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The Honmoon binds its Hunters.
Like family, like a team, like a home that's more people and songs than a place. Like lovers, sometimes.
The first Hunters weaved its light using the people's hopes as thread and their love and synergy as needles.
Every generation since, three child feel the shield between world before they can see it. Feel the warmth, the hopes, the companionship, and bask under the blanket of safety before the world can teach them to mistake wants for selfishness.
Once in a while, the blanket pulls a little, like tugged by a sleepy fist in the night. Hunters reminding each other that they are never alone.
Rumi knows all of that.
She grew up with Celine's tales, purple hair, and eyes that saw the weaves much earlier than any other Hunter before her.
Celine speaks often of her Hunters. Words clinical and voice factual, eyes pained but warm warm warm. Pained because love that can no longer go anywhere turns to grief, and grief never stops hurting.
Still, Celine talks. Reminisces under the pretense of teaching. Presses on the scar of her heart, like she's checking the wound still hurts as it should.
By the time she's twelve, Celine had told Rumi with everything but words how much she loved her Hunters. Rumi doesn't know the shape of it, the specifics. But she knows how much of Celine's heart belongs to them. She knows because she can feel how much love Celine pours onto her, the love that Miyeong left behind.
She can't wait until someone finally loves her for her
But Rumi also knows that the comfort is not for her. Not yet.
The Honmoon binds its Hunters but it banishes demons, and for now Rumi is both. So she will have to wait, and work hard, until the Honmoon is golden and the mistake is corrected.
Then she'll feel their love.
And sometimes the Honmoon tugs a little, and her heart fills with warmth and she fantasize. "Maybe they’ll love me half as much as I already love them."
She's not sure if it's even possible.
Zoey was so bad at holding back that she became a master of it.
After all, failure is the best teacher, isn't it?
She's learned to hold her impulses, hand firm around the leash. Barely flinches anymore when her heart bursts forward with desires or breaks with sorrow. She's learned to smile and listen, to speak enough but not too much, to prompt others and to wait until someone expresses an opinion before mirroring it.
Sometime the beast still escapes, but she's adept at catching it back now. She yanks it back at her heel, and apologize with a smile. She's good at it.
It doesn't mean that it's easy, but she'll do it. She will not let it destroy the best thing that ever happened to her.
Not when Celine praises her diction, her progress at breath control and knife throwing with a tone so calm that sincerity is a given.
Not when Mira brings her a water bottle and a towel without asking, when she's collapsed on the ground after a difficult exercise, or lowers the volume of the television when the cacophony of sounds becomes too much.
Not when Rumi grins, all teeth and flushed exhaustion, as Zoey freezes on top of her, the first time she wins a sparring round.
Mira smirks at her when Zoey goes back to the bench, to swap with her. "Pure thoughts, Zoey," she murmurs, amusement dancing in her eyes, "Celine is watching."
"Wha—?! I'm not—! You're—! I wasn't—!" Zoey panics. She was distracted, and the beast escaped before she had noticed.
"You were," simply says Mira, tone less teasing now, truer. She raises and stretches to have an excuse to linger. "It's okay."
It's okay.
Zoey dropped the leash and it's okay.
Mira's the first. The first to notice the beast, tamed and silent at Zoey's heels, the first to see it lean forward sometimes, the first to see the efforts it takes Zoey to keep it there.
The first to curse the leash.
Mira's love is difficult to see, but Rumi has practice with that. She's not fooled by the sharp exterior.
Mira curses and bites out "again" after Rumi sent her to the ground, and Rumi sees the respect underneath. She learns to cook as if she was avenging her past self and gifting them the spoils, and Rumi sees the care. She teases and prods until Rumi bites back, grins as if the explosion was the point, and Rumi sees a bridge, a way to say "we're the same, you and I".
Rumi disagrees, Mira is better.
Being loved by Mira is a lot, but it's comfortable, a welcome companionship, a rival, sometimes. Someone always ready to receive her intensity and returning it back to her. Loving her is easy, because she never demands too much, only a place and a purpose, which Rumi is more than happy to provide, and because the distance that settle naturally between them is one Rumi can enjoy without fearing for her secret.
Loving Zoey is harder.
Well, no, that's not true. Loving Zoey is easy, but in a way that makes it harder to resist.
Rumi is drawn to her. To her laugh that illuminate the room, her eyes that see the beauty everywhere when Rumi only sees them, her freckles for which she is already starting to have a mental map, despite trying her hardest to never stare. Rumi basks in the effusions of her beautiful mind, feels pride fill her lungs every time Zoey comes up with the perfect lyrics like it's nothing and anger blur her vision when she imagines the past that taught Zoey to wrap her art in shame.
Rumi's heart is filled with want.
She wants to spend more time with Zoey. Or, rather, more intimate time. Time that would only belong to them and have no other purpose but making Zoey smile. She wants to make decision with her happiness as the guiding star. She wants to discover everything that makes her eyes crinkle with the joy of discovery, and hold her through any hardship. She wants to touch the sky of fame and present Zoey to the world until it has no choice but to acknowledge her innumerable qualities. She wants to keep her to herself as a secret too precious to share. She wants to hold Zoey closer, wants to reciprocate her casual touches, wants to escalate them, wants to initiate them. She wants to know all there is to know about Zoey, and she wants Zoey to know her the same.
But she cannot.
She knows, somewhere in her mind, that Zoey would welcome it. Wants it herself, even. But that's the problem, isn't it? She can't protect her secret if she holds Zoey any closer. Even in the unlikely scenario where Zoey accepts her, patterns and all, Rumi doesn't want to taint her like that. No demon is allowed to touch Zoey, not even herself.
So she deflects the pointed inquiries from Mira. No, she doesn't like Zoey like that, she is not sure she has ever liked someone like that! And Zoey doesn't feel that way either, come on Mira, you know how touchy Zoey is, it's normal for her. Mira never really seems convinced, but over time, the consistency of the excuses become their own justification.
What's another lie, in the web she's weaving every day?
Rumi almost cracks, the day Zoey confesses. The pain of not reaching for what is offered is immense, yet it's nothing compared to the hurt in Zoey's eyes. Try as she might to soften the blow, to offer reassurances and whatever love she can, she can read the panic and grief in the maknae's eyes.
But seeing the pain replaced by disgust in those eyes? That, Rumi cannot bear. The mere thought is enough deterrent.
So, selfishly, she hugs Zoey and tell her, forcing the words through the vice in her throat, "I hope—no I know that you will find someone who makes you happy, someday. You deserve the world and more. You'll find someone who can give it to you.
"Until then, I will— Mira and I. We will be there for you, always."
The more surprising, in Zoey's opinion, is how confused she feels.
Consciously, Zoey had planned for the possibility. She had told herself she would handle it, if Rumi turned her down. That she was a big girl, she could handle a little heartbreak. But now that it's here, Zoey can't really believe it.
In retrospect, Zoey had been so sure, so certain that her feelings were reciprocated! That's what Celine had said, before, right? "The Honmoon binds its Hunters." Zoey could feel the bound she had with Mira, sometimes. A steady thread, content and secure, humming with the certainty of a healthy relationship. There was a stability in it, like two magnets that had settled in the resting position of their respective fields.
With Rumi, the bind felt taut, unfulfilled. Pulled too much for its own comfort.
So, Zoey had tentatively released her grasp on the leash, and let the beast follow her urges. At every turn, Rumi had welcomed it, always gentle, sometimes eager, never calling for it but never recoiling either. Zoey wrapped herself around Rumi, cheek against cheek at the slightest reason, basking in whatever contact she could steal, and Rumi would smile and lean into her. She knocked at her door day and night to show her a video, a new lyric, a funny post, and Rumi would relax, and invite her into her den. She complimented her, in songs, in passing, for her extraordinary feats, for her ordinary kindness, and Rumi would blush, bashful, and return the compliment with enough sincerity that Zoey almost believed it.
And, little by little, Zoey had hoped against hope, against reason, that maybe Rumi liked her back?
But hope doesn't always win, apparently. Rumi had turned her down.
Gently, as always. Pained, like each word was costing her, because Zoey had been too devastated to school her features and hold her tears back. Rumi had held her through the sobs, the stammered apologies, and promised to stay close afterward.
But Zoey couldn't.
When Zoey emerges from Mira's room, where she spent the night crying on the taller girl shoulder, Rumi is here, at the kitchen island, face tired but composed.
The cascade of emotions knocks Zoey's breath. The pain that barely ebbed since last night arrives simultaneously with the awe at Rumi's unguarded beauty in the morning, followed immediately by guilt and anger at herself for the immediate lecherous thoughts. Only then, she starts mourning the day before, when she could still delude herself in thinking her impure thoughts would be welcome. The tempest of emotions leaves her frozen at the kitchen's entrance.
Then, Rumi notices her, and turns to greet her for the day. The guilt soaking her usual smile is too much. Zoey flees.
Afterward, Zoey tries to maintain the distance. She distracts herself with work and her inner worlds, tearing pages after pages off her notebooks for being too mopey until she could present some suitable new lyrics. The dance practice are excruciating, and for once Zoey is graceful that the industry pressure kept Mira's choregraphy on the safe side. She stops insisting to invite Rumi at the bathhouse, after long days, and Mira follows suite without a word. Rumi never accepts, anyway.
She feels bad, abandoning Rumi like that, but Rumi herself starts keeping her distance after a little while. Out of resentment, or mindfulness? Zoey doesn't know, but she figures she ought to be grateful for it.
Zoey hopes that the distance would help the hurt settle, until she became normal again with Rumi and could return to their precious friendship.
When that fails, she starts following Mira in her nocturnal excursions, trying to find someone who would make her forget. Nobody did. The first night out left her unbalanced, and although she tried to convinced herself that it was just a matter of time before getting used to it, the initial discomfort never fades. With each reluctant kiss with a beautiful stranger she wouldn't look at, each night drowned in alcohol until she could bear it, the thought of continuing makes her a little more sick.
Until Mira puts her foot down, "We're not going out."
Zoey had knocked at her door, already dressed up. Maybe too soon, but Rumi had recorded her solo part today, while they were watching, listening and helping the sound engineers. Hearing Rumi belt the lyrics that she wrote frayed at her sanity. Zoey needs to get away from the penthouse for a few hours.
But Mira is in loungewear, looking at her with a slight frown and eyes full of care. Zoey doesn't know what to think. "What? I thought you looked forward this party?"
"I did," admits Mira. "But you didn't."
Zoey bristles. "Wha— Of course I do!"
"Zoey…"
"I— I thought friday night was our night out? Dancing night, with you?" she exhaled, and, more genuine that she hoped, admits. "I looked forward to it all week."
"I know," murmurs Mira, "but I can't keep watching you hurting yourself, Zoey. Please don't ask me that."
Of course Mira had noticed. Part of Zoey wants to refute, to deny the evidence, to rage against her dearest friend for being condescending. Instead, she sits down next to Mira on the bed, slowly, as if any brusque movement could destabilize what structure is left inside of her.
She doesn't want to lie to Mira, ever, but for a while, the lie was the only thing that kept her going. Mira probably saw through it from the beginning, she had always been the more perceptive of the three.
"I don't know what to do," Zoey admits. She tries to explain, but the tears are already coming, and she's chocking around the weight in her throat.
For once, Mira initiated the hug.
"What can I do?" Zoey asks again, her voice croaking. "It hurts to stay close, it hurts to stay far. I don't want to forget her, even if I could, but even just thinking about her… What can I do, Mira?"
"I don't know, Zoey," says Mira, low but sincere. The admission is part reassuring but mostly devastating.
It hits Zoey, then, how much seeing her hurt —seeing them hurt, probably— is affecting Mira. Somehow, that realization is the last strike needed to break the dam.
Zoey sobs against her shoulder until her head hurt more than her heart. Until the guilt and the pain and the relief at not needing to go out tonight, the frustration at her plans changing last minutes, all decant in a single truth. She's hurting, and she doesn't know how to make it all hurt less.
They stop going out, after that. Fridays turn back into game night, and Zoey actually survives playing with Rumi, and hearing her chuckles and watching her smile. And she can almost feel Rumi's relief, so maybe it's not that bad.
After a while, Mira goes back out, on fridays. Not every week, like before, but whenever she wants to let out a little steam. Sometimes she tells them she prefers not to have company, and others she extends an invitation to both Rumi and Zoey. Rumi always refuses, so Zoey does too. What if she's still a little clingy? It's not like Rumi is complaining.
When they stay in, the two of them, watching movies or the latest serie that Zoey heard about on the net, it's never long before they collapse into each other, Rumi's arm sliding mindlessly around Zoey's waist. The contact always shot little lightning bolts through her spine, and Rumi usually tensed, at first, but she never released her.
It still hurt, of course, having Rumi right there but being unable to have anything more, but if she had to live her whole life at this distance? She could do it.
The alternative was worse.
The Honmoon binds its Hunters.
It makes sure they meet, make sure they are connected, and usually, that is enough.
But sometimes? Sometimes the Hunters are stupid, and the Honmoon is forced to take more… direct action.
It's fine. It always works out, in the end.
Rumi notices something is weird on their next photoshoot.
They started with the group photos, and now it was time for the solo shoots, and as always, they stayed together for it. Rumi had bent in a teasing arch and suddenly she can feel Zoey's eyes on her, the barely contained lust and admiration, and the immediate shame that follows.
It doesn't register as strange, at first. But after a few seconds, Rumi realizes that she can't even see Zoey right now. She knows where she is, sat in the contractual couch, probably doomscrolling in-between takes when she isn't oggling her. The thing is, the couch is in her blind spot, and to catch Zoey's gaze and the blush on her cheeks, Rumi would need to turn her head significantly and ruin the take.
She must be projecting. Zoey's outfit for the day tests her focus, and the photograph asked them to grab each other by the waist right before. Zoey had squirmed a little which… understandable, if she was even half as attracted to Rumi than Rumi was to her. So when Rumi was asked to take a little more provocative pose, she just… extrapolated. Yeah, that's it. That's because they know each other so well, nothing more.
Okay, so, fun fact: Zoey can hear Rumi's thoughts.
Or well, not exactly. There's nothing clear like words and full sentences. It's more like… impressions? Feelings? Yeah, feelings.
At first, Zoey only thought she was projecting. It was like before, when she was convinced Rumi was into her and it didn't turn out well. It wasn't Rumi that wanted to hug Zoey randomly. It was Zoey whishing for it so much that it became distorted in her brain. It wasn't Rumi that was disappointed at Zoey having to cover up all her freckles in make-up, it's Zoey who's tired of having to keep the image she first chose when she was barely eighteen and debuting.
But then they're at a party. Not the fun, dance-and-let-loose kind of party they used to escape to with Mira. The "rub shoulder with people in suit who's only talent is to be born with money and influence" kind. And Zoey just escaped an aggressive reporter trying to find some kind of dirt on Huntr/x by talking to the innocent and naive maknae, so she destroys the appetizers in retaliation.
Suddenly, deep annoyance and light violence ideation course her brain, making her stand up tall and scan the room for Rumi. She finds her, trapped against the champagne tower by what looks like a sleazy executive standing waaay too close to her, speaking directly on her face and smelling distinctly of cheap cologne applied way too generously. The fact that she knows what he smells like when he's half a room away doesn't register as weird because Rumi starts imagining how easily she could make him fly into the champagne tower and Zoey needs to act.
She grabs her own glass and crosses the hall, dodging every collision with perfect agility and without even thinking about it. Rumi crosses her gaze halfway through, and Zoey can tell she knows what she's about to do. She also know after a brief moment of panic and social calculations, that Rumi approves and is preemptively holding her laugh. The feedback loop of amusement almost make Zoey crack, but before she can dissolve into giggles, she reaches them, and sadly, unfortunately, clumsily, tragically, trip on the carpet, falling toward the man and spilling aaaallll of her drink on the man's crotch.
"Ohhh my god, I'm so sorry!" she lies, fighting for her life to remain serious when Rumi needs to pinch her own nose to avoid exploding into laughter.
The man, predictably, grumbles his way away from the embarrassment and Zoey hopes very hard that her blush is attributed to clumsy shame and not the barely repressed laugh she's holding.
"You didn't have to do that, y'know?" says Rumi, once she can open her mouth without dissolving into undignified giggles.
"As hot as it would have been to see you Karate Kid this guy to hell, I know you would kick yourself for it." answers Zoey easily. It has been harder, lately, to hold back her thirsty comments, now that the cat is already out of the bag. Plus, it always felt like Rumi enjoyed the attention, so…
"Did you escape your reporter the same way? Do we have to worry about champagne spillage being your new go-to method?"
She didn't, but also, how did Rumi know about the reporter?
She doesn't even have the time to voice the question before she can feel Rumi panic and scramble for a justification. Outwardly, she just shrugs and says "Saw you fleeing toward the buffet with him in tow, earlier."
She hadn't. She had lost him near the entrance, while he was searching for his vape and ended up having to find his invitation again to be allowed reentrance in the hall. The invitation was still folded neatly in Zoey's pocket.
Zoey doesn't comment on it.
Having to lie constantly was hard enough. Having to school all of your thoughts and emotions all the time is worse.
They hadn't really talked about it, with Zoey. But that's the thing. They don't need to talk for Rumi to know that Zoey also feels the bond, and that Zoey knows that she feels it, and that Rumi knows that she knows, and that Zoey knows that she knows that Zoey knows. Ugh.
The point is, she doesn't know exactly what is being broadcasted or not through the bond, but she can almost always have a broad idea of Zoey's emotional state and general thoughts, so she figures it's the same for Zoey.
And she knows that Zoey is starting to have questions.
Questions such as "Why do you always get your own changing room when you clearly wish you could share ours?", "Why are you always mentally checking the length of your sleeves?" and "Why did you turn me down when you so clearly and desperately want to kiss me every time I laugh?"
And Rumi struggles more and more to answer these questions in her own mind.
Zoey grabs Mira, one day, and places her non-too-gently onto the mountain of plushies adorning her bed.
She locks her door and turn towards Mira, scrambling to get upright in the unstable structure.
"I have a theory," she starts, and she knows that she seems slightly manic because honestly she feels a little keyed up.
"O…kay?"
"What if, please don't panic. What if, Rumi has patterns?"
The silence falls into the room. Mira stays frozen for a long moment and Zoey almost regrets not being able to tell what she thinks.
"How… Did she make a deal?" asks Mira cautiously.
"I don't know," answers Zoey truthfully, "but that's my guess too."
"Did she tell you anything or is it your…" Mira gestures toward her head. "Telepathy thing?"
"It's not really… Nothing clear, really? It's more like— It makes sense, right? The long sleeves, if the patterns are on her arms, the changing room, the bathhouse…"
"Her obsession with the Golden Honmoon…" complements Mira, clearly thinking about the possibility.
"Oh my god the Golden Honmoon, I forgot about it!"
"You… forgot about the Golden Honmoon?" asks Mira, dumbfounded. "It's literally our primary objective since day one!"
"No, I—! What does the Golden Honmoon do?" asks Zoey, and the panic is already settling in her spine.
"It… banishes all demons and lock them all in hell? I guess?"
"What about humans who made a deal?"
The pause is short, but Zoey can feel the temperature drop several degrees, before Mira murmurs. "Oh shit."
Zoey never felt such dread in her life. Are they actively working to banish the woman she loves? Will Rumi disappear one day? Consumed by either Gwi-ma or the Honmoon? Is that why she refused her advances, all this time?
Her thoughts are loud enough that she doesn't hear Mira's voice, or the knocks on her door, but suddenly Rumi is right here in front of her, speaking to her in a panicked tone and words that Zoey doesn't register.
Zoey can't breathe, her ears are full of static. She grasps Rumi's hoodie and pulls her close enough to wrap herself around her, face buried in her neck.
Rumi spent a lot more time in the gym recently, the strain of the repetitions helping her stay focus and away from the penthouse more often. It helped a lot, except when Zoey decided to come with her and get them both locked into a distracted spiral of inappropriate thoughts.
She feels the wave of panic halfway through her warmup. Immediately dropping the treadmill is not really a decision but an evidence, and she's bursting through Zoey's door before she can consciously wonder where she is going.
Zoey is backed up against the wall, eyes unseeing and breathing erratic, clutching at her own sleeves. Her mind is so seeped in panic that Rumi herself is starting to hyperventilate. Next to her, Mira is trying to get Zoey to breathe slower, but she doesn't seem to register any of it.
Rumi barely has time to call her name before Zoey collapse onto her, babbling incoherently. "-umi Rumi please stay don't leave I love you Rumi I don't care stay please"
"I'm here Zoey, I'm here." She starts petting the smaller woman's hair. "I'm not going anywhere. Please Zoey, deep breaths, for me?"
It takes a little while more before Zoey starts following Rumi's guidance and take deeper, trembling breaths. Slowly, her hiccuping slows until Rumi feels her calm enough to prod. "Do you want to go lay down?" Zoey only tightens her grip on Rumi so she grabs her by the back of the knees and lift her close to her. Mira frees a spot on the bed, and Rumi gently lay down, keeping Zoey stuck to her chest.
Mira sits cross-legged next to them on the bed, looking contemplative. Rumi turn to her to finally ask "What happened?"
Mira frown deepens, but she doesn't answer immediatly, opening and closing her mouth several times before asking, "Zoey? You're back with us?"
Zoey only snuggles closer in response, but nods nevertheless. Mira takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, preparing herself for the talk to come. "So… Zoey came up with this theory," Mira starts carefully.
"Please don't go." Zoey, impossibly, pulls even closer to Rumi.
Rumi resumes her petting of Zoey's hair, assuring "I'm not going anywhere."
Mira frowns a little. "Rumi," she asks, more serious than she ever saw her, "what's gonna happen when we turn the Honmoon Golden?"
"All demons will be banished with Gwi-ma for all eternity, and the Honmoon will be impenetrable," recites Rumi dutifully, unsure of where this is going.
"Right," Mira continues, seemingly unhappy with the answer. "And what about humans who made a deal?"
Rumi doesn't like where this is going but there's no escape that wouldn't raise suspicion right now, so she answers. "It depends, I guess. If their soul is still theirs, the Honmoon should actually clear them from Gwi-Ma's influence. Otherwise they would probably be… treated as demons."
There's a silence, after that. Mira's jaw is working silently in her mouth and she keeps her eyes burning holes on the bed's cover.
It's Zoey that breaks it, with a raspy voice, and dread coloring her thoughts. "What about you, Rumi?"
"What about me?" Rumi barely manages to ask.
"Is your… will you be banished, too?"
Panic EXPLODES in Rumi's mind. Outwardly, she only tenses up a little and ask, "What do you mean?"
Fuck subtlety. Zoey grabs Rumi by the cheeks and stares straight at her. "Rumi, I don't care. I don't want you to go. I don't want you to be banished. I don't care. Please, please tell me that you'll be safe."
Slowly, the panic starts subsiding, and tentative hope appears in the bond. Prudent, tense, Rumi asks "What are you… What is your theory, Zoey?"
"That you made a deal with Gwi-Ma."
"I didn't." Zoey believes her. Zoey would have believed her even without the bond, but the blast of sincerity is a nice bonus.
"You're not hiding your arms because of patterns, then?" challenges Mira.
Rumi hesitates. "I did not make a deal with Gwi-Ma," she repeats. All of them hear the unspoken admission.
"Rumi…" Zoey prods, gently. "Show us your arms?"
And Rumi, impossibly, does.
Zoey learns a lot of things in the days that follow.
She learns that sometimes guessing something right sucks.
She learns that sometimes, things sucking can actually be a good thing.
She learns that Rumi didn't make a deal with Gwi-Ma, but that her father did, and that apparently, shame is genetic when it's supernatural.
She learns that Mira is slow to forgive, but quicker to love through the hurt, even someone who lied to her for years, if that person is Rumi and does her best to make amends.
She learns that Rumi loved her all this time.
She learns that Rumi still doesn't want to date her, because she's half-demon.
She learns that she doesn't care.
She learns that she can be angry. A lot, actually. At Rumi, for denying her the choice to love her with her difference. At Celine for raising Rumi to hate part of herself. At the world, for pushing them to have to make the impossible call between risking her love's life and sacrificing countless innocent lives by abandoning the Golden Honmoon.
She learns to read Rumi's emotions better. Because the bond fell off soon after their conversation and yet, the impossible pull between them never felt stronger.
But mostly, from this day forward, she learns how to be loved.
"The Honmoon binds its Hunters.
"Like family, like a team, like a home that's more people and songs than a place. Like lovers, sometimes."
Mira chokes up a little, tears filling her eyes. There are only a couple of benches, in the garden at the back of the hanok. They never learned to let quantity eclipse quality in their relationships and most of their family do not clear that very simple bar.
In the front row, there is only Celine and Zoey's mother.
Behind them, a small handpicked group of Zoey's family. Cousins, half-brothers by alliance and the grandaunt that first introduced Zoey to the idea that girls could marry girls, actually. Sadly, her wife had passed a couple years prior and thus could not attend.
Sharing the second and third rows with them were their (admittedly few) friends. Three guild members that have stuck to Zoey's side and helped her clear the hardest content even when her chaotic schedule prevented regular tries. The one producer in all of Huntr/x tower that was still benching more than Rumi and that she realized after month of almost unhealthy rivalry over it she enjoyed the company. Mira and Zoey never fail to find funny that she now has a "gym bro". Lastly, Seol and JiHoo, the couple that Mira had been seeing for a couple of years now.
They had met when Zoey dragged Mira and Rumi to the aquarium, and spent almost two hours discussing with a staff member about the various exotic species they had in place, only for said staff's wife to come interrupt them because her husband was an hour late to get off work and they had planned a date. The night turned into a double-date as Rumi and Zoey insisted on paying for them as an apology, Mira tagging along because nobody wanted her to leave. Dinner turned into a night out in an exclusive club which, alcohol aiding, turned into a head-achy morning were Zoey and Rumi watched, stupefied, Seol and JiHoo sheepishly exiting a very smug Mira's room.
Since then, the couple had been a regular sight in their life, often coming for board game or movie nights, and usually crashing with Mira, when it wasn't her accompanying them in various events which she kept discreet. Zoey and Rumi didn't ask, they didn't need or want to know everything.
Bobby, of course, is officiating the ceremony, and trying to stay composed even though his eye watered at the very first words of Mira's speech.
"Zoey, Rumi. From the very first day we met, I knew that I could not get rid of you. Because you two are the most stubborn and determined people I know, of course. Zoey, when you decide to latch onto someone, even the universe bend to your will and your imagination. Ask me how I know."
Rumi smile at that. Shimmering lights follow the line of her patterns under her dark purple suit, proof of Mira's words.
"Rumi, your work ethic has always been deeply unsettling, and you're not afraid of treating your relationships like special missions that require your entire focus."
Zoey giggles as Rumi pouts, reminded of very intense first months of relationship where Rumi insisted on "making up for lost time" by cramming as many dates and "couple milestones" as she could. Zoey had to ask Mira for help for an intervention.
"But mostly, because I knew that I found my family.
"You two are the most brilliant minds, and warmest hearts, that I've ever met. You accepted me, and each other when we all had so much growth left to do. For that, I can never thank you enough. I would suffer through years of useless mutual pining, and help you find each other again if I had to. Just, don't ask me again to help on the choice of rings the very same afternoon, okay?"
The giggles help the assembly rub the tears out of their eyes with some dignity.
"Rumi, Zoey. You were probably destined for this life, but let nobody tell you that you didn't deserve it, or each other. You both worked so hard to make it work, without ever doubting the love you had for each other. I see the way you make each other a little more whole, a little happier, day after day, and it's with great selfishness that I say: please keep doing that until the end of times. Nothing would make happier."
Zoey is exactly two seconds away from full-on sobbing, clutching the traditional bouquet against the front of her emerald dress as a lifeline as her second soulmate is trying her hardest to make her ruin her own makeup. She almost misses the way Mira's face twist in a shit-eating grin.
"If you actually learned to close your bedroom door, someday, however, that would be nice too."
The ceremony itself is short and sweet, after that. Bobby does his job perfectly, despite chocking a couple of times. Their kiss is magical, and last long enough for giggles to begin in the audience. They improvise their first dance, of course they do, because Zoey decided at the last second that dancing to something else than the song they used to announce their relationship to the world is a sacrilege, actually.
They invite Mira, afterward, who still manages to harp on them for missing a couple of beats, and spend the rest of the night dancing with the rest of their guests.
Near the end of the night, when Zoey collapse next to Celine to rest her sore feet and gobble a couple of macarons, Celine stays silent, observing Rumi and Mira challenge each other with one of the newest internet dances. It's only when Zoey stands back up that she grabs her arm, stopping her in her movement. "Thank you," she only murmurs, before releasing her, her eyes never leaving Rumi who is gesturing to Zoey, suit jacket forgotten somewhere and sleeves pulled up, the most radiant smile on her face.
"Always," simply answers Zoey, after a moment, before skipping to jump into her wife's arms.
The night is still young.
They all note, distantly, the Honmoon pulsing iridescent at the sound of their joy.
The Honmoon may bind its Hunters, but they're the one to weave it, day after day, note after note.
And for the first time in forever, the weaves of light keeping demons away do not feel the need to search for the next generation. Bursting with so much love and stability, its primary purpose fulfilled, its threads overflow and start binding.
More than Hunters.