don’t know if that’s what it is.”
“We know how you get patterns,” Zoey sounded as miserable as Mira felt and Mira was sure if she could get Zoey to look at her she’d see the girl’s eyes were red.
“We know what we’ve been told.” Mira clung to the hope that she was wrong, that maybe there was some small percentage of a chance that Rumi hadn’t made a deal, “Rumi doesn’t seem… she’s not the kind that make deals.”
“What kind is that?”
Bad guys, Mira’s mind supplied first but she kept that thought inside.
Shitty people.
Villains.
All the cliches but really the word she was looking for was far too liberally applied to many, many people.
“Weak. She’s not weak.”
“Maybe Gwi-Ma made a really, really good promise?”
Mira shook her head, “She’s too dedicated to the fight, to the golden honmoon. There’s nothing he could say that would sway her.”
“Threats?” Zoey’s voice was muffled where she hid her face, but her hand came up to cover Mira’s. “Can they-- can you be made to make a deal?”
Mira’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, “I don’t… I really don’t know.”
“Maybe… do you think Celine would know? Should we call her?”
“No,” Mira said immediately without hesitation, possibly with a little too much emphasis given how Rumi and Zoey both jolted at the noise.
Mira made a soothing noise on instinct, letting her hand sprawl on Rumi’s back to try and get her to relax again, squeezing Zoey’s shoulder again with her other hand, “I mean… maybe we should wait on that until we know more.”
Celine was an amazing hunter, she was strong, brilliant, and courageous, and had held down the whole ‘keeping the world safe and the honmoon strong’ crusade for decades all by herself.
Celine was also a parent, and the idea of letting Celine know her only child might have made a deal with Gwi-Ma, might have given her soul to the other side of the cause for whatever reasons made Mira a little nauseous.
Celine was a hunter first and foremost, so what would that mean?
Mira didn’t think she’d tell them to harm Rumi, but she couldn’t help but worry Celine might feel obligated to do it herself, and then where did that leave any of them?
Why break Celine’s heart any earlier than they needed by telling her something they didn’t have the entire truth of yet?
“Will we know more?”
‘Like Rumi could lie to us’, the words were on Mira’s tongue but she couldn’t get them out. Rumi had lied to them, every moment of every day for who knew how long?
“She’ll talk.”
“Mira-”
“She will. We’ll get her talking, I promise.” Whatever it took Mira would get the answers they needed, she was pretty sure of that.
It wasn’t like she wasn’t persistent enough.
Zoey’s shoulders were shaking like she was trying not to cry, face turned to press against Mira’s arm, “What do we do?”
“Whatever it takes,” Mira answered immediately. “Whatever happened, whatever… deal or coercion or- or whatever this is we’ll get it sorted out. She’s our Rumi, right? You don’t-” Mira took a breath, tongue flicking out against her lower lip as if loosening words she wasn’t sure she believed fully, “You don’t give up on the people you love.”
--
Rumi barely stirred through getting out of the tub, somehow sleeping through Zoey almost biffing it on a stray ice cube, and Mira’s cursing over the cool air of the AC hitting her wet skin.
She mumbled a complaint about her head hurting when Zoey helped her change from wet things to loose pajamas – borrowed, with neither of them willing to risk letting Rumi into long sleeves again – and dutifully took a few Tylenol with half a bottle of water when presented with them.
But that had been it. Almost immediately afterwards she’d collapsed back into the pillows of Zoey’s bed, breathing even and calm.
The only time they got her to stir was when they pressed at her lightly to get her awake enough to drink a little more water and even then Rumi seemed to just follow the instructions blindly without bothering to fully wake.
Eventually Zoey fell asleep too, tired from their long day and the crash post adrenaline rush hitting her leaving just Mira sat up keeping an eye on them.
Somewhere along the way something had happened, and Mira had been racking her brain all evening to figure out what it was, and when.
When they’d first met Rumi was still wearing short sleeves.
Rumi had been a little awkward but not overly so, and excited to have met the second of three for their generation. She wasn’t withdrawn though, she wasn’t mean, never cruel. She hardly spoke a bad word of anyone, even the few teenagers that went to their school she didn’t get along with well.
Rumi wasn’t like that, she didn’t see a reason to be mean to anyone, to speak ill of most people. Except demons.
That part hadn’t changed. Rumi had never wavered in their fight, never hesitated in battle, never spared a single demon.
When had she gained patterns? When could she have possibly done that?
Why?
Why the hell would she break against everything they were to do something so stupid as to give her soul to someone who didn’t even appreciate it?
Rumi was…. Was Rumi. Rumi who sent video clips and autographs to their staff’s children on their birthdays because she loved being kind to people.
Rumi who they volunteered first for all events and charities because the woman got too bored when left on her own and they had to give her enrichment somehow. Rumi the volunteer who normally donated more than anyone else for the cause in the end, and would spend the day endlessly entertaining their youngest fans answering the same question countless times with the same enthusiasm each time.
That wasn’t very demonic.
Rumi in her hoodies using the pocket to hide the baby barncats from the hanok came unbidden to Mira’s mind. Demons and cat’s didn’t get along did they?
That was a mythology thing wasn’t it?
Or was that one of those American things from Zoey’s movies that had inched it’s way into her head?
Rumi’s breathing changed and Mira looked over at her instantly.
She hadn’t moved on the bed, hadn’t pulled away from where Zoey had entwined herself with Rumi in her sleep, but her breathing had changed, her body a little stiffer.
She was awake.
Mira watched her for a few minutes, waiting to see if Rumi would actually move, or do anything. Waiting to see if it was indeed Rumi who woke.
But Rumi apparently seemed either too content to move, or too scared to.
“I know you’re awake,” Mira spoke finally with more confidence than she felt, “I’ve seen you pretend to sleep through too many math classes to buy that look.”
There was a pause then Rumi’s eyes both snapped open, catching Mira’s immediately.
There was no anger in Rumi’s eyes, if anything it looked like fear and it unsettled Mira a little more.
“How’s the head?” Mira shifted in her seat a little, letting Rumi see her hands resting on her knees- weaponless and not raised.
Rumi swallowed hard, looking around, down at the arm across her chest and back to where Zoey lay, “I-- It’s-- I’m okay.”
“Not what I asked.”
Rumi made a face, “It hurts some.”
“I’ll get you something for it. Then we’re talking.”
Rumi inched her way away from Zoey’s grasp, sitting up on the edge of the bed warily. “Talking.”
“Yes. Like actual adults, talking and solving some shit that apparently has been kept secret,” Mira aimed a pointed look at Rumi’s bare arms, watching the woman go to cover them with her hands.
“Can I pee first?” Rumi looked so morose that Mira had to bite back the laugh that wanted to escape.
“Fine, but if you teleport out of here, I will track your ass down,” Mira agreed, watching Rumi scamper away looking like the same woman she’d known for years, “And if you put on another damn hoodie I’m strangling you with the strings!”
--
When Rumi joined Mira in the sitting room of their suite she had listened and not put on a hoodie but she had covered up.
Mira tried not to think too hard on the fact Rumi was now bundled up in Mira’s robe over her stolen pajamas, the hem way too long and the sleeves drifting a little past Rumi’s hands.
“Drink,” Mira placed a glass in front of Rumi along with two little white pills from Zoey’s travel bottle.
Rumi didn’t argue, didn’t question anything, perched on the edge of the couch like she was waiting for something. Mira didn’t like the idea that Rumi might be the one afraid in this situation, that she might be afraid of Mira, it unsettled her almost more than the patterns did.
Rumi didn’t seem to want to speak first, fingers tapping against the sides of the glass she turned between her palms as a distraction so Mira took the plunge.
“When did you make a deal?”
The glass hit the carpet with a solid thunk, leaving Rumi scrambling to pick it up quickly before the water in it spilled.
“Deal? I-- I – me? I make-- made – I---” Rumi stammered, face turning red as she sat the glass down hard on the table, nearly knocking it over again. She shoved the sleeves of the robe further up her arms to keep them from getting damp, righting the glass and pulling her hands away from it, “What?”
“We’re not idiots, Rumi. We know what the patterns mean.” Mira sat on the edge of the coffee table instead of sitting next to her on the couch, keeping Rumi in sight but remaining close to her at the same time.
Rumi shook her head, fidgeting with the cuffs of her stolen robe, “I-- you-- you think I made a deal. What would I-- why would I make a deal?” She sounded almost incredulous, an uncomfortable laugh behind the last few words.
“I don’t know. Why would you?”
“I didn’t-- I wouldn’t. Mira, I wouldn’t make a deal you know I wouldn’t-- I would never – I’m a hunter.”
“People turncoat all the time.”
“No!” Rumi raised her voice then immediately flinched, glancing back towards the door where Zoey lay sleeping just beyond, “No. I wouldn’t-- not me. I would never, ever do anything to-- I want this to work. I want the golden honmoon, I want demons gone forever.”
“Then how are you a demon?”
The words seemed piercing, Rumi flinching back from them as if she’d been struck, “I’m not.”
“They aren’t an aesthetic choice,” Mira retorted, focusing on anything but Rumi’s look, “And they’re not a tattoo you’re not that stupid no matter what you did today. Those are demon marks, Rumi. They’re patterns we learn before anything else in training, we know what they are. So stop lying.”
“I’m not lying. I’m not a demon. I’m just—” Rumi let her head fall backward onto the back of the couch, “wrong.”
“’Wrong’?” When Rumi offered nothing further Mira pressed, “Explain.”
Rumi sighed, “Can I just say ‘I was born this way’ and leave it there?”
“That is the exact opposite of an explanation so no.”
“My mom—” Rumi made a face, eyes on the ceiling like she didn’t want to look at Mira, “She kinda-- she’s-” Rumi sighed wrapping her arms around herself a little tighter and inhaling deeply, “My dad was a demon. I don’t know – Celine doesn’t really talk about him and I don’t really ask about him but I know he was a demon and they weren’t really sure about much with me until I popped out with those marks on me.”
Born that way.
A demon father.
A Demon father?
Jesus Christ Ryu Mi-Yeong what the absolute fuck?
A demon dad Rumi never knew leaving her with marks that she couldn’t get rid of.
It sounded absurd but the heavy weight that had been pushing on Mira’s heart dissolved at the explanation. Rumi hadn’t betrayed them, she hadn’t made a deal, she hadn’t been forced to make a choice and sign herself away.
She just… was.
She was also still babbling out explanations looking desperately close to a full blown spiral which was absolutely the last thing they needed right now.
“No.” Mira said immediately, shaking her head and cutting off Rumi’s rambling, “absolutely not.”
“No?”
“You aren’t using that story. You need a new one before Zoey wakes up.”
Rumi looked confused and a little hurt, “Why?”
“I have seen that woman’s anime preferences, you have seen her animes. I have bought her some of that graphic novel collection of shame,” Mira took a breath, watching Rumi’s confusion grow, “I love and support her entirely with all my being, and hope she achieves almost every dream she has, but we absolutely cannot let her know that her monster fucker aspirations can become a reality. That is one mountain she does not need to summit.”
Rumi stammered, face turning red, “Mira!”
“I’ll support almost all of her dreams but if she finds out not only is that possible but Ryu Mi-Yeong beat her to it we’ll never hear the end of it. She might try to top it out of sheer spite!”
“Oh my God.” Rumi covered her face and groaned, “You just-- ew. No.”
“She does have a competitive streak,” Mira moved from her perch on the coffee table, resettling herself next to Rumi on the couch close enough their shoulders were touching. “So just… born that way?”
“Yeah. I got his hair and his marks, and the rest is all,” Rumi made a dismissive gesture, leaning her head against Mira’s shoulder out of habit, “Well, all Eomma.”
“You’ve never made a deal?”
Rumi shook her head immediately, “No. I wouldn’t. I would never, I couldn’t I-- I’m not like that. When we achieve the golden honmoon I’m- these will go away,” She said it with absolute authority, hands clenched, “and I’ll be fully human. I won’t have any of this left. It won’t matter.”
“Why not just tell us that then?”
“Celine said you wouldn’t understand.”
Mira’s heart clenched, “She thought we’d-- we’d what? Try to harm you?”
“Or maybe start thinking other demons are nice too and get hurt,” Rumi acknowledged, “It’s- both are possible.”
“That the other parts of your soul would hurt you for how you were born?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen it happen.”
Mira would question that later, she decided, determined not to let Rumi spiral any more or dwell more than she had to tonight. Not when they had come so close to losing her.
She slid her arm around Rumi carefully, lightly tapping her forehead against Rumi’s temple, “Well it’s not gonna fucking happen again. Got it? You’re stuck with us. We wouldn’t – couldn’t – hurt you.”
“You said you’d strangle me with my hoodie strings.”
“Oh yeah, no, those are all gone,” Mira agreed immediately, pressing a loud kiss to Rumi’s cheek when she complained, “You’ve forfeited all rights to your hoodie collection. Don’t argue, I suffered a half naked ice bath for you.”
Rumi turned bright red at that, “I didn’t- I mean- I wasn’t-- Mira!”
There was a loud thump from Zoey’s room, and the honmoon hummed around them before either of their names was ever called out.
“In here, sleeping beauty,” Mira called out before Zoey had time to truly panic worry about waking alone. “Oh you’re not getting rid of her for like a week. Prepare to be koala’d,” Mira told Rumi gleefully.
Zoey stumbled into the doorway looking half asleep still but with the tinge of panic that Rumi had carried as well when she woke up, her eyes darting between Mira and Rumi where they sat almost entwined on the couch.
“I have good news, better news, and great news for you, Zoey-ya,” Mira said brightly, “Good news is Rumi’s going to be okay, better news is she hasn’t made a deal, and great news is apparently your monster fucker aspirations can absolutely be a reality.”
“Don’t say it that way!” Rumi’s mortified howl of protest was cut off by Zoey’s diving onto both of their laps, grabbing Rumi in a clinging tear filled hug, “I-- That-- Mira!”
“Oh you can explain when she’s done crying. Ice bath, Rumi. Ice bath.”