Chapter Text
Seoul had the most beautiful skyline that Rumi had ever seen.
Rumi had the privilege of having seen a lot of competition. HUNTR/X had travelled internationally since their debut, lounging in the loftiest penthouses at the insistence of Sunlight Media executives. Rumi and her girls had been able to stare out at the twinkling horizons of Tokyo, Paris, Los Angeles, Melbourne... but nothing compared to how Seoul looked right now, their view unobscured, cradled aloft by the ghostly threads of the new Honmoon.
Their Honmoon.
It wasn't gold, but it wasn't ocean-blue. It gleamed nacre, morphing from pastel to pastel as light danced across the shield. Theirs.
Nothing could compare to this beauty.
Well, almost nothing.
A hand squeezed each of Rumi's.
She glanced to Zoey, then to Mira. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw scrawling patterns -- not the patterns of a demon, but the patterns of one truly blessed by the Honmoon -- glinting on their sleeves.
Celine had taught Rumi almost everything there was to know about hunter history, but the marks of the Honmoon were something she had always left to textbooks instead of lectures. The Sunlight Sisters hadn't ever been marked by the Honmoon, and HUNTR/X had gone without the blessing until these breathtaking moments.
Their Honmoon, their blessings.
Architecture and infrastructure started to crowd in on the edges of her vision, all-encompassing and awful.
Industry had always seemed such a repugnant thing.
Celine had raised her on the compound, immersed in natural things. The first time she remembered leaving the compound to go to a real city -- Seoul, to visit Sunlight Media executives for them to assess her prodigal progress -- Rumi had been seven.
Little Rumi hadn't seen more than a dozen cars in one place in her entire life until that moment.
Being surrounded by traffic made Rumi feel like she had been caught up in a stampede, adrift in a sea of choking beasts. Sounds layered into a cacophony of conversations, engine exhaust, and advertisements. Bright billboards and glass -- so much glass on so many buildings -- created a sparkling tapestry of movement.
Most overwhelming of all was the smell.
Nature smelled right. Nature smelled like things living and dying as they should, like rain and decay.
To Rumi, cities had always smelled like a betrayal of the natural order. Cities smelled of so many things screaming of unnatural life, of cars, greasy food, and above everything else, excess.
Everything had been too much for seven-year-old Rumi.
Celine tenderly picked her up, carrying her inside the tower that she would one day live inside of.
That was the last time that Celine had held her.
Touch hadn't ever been something Rumi afforded herself the luxury of. Her patterns had always been hideously sensitive, thrumming with electricity when anything brushed against them. While touch made Rumi feel like her entire body was being cradled in a warm humming energy, Celine had been instilling the importance of carrying her burdens alone since Rumi could walk.
Rumi found she was able to get along just fine without touch, because as nice as it felt, her independence would feel better in the long run.
So why did Rumi want nothing more than to be held when her feet touched the sealed and sanctified ground?
Rumi didn't remember how they ended up in the dressing room. She blinked, and there they were.
The scents of the Saja Boys, musk and ash and Jinu, enveloped Rumi.
Full-blooded demons smelled like sulfur. Humans who spent their afterlife in Gwi-ma's realm carried more of the acrid scent the longer they permeated their blasphemous existences. The burning scent was a background note in the room, swallowed by expensive colognes and the sweat of all the bodies around them.
When did their team get there?
"Thank you all, so much, for coming out to see our impromptu performance!" Zoey announced to the room.
Rumi looked down to realize she was still holding both of their hands. She squeezed harder, afraid she'd be consumed by the sulfur creeping at the edges of her senses.
Did she stink of the underworld?
"This is something that has been years in the making, and seriously, we couldn't have done it without you," Mira announced.
Rumi found herself surprised at the fact there technically wasn't a lie anywhere in Mira's statement. She was astonished that Mira had tears pricking at the edges of her eyes and the sweetest smirk tugging at her mouth.
"And we love you all so much!" Zoey bounced in place, the balls of her feet striking the floor in sync with the awws erupting around the room. "But it's time for you all to go home! Relaxy time now! Everyone gets a week's paid vacation, starting now!"
If Rumi didn't know Zoey better, she wouldn't have caught the way her eyes were just a little wider than they would have been were Zoey consumed just by excitement. The manic energy that hummed beneath the surface of Zoey's skin was something that their staff (excluding Bobby) had seen the true devastation of. Rumi knew just how close Zoey was to the edge of falling into a chasm of what Zoey endearingly referred to as one of her "breaky-breaks".
Rumi cleared her throat. The room around her fell into a thick silence. "So that means please leave. Now."
Crew members fussing with water bottles and oil diffusers alike dropped what they were doing, gave quick bows, and took their leave.
Rumi's leader voice was convenient, but gods, did it make her feel like a diva when she had to wield it.
Quiet replaced the silence. Silence was thick and cloying, but quiet was light and scentless.
Could they smell sulfur leaking from her skin?
Rumi didn't remember when she sat down on the couch, but she felt her insides curl when she realized that one of Jinu's sweatshirts was crammed between the cushions. Piloted by instinct, she plucked it from its nest and puddled it into her lap like an old bag-of-bones cat.
She felt Mira grow stiff beside her and heard Zoey suck in a sharp breath.
Blissfully, neither of them said anything.
Quiet started to be edged out by silence, gazes never settling and muscles never relaxing.
"One of our drivers is on the way," Zoey cut into the silence, her eyes locked onto the sweatshirt like she knew there was a snake tucked into one of the sleeves. "It's gonna be a little bit, though. Half of Seoul is here tonight so traffic is insane."
"That's it," Mira snapped, clapping her hands together. "Our next investment is going to be a helicopter."
Despite herself, Rumi laughed. "You know, I think I agree. I bet Bobby could get us one in the next three hours."
"Ohmygod Bobby!" Zoey exclaimed. "I haven't seen him! We should probably call him and let him know that everything's fine, right?"
Rumi's adrenaline surged. She was always the primary point of contact for anything HUNTR/X or Honmoon-related. How could she have slacked on her duties so easily? "Right. God, Celine too. They probably both have so many questions."
Her trembling hands betrayed her as she tried to unlock her phone, the quaking in her limbs making it so she couldn't even pull up her speed dial.
"Rums." Mira's voice sounded exasperated. It plowed through the cold steel coursing in Rumi's veins like molten iron. "Here."
Mira's phone rang for approximately two seconds before Bobby picked up, his voice erupting over the speaker. "Girls?! You guys aren't going to-- I don't know what just-- Okay. Calm down, Bobby. You picked up! No, even better, you called me! I'm calm, I'm collected, and I remember what I literally just went over in therapy.
"Did you all have some sort of crazy drama roleplay thing going on with the Saja Boys that you just... didn't tell me about?" Bobby's voice crackled on the other end of the line, the man seemingly going through the entire breadth of human emotions in the brief moments they'd been on the line.
"It's complicated," Rumi replied. She ignored Zoey frantically shaking her head while crossing her arms and Mira dragging her fingernail across her throat. "We would love to go over what we are able to disclose to you at your earliest convenience."
"Yep. Great. As your manager, I love hearing things like that. That definitely doesn't make me worry about one of you all having an elopement planned." The line crackled again.
Mira's eyes fell down to the sweatshirt. She pressed the button to take her phone off speaker and pushed her phone so quickly to her ear that Rumi was surprised her piercings didn't skewer it. "Nope. You won't ever hear about them again, promise. We gotta go now, Bobby. We'll throw something on the books here soon."
His voice on the other end of the line was indistinguishable, but sounded less agitated.
"They say bye too," Mira lied through her teeth, not breaking eye contact with Rumi. She hung up and dropped her phone onto the table behind her, somehow managing to land it while still holding Rumi captive with her gaze. "Okay. Rumi. You're our leader. We love and support you."
"What Mira's working up to saying!" Zoey butted in, scrambling to the floor so Rumi was forced to look at both of them. "Is that we've been worried about you and this explains everything. And we know how you are. We've actually had a 'Honmoon is sealed' contingency plan for years now. So we're going to take work away from you for three days while you... adjust."
Rumi's heart started to race.
There were so many bleeding wounds to cauterize. Three days was so much time for headlines to pile up and for fans to speculate.
"Guys, we remember what happened the last time I went more than a day without answering an email, right?" Rumi laughed.
Zoey and Mira looked at each other, then back to her.
"Rumi." Mira's tone made ice crystallize in Rumi's veins. "Tell me that you're not implying you haven't taken a break since ChickenGate."
"Ohhh, I was trying to remember what the biggest controversy we've had was," Zoey trailed off. "Sorry! Sidetracky Zoey! Rumi, answer Mira!"
Rumi pouted. "I was going to! You just interrupted!"
She sat back and crossed her arms, secretly hoping that Zoey would start rambling so she'd have an excuse to keep quiet. When the gazes boring into her soul didn't wane, she sighed. "I haven't taken a break since ChickenGate. And before you argue, I know you wouldn't count it as a real break, my phone just didn't have service."
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Rumi, I don't understand how you don't have gray hair."
"Yeah, jagiya," Zoey chirped, slinging an arm over Rumi's knees. Her eyes widened as she immediately pulled back, Rumi's heart skipping a beat at how quickly she seemed to change her mind about touching her. "Wait. Rumi. Do you dye your hair purple to hide the gray hairs from us?"
Rumi tensed. "Um. I don't. Dye it, that is. It's always been purple."
Briefly, Zoey's eyes glazed over. Mira stiffened beside Rumi. The two of them did that thing where they seemed to think they were being subtle about having a conversation just through glances.
"Yes, it's the demon," Rumi sighed, exasperated. Now that her girls knew the truth about what she was, she saw no point in delaying the inevitable.
"That's--" Mira choked out. "That's not what I was going to ask. Or wanted to ask. Because I wasn't going to actually ask anything."
Zoey laughed nervously, her eyes bouncing around the room like a moth off a lamp. "Nope! That wasn't what we were wondering at all! The question we had was an inside thought. Totally just something that's not appropriate to ask! Not prying into your choices and completely respecting your privacy!"
Rumi stiffened. "It wasn't my choice, exactly..."
When they leaned in closer, both unblinking as if they were afraid she'd disappear if they did, she ran a hand down her face. "Have you all ever heard of half-demons?"
Both of them shook their heads.
"They're rare. We're rare. But humans that make a deal with Gwi-ma are still human, so they're able to..." she trailed off, vaguely gesturing at her body.
Anger started to bubble beneath Mira's face, her jaw clenching. Zoey started to worry a cuticle between her teeth.
"And Celine--"
Mira was cut off by Zoey's phone beginning to vibrate.
She scrambled for it, swearing as she dug through the labyrinthine pockets of her costume. "Gotcha! Hello? Hi! Wow, you're here so early! We're on our way to the back door now. Okay see you soon bye!"
The energy that she had just greeted their driver with stayed bright and shining in her eyes, but evaporated from the rest of her body.
"Right," Mira stood, her back already to them. "Let's get out of here."
When Rumi stood, Jinu's sweatshirt fell to the floor, the soft sound of rustling fabric louder than the horns blown at the rapture.
It didn't escape Rumi's notice that Zoey's eyes tracked it, nor that Mira's hackles raised.
She didn't find herself caring about their opinion. He saved her life (and the Honmoon, ergo the world), so they could get over themselves.
Rumi clutched the sweatshirt to her chest.
A traitorous thought suggested she slip it on so that she could hide her patterns from the world, but she didn't want her girls to experience more of whatever weird emotions they were already going through. They could stay out of sight as they worked their way to the exit. Even if they did pass by someone, it seemed that almost everyone backstage worked in the industry. Discretion was an expectation if one was to get anywhere close to a renowned group like HUNTR/X.
Even still, it wasn't like she could keep her new patterns hidden for forever.
Rumi could delude herself into thinking that her staff wouldn't ask invasive questions, but eventually, she'd have to find a way to go public about her patterns.
Before Hunters or the Honmoon existed, normal people understood demons.
Modern humans were domesticated creatures, tamed by generations of protection and dulled by centuries of ignorance. The everyday human could have their minds fractured if they were to learn of the world beneath their feet.
Part of the Honmoon's blessing was to encourage everyday people to not pay too much attention to the horned, slovenly beasts stalking the night.
The Honmoon didn't blind people so much as it made them not think too hard about anything unusual.
Some people -- be it through spiritual enlightenment or having a Hunter in their ancestry -- were naturally more attuned to the other world, and they would definitely question why Rumi looked like she had a light show beneath her skin.
How long did she have before she had to come up with another lie about who she was?
Rumi had always been good at lying. Celine had trained her from the time that she could talk that some lies were okay, even if Rumi could never figure out which ones were okay and which ones weren't.
Lying about breaking a vase was a bad lie, but lying about who she was wasn't.
The rules were too confusing, so at a very young age, Rumi decided that lies were bad unless she was told otherwise by Celine, even if the good lies made Rumi feel like a snake was wrapping around her windpipe.
Finding a way to explain her patterns that wouldn't break the mind of the average human wasn't a bad lie, but the thought of it still made her skin crawl.
"Rumi." Zoey shook her shoulder.
When did they get into the limo?
"Can you put your seatbelt on, please?" Mira asked.
"Right," Rumi answered. She did as she was asked, feeling like her body was being run by a program. "Belted."
Her hands fell back into her lap, fingers running down the cloth valleys of Jinu's sweatshirt.
A harsh buzzing vibrated beneath the sweatshirt.
Her heart sank.
There were four people whose calls didn't get put on silent mode. Two of them were sitting next to her.
She sent a prayer to whatever was listening that the person trying to get ahold of her was Bobby.
Unwilling to possibly ghost the man who had put up with so much of their drama for the past few weeks, she brought the phone out.
Dread settled into her stomach like a bird into its nest.
She turned the phone off, sending Celine straight to voicemail.
When the accursed vibrations stopped, Rumi took her first breath since the call started, settling back into the headrest.
"Rumi." Mira sounded so tired. "I have not once seen you let a call from Celine go past the first ring."
Tears needled at the corners of Rumi's eyes. "I, uh. Don't want to talk to Celine right now."
Zoey placed a hand on Rumi's shoulder. The contact sent jolts of sensation down the spiderwebs of her patterns, making Rumi jump. "Ack! Sorry! Do you... wanna talk about it?"
"We... had a conversation after I left the Idol Awards," Rumi trailed off, hoping they'd leave it at that. Another call started and she sent her to voicemail again.
How many times was she going to call?
"We did sorta just seal the Honmoon," Mira pointed out. "Maybe she's just calling to tell you that she's proud of you."
Rumi tapped the leather console between her and Zoey. Threads of the Honmoon revealed themselves at her touch, pulsing out to encircle the insides of the limo. "Those don't look golden to me."
Zoey gasped. She grabbed for Rumi's wrist, but froze when Rumi jerked away. "Sorry. I'm-- sorry. I can stop touching. But. Rumi. They match you. That's gotta be worth something, right?"
Rumi looked down at her hand as if it had slapped Zoey. "No, Zo, it's okay. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just really sensitive to touches right now. That aside. You're right? They do kinda match."
She held it up to the fading threads, gasping when she realized the steady pulse of opalescent light moved in the same slow pulsation as her patterns.
Celine would want to hear about this.
Rumi opened her phone, wincing when she realized she had missed nine calls from Celine.
Ignoring Celine was tantamount to a war crime.
Why did Rumi's hands shake as Celine started to call again?
Mira's hand stopped right before she wrapped her long fingers around Rumi's wrist. "Sorry. I forgot you asked for no touching. Rumi, do you want me to answer for you?"
Rumi nodded mechanically.
Mira tapped the phone and held it to her ear.
Celine's undecipherable voice was loud enough that Rumi could hear it, Mira curling her upper lip as she tilted her head away from the noise. "Celine, this isn't Rumi. It's Mira."
"Yes, she's fine. She's with me and Zoey."
The voice on the other end quieted.
Silence from Celine was seldom a harbinger of good things.
"She wants to talk to you, Rumi," Mira stated, taking the phone away from her ear. "Do you want to talk to her?"
Rumi looked between the phone, torn between whatever alien thing Celine was going through and Mira's concerned expression.
Her words stuck in her throat like barbs, Rumi managed to nod. She pressed the phone to her ear. She wanted to reach down her throat and tear the words out, even if they were already ripping the insides of her throat apart. "Hi."
"I want you to explain everything that has happened in the past twelve hours, Rumi."
Rumi's jaw flapped.
Pressure, familiar and suffocating, pressed into the swell of her throat.
Zoey was in front of Rumi. She made grabby hands for the phone, which Rumi saw float away from her. She was vaguely surprised when she realized it was her own hand traitorously handing the phone off.
"Hey. Um. Hi Celine! Rumi really isn't feeling great right now. Like reaaaaally not great. Tell you what, why don't we just postpone all of this talking until we can get a meeting on the books? No no no not tomorrow, just keep an eye on your schedule and we'll put something up for when we're available okay bye!"
Rapping and rampant ADHD made Zoey capable of talking a mile a minute. At times it was overwhelming, but on stage it made her a force of nature. And, gods, when she was passionate about something, it made Rumi feel what the Greeks must have felt seeing visions of the Muses.
Apparently, it was also convenient for hanging up on Celine.
"So. Clearly she wasn't happy. I think that's the first time that Celine has ever shown that she's a human being and not just a robot programmed to only feel exasperation. But that's totally okay, because you're okay," Zoey rambled, pausing to chew nervously at the nail on her thumb. "Rumi, we don't have to talk about it, but she was, like, worried about you, you know? A-and, I know you're easily the most responsible of us and I think you might have somehow inherited her deathly allergy to asking for help, but we're here for you, yeah?"
Rumi nodded.
She knew she didn't need their help, but they'd feel better knowing that she was aware that they were there for her.
The driver knocked on the partition, shaking Rumi out of her deep thoughts.
Limbs quaking, Rumi started to slide out of the limo.
A hand was in her face.
Rumi blinked, confused over when exactly that got there. She looked up, meeting Mira's unreadable face.
Begrudgingly, Rumi took it, trying to hold herself up under her own shaking knees. Mira grumbled to herself, taking Rumi's arm and wrapping it around her shoulder.
Zoey was beneath Rumi's other arm, doing the same thing.
"Guys, I can walk," Rumi sighed, defeated. She knew that they needed to feel useful, but she wished that they didn't insist on coddling her.
"You nearly fell over." Zoey's tone left no room for argument, even if Rumi was pretty sure she wasn't right.
That didn't sound like her.
"It's a short walk," Mira stated, her voice firm as usual, but not its normal cold. "Just let us do this for you, alright?"
Rumi sighed and consigned herself to their guidance. She didn't let herself fully put her weight on them, but arguing with them wouldn't get her anywhere.
The limp up to the penthouse elevator was humiliating. Between their insane height difference, Zoey and Mira were hardly able to properly support her, stumbling and kicking her dragging limbs.
Somehow, Mira managed to trip over her braid. "Shit, Rumi, sorry."
Rumi started to laugh, unable to find another way to react. "Totally your fault. Your legs are too long."
Mira, who had gone stiff as rebar, immediatetly softened up. "You're the one who's halfway horizontal. I can just let you drag yourself upstairs, you know."
"We are at the elevator, the rest of the way should be easy enough," Rumi pouted.
Zoey giggled. "Rumi, if we put you down now, you'd end up sleeping in here."
"We can still be nice to you," Mira offered, rubbing Rumi's shoulder. "I'll bring your blanket and pillow over."
"Nap time," Rumi agreed.
Blackness swallowed the world around her.
"Did she just--" Mira's voice sounded like it was underwater.
"I think she's just being a smartass," Zoey interrupted. "Rumi, that was funny for two seconds. We're here and want you to stop being a brat, okay?"
Rumi snapped her eyes open. "Not a brat."
Mira made a noise that was probably arguing, but Rumi didn't pay her much attention.
Suddenly, Rumi was off the ground.
Keeping her eyelids open was like trying to get her head above water while an undertow beneath tried to swallow her. She did her best to level a look of indignation at Zoey, who was holding her as easily as one might hold a content cat. Zoey giggled, but it was one of her nervous ones, not her amused ones. "What? This way, Mira can stop kicking you."
Too tired to fight it, Rumi collapsed, letting her disgusting forehead rest against Zoey's costume. Sleeping covered in the grime from the past several life-altering events sounded like a miserable ordeal, but Rumi knew wouldn't make it five seconds into a warm shower.
Rumi was barely conscious enough to see that Mira had followed them into her room and was fussing over her bed. She pulled back the sheets and fluffed the pillows as Zoey gingerly sat her down on the edge of the bed.
A live cattle prod nestling itself between her ribs would have been less jarring than Zoey kneeling down and starting to undo her shoes. "Zo, that's--"
"Shush," Mira commanded, looking down at her with a bag of makeup removal wipes clutched in her hand.
Rumi squirmed, then sighed. "Fine. Just get it over with.
"Please," she added pitifully, embarrassed by how petulant she had sounded.
Mira shifted in place, looking away as she knelt in front of her. "Is it cool if I touch your face? It might make this easier."
Rumi nodded. She wanted to goad Mira and say that just letting her handle it herself would have been even easier, but she decided that she had pushed them enough tonight.
Delicately, Mira slid a cool hand beneath Rumi's chin. Her hands had always been so cold. Tonight, it felt amazing, and Rumi put every ounce of willpower she had into not sinking down to rest against Mira.
"Hydration time!" Zoey announced as she bounded into view, holding a glass of water with a bendy straw right up to Rumi's mouth.
"A bendy straw?" Rumi teased.
Zoey gasped like she had been slapped. "Uh, yeah. Studies show they increase hydration by eighty-thousand percent. And, we don't do plastic straws here. Disposable plastic straws aren't as bad for the environment as propaganda depicts them -- most plastic waste in the ocean is actually from fishing vessels -- and also they're safer for some individuals with disabilities because they're so soft -- but we still do reusables when we can!"
"Rumi, if you don't use that, she will pout about it for a week," Mira stated knowingly, a haunted look flashing through her eyes.
She relented, taking a sip of water. "Thanks."
"Nope! The whoooole thing!" Zoey reprimanded, shoving it back towards Rumi's face.
Rumi sighed. "And are you going to change me into my pajamas once we're done here?"
"I was planning on it." Mira took out another wipe and started working off the foundation clinging to Rumi's cheeks.
It was awful timing, considering that Rumi was starting to turn red.
"What do you wanna wear tonight?" Zoey chirped, skipping over to Rumi's dresser. "Wait before I reach in there, is there anything I shouldn't be seeing?"
Rumi took a moment to register Zoey's jab, heat flushing from her face to her neck at the suggestion. "Uh. No. Nothing like that. Grab whatever."
Zoey narrated her thoughts on Rumi's choices in wardobe as she picked through the clothing. Living with the two of them for so long had given Rumi a very good idea on whether Zoey prattling was because she was excited or nervous.
This rambling definitely seemed to be driven by an innate revulsion to silence.
Rumi tried in vain to follow Zoey's racing thoughts, but had been left behind in the dust long ago.
"Done," Mira breathed, releasing her hold on Rumi's face. "You somehow got foundation in your hair, but that can wait until you shower."
Zoey bounced back over to them, dropping a hoodie, turtleneck, and Rumi's cat-and-star pajama pants into her lap. Her eyes went wide. "Wait wait wait wait. Rumi. Bathhouse."
Mira raised her eyebrows, smirking her stupid smug smirk. "Bathhouse."
Rumi looked down at the patterns crackling down her arms. "Bathhouse. Now, get out. I can change myself."
The golden Honmoon stretched out before them, glimmering threads cradling the audience of Namsan Tower.
Her girls floated on either side of her, clawed hands reaching out to the audience as they serenaded the fans. Golden eyes turned to meet hers, patterns cascading down their bare arms, fangs glinting in the low light.
The gold of the Honmoon rippled into a distressed magenta, the thrumming vibrating so hard that Rumi felt something inside of her snap.
Rumi jerked awake.
Rising early was a discipline she had embraced since she was a toddler. She always rose before either of her girls, often beating the sun itself.
She could count on a single hand how many times she had slept in.
Blazing late afternoon heat baked Rumi as she sat tangled in bed, the sun's rays scorching her face.
She groaned to herself and rolled over to fumble for her phone while hiding her eyes from the intense sun. She slapped around for it, growing increasingly frustrated, until she heard wood grain tear.
Shaking, Rumi slowly sat up.
Her blankets were strewn everywhere, speckled with the insides of her pillows. Rumi slowly untangled her arm from the shredded remnants of her comforter.
Claws grinned at her as she turned her hand over.
Yesterday wasn't a fever dream -- but it was absolutely a nightmare.
Rumi shivered, curling in on herself.
Opalescent threads gently sung around her, encasing the nightstand marred by her claw marks and stretching into the bright world beyond.
The unforgiving sun drove Rumi to stand up. She walked on shaky legs to her ensuite, barely getting the door closed before she collapsed to the cold tile.
Somehow, the harsh light of the sun still bounced in her skull, invading her dark world through the small crack beneath the door. Rumi tore off her hoodie, thankful for the fact that she wore a turtleneck last night, and shoved it beneath the door.
She could still see the edges of the world around her, but it wasn't bright enough to drive the daggers deeper into her head.
Rumi started the shower, cranking it to the hottest it would go, waiting for the smothering steam to swallow her.
This wasn't her first time having one of these flares. Episodes like this were blissfully rare, but they had slowly gotten more common as her patterns creeped further down her body.
Her first meltdown like this had happened when Rumi had first started puberty. She had long ago forgotten what had gotten her so upset in the first place, but every small inconvenience had felt like the end of the world.
That episode was the last time she made the mistake of going to Celine for comfort.
Celine had always known how to fix everything, and foolish young Rumi thought that Celine could fix the glowing patterns too.
The aghast look on her face had screamed to Rumi just how wrong she had been.
And to think, in that first meltdown she had, she didn't even have claws.
What would Celine think of her now? How disappointed would she be?
How disgusted?
Rumi's insides twisted as she shucked her turtleneck from her body, hissing to herself when she poked herself with her claws or tore seams with the sharp points. Somehow, she found a way to rid herself of her sweatpants and underclothes with only one hand, holding herself steady by gripping onto the counter with her grotesque hand.
Her patterns glowed dimly in the light, defining the edges of her existence against the dimness.
Numbing heat enveloped her, pulling a sheet of wool between her senses and her thoughts. When she was able to pull away from the baser parts of her existence, she got her best work done.
Addressing the International Idol Awards was going to occupy herself and her girls for the next several weeks. She didn't let her thoughts linger on what would come of her relationship with Mira and Zoey.
They had leveled her weapons at her and had every right to do so.
Rumi would have deserved any fate they decided for her.
All that she could do now was figure out how to undig themselves out of this hole she'd cast them into.
Interviews were non-negotiable. While Rumi wasn't certain what the general population was able to glean from the events at Namsan Tower, some fans were bound to have hazy memories of towering fires or HUNTR/X floating above them.
She had to come up with some sort of cover story.
Every idea that percolated in her mind made her feel like she was going to cough up the bile that sloshed in her stomach.
Distantly, Rumi registered that she had no idea what time it was -- or, more importantly, how long it had been since she had ate.
Regardless of how much Zoey and Mira -- especially Mira -- accused Rumi of working herself too hard, Rumi knew exactly what her limits were. She knew that she had a very healthy appetite and understood that she had to sate it to string two thoughts together.
Rumi sighed, not wanting to leave the foggy embrace of the shower.
She grabbed the handle and yanked it over to the coldest it would get. While Rumi loved her hot showers, she hated wearing the steam in the way she would hate wearing a soaked wool jacket. A brief moment of cold water always made her wake up.
Rumi found she couldn't see a thing and chose not to question her drastic shift in vision or the quieting of her patterns.
She kept the lights off as she untangled and dried her hair, letting it hang untethered for the first time in weeks.
When she stepped out into her room, she clutched her robe closer to her chest at the sight of the bed she had destroyed. Her claws had disappeared at some point during her shower, but the damage they unleashed unto her safe space didn't vanish so easily.
She grabbed everything she had ripped apart and shoved it into the corner of the room, cursing to herself when she saw that several deep claw marks raked into the mattress.
Funds were never an issue for her, but she couldn't justify throwing out an entire mattress over a few small nightmares. She flipped the mattress over, keeping her eyes out for her phone as she toiled.
Once the evidence of her destruction was out of sight, she picked the most comfortable thing she could justify wearing. While she knew that her girls wouldn't normally question her not keeping her appearance pristine, she needed to show them that she was fine.
If she walked out in cartoon character sweatpants and a hoodie, they'd stick onto her like flies on paper as if they feared she was about to become a headline.
Striding out in something she'd wear to an interview, something professional and sharp, would be her best defense against their undue worries.
She still couldn't find her phone as she readied herself, her laptop seemingly gone too.
Zoey, she whined to herself, confident that Zoey had confiscated her electronics.
Rumi found them not trusting her with her phone to be... excessive. Knowing Zoey, Rumi's phone and laptop were hidden on top of the fridge.
Zoey was so short that she didn't realize the average human could easily see on top of the fridge. She had chosen that as her secret stash location when they first moved into the penthouse, seemingly oblivious to the fact that both Mira and Rumi brought her comfort foods hidden in the stash whenever Zoey's debilitating periods hit.
While Rumi didn't want to go behind Zoey's back, she had executives to contact before she underwent her "break".
Rumi strode out into the living room, slipping into the confidence that came with her stage persona.
Mira and Zoey, who had been silently facing each other at the island, both nearly tumbled out of their seats. Zoey dashed over to her while Mira held still, eyeing her.
"Rumi!" Zoey exclaimed, taking Rumi by the sleeve of her shirt and tugging her towards the island. "We're so happy to see you! We were getting a liiiiiittle worried. We've seen you hole up for two days before, but we haven't ever seen you go more than four hours without eating something. Not saying that we've both been posted up out here for the past forty-eight hours waiting to pounce on you of course, we took shifts--"
Her stomach growled, her thoughts catching up to her when she smelled the kimbap on the table. "Huh. Didn't feel like two days."
Mira's jaw tightened. "Well, we do have two days' worth of takeout ready for you. Your favorite places, too."
Rumi jumped at the kimbap waiting for her. The first piece was halfway down her throat before she reminded herself that she should chew her food. "You guys are the best."
She felt a brief flash of embarrassment when rice flew from her mouth, but it disappeared nearly immediately when her stomach demanded more food.
Zoey and Mira shared one their looks.
"I can." Rumi swallowed, not wanting to go out by choking on a jab and lukewarm kimbap. "I can hear you two thinking over there."
"It's nothing bad," Mira assured her. "I'm relieved to see you acting so... you."
Mira gestured at Rumi right as she was cramming the last of her kimbap into her cheeks. She looked vaguely amused.
"Well, that's good, 'cuz I feel really me," Rumi dismissed. "Look, I'm sure you guys are worried about me. I know that a lot has changed in the past... well, I actually don't know how long it's been, but I'm pretty sure you were being sarcastic about it having been two days. Regardless. This has always been me, y'know? Now you just get to see it."
"It has been two days," Zoey added, her voice shaky.
Rumi sipped on the banana milk that Mira pushed towards her. "That means you're giving my phone back to me tomorrow, right?"
Mira and Zoey both tensed.
"That's," Mira paused as if she were sampling her words before serving them. "What we said we would do on paper. But, in practice, what we intended was for you to have three days of being conscious before giving your stuff back. Do you want something else to snack on, jagiya?"
Rumi rolled her eyes. "Yes, please. Any food, no complaints."
Arguing with Mira would be like arguing with a brick wall graffitied in sarcastic comebacks.
"It's not because we don't trust you, Rumi," Zoey reassured her. "We just know how you are."
Rumi started to shovel handfuls of shrimp chips presented to her into her mouth. "Sure seems like you don't trust me. I promise, no more surprise single launches or meetings with executives."
Promises probably meant little to them right now, especially Mira, but Rumi had to try.
"We aren't worried about you working, we're-- Ow!" Zoey shrieked, jumping away from the island. She glanced over at a glowering Mira, then back to Rumi. "Oopsie! I just kicked that barstool really hard, is all!"
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose.
Rumi ran a hand through her hair, tracing the gentle waves. "You two are such awful liars."
"Well, competition is stiff," Mira jabbed.
"Rude," Rumi scoffed. "Stop treating me like I'm going to fall apart if you breathe on me. I'm fine."
Zoey hopped up onto the barstool next to Rumi, moving her face in close. "Your hair is down."
"And ice is cold," Rumi snapped. "My hair being down isn't me being lazy, it's me trying to relax."
"I don't think you're physically capable of being lazy, Rumi," Mira drawled. "We're just concerned that you might be a little unstable right now."
Rumi dropped her head into the island, using some force for dramatic effect. She played into her act a little too well, her brain rattling against her skull, but like hell if she was going to show it. "How 'bout this. If you give my phone back, the only thing I'll do is find a therapist."
"That." Zoey slapped the back of Rumi's chair. "Is actually a really good idea, jagiya."
"With supervision, of course," Mira added. "But, I do have to agree with Zoey. Talking to someone about what you've been through is one of the better ideas you've had."
Zoey clapped her hands together. Rumi looked up to see she was bouncing in place. "Yes yes yes! Well, no to Mira being mean, because Rumi, you're full of good ideas. But yes to progress and healthy coping mechanisms! Stay here, I'll be right back."
She raced off down the corridor towards their rooms.
"I was assuming she hid it on top of the fridge."
"She did," Mira smirked. "But then I told her it's a terrible spot because we've known about it for years."
Mira's phone started buzzing. She grimaced, picking it up and keeping the screen angled away from Rumi, who tried to crane her neck as subtly as possible to see. "It's the network. Hang tight, I'm gonna go take this."
Rumi sighed, throwing her shoulder down into the island even though no one was present to see her pouting.
She ran a finger over the white stone. Her patterns, still branching down all the way to her hands, had a subtle glimmer to them, just like the stone of the island.
The next room over, Mira, raised her voice. She wasn't loud enough to where Rumi could hear her, but if Rumi crept a little closer...
Rumi slid off the barstool, abandoning the shrimp chips that suddenly seemed so unappetizing.
Celine had raised her as a Hunter, meaning that by the clumsy age of three, Rumi was able to move without making a sound. Stealth was something expected of all Hunters, but Rumi had been told she was uncanny in her quiet.
Did she float ever-so-slightly off the ground like other demons, and had just never realized it?
"I don't care," Mira bit. "I said we're not coming back until we're ready. And if you show up at the penthouse and try to strong-arm Rumi into doing something she's not ready for, you won't be walking out."
Oh god.
Who was on that other line? How long would it take for Rumi to make amends for Mira losing her temper?
"Trending or not, our fans love us. They can put up with one break," Mira snapped. She was so loud that Rumi probably still would have heard her back in the kitchen.
Rumi reminded herself that Zoey would likely be coming back any moment. As much as she wanted to glean more information from Mira's side of the conversation to strategize, she knew that Zoey could easily prolong how long she was grounded.
Feeling strangely full, Rumi returned the chips and sank back into her chair.
Zoey bounded back into the room, passing off Rumi's phone. "Okay so! I will sit here and I will watch you do your research. And before you get any funny ideas, I put every single app on here behind a password, except for the internet. And before you get any funnier ideas, I've locked every single website too."
"I'm a prisoner," Rumi pouted.
"You," Mira corrected, jabbing a finger back at her as she strode into the room. "Are free to go whenever you want to. As long as--"
"One of you goes with me?" Rumi whined. When she didn't immediately get an answer, she sat up, seeing the two of them silently communicating. "Okay, you all need to teach me that language of yours. It isn't fair you get to talk about me when I'm right here."
Zoey pulled out her own phone and studiously scrolled around. "What Mira and I were debating on was whether you actually can go out on your own. But, there's no less than seven internet cafes within a six block radius of us, so we're gonna vote on no."
Rumi growled to herself. "And how would I find them when my phone is a child-locked brick?"
Mira raised an eyebrow. "You are the most stubborn person that I have ever met. You would go door to door asking for one."
Defeated, Rumi crossed her arms.
She continued to pout as she pulled up her email, eager to check just how Rumi-proofed her phone was. When she was prompted for the password, she tried her birthday, but was greeted by her phone starting to vibrate.
"Sins!" Zoey accused. "You are committing a crime!"
"I just wanted to see how predictable you were!" Rumi defended. "Also, can I petition to please do this in the privacy of my own room?"
Zoey and Mira looked at each other, then back to her.
"Fine," Mira relented. "You get one hour."
Rumi, in spite of her victory, couldn't help letting out a petulant huff. "Thank you."
She stood up faster than she had to and strode off to her room. When she saw Mira looming beside her in her periphery, she froze.
"I said you could go to your room," Mira stated. "I just said nothing about you being alone."
Rumi's heart froze over in her chest. "That doesn't seem very private to me."
Mira rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Zoey made me promise that you wouldn't be left alone for a few days."
Goose feathers strewn across her floor and deep claw marks embedded into the mattress flashed behind Rumi's eyes. "I suppose... that if I did end up literally sleeping two days straight... a little bit of worry is understandable."
Mira narrowed her eyes, studying Rumi's face. "Yep, that's the idea."
Rumi went to grab the doorknob, instinctually thinking of a good lie she could use to explain why she didn't have bedsheets.
Her gut told her that wasn't a good thing to lie about.
"You know what?" Rumi sighed, throwing her head back. "I think I'm just... stressed. About trying to find a way to explain all of my problems to a therapist."
Mira nodded, clearly waiting for her to continue.
"Is there... somewhere relaxing that we could go so I could think about this?" Rumi implored, batting her eyes up at Mira.
Sterness melted from Mira's face. "Wait, do you mean--"
Rumi smirked and nodded.
Mira's face brightened before she regained her composure and dulled her visible excitement. "I'll go tell Zoey to get ready. But, before we do that..."
Mira held out her hand. Rumi rolled her eyes, patting herself on the back for her superb acting as Mira turned on her heel and ran back to the kitchen.
Rumi let out a sigh of relief and quickly slipped into her bedroom, keeping her back against it as her heart pounded against her chest.
The excited squeals of the other two in the hallway made her smirk, her heart soaring.
Not having to lie anymore felt so nice.