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Chapter Text

For as long as Rumi could recall she only liked two things about herself physically. Her hair and her voice. Both of which were reminders of her mother. Once Zoey casually suggested cutting her hair when Rumi made an offhand remark of how heavy it was getting but the idea of that was unthinkable. The length of her hair and the methodical placement of it in a braid let Rumi see her mother in herself, the same way the sound of her voice did. They had the same octave range, after all.

Anything that reminded Rumi of her mother rather than her father was a good thing. An irreplaceable thing as it was something she could find pride in. Instead of the ever present shame she felt. Once she was told by Celine what her father was and what her patterns meant, shame had been her constant companion.

How couldn’t it be?

Demons were monstrous creatures in human disguise, hiding their true nature from their victims to feed on their souls. She was born from such a thing and it disgusted her. What had her mother been thinking? Had she known? Or was she tricked? Tricked into loving a demon, tricked into having Rumi? Why had she been born? Celine spoke of her mother like she was some holy idol, a precious thing, but how could she be considered such? Miyeong Ryu had a relationship with a demon, one serious enough to result in Rumi. It betrayed everything taught in the hunter code, what she did. How could she be so good if she did that?

Celine said her demon half didn’t matter, to focus on the human. That she hadn’t formed any deals with Gwi-Ma, that she was pure, she was a hunter, she was chosen by the Honmoon. But how could she believe any of that with the patterns spreading across her skin, marking Rumi as something wholly inhuman?

Patterns Rumi was told to hide since she was four years old.

Shame was Rumi’s first memory. At the age of four her patterns were still small. Just on the top of her back, not yet spreading to her arms. Rumi didn’t even know they were there yet. Mirrors had never been in abundance at Celine’s estate and her guardian had never put any in her room. There was no place Rumi could see her patterns and Celine hadn’t even explained her parents to her beyond the fact they were dead.

The estate was remote but every once in awhile they had workers present. People that helped with the landscaping or the occasional repair person. In this case, the air conditioning had stopped working so a man was on site to service it. They were in the middle of the summer, the heat sweltering and overpowering. Especially for such a small child.

To this day, Rumi could feel the heat when she thought of the memory. Stifling and humid, her shirt sweaty and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She remembered how desperately she wanted to pull that shirt off, especially when Celine announced she had filled up the kiddie pool with cold water. Telling Rumi to go put on her swimsuit. The thought of cold water and the gross cling of her t-shirt caused Rumi to act without decorum, as many a four year old would, cheering as she tugged it over her head. Running shirtless past the repair person and into her room, already focused on finding her unicorn swimsuit.

Dimly Rumi could recall the sound of his laughter. It was knowing and charmed, he said something to Celine about his grandchildren loving to swim. Celine’s voice in response was pleasant but clipped, and there was an edge to it. The door to her room closed so very quietly but in Rumi’s memories the soft click might as well have been a loud slam. That’s how heavy it reverberated.

“Rumi,” said Celine, there was a chill in her words and a command was there. Something that made Rumi freeze in her search for the unicorn swimsuit to face her guardian. Celine crouched down, meeting Rumi at eye level. She always did that, maintained eye contact when they spoke. It was as if Celine wanted the impart her thoughts directly into Rumi through gaze alone. “Come here.”

Slowly, Rumi made her way over to Celine. Hands gripping her shorts, twisting the material and her steps hesitant. She was in trouble. She didn’t know why but Rumi knew she was. Celine looked serious and stern and there was that look in her eyes. The one that said to not argue with her. So Rumi walked over, standing in front of the older woman, trying not to cry.

There was a pause and Celine had seen the unshed tears. Maybe that’s why she lightened. Why she swept her fingers gently through Rumi’s bangs and offered her a hint of a smile. One that kept the tears back as Celine said a wry tone in her voice, “You have to keep your clothes on. We change them in private.”

Rumi blinked, wondering what she was talking about but then she saw her naked chest. Instantly she was flustered, crossing tiny arms over it, ashamed and Celine just kept petting her hair back.

“You know why, don’t you?” asked Celine, prompting Rumi. She often did this. Wanted Rumi to explain to her what she had done wrong. What her mistake was so Rumi would know not to do it again.

Biting her lip, Rumi nodded then muttered, “Repairman.”

“Yes,” Celine breathed, her smile growing slightly larger now. Appearing proud of her. This made Rumi start to feel a little better about the situation. “What about clothes?”

“They stay on during daytime, they change at night,” parroted Rumi, remembering now.

“What else?” Celine pressed, tilting her head.

“They get changed in private,” said Rumi finally, giving a decisive nod.

“Where is that?” asked Celine.

“My room,” said Rumi automatically.

“What did you do wrong?” Celine prodded and Rumi felt the tears come back. She stared at the floor, hands bunched into fists, knowing she had to say why she was bad but not wanting to. “Rumi,” Celine said her name like it was a warning. One that made her shiver in response.

“Didn’t change in my room,” said Rumi, her tone wobbling.

She knew she didn’t do what she was supposed to but she was so excited and the repairman, he looked like a nice old man, he laughed at her. He thought it was funny. So why was it so bad she messed up?

As if sensing this line of thought, Celine gripped her shoulders, her hands firm as they squeezed her. It wasn’t painful but there was something jarring about it. Almost like Celine was using it to emphasize the importance of what she was going to say next.

“There are things people can never be allowed to see,” said Celine sternly.

“On me?” asked Rumi brokenly.

Celine released a soothing murmur, her touch suddenly comforting, pulling Rumi into a hug. One that an adult Rumi knew never touched a certain area of her back. “It’s not your fault,” she said in a hush. “Your father’s responsible. It could never be your fault.”

Her father. Whatever was wrong with her was because of him. That’s why she can’t be seen. Rumi didn’t know anything about him. Just that he was bad. He was the reason her mother was gone and Rumi was with Celine. Being told that she had something on her because of him made Rumi want to disappear. She wanted to shrink small like Arrietty from The Borrowers, so no one could see her.

“Can we get rid of it?” Rumi cried desperately, clinging to Celine. Her unicorn swimsuit and the pool utterly forgotten. All she wanted was to be free of whatever mark her father had given her that she had to hide.

“Someday,” Celine reassured, fingers gently petting her hair. “Do you remember seeing the pretty lights? That’s the Honmoon. It chose you to be a hunter, like your mother, like me. Once we find the other two you can restore it. Make it a perfect golden and then it will be gone. All proof of him on you.”

Rumi remembered crying until she fell asleep and after that she became obsessed with mirrors, trying to find the mark of her father on her. The thing that she had to hide. She simultaneously sought them out and avoided them at all cost depending on her mood. Sometimes Rumi just had to find the proof of his evil on her. This usually happened when Celine scolded her, thinking that mark had to be reason why she was bad. Why Celine was correcting her. Why she couldn’t be a good girl. Sometimes Rumi was determined to forget the mark was on her, avoiding mirrors like the plague. If she couldn’t see herself then she couldn’t possibly see that horrible mark on her and it was like it never existed at all.

As she grew older Rumi wondered about Celine’s words. Would the patterns really disappear with the golden Honmoon? How could Celine know that? Rumi had read hundreds of diaries from former hunters and none had ever experienced anything like her before. There were records of the Honmoon turning a perfect golden and it did indeed banish all demons but who knew what that would do to her? Would it make her patterns disappear like Celine, and Rumi, so desperately wanted or would it do something else? Like sending her to the demon realm with others like her?

The Honmoon chose her but how much could it tell the difference between Rumi and the demons under Gwi-Ma’s influence? Did it sense she hadn’t made a deal with him? That she was this way because of her mother and father? That it wasn’t her fault she was born like this? Maybe none of that mattered. A demon was a demon. Half-human or not and Rumi would fall like the rest when it turned golden.

It was easier to believe Celine. To put faith in her as she had since she was a child but Rumi had her doubts. Particularly once Mira and Zoey joined her at the estate. Mira was first, with her deadpan enunciations and her blunt declarations. She was brutally honest with an incredible well of kindness hiding just beneath the surface. Rumi would never forget the first time she insulted Celine after a training session.

Rumi had been utterly scandalized and started to chide Mira but she was looking at Rumi with such tenderness. Mira’s rough voice was laced with concern, her fingers gentle and light on Rumi’s chin where Celine had gotten a hit in with a jang bong. “You okay?” Mira murmured. “She really got you good.”

All Rumi could do was dimly nod her head. Mira studied her for a moment, her gaze lidded then she hummed and pulled back, her fingers tracing a path across Rumi’s skin as she did so.

“She’s a bitch,” Mira said. “Training or not she didn’t have to hit you so hard. You don’t deserve to be treated that way. Not with how hard you work.”

Then came Zoey with her bright smiles and infectious optimism. Her continued inquiries after Rumi when she had a particularly difficult training session with Celine. Dark eyes worried and hands gentle, checking her for injuries and always asking if she was all right.

Rumi remembered when Zoey first spoke against Celine, protesting her treatment of Rumi. Only to be reprimanded for it by the woman herself. Seeing Zoey shrink into herself like that, like Rumi had done as a child and still continued to do around Celine at times, filled Rumi with rage. It was a day of firsts because it was the first time she argued with Celine. That she criticized her. That she spoke back. The shock was evident to Rumi, despite Celine’s seemingly serene expression. Just as the seething anger that soon followed it. Still, Rumi had no regrets. Not when Zoey burst into her room after Celine released her from a scathing lecture that left Rumi doubting everything good she might have thought about herself.

“Rumi!” Zoey called her name, breathless and desperate, her hands pulling Rumi into an all encompassing hug. One that left Rumi feeling so very warm and appreciated. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble but she was being so mean and no one should ever be mean like that. Much less to you!” The words escaped from her mouth rapidly, one falling after the other, and her eyes. They were filled with tears and so very worried. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

Resting her forehead on Zoey’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of sunshine itself, Rumi muttered, “I am. You make me all right. You and Mira.”

“Aww, our leader’s getting sentimental,” Mira joked in a sardonic drawl. Her fingers light on Rumi’s head, giving her hair an affectionate ruffle. “Seriously though, Celine continues to be a b-i-t-c-h.”

“Mira,” Rumi chided with a laugh, lifting her head from Zoey’s shoulder.

“Made you laugh,” Mira grinned, tapping Rumi’s nose who scowled slightly.

It was moments like those. Being with Mira and Zoey. Learning what they thought of Celine and their relationship that made Rumi doubt her guardian. That maybe Celine wasn’t the end all, be all, authority of all thing hunters and life in general. She could be wrong. Her opinions, her ways, could be wrong. If that was the case then maybe Mira and Zoey were right? Maybe how Celine treated her wasn’t good? Wasn’t normal? If that was true then maybe what Celine thought about Rumi’s patterns wasn’t right as well.

Unbeknown to Celine, the first cracks in her control over Rumi took place when Rumi was 17 with the arrival of Mira. Those cracks soon turning into a crevasse with Zoey’s appearance a year later. Suddenly Celine wasn’t the center of Rumi’s world anymore. She had been replaced by Rumi’s hunting partners.

Ones who didn’t trust Celine completely. Who didn’t have a blind faith. Who taught Rumi to question what she was told. Who would erase the shame Celine inspired in her time and time again.

And that proved to be the ultimate destruction of Celine’s hold on Rumi.

——

It was summer and once again, Rumi was uncomfortable in the sweltering heat. Shirt sweaty and clinging to her skin. Despite her misery in wearing it, especially when she looked at Zoey and Mira clad in shorts and sports bras, Rumi thought it was an appropriate wardrobe decision by Celine standards. The shirt hid her patterns that had now spread from the entirety of her back to the top of her shoulders. It covered so much of her that Rumi thought she might die of the heat.

Every time she drank her water, wiped her forehead, or pulled the sweat soaked shirt from her skin, Mira or Zoey would ask her if she was sure she didn’t want to be more comfortable. Mira more crude, suggesting Rumi rid herself of the shirt, and Zoey more encouraging asking if Rumi wanted to borrow one of her tank tops instead. Each time they did, Celine would intervene, drawing their attention away from Rumi with a sharp instruction to them or to Rumi herself.

The last time she did this, Mira scowled, a dark expression on her sharp features. Rumi reached out, clasping her wrist in a soft hold. Ducking her head to meet their eyes, Rumi gave the slightest inclination of her head. Telling Mira silently it wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t the time. Nothing would change. They just had to get through this training session. Mira’s scowl deepened but whatever she was going to say disappeared in a muttering huff as she tangled her fingers with Rumi’s and squeezed her hand.

When Celine ended the training session Rumi, predictably, was asked to stay back.

Rumi could see the protests starting to form and she stopped them before they began. Walking to her partners and lowering her voice. “I’m fine,” she reassured, voice soothing. “I can handle her.”

“Rumi,” said Mira darkly, her glare fixed over Rumi’s shoulder at Celine. “Don’t try and calm me down. You’re not some little kid, none of us are anymore. She can’t just—“

“I know,” said Rumi soothingly, hesitating for a moment before she reached up, holding Mira’s chin between her index finger and thumb. Directing the visual’s attention back to her. “We’ve debuted two years ago. We’ve won the Idol Awards. We bought our own place thanks to you insisting on it.”

“We’re adulting thoroughly here,” declared Zoey humorously, making Rumi chuckle.

“We are,” Rumi agreed, directing her gaze to both of them now, pulling back to hold their hands. “In a few days it’ll be us on our own so let her have this, okay? I’ll be fine. Celine raised me for 17 years before either of you came along and I survived.”

“Surviving isn’t an ideal way to describe your childhood, unnie,” said Zoey softly.

“I know,” said Rumi in self-deprecating tones. “Look, even if I’m not all right you’ll both know it. You’re going to check on me after this, aren’t you?”

Whatever they were going to say was interrupted by Celine’s sharp call of Rumi’s name. Wincing at this, Rumi gave her best sheepish smile and a shrug. Hoping beyond hope that her girls couldn’t tell how very anxious she was suddenly feeling. It must have worked because Mira and Zoey reluctantly left her and Rumi was alone with Celine. Closing her eyes in preparation for whatever words might come, Rumi turned on her heel and opened them, schooling her face into an impassive expression.

“Rumi,” Celine said her name again. Her words were never loud. Never a yell. Never a shout. There was an eerie control to them. As if she was holding her lack of emotion as an example to her charge. Every syllable was dripping in a quiet sort of condemnation though. Disdain and disappointment threading through the lilt of her voice and somehow that cut deeper than any loud scream Rumi could imagine. “Stop encouraging their lack of discipline. You’re the leader.”

“Yes, Celine,” said Rumi evenly, meeting Celine’s gaze as she liked and keeping her stature straight. She knew better than anyone how her guardian hated it when she shrunk and wilted, making herself smaller. So she held herself tall and linked her hands behind her back, twisting her fingers together.

Sighing, Celine rubbed her temple, breaking the gaze that held Rumi place. Soon enough she raised it though, steel in those eyes along with a hint of understanding. “You’re an adult now,” Celine said, moving closer to cup Rumi’s chin in her hand. “You’ll be on your own soon. I need to know you won’t forget what I taught you. It’s tempting to go along with the girls, I realize that, but you’re different, Rumi. The rules that apply for them aren’t the same for you.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling the tears forming, Rumi gave a stiff nod of her head. Celine considered her for a long moment then said, “Our faults and fears—“

“Must never be seen,” said Rumi thickly, finishing the edict that had been her tenet since childhood.

“Good,” said Celine, sounding quietly pleased as she released Rumi from her hold.

Good she said. I guess it was good that she reminded Rumi what she was. Flawed. Full of faults. Fearing anyone knowing who she was. What she was. Rumi was something to be hidden. Something no one could know the truth of and love. Celine had proved that, so careful with her touches. To only reach out for the parts of Rumi that she knew were human. That weren’t tainted by her father’s mark.

She was a monster. She wasn’t born of one but she came from one.

And there it was. A familiar sensation burning inside of her. It wasn’t like touching a hot pan or the scorching sidewalk in the summer. No, it was a sharp sensation buried deep in her skin, as if tearing through her muscle and Rumi only experienced it when something very specific happened.

Her patterns were expanding.

Hiding her panic from Celine, Rumi quickly made excuses of needing to shower. Soon as she was out of sight, Rumi dashed to her room, the tears blurring her vision. Both from the physical pain and from the knowledge of what was happening to her.

“No, no, no, no,” the words tumbled from Rumi in a rush, panic rising with each word. Yanking open a dresser drawer and pulling out a small ornate hand mirror that was a birthday gift from Mira upon seeing Rumi didn’t have any in her room. Gasping and scrabbling at her shirt, still sweaty and clinging uncomfortably to her skin, Rumi tore it off and held the mirror up to her back. “Why?” Rumi gasped, watching in horror and misery at the patterns creeping further down her arm. Serpent like in their movement, as if taunting Rumi with their growth. “Why??”

Placing the mirror face down on the dresser, Rumi gripped at her arms, squeezing them tight where the patterns were spreading. As if she could stop them from going further through physical strength. A gasping cry escaped her lips and she collapsed onto her bed, rocking forward and holding herself tighter still. Why was this happening again? Was she becoming more of a demon? Was it trying to take control of her?

“Rumi?” Zoey’s voice called through her door, accompanied by a soft knock.

Whipping her head up, Rumi gasped again, grateful for Zoey and Mira’s decorum. They had quickly discovered how she valued her privacy and never entered her room without knocking. Standing quickly, Rumi dashed to her closet, finding a long sleeved compression shirt she often wore for work outs and pulled it over her head. Rubbing her eyes, Rumi gripped her arms again, unable to help it as she felt that deep pain coursing through them. Proof her patterns were stretching further.

“Come in,” Rumi called, doing her best to keep her voice level as she sat on her bed.

Immediately, the door opened and Zoey hesitantly stepped inside, Mira on her heels. Zoey’s eyes were dark with concern and Mira’s were assessing. Zoey sat next to her carefully, her touch light on the small of Rumi’s back. She didn’t ask anything, she simply offered comfort and Rumi released a shuddering sigh, unable to help resting against the lyricist.

“I’m fine,” offered Rumi finally, a tick in her jaw as she suppressed the pain of the patterns.

Mira snorted in response. “Right,” she drew the word out sarcastically. “I’ll believe that in about never.” She crouched down in front of the bed, peering up at Rumi, hands resting gently on Rumi’s knees. “You know whatever Celine said isn’t the truth.” Rumi released a bark of laughter. She wished that was true but Mira didn’t know. Didn’t know what she was. There’s no way she’d think that if she did. “Rumi,” Mira said, her voice commanding in a way that reminded Rumi all too much of Celine. It demanded attention and long trained by instinct, Rumi gave it. “I don’t know what she said and you don’t have to tell me. I know you though. I know how good you are. How hard you try. How much you care. How much you give. And I know whatever she says to you makes you feel like you are less.” A pause and then Mira cupped Rumi’s cheek, her thumb rubbing against it tenderly. “You aren’t. You’re the best leader, the best singer, and you’d probably be the best dancer if I wasn’t around.”

A genuine laugh escaping her now, Rumi met Mira’s gaze gratefully. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“Don’t believe her,” said Mira quietly. “You’re the best person I know outside of Zoey.”

Zoey’s arm wrapped around Rumi’s waist now, pulling Rumi into her hold. It was warm and oh so comforting and Rumi hid her face in the crook of Zoey’s neck. “It’s true, unnie,” she said in a hush, her fingers tracing a comfortable path across Rumi’s back. “Please don’t listen to Celine. She’s hard on all of us but it’s different with you. It’s like she can’t give you a compliment. All you hear is everything you do wrong and that’s not right,” Zoey murmured. There was a pause and then Zoey asked, her tone careful and almost wary, “Was it always like that? Has she ever told you good job?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rumi insisted, pulling back to look at Zoey who wore an uncertain expression.

Rumi watched Zoey meet Mira’s eyes to share a silent communication and she knew they didn’t believe her. Not that she didn’t blame them, more often than not she remembered the things that hurt growing up and not what made her happy. The latter always seemed in short supply until Mira and Zoey entered her life. Even them coming into her room, it stopped her from spiraling. They held her together, made her better, and even the pain from her patterns…

Wait.

It stopped.

The deep burning pain in her arms. It was gone.

When? Rumi searched her mind. Running through the past few minutes. It was still there when they came into her room. It was there when Zoey sat next to her. But when Mira touched her, when she said how Rumi was the best… it started to fade. Then Zoey hugged her and it was gone. The patterns stopped growing because of them? What they said? Or how they made her feel?

Loved. Accepted.

“Hello in there?” Mira drawled, flicking Rumi’s forehead lightly with her index finger. When Rumi startled, Mira burst into laughter. “We lost you for a second there. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Rumi shook her head and offered a crooked smile, she’d have to figure out what it all meant later. They were more important. Turning to Zoey and grabbing her hand along with Mira’s, pulling the visual to sit next to her on the bed. “We’re going to be out of here in two days, remember?” she said brightly.

“Yesss,” hooted Zoey, pumping her fist in a triumphant pose. “I cannot wait!” Tapping her chest proudly, Zoey declared, “Age of majority, folks! 19 and flying free with a three story penthouse bought with our very own debut money.”

“Set up by yours truly,” said Mira smugly, folding her arms across her chest. “I even found that new real estate development so we could get everything designed custom for us.”

“You timed it perfectly so it was finished just after Zoey turned 19,” complimented Rumi, squeezing Mira’s hand. Noting how the tips of Mira’s ears turned red at this, something Rumi found utterly charming.

“Yeah, well, I was ready to be free of the wicked witch’s influence,” snarked Mira, scratching her cheek. “Besides,” she nudged Rumi with her shoulder. “You’re the one who got Celine off our backs. There’s no way we would’ve pulled any of this off it wasn’t for that.”

“I can’t wait to be in our new home,” said Zoey with a wistful sigh. “The building is so dope and so is the neighborhood. There’s even a high end bathhouse where you rent private rooms a block away. We have to go!” Zoey pleaded, looking at both of them with those impossible to resist puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck yeah, I’m going,” Mira agreed.

They both turned their attention to Rumi and she felt her breath speed up, a panic starting to fill her at the idea of them seeing her. Of them knowing what she was. And then it was there again. A sharp pain, deep in her muscles, and Rumi gasped.

“Hey,” said Zoey, voice full of concern, pushing a lock of hair from Rumi’s eyes. “You okay? You don’t have to go with us if you don’t want. I know you’re shy about stuff like that.”

It was gone. The pain. Zoey had stopped it.

Her body was telling her something. Her soul even. That Celine wasn’t right. How she made her feel wasn’t right. What she said about hiding wasn’t helping her. It was causing her pain. It was making her worse. The patterns were spreading because of Celine’s teachings. Instead it was Mira and Zoey that were right. Their love. Their acceptance. The decision came before Rumi realized what she was saying.

“No,” Rumi breathed, unable to believe she was doing this. That she was planning what she was. It went against everything she was taught. Everything she knew. Still, it felt right. “I want go with you both.”

Mira and Zoey whooped excitedly, discussing their bathhouse plans and Rumi sat between them. Feeling like she belonged.

—

In the quiet of the night, Rumi stared at the ceiling of her room, going over the events of the day. Analyzing that happened with her patterns. The pain of them spreading started when she was feeling ashamed. Rumi hating herself, wanting to hide, to disappear… that was the start of the pain.

The more she fell into that hole of loathing, of despair and disregard for herself, the stronger that feeling was the faster her patterns grew. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Not when the opposite caused them to stop.

Mira and Zoey they made her feel loved. Accepted. That she had nothing to hide. They made her think better of herself. Pulled her out of the pit of misery Celine had thrown her into.

Hating herself made the patterns worse. Loving herself made them better.

Rumi had always tried to keep her word. If she said she’d do something, she did it. No excuses, no broken promises. Her word was her bond. She told them she would go to the bathhouse. They didn’t pressure her, they didn’t prod, Zoey even gave her an out but she said she would go. Why had she done that after everything Celine had said about hiding? She knew why.

She wanted to tell them everything about her. About her mother. About her father. About her patterns. About what Celine had taught her. About hiding and shame and hating what she was.

Once they were moved into the penthouse, Rumi would do it. It was their home. Away from Celine and her influence. She’d feel safe there. She’d feel loved.

Yes, Rumi thought firmly. I’ll tell them everything once I’m out of this place.

—-

Moving day wasn’t some monumental thing. It felt like an entirely normal day with the exception of Bobby and Rumi showing up with a sprinter transport van and rental car. Bobby was going to drive the van and he put Rumi on the rental car agreement since legally, she was the only one old enough for it.

They had already put the majority of their belongings in neatly labeled boxes and placed them in the foyer of Celine’s house. Once Bobby arrived in the sprinter van they started the process of loading, it would be a tight fit but it helped that their concert gear was kept at a separate location. Something they could change with the penthouse given the floor with their living quarters had two spare rooms.

Still, Rumi considered, eyeing the van slowly filling up. There sure was a lot.

“Zoey,” Mira drew her name out in a teasing accusation. “Why do you have twice as many boxes as Rumi when she grew up here and you’ve only been around three years?”

“Only been around?” repeated Zoey with great offense, pressing a hand to her chest after placing another box of her belongings inside the van. “I’ll have you know I have knick knacks! Swag! Collectibles!”

“She likes physical media,” Rumi offered helpfully. “It’s mostly games.” Mira made an all knowing sound at this which made Zoey protest. “Besides, I have the biggest personal item, remember? My Steinway.”

“Oh yeah,” said Mira thoughtfully, “that thing is huge. Concert grand size.” Staring at Zoey for a moment, an impish smile tugged at her lips and she added, “Doesn’t change the fact Rumi still has less stuff.” Giving Zoey’s cheek a pinch, Mira cooed, “Who’s a little hoarder?”

“I’m not a hoarder! I collect things!” Zoey shouted, whapping Mira’s hand away from her face.

“Denial is so very sad to witness,” Mira observed, turning to put the last of her own boxes in the van.

“I also have my plants,” offered Rumi, lifting up her Korean Boxwood as she said this. “Three boxes of them plus this big guy.” Directing her gaze around the shrub, Rumi smiled at Zoey. “I hoard plants and Mira hoards make up. Everybody collects things they like and you like games. Plus you’re good at them,” Rumi said, speaking as if this was an absolute truth. “I love watching you play games. It’s fun.”

“Rumi,” Zoey called her name, adoration in her tone. Faking a sniffle, she glared at Mira, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Why can’t you be like our unnie? Listen how supportive she is!”

Snorting at this, Mira drawled, “There’s only one Rumi. We can’t clone her.” Helping Zoey with her last box of video games, Mira poked Rumi in the small of her back, causing Rumi to yelp. “I don’t hoard make up.”

“It’s not bad,” said Rumi, blinking.

“I don’t,” Mira insisted stubbornly. “I have the exact right amount.”

“One box of yours was nothing but eyeshadow palettes. There were over fifty,” said Rumi plainly. Mira scowled in response and Zoey began giggling madly, saying Mira had been called out. Rumi blinked yet again, not understanding why this was something to be bothered about. “It’s a good thing though?” said Rumi, puzzled at why Mira would be embarrassed. “You’re our visual, it’s part of your job. You’re so talented at coming up with all of our styling and you always look so pretty.”

This immediately halted the joking and Mira reddened, muttering thanks under her breath while Zoey whistled and rocked back on her heels, looking supremely pleased with herself.

“I hate we have to leave your fruit trees behind,” said Zoey quickly, changing the subject much to Mira’s relief. She looked longingly over at the persimmon and plum trees.

“We have a large balcony and my room has a smaller one, I was thinking of trying to grow blackberries and melons. Maybe even try to do a kiwi vine,” Rumi mused, thinking of ways she might accomplish it.

“Strawberries!” Zoey proclaimed, hooking their arms together.

“That sounds good,” Rumi smiled, peering up at Mira who was observing them. “Mira likes them. I want to grow blackberries first though. They’re both your favorite.”

“You should grow what you like, Rumi,” said Mira, a fond sort of scolding in her tone.

“I like them too though?” responded Rumi, tilting her head in confusion.

“All right! That is the last box!” Bobby announced, his voice accompanied by the slam of the van doors, startling all three of them. Grinning at them, he said, “Ready to go? Your penthouse awaits!”

“The furniture delivery was two days ago but how did the set up go?” asked Rumi, knowing Bobby hired not only a moving company but one for organizing. Thus ensuring their beds had sheets, the electronics were all plugged in, and the internet was working, amongst other things.

“It went perfect,” said Bobby, giving a thumbs up. “Everything is ready to go. When we get there I have another moving crew to help us unload too. Oh! I also had the organizers unpack all the kitchen supplies but nothing’s been put away, like you requested.”

Seeing the questioning look on her friends faces, Rumi supplied, “I want to organize the kitchen myself.”

“Well, isn’t that very domestic goddess of you?” Mira drew out, there was a warmth to her tone and her eyes glinted with affectionate humor. “Aren’t we lucky, Zoey? We have our own sexy housewife.”

There was something about Mira’s tone and the look in her eyes that made Rumi blush. It wasn’t helped by Zoey continuing to cling to her, squeezing her hand as she declared, “Rumi would be the best housewife ever. She’s good at gardening, she’s an awesome chef, and she likes keeping everything clean and organized—“ Zoey kept rambling on about Rumi’s various domestic qualities, praising them all and Rumi could feel herself getting redder and redder. Eventually Zoey was halted by Mira’s laughter.

“Rumi can’t take anymore compliments, Zoey,” Mira observed. “You should probably stop before she explodes.” Turning to Bobby, she held out her hand. “Rental keys?”

Bobby wore a look of consternation, gazing at Mira then Rumi and then back again. This caused Rumi to finally snap out of Zoey’s compliment induced daze. “Bobby put me down as the secondary driver. I’m the only one old enough to drive a rental,” said Rumi apologetically as Bobby handed her the keys. She knew how much Mira enjoyed to drive. Quite frankly, she rather Mira do it. Rumi didn’t particularly like driving but the law was the law.

Before Mira could reply, Celine called for them. Apparently seeing they finished packing the van she had paused in front of them, taking them in with an assessing gaze. “Girls,” Celine said evenly and there was a stern undertone to the word. As if there was a warning in it. “You are adults, make sure you behave as such. Consider your reputation and that of the group now that you have this freedom. And,” she paused, there was a heaviness in her voice, “don’t forget what everything is for. What is at stake.”

They all nodded, saying in a perfect chorus, “Yes, Celine.”

“Rumi,” Celine commanded, taking a step back. Clearly expecting Rumi to follow her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rumi put the rental keys in Mira’s hand. “I’ll be there in a minute,” Rumi promised, only vaguely hearing Mira’s response but feeling her and Zoey’s gaze on her as she left. Stopping next to Celine at the persimmon tree Zoey had been lamenting earlier, Rumi clasped her hands together.

“Remember the rules,” said Celine finally.

“Yes,” Rumi breathed, trying desperately not to think of her plans to almost immediately break them.

There was a moment of silence and then Celine wore the softest smile. The one that always made Rumi want to call her mother. She cupped Rumi’s cheek, her thumb sweeping across it in a fond caress. “Rumi,” Celine said her name like it was a prayer and there were tears in her eyes. “You’ve grown up so well. I’m proud of you and I know your mother would be too.”

“Celine,” Rumi uttered, unable to help the emotion from escaping.

Then Celine’s arms were around her, pulling her into a hug and Rumi clung to her like she had as a child, when she had wanted for nothing but love and reassurance. All too soon it was over and Celine wiped Rumi’s tears away, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips but a clear reminder in her eyes.

“You’re the leader, Rumi,” said Celine solemnly. “Always remember what that means.”

Giving a jerky nod, Rumi rubbed at her eyes and vowed, “I’ll protect them.”

“Good,” said Celine, sounding pleased. “Now go on, they’re waiting for you.” Rumi nodded again, looking to her girls in the distance and as she walked away, Celine called, “Visit me once in awhile, won’t you? And if not that, do text me once a week. It’s not like you’re going away to war.”

“I will,” Rumi promised, laughing and wishing it was always like this with Celine. Sometimes she could be so very kind, so very understanding, and it was all that Rumi had ever wanted.

Upon arriving at the car, Mira tossed her the keys and Rumi barely managed not to fumble. “I called shotgun, plus I have the longest legs,” Mira informed her, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I curse my ancestors for being short,” Zoey said bitterly.

“You mean your parents?” snarked Mira with a lopsided grin. Poking Rumi in the arm once she sat in driver’s seat, Mira said, “You know once I get my car I’m the designated driver, right?”

“Kia Stinger GTS,” Rumi said, recalling Mia’s choice. “Cherry red. You’re getting it in a month, right?” Mira murmured her assent and Rumi started the far less sporty Hyundai Elantra Bobby had rented. “In a year we can probably renegotiate the safety clause in our contract that kept you from buying a motorcycle.”

“Don’t forget the forbidden Porsche,” said Mira, snorting. “They shot that down too. I can’t believe we’re hunters and I can’t ride a Hyosung.”

“Can you imagine if JYP knew HUNTR/X was just a side gig?” asked Zoey, laughing.

“Celine might be a pain but being on her label keeps them off our backs mostly,” Mira observed, giving the older woman a rare compliment. Eyeing Rumi discretely, Mira noted, “She seemed okay back there.”

“She told me she’s proud of me and that my mom would be too,” said Rumi thickly, keeping her focus on the road and following close behind Bobby in the sprinter van. “It was nice.”

There was a comfortable silence until Zoey and Mira began to argue over whose phone would be controlling the bluetooth. Listening to them playfully bicker as she drove to their future home, a wave of contentment swept over Rumi as she realized this was her future.

This warmth. This chatter. Not coldness. Not silence.

Things were going to be good.

—

Bobby must have found the fastest movers in Seoul, Rumi considered, looking at the neat pile of boxes in her room. The movers had emptied the van and placed their belongings in just under an hour. They were fans of the group so their manager saw them off with signed official promo photos and a large tip. With a cheery wave, Bobby said his goodbyes and they were alone.

Instinctively, they decided to explore the penthouse together. Marveling at the floor that held their music and dance studio, separated by a soundproof wall. Rumi ran her fingers over the top of her piano, relieved to see it in good condition while Zoey checked on her drums and guitar before dashing towards the booth. Mira and Rumi left her there, playing with all of the new mix options to look at the dance studio.

It was bright with floor to ceiling windows and a large mirrored wall so they could see their movements perfectly. A long bar ran across the opposite side and Mira noted with some satisfaction the quality of the stereo system installed. Not only that but Bobby had apparently added small kitchenette area in the corner, apparently remembering how thirsty and hungry they all got after dance practice.

The next floor up held their gym and small infirmary. Zoey rejoined them as they tried out all the various equipment. A treadmill, exercise bike, rowing machine, elliptical, weight bench and Rumi’s favorite, a lat pull down machine. There was a long mat they could spar on and yet again, Bobby had added a kitchenette. Next door, the much smaller infirmary had been set up by Celine with three cots and all kinds of medical equipment that Rumi hope they would never have to use including an AED and a blood infusion pump. Celine took care of everything when Bobby wasn’t here and the room was set with a keycode for privacy.

Finally there were their living quarters. Rumi had chosen the room with the most direct sunlight for her plants, Mira right next to her as she claimed to be a vampire who hated sunlight, and Zoey at the end. Each room filled with the furniture they had chosen, just waiting to be decorated. After complimenting each other’s chosen living spaces, they headed towards the living room and the huge couch which had been something they all agreed upon the instant they saw it. It was absurdly comfortable and so very big that none of them could ever take up too much space. In front of it was an impressively large smart TV that had been Zoey’s choice and she started imagining all the movie and TV nights they could have here.

It was then that Rumi, unable to help herself, blurted out, “I have a surprise for you.” Zoey blinked and Mira grinned, bumping Rumi’s shoulder playfully. “We have a surprise for you,” Rumi corrected.

“For me? What is it?” asked Zoey, eyes wide.

“Remember the two spare rooms we have on this floor? It was an easy choice to make one into a wardrobe for us, so we could keep all of our stage clothes here but what about the other room?” Rumi prompted, leading Zoey to said room which was just off of their large living room area. Pushing the door open, Rumi revealed a space furnished with an entertainment center featuring another smart TV, a large desk with three monitors and comfortable gaming chair, a strangely big mini-fridge, a large couch with side tables, and a built in wall of empty shelves. “We thought you could use it for a gaming room.”

“I made Bobby sound proof it,” said Mira sardonically. “You yell too much playing Overwatch.”

“You guys,” Zoey drew the words out, sounding overcome with feeling as she swept them both up in a hug. She rocked them to and fro in her embrace, making Rumi laugh and Mira groan in resignation. “I can’t believe you did this for me! And you,” she accused, shoving Mira with a wild grin. “After you mocked me for being a video game hoarder!”

“Mockery is a sign of my affection,” said Mira drolly. She nodded at Rumi and said, “Really this was Rumi’s idea. She wanted a separate space for you to game. Said was healthier for you or something.”

“It effects your sleep,” Rumi insisted, a defensive tone going into her voice. “I read all about it! Games keep you mentally and physiologically stimulated. They keep you alert and focused which is exact opposite of what you want to do to go to sleep!” Seeing the indulgent look on Zoey and Mira’s faces as she spoke, Rumi had to fight a pout of frustration she knew would just encourage them. “Besides,” Rumi said, rolling her eyes. “You wanted to try gaming streams, right Zoey? This would work good for that.”

“Ohhhh, it would,” said Zoey eagerly, already focused on setting up her all systems in here. The desk was perfect for her rig and she noticed with some affection all her boxes filled with games and systems had been placed in here already. Eyes wet with emotion at the thought that went into all this, Zoey sniffled. “You guys are the greatest. I really love it. Thank you.”

“No problem, I like sleep,” said Mira in laconic tones, ruffling her hair.

“You’re welcome,” said Rumi warmly, squeezing Zoey’s hand.

“All right! I’m totally unpacking all my gaming gear after I finish with my room,” Zoey announced, shoving up the sleeves of her hoodie and stomping with purpose back towards her room.

“I’m organizing my closet by designer and season,” Mira declared as if this was the only correct answer.

Rumi watched them go, quiet laughter on her lips, and she headed towards the balconies to assess which areas would be best for her plants. Slowly but surely, she arranged the ones she felt would be best suited to live outside and the others she placed in her room on several elaborate plant stands she had indulged in. Once that was done, Rumi considered the few remaining boxes of personal items. She really ought to unpack them but her mind was drawn back to the kitchen.

Their spacious state of the art kitchen filled with all those supplies Bobby had arranged for her.

The temptation was too great and Rumi abandoned her room for the kitchen where she noted with wry humor the bluetooth speaker that was designed to look like a retro Victrola radio. Turning it on and connecting, Rumi recalled Zoey’s insistence a kitchen without music was a sad place indeed. Apparently before their divorce, her parents had a habit playing music whenever they cooked, singing along as they prepared meals.

Cycling through her latest genre obsession, which Mira had declared to be emo girls, Rumi hummed along and started inspecting all the kitchen appliances. A rice cooker, coffee maker, blender, toaster, stand mixer, crock pot, and oh! Bobby had gotten her the air fryer she was interested in. Biting her lip, Rumi wondered if she should have told him about the food dehydrator. It would’ve been really good for making snacks. It was then that Rumi noticed the large object placed neatly next to the refrigerator.

A food dehydrator. How had Bobby known? He was scarily good at anticipating their needs sometimes.

Each item made Rumi more and more delighted. She even had a glass sprayer for olive oil. Rumi didn’t know why that made her so tremendously happy but it did. Taking her time, she placed everything where she felt it would be most convenient. A feeling of immense satisfaction coming over her as she did.

Everything was in its place and Rumi was finishing with the simplest task. Placing the eating utensils in the organizer drawer. Chopsticks, steak knives, forks, spoons and finally butter knives. Rumi held the last one in hand, about to put it away when she startled at the feeling of hands on the bare skin of her hips. A startled yelp escaping her lips, Rumi whirled around, butter knife in hand to face an amused Mira.

“Hey Rumi,” Mira drawled, raising an eyebrow. “You know that’s a butter knife, right? Not the most threatening thing you could choose, babe.”

Flushing at this, Rumi shoved the butter knife quickly into the drawer and closed it. Mira in the meantime, was inspecting their newly organized kitchen with some interest. “You did a good job,” she said finally and Rumi couldn’t help the pride that swelled up in her at the compliment. There was a light of concern in Mira’s appraisal, studying Rumi like she was something in an art exhibit or museum. “You haven’t been in here this whole time, have you?” When Rumi bit her lip and looked to the side, patently avoiding Mira’s question, she groaned and lightly bonked Rumi’s forehead. Leaning down to smile affectionately when Rumi finally met her eyes, putting their faces just inches apart. “It’s more important to unpack your belongings. Don’t worry about stuff that’s for us. It can wait. You’re what matters.”

“It’s not like that,” Rumi murmured, rubbing her neck and trying to figure out the best way to explain it. Finally she peered up at Mira and revealed, “This is for me too. I wanted to do this after I took care of my plants. I’m really excited to have a kitchen of my own. Celine let me cook sometimes but I felt like I was in her way. It won’t be like that here. I have all these recipes I want to try and Bobby even got me an air fryer and food dehydrator.” Realizing she was starting to ramble, Rumi abruptly snapped her lips shut and turned towards Mira who was observing her with a soft look in her eyes. “What?” she squeaked.

“My perfect housewife,” Mira chuckled and Rumi scowled in response. “You’re going to deny it? You’ve got epic plans around cooking for us. That’s so very housewife coded.”

“I can’t cook now,” said Rumi, sighing with disappointment. “There’s no groceries. I was going to go grocery shopping—“

“Nuh uh, no way,” interrupted Mira, “it’s moving day. You can’t grocery shop. This is a takeout occasion, hands down. I won’t hear any arguments.” Plopping down on the nearby stool at their kitchen island, Mira continued, “We’re in our fancy penthouse that we bought with our money. It has security and staff that will bring our delivery to us via an elevator that is not our personal elevator and holy shit, I love this place,” Mira proclaimed, enthusiasm abundant in her deep intonation of her voice.

“I do too,” said Rumi with a laugh. Sitting next to Mira, she asked, “What should we get?”

“Rumi wants kimbap,” Zoey called, sliding into the room in her turtle slippers. Grinning as she came to a perfect stop right in front of them. Zoey posed as if waiting to be praised for her excellent sliding skills but when nothing came she huffed and leaned against Rumi. “I could go for it too.”

“Sounds good,” Mira muttered, already looking up restaurants on her phone.

“Don’t forget drinks,” reminded Rumi. “We just have the water from our new smart fridge.”

“Do we have glasses?” asked Zoey, peering around to study the freshly arranged kitchen.

“We do, Rumi already put them away. She’s been organizing everything,” Mira remarked.

“What? You did it on your own? I would’ve helped!” Zoey pouted, tugging on Rumi’s sleeve.

An immediate panic filling her as she felt her collar shift downward, Rumi carefully detached Zoey’s hold on her. Not now. It was too soon. They couldn’t see yet. Not until she could explain. Thoroughly aware of Zoey’s lurking insecurities that could suddenly rear their ugly head, Rumi instead laced their fingers together to hold their hands. “I wanted to do it though,” Rumi confessed shyly, thinking back to Mira’s ongoing jokes about her being their housewife. “I was excited to be able to put everything in place.”

“She wants to cook for us,” revealed Mira, fondness lacing her tone. Shoving her phone in front of Rumi, she murmured, “Pick a drink. I figured you’d want omija tea but I didn’t want to assume.”

Rumi blinked and looked up at Mira, smiling softly and pushing phone back into her grip. “You’re right. It’s my favorite with kimbap,” Rumi reassured, touched that Mira remembered something like that. Then again that was a very Mira thing. She always knew their favorites, no matter what it was. Drinks, food, clothing, she even could weirdly predict Rumi’s favorites whenever she found a new music genre obsession.

“Oh,” Mira muttered, a hint of red clinging to the tips of her ears. “Good.” Focusing on Zoey now, she asked, “You want a melon milki?”

“I do,” Zoey chirped, grinning wide. Turning to Rumi and poking her playfully in the side. “Should we guess Mira’s favorite drink with kimbap, unnie? I think it’s—“ Zoey stood on her tip toes to whisper her answer in Rumi’s wear who blushed at this but wore a thoughtful expression at whatever she was saying. Dropping back down on her feet, Zoey asked, “What do you think?” Rumi made a noise of affirmation and Zoey whirled around to face Mira, pointing at her as she stated, full of confidence, “Sikhye!”

Ears turning redder yet, Mira released a grunt of affirmation, letting them know they were correct. Focusing on her phone, she finished the order after confirming the appetizers they wanted to share. “It’ll be here in twenty minutes,” Mira said. Peering around them, her gaze set on the couch. “Should we make sure that giant TV of ours works in the meantime?”

“Couch, couch, couch,” Zoey chanted.

Hooking her arms in Mira and Rumi’s, encouraging them to chant along with her, Zoey pulled them towards their largest furniture purchase. Soon enough, they gave in, laughing with her. Mira lept over the back of the couch with ease, landing with a soft plop with Zoey following close behind. Rumi took the long way, walking around the couch to settle carefully next to Zoey.

Zoey immediately set to work, downloading all their favorite streaming apps, going through the tedious login process for each of them. As she did, they discussed what they should watch. Once all downloads and logins were complete the food was five minutes away and they agreed on a YouTube nature documentary. Per usual, it focused on marine animals and Rumi was sure it had something about sea turtles in it.

Their phones buzzed with a notification from building security, informing them through the messaging system a staff member was headed up the general elevator to their floor with the food. “I’ll get it,” said Rumi quickly, rising to her feet and heading out to the small foyer that was only part of their penthouse accessible to building personnel. She recalled Mira quizzing the developers about how secure it would be, who would have access, how did they vet their employees. Only satisfied when she was informed only security would have the code to reach their floor and that it would change on a weekly basis. Waiting in the brightly lit foyer, Rumi shifted from foot to foot and schooled her face into the friendliest smile when the ding of the elevator sounded. “Thank you,” Rumi immediately began, giving a slight bow, taking note of the name badge the man wore as she did. “I appreciate your assistance, Hwan Lim-ssi.”

“You’re welcome, Ryu-nim,” said Hwan Lim, his eyes filled with relief, returning her bow.

Rumi wondered if maybe there were other high profile residents in the tower who weren’t quite so respectful to staff. He carefully held out the food for her, waiting patiently as Rumi gathered it all. Once she had it in hand, he bowed again and disappeared back into the elevator. Heading back to their penthouse, Rumi set the drink caddy down and entered the code, smiling at the click as it unlocked.

“I bring food,” Rumi called, laughing when she heard the scramble of limbs before seeing it.

Handing over the drink caddy to Mira’s outstretched hands, Rumi set the large bag of food on the sturdy wooden soban. Large enough to sit six people, it reminded Rumi of the antique table Celine and her would often sit at when she was little. That was part of why she was so insistent on purchasing it. Settling on the floor and crossing her legs, Rumi began to pull out the dishes. Kimbap, bulgogi, jeyuk bokkeum, ttokbokki, kimchi and jeon was neatly arranged across the table.

Mira placed the drinks in front of their respective areas as Zoey jumped the couch, dishes and chopsticks in hand. Rumi’s eyes went wide at this until she noted with some relief the plates were the plastic ones. The chance of those shattering into ceramic shards were nonexistent. They quickly set to filling their plates, marine animal documentary playing in the background as they ate.

“This is the best,” Zoey said brightly, beaming at them. “Us eating in our own place.”

“It fucking rules,” Mira agreed in her usual deadpan tones though they were laced with satisfaction.

“I’m really happy,” Rumi confessed, eyes fixed on her kimbap as if to avoid the embarrassment she felt.

“Aww, me too unnie,” chimed Zoey, nudging Rumi with her feet, making Rumi lift her head and be met with the most gleaming of smiles. “I like my gaming room the best though. I can’t believe you all did that for me. It’s the coolest thing ever. I took pix and sent it to my little bros. They’re totally jealous.”

“Isn’t it like 2 AM there? Shouldn’t they be sleeping,” observed Mira sardonically.

“They’re tweens, they don’t sleep,” Zoey scoffed, grinning as she thought of her siblings back in California with her father and stepmother.

“If you say so,” said Mira. Shifting her attention to Rumi, she released a bark of laughter as Rumi froze in the midst of stuffing her face with kimbap. “Finish your food, princess,” Mira drawled. Rumi quickly did as she was told and once she swallowed the piece whole, Mira smirked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand and studying her with a lidded gaze. “You’ve got to be happy, being out from under Celine at last.”

Mira said it like it was a known truth. That there was no way Rumi couldn’t be happy and Rumi supposed she was right. She loved Celine, she did, but their relationship could be so very oppressive. Now that Rumi thought she knew the reason behind her patterns spreading…

It was best for Rumi to have distance from Celine. So, yes, she was happy.

“I am,” said Rumi finally, almost breathless as she revealed this. “I love Celine but she can be too much sometimes. More criticism than anything constructive and it can hurt.”

“She’s always been too hard on you,” said Zoey, her voice full of concern.

“She was hard on all of us,” Rumi corrected, not wanting to discount their treatment. Knowing full well how difficult the first year of training had been for the both of them.

“Rumi,” said Mira plainly, “it was worst with you. Hands down. I know what we’re doing is important. We’re saving people, keeping the world safe, all that big time hero shit but there’s better ways of making sure we know how important the mission is than reminding us of our faults constantly.”

“I know,” Rumi uttered, twisting her fingers together and biting down lightly on her lip. Lifting her gaze to look at Mira and Zoey with imploring eyes, she said, “Celine tried to do her best. For me, for us, but I’m starting to think maybe it wasn’t good enough?” Ducking her head, Rumi felt her heart racing and she had to force the words past her lips but she knew she had to say this. That this was the start of it. Of telling them the truth. About her parents. About her. “All my life she’s made me feel ashamed. Of who I am, what I am.” Emotion thick in her throat as she swallowed, Rumi looked at them again as she confessed, “It’s not like that with you both. You make me feel proud of myself. Like I’m worth something and the idea of having that all the time now? Being around you and how you treat me--”

Her words were cut off by Zoey calling her name and tackling her to the floor in a hug. Rumi laughed, wrapping her arms around Zoey’s small frame as she clung to Rumi like a koala. Peering up as Mira crawled over to them, an impossibly soft smile on her features as she pushed the hair out of Rumi’s eyes. Reaching up to grab the hand at her forehead, Rumi returned the smile and felt so utterly safe and secure.

This was right. She had to tell them.

Chapter Text

There was a long moment where Rumi allowed herself bask in the feel of Mira and Zoey’s arms around her. The feeling of love, safety, and warmth it provided her. She breathed in the scent of them and tried to hold this moment forever in her mind. Memorizing it so she could cherish it in case this all went wrong.

In case Celine was right.

As they sat up, Rumi was aware of Mira and Zoey’s gazes on her. She could feel their concern and Rumi focused on her hands, twisting her fingers together, unable to look at them and start this. “I never knew anything about my father until I was six,” said Rumi haltingly, her voice rough and a lump in her throat. “I just knew that he was bad. That he was the reason my mother was dead and I hated myself for being a part of him.” Lifting a trembling hand, Rumi moved her long braid over her shoulder, running her fingers over the soft texture, recalling why she had it styled like this. “Celine said my hair was like my mother’s and I always wanted to be anything that reminded her of my mother. That’s why I keep it in a braid like she did. Anything I could do to show her I was Miyeong’s daughter and not his, that’s all I ever wanted.”

“Celine taught me to hide parts of myself away,” Rumi confessed, looking at them in earnest. Trying to help them see the truth of it. To show them this was all she had ever known, all she had been taught since a young child and how very hard it was to break away from that mindset. “She told me that if people knew the real me, they would never understand, never accept me.” A moment of pause and then Rumi said, her voice cracked and broken, “She told me that you would never understand but I don’t believe her.” It was tinged with desperation, these final words as she continued, eyes wide and searching. “Not after everything, not with how you make me feel, I thought—she’s wrong isn’t she?”

“Rumi,” Zoey cried, grabbing Rumi’s hands in her own and clutching them close. “Of course she is! You don’t have to hide from us, no matter what it is. You’re still you.”

Mira released a noise of affirmation, hands warm and reassuring on Rumi’s shoulders. “She’s right,” Mira murmured, voice low and comforting in Rumi’s ear. “We’re with you, always.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Rumi muttered, “Please don’t hate me.” Before Mira and Zoey could respond to this, Rumi shook her hands free from Zoey’s grip and carefully removed Mira’s hands from her shoulder. Pushing up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal the patterns that had just recently expanded further. “I have patterns. My father was a demon.”

A long terrible silence and Rumi could only hear the sound of her rapid breathing. Panic spread through her fast and oh no no no--she was wrong, she was wrong, Celine was right and this was a mistake—

The gentlest touch, soft and hesitant, then so very warm on her skin. On her patterns, Rumi realized, jerking her head up to see Mira wearing a face of quiet understanding but there was an anger there too, a deep sort seething that Rumi had only seen on Celine before this. “She made you hide it, hide yourself from us,” Mira stated, a quiet fury in her words.

“Yes,” Rumi breathed, afraid to break this moment.

No one had ever touched her patterns before. Celine avoided just looking at them and even Rumi didn’t like to touch them. It was so very odd to watch Mira touch her patterns like they were nothing. Like they weren’t the cause of every moment of misery in Rumi’s life.

“For how long?” asked Zoey and Rumi dimly realized her other sleeve was up now, Zoey touching the patterns on her other arm. It stunned her into silence, the sensation. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was so very strange, to be touched like this… to be touched at all on her bare skin. Rumi wasn’t used to it or the pleasant way it made her feel, despite how incredibly anxious she was.

“All my life,” Rumi answered, blinking back her tears as she said this. “I was born with them.” Silence again and Rumi took a breath, steadying herself. Knowing she had to say more, she had to explain better, to help them understand why she had hidden from them. Why she had lied about herself. “I’m sorry,” Rumi said in a whisper, knowing it was far from good enough but needing to say it all the same. “She told me to keep it from you and I believed her, believed she was right. That you’d never understand.”

“What changed your mind?” asked Mira and there was something enduring in her gaze.

It was unwavering and resolute and it gave Rumi the courage to respond, “You.” Reaching up she enveloped the hands touching her patterns, the thing she had hated all her life, and let go of her fear. “Your support, your acceptance. It made me think you wouldn’t hate me for it. That I could tell you everything. I just,” Rumi felt tears returning, ducking her head, “I couldn’t do it living in that house. Not with her there.”

Zoey sobbed at this and suddenly Rumi was swept up again, gathered in her arms and she felt hot tears on her shoulder as Zoey buried her face there. Releasing a sob of her own, Rumi wrapped her arms around Zoey. Clinging to Zoey like she was a life raft in the middle of a raging ocean. She felt Mira behind them, her presence solid and steady, her longs arms surrounding them, her warmth at Rumi’s back.

“I want to punch her stupid face,” Mira muttered, her voice low and threatening in Rumi’s ear and Rumi couldn’t help but release a burst of teary laughter at this. She could practically see Mira’s scowl as she said, “I’m serious, Rumi. She deserves more than a punch for everything she did. How she made you feel about yourself. Like it’s even your fault who your father is—“ Mira released a noise of utter frustration and the strength of her hold increased, squeezing Rumi tighter and Rumi relaxed into her embrace.

“I could shank her with my shin-kal,” offered Zoey quietly from Rumi’s neck. Rumi had no idea what shank meant. She suspected it was something indubitably American and most likely violent.

Playing with the hairs at the nape of Zoey’s neck and sinking into Mira’s arms, Rumi murmured, “It wouldn’t change anything. Our faults and fears must never be seen, remember? I’ve heard that my whole life and about how the golden Honmoon would fix me. That it would get rid of my patterns and make me fully human.”

“How does that work?” asked Zoey, frowning and moving back to peer up at Rumi. Her fingertips were feather light as they traced Rumi’s patterns at the top of her shoulder. “They’re genetic, aren’t they? Why would they disappear with the golden Honmoon?” Her eyes widened and she jerked back, grabbing Rumi’s shoulders as she said, “It wouldn’t hurt you as a half demon, would it?”

“The Honmoon chose Rumi,” Mira stated firmly, no room for argument in her tone. “Why would it hurt her? I think Celine is on some bullshit. Besides,” she muttered, tugging Rumi back into her arms. “You don’t need your patterns to disappear. They’re a part of you, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Thank you,” Rumi whispered. “Thank you for understanding. For accepting me. I was so scared to tell you but I didn’t want to lie anymore and Celine always said—“

“Celine was wrong,” Zoey interrupted, her tone unusually harsh. Then her hands were soft but strong on Rumi’s face, directing it so their eyes met. Once they did, Zoey stated, “There’s nothing you need to hide from us. We’re not going anywhere, all right?”

“All right,” echoed Rumi tearily, nodding her head.

“Good girl,” Zoey breathed, sliding closer yet, resuming her place tucked into Rumi’s neck. Her breath warm and tickling on Rumi’s skin. “Remember that when you start to doubt yourself.”

“I will,” said Rumi, laughing through her tears, resting her cheek on the top of Zoey’s head. “You both made my patterns stop growing after all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mira and Rumi felt her shifting. Rumi twisted in her hold, looking back at her, seeing the confusion and underlining concern on her sharp features.

“My patterns,” Rumi supplied, “they used to be really small. I couldn’t even see them when I was little. As I’ve gotten older they started expanding. Every time they did, Celine would panic, talk about how I needed to hide them better. Faults and fears, all of that. They kept growing though and I only realized recently that it slowed down when I met you.” Mira’s brow furrowed and Rumi laughed fondly, unable to help herself from reaching out to Mira. Her touch light and fleeting on Mira’s forehead, sweeping the hair back from her eyes. “Then a few days before we moved out, I came back from training with her and I knew.”

“Knew what?” asked Zoey, peering at her curiously.

“That Celine was making them grow. How she made me feel was causing it. How I hated myself for having patterns, how I felt ashamed for being half demon. Those feelings made the patterns grow and I don’t know how I didn’t understand it before. It always hurts so much when it happens, like the emotional pain turned physical. On that day when you came to see me,” Rumi shifted her gaze from Zoey to Mira, making sure they knew the truth of her words. “When you comforted me, made me feel loved and accepted… the pain stopped. That’s when I knew Celine couldn’t be right. That I had to tell you everything.”

“I don’t like that I didn’t know you were in pain,” said Mira roughly. She nudged Rumi, “Don’t hide stuff like that anymore. You always make light of your injuries.”

Rumi started to protest but the look in Mira’s eyes wouldn’t brook any argument and deep in her heart, Rumi knew she was right. She did hide her injuries mostly out of habit as Celine had always taught her to fight through the pain. “I won’t,” Rumi promised, breathless and devoted.

“Good,” Mira’s voice was laced with happiness, laconic tones practically beaming.

They rested together for several minutes until Rumi yawned, setting off the other two and Zoey pulled back, rubbing her eyes. “Early night?” Zoey suggested, Rumi and Mira nodded in agreement. Scooting back and rising to her feet, Zoey began to gather up the food. “I’ll clean up.”

Before Rumi could offer her help, she felt herself being lifted into Mira’s arms. Utterly baffled at this turn of events, Rumi yelped at suddenly being in a bridal carry. Zoey looked altogether amused and Rumi squirmed in Mira’s hold. “Stop moving, you’ll fall,” Mira chided, walking around the couch.

“Then put me down!” Rumi insisted, squirming more.

“I’ll put you down if you finally agree to a sleepover,” said Mira in her usual deadpan tone.

“Ohhh, yes!” Zoey clapped, pausing in packing up the bulgogi. “Mira’s room! She has the biggest bed.”

Rumi blinked at this, wondering why Zoey was even aware of something like that. She looked from one expectant face to the other and realized for once she had no reason to refuse. There was no worrying about her shirt slipping and them seeing something they shouldn’t. A wry smile tugging on her lips, Rumi said, “Fine. We’ll have a sleepover in Mira’s room.” They both cheered in triumph and Rumi poked Mira in the shoulder. “Down. Now.”

Chuckling, Mira placed Rumi’s feet on the floor as if she was the most delicate object in the world. Rumi grumbled at this, adjusting her shirt that was askew and heading towards her room. “I’m changing,” she announced, trying to ignore their amused laughter and the heat in her cheeks.

Disappearing into her room quickly, Rumi shut the door, leaning against it. Trying to take in everything that had just happened. They knew everything. About her father, about her patterns, about the hiding, about Celine and everything she had been taught. They were still here, they still cared, they comforted her, and they wanted a sleepover of all things. Rumi released a disbelieving laugh, her head hitting the back of the door and she closed her eyes, releasing a trembling breath, doing her best to calm down.

It was so very much.

After she felt settled, Rumi pushed off the door and headed towards the unpacked boxes of clothes. Opening the one that had her night clothes in it. Pulling out the packing cubes, Rumi settled on a pair of comfortable pajama pants that featured pineapples shaped like skulls. For whatever reason she thought Mira would like them.

The shirt she was considering was from their first tour. It was incredibly soft and comfortable but was so large that Rumi had never worn it around other people. There was too big a chance the wide collar could slip and someone would see the patterns on her back and shoulders.

That didn’t matter anymore though. Not around Mira and Zoey. She could show them. They could see her, all of her, and it would be all right. She didn’t have to hide around them.

Decision firmly set in her mind, Rumi changed quickly, placing her dirty clothes in the laundry basket and closing the lid. She walked to her door, hand hesitating just above the knob as she felt the loose collar of the t-shirt already start to slip, revealing her patterns. Taking a deep breath, Rumi closed her eyes, and reminded herself of everything that had happened. Everything Mira and Zoey had said. They didn’t care about her having patterns. They had touched them. They accepted her. It was all right. They could see.

Opening her door slowly, Rumi breathed a sigh relief at the empty hallway. She didn’t know why she thought Mira or Zoey might be lurking there. It made things easier on her nerves if she was alone for a bit. It gave her a few moments to adjust before she walked to Mira’s room.

Their visual was standing in front of her bed that really was impressively large, pulling back the comforter and sheets. As if sensing Rumi’s presence, Mira paused and looked up. She was dressed in a tank top and sleep shorts, looking casual in a way that Rumi knew was reserved only for them in private. Mira arched an eyebrow as she walked closer.

“Nice pants,” Mira drawled, a smirk tugging on her lips.

A laugh escaping her, Rumi ducked her head and replied, “I thought you’d like them.”

“I do,” agreed Mira, tipping Rumi’s chin up to meet their eyes. “They look cute on you.”

Rumi blushed at this and Mira chuckled, taking Rumi’s hand in hers and tugging her towards the bed. Mira climbed in first, pulling an awkward Rumi after her. They settled their heads on the pillows, Mira turning on her side to study Rumi carefully, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“We never did this before, huh,” remarked Mira thoughtfully.

“I couldn’t,” Rumi revealed, shifting to lie on her side as well, facing Mira with an heartfelt expression. “Celine would’ve lectured me if I ever tried. It was too much of a risk that you’d find out about me.”

“No more of that,” said Mira quietly, her gaze serious and burning into Rumi’s. Her touch incredibly delicate on Rumi’s skin, caressing her cheek as she murmured, “You don’t need to hide from us. Not anymore. Not about anything.”

“I won’t,” promised Rumi, covering Mira’s hand with her own, lacing their fingers together. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rumi said, “I never wanted to.”

Mira smiled at this, it was small and precious, and it made Rumi’s heart race upon seeing it. Flopping onto her back, Mira asked, “What do you think of my big bed? Comfortable isn’t it?”

“It is so very comfortable,” Rumi laughed. “Maybe more than mine.”

“Cozy Earth bamboo sheets,” said Mira wisely. “They’re the only choice.”

“I only have a comforter and mattress cover,” said Rumi conversationally, inspecting Mira’s comforter. Maybe she should switch brands? It was astonishingly cozy with an almost luxurious feel.

“Savage,” Mira accused, eyes narrowing at Rumi.

“I am not,” said Rumi, offended but unable to help laughing at Mira’s all too serious tone.

Before the conversation could go any further, Zoey arrived with a whoop and a bounce on the bed as landed cheerfully next to Rumi. She wore a super long sleep shirt that went down to her knees decorated in what Rumi believed were characters from some American cartoon featuring turtles that were ninjas.

“Rumi doesn’t have sheets on her bed, just a mattress cover and comforter,” said Mira, immediately tattling to Zoey about Rumi’s perceived sleep crimes.

Sitting cross legged on the bed, Zoey blinked. “I’m the opposite. I have sheets and a mattress cover but no comforter.” When Rumi and Mira both seemingly recoiled at this, she waved her hands, defending herself. “What?! I’m always hot at night! It’s more comfortable that way.”

“We should buy you a fan,” said Rumi thoughtfully, already considering options. “I saw one that’s supposed to be whisper quiet so it wouldn’t disturb your sleep.”

“Nothing disturbs her sleep,” Mira snarked. “Zoey could sleep through an earthquake.”

“Rude, that only happened once,” said Zoey, snuggling under the covers. “And I was a baby so it doesn’t count. Plus our earthquakes aren’t that big a deal in Cali.” Turning to Rumi who was considering what fan she could buy, Zoey rested her cheek on Rumi’s shoulder. “You’re sweet. Always thinking of us.”

Rumi blinked, peering down at Zoey. “That’s normal,” she said immediately.

“No, unnie,” Zoey breathed, playing with the collar of her shirt. Her voice incredibly soft and tender, looking up at her with a gentle gaze. “It isn’t, not for everyone. You’ve always been thoughtful. It’s like you always consider us before yourself and that’s not what most people do.”

Frowning now, Rumi wondered if this was something bad. Something she should work on about herself. Like her tendency to keep secrets and hide her emotions. Before she could ask this, Mira moved closer, and Rumi felt the warmth of the taller woman against her back. The lightest of kisses was deposited on the top of her head and Mira murmured, “We love that about you. It makes you special. Just try and think of yourself too. We need you to value yourself as much as we do, Rumi. You need to know that however strongly you feel about us, is how strongly that we feel about you.”

A whisper of agreement and then Rumi felt herself falling asleep. She was so very tired and she felt so very warm and safe and it was impossible to stay awake any longer. As she drifted off, she felt a gentle caress on her forehead and heard the low murmur of a conversation. The arms around her were so very comforting and the tones low and affectionate and the words were vague in her consciousness, slipping in and out.

“I know I hate her.”
“She must’ve felt so alone. What was it like before we got there?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”

laughter warm happy bright laughter

something softer the sound of skin meeting skin and bodies shifting and Rumi felt herself waking

“Why is she so cute? It’s killing me.”
“Did you see the pajama bottoms? I swear.”

silence and then another murmur one that joined those voices gentle but determined

—-

When Rumi wakes the first thing she notices is the weight of bodies pressing against her and an exhale tickling the hair at the back of her neck. Opening her eyes, Rumi is met with Zoey’s peaceful expression as she breathes in and out slowly. She feels Mira shift behind her and Rumi takes advantage of this to move back, creating some space between herself and her group members. Mira is lying on her back, arm flung over Rumi’s midsection, hand reaching for her and Rumi smiles softly at this, squeezing it gently.

She’s never had anything like this before.

This feeling of belonging, of safety, of being wanted. It makes her want to stay with them forever. Still, Rumi considers them both. She wants to do something for them. To let them know how much she appreciated their love and support. With this sentiment firmly in her mind, Rumi ducked under the covers, sliding down and out of the bed with the utmost of caution as to not wake her companions.

When she fell to her knees at the edge of the bed and heard nothing but quiet snores and the barest movement, Rumi breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, she succeeded.

Heading quickly and quietly to her room, Rumi found her phone and set to ordering a grocery delivery. Nothing overly elaborate, just enough to cover the basics and to prepare enough food for all of their meals for the day at the very least. As soon as she received the text that security was on their way up, Rumi pulled on one of her oversized hoodies and met with the staff member. This time it was a woman close to Celine’s age, smile lines around her eyes, her name badge saying Hari Byun.

“Thank you, Hari Byun-ssi,” said Rumi, bowing her head. She noted the small cart the groceries were on and questioned, “Would you mind waiting as I empty this?”

“Of course, Ryu-nim,” Hari replied with an easy smile. “Take your time.”

Murmuring her thanks again, Rumi hurried to their door, entering the code and pushing the cart inside their penthouse where she quickly unloaded the groceries on their kitchen counter. Turning back around with the cart the instant she was done, pushing it outside. “Thank you for waiting.”

“You’re welcome, Ryu-nim,” said Hari warmly. “Have a good day.”

Rumi returned the sentiment, bowing again as Hari got on the elevator then she turned in the foyer, entering the code to return inside their penthouse. The first thing Rumi did was look for the bag of coffee grounds so she could start brewing a batch. Rumi didn’t particularly enjoy the drink but Zoey and Mira did. Mira in particular appreciated some coffee in the morning to help wake her up. Once it was brewing, Rumi set to making herself persimmon tea. With the coffee brewing and tea steeping, Rumi unpacked the rest of the groceries, leaving out the ingredients for their breakfast.

For herself and Mira she was making gyeran bap while Zoey was getting a traditional American breakfast. Rumi knew for a fact that Zoey hadn’t eaten one in quite some time, so she was sure she’d be excited for it. And Mira? Well, she loved gyeran bap for breakfast. Especially with the brand of sesame oil and soy sauce that Rumi had purchased. They were her favorites.

Mixing the batter for pancakes, adding in peanut butter and chocolate chips, Rumi considered getting a waffle maker. If she had one she would’ve made waffles instead of pancakes as Zoey liked waffles better. Claiming they were far superior in their ability to hold syrup. It might also be fun to get a coffee bean roaster and try her hand at making different blends for Mira.

Humming to herself as the rice boiled, Rumi placed the bacon in a pan as she neatly cracked two eggs, adding them to the pan. Rumi contemplated if she should keep the shells for mulch when she heard Mira, her voice laconic and terribly amused, “You on day one of housewife duty already?”

Determined to ignore Mira’s teasing, Rumi walked over to the coffee maker. It was finished brewing and she reached up, opening the cabinet above it to retrieve a mug that was made to look like a medieval beer tankard that featured a dragon for the handle. It was absurd and Rumi knew that Mira loved it. Pouring the coffee into it, she turned to face Mira who was sitting at the kitchen island and set the mug front of her.

Taking in the scent of the coffee appreciatively, Mira raised the mug to her lips and arched an eyebrow. “Just how I like it,” she murmured, taking a slow sip. “Black like my soul.”

“Mira,” Rumi chided with a laugh, shaking her head.

“What are you making?” asked Mira, chin resting in her hand, observing Rumi with an affectionate gaze.

“Gyeran bap for us. Pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs for Zoey,” supplied Rumi, scooping the finished rice into a bowl and carefully placing a fried egg on top of it. With delicate care she added Mira’s preferred sesame oil and soy sauce, smiling as she brought the dish over to her.

“Thank you,” Mira murmured, reaching for her spoon and gently breaking the egg yolk. Rumi watched, shifting from foot to foot and trying not to feel nervous as Mira took her first bite. On seeing a slow smile spread on her features, Rumi felt a wave of relief wash over her. “It’s good,” Mira complimented and Rumi flushed at this, turning quickly back to Zoey’s bacon, ensuring it wouldn’t burn. “You didn’t have to do this, you know that, right? We don’t need to be repaid for anything. We were there for you because we wanted to. Because we love you.”

“I know,” said Rumi finally, her back to Mira as she turned the bacon. “I want to though.” Turning to look at Mira, she tried to show through her expression and words this was the truth. “I like taking care of you both. It makes me happy.”

There it was. That hint of red clinging to Mira’s ears and she opened her mouth to reply but whatever she said was cut off by Zoey appearing, mumbling and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I smell bacon,” Zoey uttered sleepily.

“Rumi’s making breakfast,” Mira supplied, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Turning down the stove's heat, Rumi shifted over to the coffee maker and opened up the cabinet again. This time reaching for mug that was designed to look like a character from the game Cuphead. Rumi distantly recalled their name even had the word mug in it. Pouring Zoey’s coffee, she opened the refrigerator to add a splash of cream before mixing in an 1/8 of sugar. Zoey was blearily sitting next to Mira when Rumi placed the coffee in front of her. She blinked upon receiving it, reaching for it slowly and taking a long sip before releasing a groan of satisfaction. Rumi was already back at the stove when Zoey seemed to realize just what she was drinking and that food was being made.

“Wait! We have groceries? When did that happen?” asked Zoey with confusion.

“I ordered the basics this morning,” Rumi supplied, plating Zoey’s breakfast as she finished flipping the last of the pancakes. Setting the plate of food in front of Zoey, she turned back to grab utensils and maple syrup. Zoey was staring up at her in something akin to amazement and Rumi chuckled. “The pancakes have peanut butter and chocolate chips in them.”

Zoey’s lip seemed to wobble, taking in the pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. She turned on her stool, arms outreached and hands making a grabby motion. “Rumi,” Zoey drew her name out in a plaintive call and Rumi laughed, walking to the lyricist and allowing herself to be drawn into a hug. “You made me peanut butter and chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs.”

She rocked Rumi to and fro in her arms and Rumi smiled, petting the back of Zoey’s head. “They’re your favorites, aren’t they?” she asked, smiling when she felt Zoey nod against her.

“I haven’t had it in so long,” Zoey admitted, fingers clutching to the material of Rumi’s hoodie. “You’re so sweet… you’re going to spoil us. You know that right?”

“I don’t think I believe that,” Rumi chuckled fondly.

There was a long moment then Zoey pulled back, looking Rumi in the eyes, her expression ardent and so very sincere. “Thank you.” She reached for Rumi’s hands, taking them in her own and kissing them tenderly as Rumi swore she felt her heart stop at this gesture. “I love you so much.”

Thoroughly red and flustered, Rumi carefully disentangled their hands and moved back to the stove. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice a cross between a squeak and croak.

Shaking her head and trying to get back to some semblance of normal, Rumi focused on her own breakfast. Scooping the rice, adding the fried egg and finally the sesame oil and soy sauce. When she was finished, Rumi noticed with some surprise that Mira and Zoey were watching her with expectant expressions. In between them was an empty stool and Rumi realized Zoey must have scooted over to put Rumi in the middle. Smiling at this, Rumi placed her food down then poured a cup of tea for herself. Once she was seated, she kept her eyes focused on her meal. Desperately wanting to try and get past whatever that moment between her and Zoey had been.

They ate in relative silence until Zoey, bacon in hand, remarked, “We should go to the bathhouse. Start the day off with some relaxation.”

“That sounds good,” said Mira, taking a bite of her gyeran bap. She held the spoon in her mouth for a moment, tilting her head to study Rumi. Placing the spoon back in the bowl, Mira bumped their shoulders. When Rumi looked to her, she lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Come with?”

Immediately, Rumi was struck by a sudden onset of anxiety at the thought. Then she felt Zoey’s soft touch on her back and Mira’s shoulder against her own and remembered. They knew about her. About her father, about her patterns, about being half demon. They knew and they were still here. Looking from one encouraging expression to the other, seeing the quiet hope echoing there, Rumi nodded.

“Of course,” said Rumi finally.

“You sure?” asked Mira, her gaze unwavering in its support. Telling Rumi silently it was all right to say no, that they wouldn’t be hurt. That it would be all right.

“I want to,” Rumi murmured, startled to realize this was the truth. Staring down at her breakfast, Rumi gripped the edge of the kitchen island, doing her best to work her way through her emotions. “I’ve always wanted to go with you. I just… couldn’t before. But now,” Rumi looked at them, a hint of a smile tugging on her lips, “I have nothing to hide so I can. And I want to. I promise.”

“Bathhouse!” cried Zoey triumphantly, clinging to Rumi’s back. “Relaxation and spa!” Turning back to her food and scooping scrambled eggs into her mouth, she muttered, “Lets go after we finish eating.” Zoey had her phone out and Rumi watched her open the website for the spa, booking them a private room.

Mira agreed and then she eyed Rumi. “Do you want help putting up your clothes?” she asked. When Rumi turned to her, a perplexed look on her features, Mira chuckled. “They’re still not unpacked, right?”

“I can do it,” Rumi demurred, wondering how exactly Mira would arrange her clothes. Rumi wasn’t exactly on her level when it came to fashion so she couldn’t fathom how their visual’s mind worked when it came to wardrobe arrangement. She was positive that Mira’s idea of it was far more advanced than her own. “I like to organize things. It helps me relax. I think it’s fun.”

“Fun,” echoed Mira laconically, dry humor lacing her tone. She had her chin in the palm of her hand again and there was a smirk on her lips. “Your idea of fun is decidedly work-like, Rumi.”

“Maybe,” admitted Rumi with a laugh. Finished with her gyeran bap, she noticed that Mira was as well and rising to her feet, she took Mira’s bowl and headed to the sink. Rinsing the dishes lightly before placing them inside the dishwasher. Leaning against the counter, Rumi ran through the items included in her morning delivery and said, “I might go grocery shopping today. We really should have more food in the house. The delivery I got was just the bare minimum.”

“We can go after the bathhouse,” Zoey suggested, appearing at Rumi’s side. She put her finished plate in the washer along with her utensils. Opening up Naver Map, Zoey zoomed in on their neighborhood and followed the route from their penthouse to the bathhouse. “There’s a supermarket nearby. We can stop there on the way home.”

“Yeah, take us along,” Mira drawled, a sardonic humor in her voice. “We’ll provide more hands to carry your bags. You can get three times the amount of stuff if we’re there.”

Rumi nodded, seeing the logic. Though in the back of her mind she was already thinking about buying a collapsible shopping cart. She had seen more than a few on Coupang. In fact, as Rumi vaguely listened to Zoey list off the various snacks she wanted, she opened the app. Looking through several options, Rumi was about to click on one when she heard Zoey’s voice in her ear.

“Whatcha doin’?” It was low and playful in her ear and Rumi swallowed hard as she felt Zoey’s hands on her hips and her chin on her shoulder. “Unnie, are you buying a shopping cart?”

“It will be convenient,” Rumi explained, a heat forming on her cheeks.

Mira clucked her tongue and peered at the shopping cart that Rumi had chosen. An amused smirk playing her lips as she said, “It’s got two crates.” Rumi nodded dumbly and Mira hummed, clicking on the purchase button and grinning when Rumi stared at her. “What? It’s a good choice for our little housewife.”

Snapping out of it, Rumi scowled. “Mira,” she said warningly.

“I’m getting ready for the bathhouse. Who’s with me?” asked Mira, laughing and turning on her heel.

Zoey and Rumi soon followed after.

—-

Upon arrival at the spa, Rumi thought not for the first time her long hair was terribly inconvenient. She didn’t want to leave it up in the shower but removing it from the braid… it took so very long. Maybe, Rumi considered as she sat down and started undoing the braid, she should get it cut. Not too much, but shorter definitely. Maybe the same length as Mira? Or a bit longer since she wanted to keep it braided? Rumi considered her options, thinking how pretty her friend’s hair was.

“You want help?” Mira’s voice was suddenly in her ear and Rumi jumped.

Rumi peered over her shoulder and Mira stood nearby, hand on her hip and an affectionate look in her eyes. Dipping her head in concession, Rumi felt Mira shift behind her to start to work on undoing her braid. It took several minutes of them working together but finally it was pulled apart, hair running free down her back. Mira hummed and searched through Rumi’s bag to produce a hair pick, running it carefully through her locks until Rumi could feel all the knots disappear.

Still, it really was heavy.

“I think I want to cut my hair,” said Rumi after a moment.

There was an audible pause then Mira replied, “Yeah?”

“My mother didn’t even have it this long,” said Rumi in a droll observation. “It’s already a pain, being as long as it is and I think it would look just as good if it was a bit shorter. Maybe slightly longer than yours?”

Mira hummed thoughtfully and said, “You’d look good no matter what, Rumi. I think it would be easier on you if it was shorter though. Just looking at all this hair makes my head hurt.” Helping Rumi gather it into a loose bun, Mira offered, “I could trim it.”

Turning to face Mira and seeing the genuineness of the offer, Rumi smiled. “I’d like that,” she said.

“Okay then,” Mira seemed lost for a moment, then she moved forward to grab her shower caddy. Holding it up awkwardly she said, “I’ll see you in a minute?”

Rumi murmured her assent and Mira disappeared into the private showers. Despite wanting to be more open and relaxed with her friends, Rumi was grateful they were able to rent this private space. The shower area was open but it had separation in between several stalls which gave Rumi some relief. It granted her a little more time to gain the bravery for those few moments she’d be naked before entering the bath.

Taking her own shower caddy, Rumi entered her private stall and set to the work of washing her still too long hair, smiling as she heard Zoey rapping about frogs of all things. Honestly, Rumi was envious and baffled by their lyricist’s creativity. Zoey could pull words from thin air on the most ridiculous of topics.

The rapping faded into the distance and Rumi heard Zoey call for Mira as she entered the bath. Mira shouted for her to attempt to have patience, making Rumi laugh as she rinsed her hair and reached for her body wash. The soft patter of Mira’s footsteps echoed through the space and another splash let Rumi know they were both in the bath. It was as she was finishing her shower, wrapping her hair up in a towel and slipping on a comfortable robe that Rumi heard both of them call her name.

Pushing down her nerves, Rumi walked over to the large bath, keeping her eyes fixed on the steaming water and not on her friends too attractive and decidedly naked forms. Distantly, she heard Mira and Zoey encouraging her to join them and Rumi kept her head lowered and focused on removing the robe and entering the bath as quickly as possible. By her estimation she managed to do it in fifteen seconds.

Sinking into the water, her face half submerged, Rumi finally looked at them. Mira wore an amused expression while Zoey was a ray of sunshine, beaming happily at her.

“Are you pretending to be a submarine?” Mira asked, her voice a slow drawl.

Rumi furrowed her brow but she didn’t respond and she kept herself submerged, glaring at Mira who laughed in response. Zoey frowned at Mira then scooted closer to Rumi and said, “You should lean back, unnie. It’ll feel better if you let yourself relax in the water.”

Peering over at Zoey who looked painfully encouraging, Rumi sighed and rose up from the water to lean against the bath as she’d been instructed. Closing her eyes, Rumi did her best to steady her nerves and let the heat of the water sink into her bones. It did feel nice, she could admit. If only she wasn’t so very on edge about being exposed like this. Rumi just wasn’t used to this… to being seen.

Rumi had begun to relax, the heat seeping into her skin, and then she felt the lightest touch on her shoulder where her patterns had started to recently expand. Cracking an eye open, she silently observed Zoey trace their path with the most feather light of touches. As if sensing Rumi’s attention, Zoey looked up at her, admiration and adoration on her features as she murmured, “They’re so pretty.”

Were they? All her life Rumi hated her patterns because of what they revealed. That she was half demon, that she came from a monster, and that meant she was one too. She gazed at the purple hue that was a lighter color than Rumi ever remembered it. More lavender than a deep violet or angry indigo they often reflected. If she considered them from a neutral perspective perhaps they were attractive.

Rumi doubted she would ever think of them that way though.

“No one’s ever touched them,” said Rumi finally and Zoey’s head jerked up at this. The movement of her fingertips stopping on Rumi’s skin as if doubting it was welcome. “It’s okay,” Rumi said, her hand on top of Zoey’s in a gesture of reassurance. “I don’t mind.”

A small swell of water and Mira was at her other side. Her touch delicate, fingertips following the path of her patterns on Rumi’s left shoulder that led down her back. “What about Celine?” Mira questioned, her voice hard and Rumi released a breath then shook her head. “Tch.”

There was so much disdain in such a small sound that it made Rumi laugh. Mira was scowling when Rumi looked to her and murmured, “I don’t need Celine anymore. I have the both of you.”

“Fuck yeah you do,” Mira said, so much strength in her tone that Rumi knew she’d never allow anyone to ever say otherwise. “I don’t know how pretty they are but they do look bad ass.” Rumi laughed at this and Mira dipped closer, her voice low and rich in Rumi’s ear as she continued, “And sexy.”

Instead of replying, Rumi lifted her left hand and flicked Mira on the forehead, making the visual cross eyed for a moment. When Mira huffed in annoyance, Rumi accused, “You’re teasing me again.”

“I wasn’t—“ Mira protested, rubbing her forehead grumpily.

“Mira was telling the truth, unnie,” Zoey offered and Rumi looked at the rapper skeptically. Wearing a sunshine bright smile, her face the example of open honesty, she said, “I mean, I agree with her.”

“You—what—“ Rumi sputtered, sinking into the water once again, causing Mira and Zoey to exchange a significant look over the top of her head.

Sighing softly, Zoey pressed a kiss to what little of Rumi’s cheek was above water and said, “We’re telling the truth when we give you a compliment. Sometimes Mira does like to get a reaction but she still means it.” When Rumi peered up at her in disbelief, Zoey smiled. “We promise, okay?”

Looking from one to the other and slowly rising up so her chin was out of the water, Rumi kept her gaze on the smooth surface of the water. “Okay,” she agreed, still not entirely believing it in her heart of hearts.

“So!” Zoey exclaimed in a clear move to change the subject. “What are everyone’s plans after grocery shopping? I’ve got my sweet gaming room set up so I was going to stream a few games.”

“Wicked,” Mira remarked, shifting next to Rumi who was slowly rising into a sitting position. “I was thinking of running through some ideas for the Idol Awards choreography. Maybe I’ll stream when I do and test the studio’s fancy tech that Bobby put in for us.”

“Ohhh, you totally should, the fans will love that,” said Zoey enthusiastically.

A moment of silence and then Rumi looked at their expectant faces. Friendly and oh so very encouraging, making it easy for Rumi to respond, “I was going to organize my room then do some online shopping. Now that we have our own space there are a lot of plants I’ve wanted to buy but never did. Having too many around would’ve annoyed Celine and they require certain things to grow that I couldn’t have provided at the estate. That’s not a problem anymore so I was thinking of getting buying a few plants I’ve been wanting. Well, one in particular,” said Rumi wryly.

“Which plant?” asked Mira.

There was a genuine curiosity in her tone and it made Rumi smile shyly as she revealed, “A kadupul. It’s native to Sri Lanka, people call it the Queen of the Night. I’m not sure if I’ll really be able to properly care for it because there’s a lot that you have to do. They need a very specific temperature and humidity plus indirect sunlight to develop.” Rumi was well aware she was rambling but Mira and Zoey had such interested looks on their faces that she continued on excitedly, “It’s a nocturnal bloomer that only blooms for a few hours once a year before wilting. The flower opens in the evenings and only fully blooms right before dawn. Seeing a kadupul bloom is super rare, that’s what makes it so special.”

“Rumi!” Zoey exclaimed, hugging her arm and an eager look on her face. “I want to see it! You should totally buy that plant. We could watch it bloom together!”

“Yeah,” agreed Mira, nodding her head. “That sounds really cool. You should buy it.”

“I want to,” said Rumi happily, smiling at them both. “I’ve been researching it for awhile. I need to buy certain equipment first, to make sure I can give it a proper environment to thrive. Once I have that, I know a nursery I can buy some cuttings from. I just want to make sure I have everything right.”

“Let us know when you buy it,” said Mira. “We might not be much help but we can offer moral support at least. Besides,” Mira continued, an almost bashful tone to her voice. “I like watching you garden.”

“You do?” Rumi blinked, never realizing this.

“It’s soothing,” admitted Mira, a bit gruff and embarrassed as she said this. “Same thing with you cooking.”

Rumi searched her memories and she recalled countless times that Mira appeared when she took care of her blackberry bushes or when she made the occasional meal at Celine’s estate. Her presence reassuring and something Rumi appreciated. She always thought it was a coincidence but Mira had actually been seeking her out?

Something about that made Rumi so very pleased at the thought.

—-

Their grocery shopping trip on the way home was altogether chaotic. Zoey kept adding snack upon snack to the shopping cart while Mira insisted on nothing but red meat for Rumi’s meal ideas. Eventually, they made it out with each of them holding three bags. Rumi felt like an exhausted mother of two over active kids which made her think that perhaps Mira’s housewife title might actually be accurate.

Upon arriving at the penthouse, Zoey and Mira insisted on helping Rumi unpack the groceries. Once everything was put in its place, Zoey skipped to her gaming room while Mira went to change into more comfortable clothes to work on the choreography. Rumi, in the meanwhile, ordered the necessary items to cultivate the kadupul plant and then set to organizing her room finally. When a few hours passed and it was nearing noon, she considered making lunch.

Then she thought better of it. They had been together three years now and Rumi was well aware all them tended to be hungry for a maximum of two meals a day. They always had dinner but if there was breakfast there wasn’t lunch. A midday snack though? That sounded good.

Wandering into the kitchen, Rumi contemplated what to make. She settled on dasik for herself and Zoey, deciding on matcha green tea and omija tea flavors for the sweet pressed cookies. Rumi considered that Mira might want something more substantial as she was doing a physical work out in practicing her dancing. Thus, Rumi decided to make some grilled gogi mandu for her. Mira’s love of red meat had been more than clear during the shopping trip so some grilled beef dumplings would be perfect as a snack.

Getting to work, Rumi focused on the cookies first. It didn’t matter if they were hot, after all. That didn’t effect their flavor in the slightest. Once she made a plate of fifteen for Zoey and her to share, she started on the dumplings for Mira, deciding that ten would be a good number since the portion was larger.

Once the dumplings were finished and placed in a plastic container, lid tightly sealed, Rumi put several napkins on top of it and headed to their private elevator to go down to the floor with the dance studio. The elevator doors opened silently and Rumi stepped directly into the small hallway that led to the music and dance studios. She heard the lyrics to their current number one, Hold Me, echo as she neared the door to the dance studio. Pushing it open quietly, Rumi watched, entranced, as Mira moved through a series of elegant movements that brilliantly articulated every lyric of the song.

Rumi had always admired Mira’s ability to put their music into motion. How she seemed to always know the right way to move that would emphasize the meaning of Zoey’s lyrics. It was magical in a way, a talent that Rumi knew she’d never possess and it never failed to captivate her.

Abruptly, Mira halted in her dance and leaned forward to peer at her laptop which she had placed on a small cart. Releasing a bark of laughter, Mira remarked, “Seriously, chat? We’re winning over Shadow Symphony easy. You better support us at the Idol Awards and on Play Games With Us next week.” Rumi hesitated then took a step forward, clearing her throat as if to announce her presence. Mira’s head whipped up and Rumi smiled hesitantly, lifting up the container as if in offering. “Rumi. What do you have there?”

“Gogi mandu,” said Rumi, moving forward. Her eyes darting to the laptop and webcam on a tripod. She’d never quite gotten the hang of streaming despite how many times Zoey and Mira had attempted to explain it to her. At one point Zoey said she was basically a boomer when it came to anything more complicated than a cell phone. After that Rumi was against streaming on principal. The whole idea of it gave her a migraine frankly. Opening the lid to reveal the dumplings, Rumi murmured, “I thought you might be hungry so I made it for you. It’s still hot, if you want to eat.”

“What? You didn’t have to,” said Mira even as she eagerly took the food. Looking at the neatly arranged dumplings and a small separate container of dipping sauce, she smiled. “You even made sauce?”

“It has hot pepper flakes,” offered Rumi, knowing how Mira preferred spicy food.

“No apologies, chat. I’m eating this right now because I have priorities,” Mira proclaimed, plopping down on the floor unceremoniously and digging into the dumplings. Opening the lid to the sauce, she dipped the first dumpling then ate it quickly. “Rumi,” Mira drew her name out with utmost satisfaction, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is so good. You take care of us so well, I swear.”

mirasleftballetslipper: RUMI????? RUMI WITH SNACKS!!!!

CircusMonkey99: wait did she make that for u

OLIVE_ENJOYER: why is this so domestic

CircusMonkey99: lol omg mira scarfing those down rumi must be good cook

StepOnMeMira: I did not expect this on Queen Mira’s dance stream. I do approve though.

7no11: chat rumi is totally spooked by us. MIRA TELL RUMI WERE NICE

zoyomiheymi: she is so freaked out, does rumi even stream. she doesn’t right

RainbowConexxion: Those dumplings look really good. Mira are they fried? Grilled? Also how long has Rumi been making you snacks like this?

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i need a wife

OLIVE_ENJOYER: a rumi shaped wife

Kiki31: Rumi is moving away you guys, she’s scooting away from Mira. I think she’s trying to escape us even though we’re trapped behind a screen.

hunterzzzzzzzz: RUMI NOOOOOO

Mira’s hand was warm on Rumi’s wrist, her grip a soft hold that Rumi could’ve easily broken but she still paused in her backward step out of the dance studio. “Stay?” Mira requested, tugging on her wrist. Her gaze darting back to the freakishly fast moving chat room, Rumi reluctantly sat next to Mira. Instantly she was rewarded with the rarest of smiles from Mira. It wasn’t teasing or sardonic or even playful. Instead it was tender and quietly affectionate and Rumi felt her heart race at the sight. “Open wide,” Mira instructed. Rumi blinked, instinctively doing as she was told and was fed one of the dumplings. Mira grinned as Rumi chewed the food, bumping her shoulders as she said, “You’re the best.”

mirasleftballetslipper: THE BEST MIRA WHAT

7no11: whyyyy this is so cute

StepOnMeMira: I feel so very fulfilled right now. Look at Mira’s face. Look at it.

OLIVE_ENJOYER: my jealousy is neverending

OLIVE_ENJOYER: seriously unfair mira

OLIVE_ENJOYER: feeding my fantasy wife rumi

HUNTRX4eva: MIRA DANCE WITH RUMI I WANT TO SEE

RainbowConexxion: Not to make demands but yeah, dancing with her would be wicked.

TRIXjalapeno: dance with rumi dance with rumi dance with rumi dance with rumi

hunterzzzzzzzz: RUMI PLEASE DANCE

Staring at the insanely hyperactive chat log, Rumi said tentatively, “They want us to dance together.”

Wiping her hands carefully on the napkins she’d been provided, Mira leaned over and squinted at the screen. Rumi wanted to scold her for not wearing her glasses but with the chat freaking out over every little thing it probably wouldn’t be smart. Tilting her head to one side, Mira smirked. Rising to her full and very impressive height, Mira extended her hand to Rumi and drawled, “Hold On, third section?”

Rumi laughed, nodding in agreement. Mira looked altogether pleased, starting their song in the studio stereo system. They got in their respective places, Rumi standing in front of Mira with Mira’s right hand on Rumi’s hip and her left hand tracing Rumi’s outstretched left arm. Once the music hit a minute fifteen seconds they began the third section choreography Mira had created for the song. Mira leading Rumi through a series of complicated steps that had the singer pulled into Mira’s orbit to only just escape. The section ending with Mira dipping Rumi, her arms holding Rumi tight as she clung to Mira’s biceps.

zoyomiheymi: i feel so lucky to be alive rn wut even

StepOnMeMira: That. Was. Perfection.

TRIXjalapeno: mira u romancin her on stream?????

mirasleftballetslipper: MIRA!!!! THE HANDS ON HIPS THE TOUCHING OF THE ARM THE SMIRK!!!

7no11: this is going to feed the shippers for months. rumira army arise

CircusMonkey99: i feel fed

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i am the embodiment of bitterness. i envy them both so much.

Purposefully keeping her attention away from the far too fast moving and frankly confusing chat, Rumi smiled at Mira and said, “I have to go. I need to see Zoey.”

hunterzzzzzzzz: hahaha omg mira did u just get dumped for zoey

hunterzzzzzzzz: loser but not loser because mira but still dude she’s leaving you for zoey

RainbowConexxion: Rumi doesn’t play favorites.

OLIVE_ENJOYER: chat, zoey is streaming games apparently. i shall abandon this stream to see if rumi shows up over there and if zoey too gets homemade dumplings.

mirasleftballetslipper: REPORT BACK TO US

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i shall. god speed mira army!

StepOnMeMira: This stream has been insane. I love it.

Exiting the dance studio, Rumi heard Mira insist stubbornly, “I did not get dumped for Zoey.”

Laughing to herself and a wide smile on her face at the absurdity of the chatters in Mira’s stream, Rumi entered the elevator to head back up to their living quarters. She quickly arrived and walked to the kitchen to retrieve the plate of cookies. Once she got to the gaming room, Rumi smiled on seeing the worn wooden sign that Zoey had always placed on the door to her room. It was a present from her youngest brother. One side of the sign said nope in red while the other said yep in green. Zoey used it as an easy way to tell them whenever she was fine with being disturbed and when she needed to be left alone.

The sign was displaying a green yep so Rumi opened the door and blinked as she adjusted to the darker lighting. It was nowhere near as dark as Mira often kept her bedroom but was definitely darker than the brightness of the living room she’d just come from. Zoey had her noise canceling headphones on, with one pushed away from her ear as she turned in her chair.

“Rumi!” Zoey exclaimed, her smile exuberant and welcoming. Her eyes immediately went to the plate of dasik. “I don’t remember buying those…” Zoey trailed off. Her expression was utterly charmed as she rose from her chair to meet Rumi who was still standing by the closed door. “Did you make them?”

“They’re matcha green tea and omija tea,” supplied Rumi helpfully, handing Zoey the plate of cookies. “I thought we could share.” Peering her head around Zoey, she looked at the large monitors which featured some type of RPG game. Zoey was playing a knife wielding character who was lurking around what looked to be some sort of pond. At least she hadn’t interrupted a battle.

Noticing Rumi’s interest, Zoey said, “I’m playing Elden Ring.” Placing the plate of cookies down on the desk, Zoey turned back to Rumi, a hopeful look on her face. “You want hang out? Maybe watch a little?”

“Okay,” agreed Rumi easily, sinking down on the comfortable couch she had personally chosen for the room. She had gotten into the habit of watching Zoey play games at Celine’s estate. She found it relaxing and entertaining at the same time. Rumi delighted in watching Zoey send her characters on adventures and listening to her explain the game and everything she was doing. Rumi liked how Zoey never got annoyed at her questions, how Zoey always was happy to have her there. It made her feel wanted. It made her feel loved. Because of this Rumi knew she’d end up in this room, watching Zoey game. Hence her choosing the couch. “Are you playing Paige?”

Laughing happily, Zoey settled back in her chair, spinning around in a circle and removing her bluetooth headphones. Disconnecting them to allow all the sound to filter through the speakers so Rumi could hear the game. The streaming chat was mute so Zoey didn’t have to worry about them making any rude emotes. “Yeah, I named my character Paige again. She’s my childhood idol, she had to be my character name,” Zoey declared. “Goth girl pro-wrestler what’s not to love for 11 year old me? I’m a Nightfolk bandit with twin daggers in this game though.”

Lying down on the couch, fluffing up the oversized pillows she’d also hand picked, Rumi focused on the monitor in view. Zoey’s character quickly ran through a shallow pond pursuing something invisible that was lighting up the surface of the water. “What are you chasing?” Rumi asked.

“This annoying invisible beetle,” said Zoey and Rumi could practically hear the complaint in her voice. “Once I kill it I’ll get frost ash and I can make a really bad ass weapon.”

HuntersDontQuit: RUMI!!! you brought zoey snacks!

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i told you she was going to. she was with mira before this. no dumplings though? zoey got cookies. i wonder why the difference.

raspberryswirl: Rumi was with Mira? Does she cameo in their streams a lot?

HuntersDontQuit: not rly. like once in a blue moon if we get lucky. =(

HuntersDontQuit: tbh i think it confuses her. she doesnt interact with us much

ArrrrMATEY: im guessin rumi is zoeys hot gf on the couch tht made cookies

SoCalSweetie: haha holy shit

popdatnoise: rumi is the lead singer of Huntr/x. zoey’s band?? that she raps in????

popdatnoise: and yeh the hot gf on the couch that made her cookies

DOINK: ZOEY!!! YOU NAME ALL CHARACTERS PAIGE? SHES MY FAV TOO

MnM: idk why zoey watching wwe surprise me. do you watch aew now? she’s there

DOINK: YEAH SARAYA

raidernationfvegas: Zoey making a crazy OP bandit build. Bleeding and frostbite is going to axe all her enemies for sure.

“Yeah, it’s kind of tradition for me to name all my characters Paige,” said Zoey sheepishly, glancing up at chat in between trying to murder the invisible beetle. Frowning, she glanced back at Rumi on the couch and said, “You made Mira dumplings?” When Rumi looked confused as to how she could possibly know that, Zoey smirked. “Chat tattled on you.”

“You can’t eat dumplings and game,” Rumi pointed out. Giving Zoey a significant look as she munched on a cookie in one hand and continued to try to kill the beetle with the other.

“True that,” said Zoey playfully, focusing back on her game. “I like the cookies you make most anyway.” She peered over her shoulder and said in heartfelt tones, “Thank you for making them. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Rumi replied softly, a warmth suffusing her at the sentiment.

“I’m so building the most OP bandit and yeah, boo Vegas for stealing the Raiders,” Zoey remarked. Rumi watched her character finally triumph in killing the invisible insect. Whooping in celebration, Zoey called out, “Blacksmith time! Cold Great Knife here I come!”

“What will the knife do?” asked Rumi, watching as Zoey rode something similar to an elk across the admittedly beautiful landscape of the game.

“It’ll give me great specs! I can add the frost and bleed effect to the knives, right? I’m dual wielding them so I can inflict frostbite then bleed using them. I’ll do tons of high burst damage,” Zoey explained happily.

OLIVE_ENJOYER: not zoey ratting me out. tattled, really?

raidernationfvegas: F VEGAS yeah. This bandit build is the best. Does your gf game too?

OLIVE_ENJOYER: okay so. all the american non-huntr/x fans thinking rumi is just the gf. i cannot. i love it.

SoCalSweetie: don’t stereotype, usa here. i know who rumi is. not all gamer bros in here.

SoCalSweetie: but yeah dude it is pretty fucking hilarious

HuntersDontQuit: guys don’t scare rumi off. sometimes she’ll dip if chat gets weird.

parapperdazoey: DONT SCARE THE RUMI

popdatnoise: so we’re treating her like zoo animal now

popdatnoise: that’s better

raspberryswirl: To be real, that’s more us than Rumi.

popdatnoise: truuuuuuth

MrBrainFreeze: WTF does it take so long to get back to that giant blacksmith

MrBrainFreeze: Elden Ring is so good but my god its map is so huge

raidernationfvegas: RIGHT??? Love it tho.

MnM: zoey does rumi play games i want to know too

“Chat, you’re not scaring Rumi. I promise. Look at her on the couch, so not scared,” Zoey laughed, thoroughly amused by what they’re saying. Gazing back at Rumi who was utterly confused, Zoey said, “They want to know if you play games.”

“Zo, you know the answer,” said Rumi, exasperated. “You tell them.”

“Rumi doesn’t want to talk to you guys,” Zoey teased, sticking her tongue out at the monitors. “She games but mostly cozy stuff. Pokemon, Stardew Valley, all that. Rumi has a super high level farmer.” Zoey paused to form an expression that was devious but strangely adorable at the same time. “Rumi,” she called, drawing her name out with a lilt. “How do you feel about Resident Evil 8? Should I play that next?”

In lieu of replying, Rumi flung a pillow at Zoey, grimacing when it uselessly hit the back of her chair instead of the rapper’s head. She really needed to improve her aim. “Stop it. You know I hate horror.”

Zoey laughed madly, seemingly delighted. “Chat, we totally need to play Resident Evil 8. Rumi is the funniest when it comes to horror. Totally doesn’t make sense why it scares her so much.”

“You put on that game and I’m leaving,” Rumi declared, her tone not brooking any arguments. Though her stern tone was dampened by her yawning immediately after.

“Awww,” Zoey pouted, sighing as she focused on her game again. “Fine, fine. We’ll stick with Elden Ring. I did want to get the Green Turtle Talisman to increase my stamina and find some heavy armor.”

popdatnoise: kind of mean there zoey

ArrrrMATEY: uncool be nice to hot gf. she brought u cookies.

MrBrainFreeze: Resident Evil 8 is awesome. Would be great to stream but yeah.

MrBrainFreeze: Don’t make people deal with horror if they don’t like it.

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i did not expect mira to be the more sensitive one

OLIVE_ENJOYER: strangely i’m enjoying my expectations being defied. bad zoey though.

parapperdazoey: YEAH ZOEY BAD

HuntersDontQuit: why is it weird rumi doesnt like horror?

SoCalSweetie: maybe because she’s the leader and the oldest?

HuntersDontQuit: hmmmm

SoCalSweetie: to be legit, rumi does seem pretty unflappable. plus remember that one time she almost made an interviewer cry when they were being low key bigoted towards zoey for how she spoke korean.

raspberryswirl: I have the video saved. It’s peak Rumi.

SoCalSweetie: right??? so yeah i guess that girl not liking horror is kind of surprising

SoCalSweetie: cute though

DOINK: I AGREE NO HORROR STICK WITH ELDEN RING

raidernationfvegas: So if I want to listen to Zoey’s band, what is best song? Any recs?

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i have so many! but make sure you watch the videos too. their choreography is insane. i just came from mira’s stream where she’s rehearsing for the idol awards.

OLIVE_ENJOYER: hold on is their current #1. start there.

Snorting at the chat log, Zoey remarked, “Chat says I’m being mean to you about horror games.” When no response came, Zoey peered over her shoulder and was met with the rare instance of Rumi napping. A soft smile coming across her face, Zoey stood up and gathered a nearby blanket, covering Rumi’s sleeping figure. Zoey made a hushing sound and put an index finger to her lips as she carefully sat back down. Her noise canceling headphones were quickly turned on as to not disturb Rumi with the sound of the game. “She’s taking a nap, guys. No more talking from Zoey.”

—-

Later that evening, Rumi stared into the contents of the refrigerator and felt almost like she was contemplating her own existence. There were so many ingredients and so many options for a meal. She had never been able to do whatever she wanted before. That was true in so many different ways and it included what she did in the kitchen. Eventually she chose a meal that would make both Mira and Zoey happy. Something that would satisfy Mira’s red meat preferences and Zoey’s longing for home.

Pulling out some russet potatoes, Rumi set to work washing them to make French fries. She’d have to thank Bobby for getting her the air fryer. It was going to come in awfully convenient. Once the fries were cooking and the timer on the fryer set, Rumi started on the cheeseburgers. Zoey’s tastes tended to be simpler so Rumi went with a bacon cheeseburger with lettuce and tomatoes. Mira, thanks to her preference for spicy, had a burger that was a little more complex. Rumi mixed the hamburger meat with usual salt, pepper, onions, and grated cheese, but she added in diced jalapeños. Instead of American cheese, she used Pepper Jack for Mira’s burger, topping it off with lettuce and grilled onions.

Still wanting the fried eggs from breakfast, Rumi made herself a burger with garlic mayonnaise, bacon, avocado, cheddar cheese, arugula, and a fried egg on top. It was slightly more elaborate than Mira’s burger but since she was the chef, she felt it was justified. Seasoning the fries lightly with garlic salt and paprika, Rumi texted Mira and Zoey then started plating their meals.

She was contemplating what order to put their plates in when Zoey slid into the kitchen, a wide smile on her features. “Burgers!” Zoey exclaimed happily. She hopped over to Rumi, depositing a kiss to her cheek and reaching for the plate she had in her hand. Taking a quick sniff, she stated, “Spicy. That’s Mira for sure.” Rumi could only nod in agreement, her brain still trying to recalibrate from the kiss, and Zoey placed Mira’s plate at the front of the island, the same as at breakfast. Handing Zoey her own plate, Rumi said, “I made you a bacon cheeseburger.”

“Thank you,” Zoey said effusively and her expression softened further when she peeked under the bun. “Rumi did you find American cheese for me? That’s so sweet of you.”

“You like it the most,” said Rumi by way of explanation, watching as Zoey sat down, effectively leaving the chair in the middle empty. Rumi leaned across the island to put her plate in between them and headed to the refrigerator. “Do you want a Coke? I got some for you.”

“Yes, please,” said Zoey, nodding and munching on a fry.

“Celine would scold you if you were here, maknae,” Mira drawled, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail and sitting down in what now appeared to be her usual spot at their kitchen island. “Eating first.”

“I’m American too, you know,” said Zoey peevishly. “It’s like that never mattered to her.”

“When in South Korea, yadda yadda,” snarked Mira, taking a bite of her own burger, a look of utmost satisfaction forming on her face as she did. Covering her mouth with her hand, she said, “At least you don’t have to worry about that stuff with us. Just when we’re out at events with a formal dinner setting.”

Handing Zoey the Coke can, Rumi looked to Mira and suggested, “Barley tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mira replied with a lopsided smile. When Rumi placed the glass full of tea in front of her, Mira clasped Rumi’s wrist, fingers moving in a light caress. “You made my favorite burger.”

“Of course,” said Rumi, perplexed and tilting her head. A frown forming, Rumi continued, “Are you saying I shouldn’t have? Is there something else you wanted?”

“No!” Mira protested immediately, a red tinge to her cheeks. “No. Just,” Mira lowered her head, her voice coming in something of a shy mutter. “Thanks for remembering. That’s all.”

“When it’s about you and Zoey, I’ll always remember,” said Rumi simply, squeezing Mira’s hand. Walking to the refrigerator and pouring her own glass of barley tea, Rumi missed the significant look between shared between Zoey and Mira. When she turned around, glass in hand, they both wore the most exaggerated look of innocence on their faces. Rumi considered it for a moment but ultimately decided they’d tell her if it was important. “Is everyone ready for Play Games With Us? Iseul from Shadow Symphony was on their official Instagram today, hyping it up.”

“Iseul, whoo,” Mira snorted derisively, taking another large bite of her burger. “Like I said on stream, no way Shadow Symphony is beating us. On that show or at the Idol Awards.”

“We will stomp them,” agreed Zoey, holding up a fist in declaration. “They’ll never be able to beat us if even half the games are physical challenges.” Nudging Rumi and wearing a conspiratorial grin, she said, “You had Bobby tell them, didn’t you? I know how you like winning.”

“Naturally,” said Rumi smoothly, lifting an eyebrow. “I want to win and they have a numbers advantage. It’s going to be 6 vs 3, after all.”

“Please, numbers schnumbers,” Mira snarked. “They don’t stand a chance. We’re going to destroy them.”

“Still, I’d prefer to destroy them in physical challenges,” said Rumi plainly. She paused to consider it then added, “It's more rewarding than winning a quiz.”

“You like anything that doesn’t involve talking,” said Mira with a laugh.

Grimacing at this, Rumi replied, “Celine had me practice interviews countless times over the years. No matter how much she prepared me, I just don’t like them. I’m always expecting myself to say something wrong and for them to jump all over it.” Releasing a shudder, Rumi muttered, “They stress me out.” Rumi thought of the time she created a scandal for being disrespectful to a late night icon because she perceived him as being rude to Zoey. Celine had lectured her for weeks afterwards.

“You’re really good at faking it, unnie,” said Zoey impishly. “I don’t think anyone realizes.” Rumi nodded at this, looking relieved and downtrodden at the same time. Upon seeing this, Zoey tickled her side and Rumi laughed, squirming away from her. “Leave the interviews to me. I’m the motor mouth, aren’t I?”

“Our lyricist has it handled,” Mira agreed, leaning back in her chair and giving Zoey an approving grin. “She’s always got the right words for any occasion. Interviews are the time for you and me to slack off.”

“All right,” said Rumi, smiling at them both. Silence and then Rumi, unable to help herself, asked, “How many points do you think we’re going to beat them by?”

“20.”

“35.”

“12.”

“Twelve?!” Mira and Zoey said together, outrage in their tone at the low number. “RUMI.”

Ducking her head and bursting into laughter, Rumi tried to remember when she had last been this happy. The memory escaped her but somehow, she knew it had to have been a moment like this. With her girls.

Chapter Text

The host of Play Games With Us, Dae Park, was one of Rumi’s favorite network personalities. The man was gregarious and good natured, always a smile on his face. He seemed to be among the rare people in show business that wasn’t hiding ulterior motives. Of course, her positive opinion of him was aided by the fact that he used to be Bobby’s bandmate.

“Hyung!” Dae exclaimed, holding up his hand to begin an elaborate handshake ritual with Bobby. Once they were finished, they hugged, slapping each other enthusiastically on the back. His arm around Bobby’s shoulders, Dae grinned at them and said, “Girls! How are you doing? Ready to win this thing?”

“We are going to destroy them,” Mira vowed, a deathly serious look on her face.

“By twenty points,” Zoey added, rocking back on her feet, giving a peace sign that didn’t quite match the ultra competitive spirit she was exuding.

“Hello, Park-nim,” said Rumi with wry amusement. “How are you today?”

Appearing entertained by their varied responses, Dae replied, “I’m doing well! I think we’ll have a lot of fun today! The fans are pumped up and Shadow Symphony is really happy to be working with you.”

“Oh, they are are they,” Mira muttered under her breath, appearing to be plotting something.

“Iseul is a big fan of yours, Rumi,” said Dae cheerfully.

Rumi could feel the weight of Mira and Zoey’s gazes and part of her wanted to demand exactly what she had done? It wasn’t her fault if a singer from another group liked her. “That’s nice,” said Rumi, releasing forced laughter and shifting from foot to foot.

Bobby and Dae walked away, still chatting, leaving Rumi with her bandmates whose competitive aura had doubled since Dae’s remark about Iseul. Before she could say anything, the person in question appeared with the rest of Shadow Symphony. Rumi watched as Mira and Zoey moved in perfect unison to stand in front of her. Leaving Rumi to wonder yet again why they always reacted this way to her industry fans. Rumi was accustomed to people in show business liking her work, she had been an idol since she was a child, after all. People grew up with her. It was natural that some of the people she worked with might be a fan of her. Mira and Zoey though? They never took it well whenever it happened, always reacting in a overprotective manner Rumi still hadn’t gotten used to.

Rumi tried her best to make up for their attitudes though. Celine had always told her it was good to make connections in their industry. That it would only help her career in the end.

“It’s a pleasure to be working with you,” said Iseul, the singer for Shadow Symphony, a charming lilt to her deep voice. Iseul was well known for her impressive five octave vocal range that Rumi couldn’t help but envy. Musically, her band was considered melodic power metal and they dressed in an elaborate gothic style in almost exclusively black and purple shades. HUNTR/X was far more casually attired as they expected to be doing a good deal of physical challenges. “Rumi-sunbae,” Iseul flashed the most captivating of smiles, her teeth white. She took a step forward, leaning down from her height which matched Mira’s, to focus on Rumi who was still partially hidden behind Zoey. “I wanted to express my admiration personally. I’ve been a fan of yours since you released the cover of This Dream by the Sunlight Sisters.”

“Thank you,” Rumi replied, returning the smile. She shifted forward and as she did she could practically feel the aggravation radiating off of her bandmates. “That song was one of my mother’s favorites.” Taking in their extravagant clothing style, Rumi tilted her head, “Will you be all right, competing like that?”

“We packed our sneakers,” remarked Ji-a, their lead guitarist.

“That’s pretty much all we can wear,” Yon snorted and the keyboardist had a droll look on her features.

“It’d be easier to dress comfortably but we have to keep up our image,” Gyeong lamented. Upon focusing on Shadow Symphony’s drummer, Rumi absently noted she was smaller than Zoey and incredibly cute in a top hat.

Rumi searched her mind to recall Shadow Symphony’s public appearances, whether it was official or fan pictures when they were out and about. It was true that they were always dressed in this style. Grimacing at the thought of always being in her stage wardrobe, Rumi looked to them and praised, “I’m sure your fans appreciate your dedication. I can certainly understand the effort it requires on your behalf.”

“I knew you would,” Iseul told Rumi with a gleaming smile.

“Well!” Zoey blurted out suddenly, sliding in front of Rumi and giving Shadow Symphony the widest and most unnatural of smiles. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. We need to prepare now!”

With that, Zoey grabbed Rumi’s hand and dragged her away from the other band. Glancing over her shoulder, Rumi observed as Mira gave Shadow Symphony an lackadaisical salute and stated, “Later.”

Shadow Symphony waved in response and Iseul gifted Rumi another glittering smile before she was poked in the ribs by Kimmi, their bassist. Meanwhile, Soon-bak, the rhythm guitarist and maknae of the group, bounced on her toes and shouted goodbye to Mira in particular whose eyes narrowed in response.

Rumi remained flanked by Mira and Zoey until the show started filming. They remained firmly on either side of her, staring down Shadow Symphony who appeared bemused by their attitudes. Iseul didn’t seem at all deterred and continued to approach only to be warned off by a rotating Mira or Zoey until Yon or Kimmi dragged their leader away from a baffled Rumi. By the time Dae announced their first challenge, Rumi was honestly a bit concerned for Iseul’s well being should she be put against Mira or Zoey.

Fortunately, the first challenge was an obstacle course and it was Rumi vs. Gyeong. As they took their places at the starting line, Dae noted Rumi’s apprehension. “Rumi!” Dae exclaimed. “Why the worried face?”

Rumi’s eyes darted between Dae and Gyeong, the lopsided top hat on her head and the far too large Nike Air Max on her feet. She was so very tiny. More than Zoey. Looking at her made Rumi think of an even tinier version of Zoey if that was even possible? Like if Zoey was one of The Borrowers from the book she read as a child. Dae was grinning and oh so welcoming and Rumi found herself saying, “She’s so tiny.”

At this, Gyeong blinked and the audience roared with laughter. Rumi turned bright red and sputtered, “It isn’t bad! She reminds me of Zoey, small and cute.”

“Gyeong it looks like you might have an advantage here,” said Dae playfully. “Rumi might not want to upset you with your Zoey-like cuteness. You could win this thing!”

“I’ll take it,” chirped Gyeong, tipping her hat at Rumi and giving her a wink.

“All right competitors! Audience, we’re calling the start of this race on three! One, two, three!” Dae chanted and a bell went off at three signaling them to begin the obstacle race.

Upon hearing the bell, Rumi snapped into focus and put all her attention on the course. She quickly jumped onto the shifting platforms in the large indoor pool of water, leaping from one to the other. When Rumi reached the second to the last platform she made a huge leap at the hanging gymnast rings, grabbing onto it one handed and swinging herself forward to the next ring. It was then that she noticed the cheers of the audience were becoming especially rambunctious.

“RUMI!” Zoey’s voice echoed above the din of noise. “Win it for me! The OG of cuteness!”

Galvanized by this declaration, Rumi swung forward and propelled herself past another water obstacle to land at the base of the climbing wall. Peering up at the wall, Rumi crouched down to do her very best vertical leap. Vaguely she could hear Dae shouting, wanting to know how many meters was that, and she gripped the holds, climbing as quickly as she could. Rumi wasn’t sure how long it took her to reach the platform at the top of the 4.5 meter wall but when she did, she could see that Gyeong was still hanging onto the last row of rings on the obstacle course.

“The win goes to HUNTR/X!” Dae announced gleefully. “One minute and thirty four seconds! Is it a new record, Ha-jin? Please let us know because I feel like it was! While we’re calculating, Rumi we have a live mic up there! Anything to say on your impressive victory?”

“I did it for Zoey,” said Rumi breathlessly to the overwhelming roar of the audience.

From the platform, Rumi could see Zoey blush though her expression was definitely smug and altogether provoking as she fixed her gaze on Iseul. Rumi didn’t have time to contemplate it as she was being led down the staircase attached to the back of climbing wall by a show staffer. Rumi soon emerged from behind the wall to the passionate cries of the audience and Dae clapping. Instinctively, Rumi rejoined Mira and Zoey, the latter of which instantly clung to her arm.

“Ten points for clearing the obstacle course,” Dae was practically crowing. “Next up, back by popular demand will be our zombie apocalypse challenge! This will be taking place in Studio B but we can watch from our jumbo screen here as the competition continues!”

“Zombie apocalypse?” Rumi echoed.

“Oh yeah,” Mira cracked her knuckles. “I hope we win the coin toss.”

“For real, we have to be the hunters,” Zoey enthused.

“Representing Shadow Symphony will be Iseul, Kimmi, and Soon-bak!” called Dae, making a sweeping gesture to the three bandmates as they stepped forward. Soon-bak waved at them excitedly and Rumi waved back until Mira grabbed her hand to stop the gesture. “Since Rumi was the winner of the last challenge, we’ll let her decide the coin toss.”

Dae looked at Rumi expectantly and she went with Mira’s default choice, “Heads!”

The coin landed back in Dae’s palm and he presented it to the camera with flourish. “Heads it is! HUNTR/X wins the coin toss! What will you be playing? The hunters or the zombies?” Dae inquired.

“Hunters,” they answered together, a grim sort of enthusiasm to their voices.

“Hunters it is!” Dae cheered, whipping around to face the audience. “We’re going to let our contestants get into their gear and head to Studio B! In the meantime, please enjoy this brief intermission.”

Shadow Symphony had their intricate gothic clothing covered by safety vests, each of them wearing helmets. The clothing was meant to protect and better camouflage them in the course. They were set loose in the course first to put themselves in position for sneak attacks. The players in the zombie role were at a disadvantage as they could only use close physical attacks, in this case smashing or throwing a paintball.

The hunters, on the other hand, were allowed to search for weapons hidden in the scenario. They were also afforded the same ability to use up close physical attacks with a paintball. Five minutes after Shadow Symphony was released into the studio, HUNTR/X was given the go ahead and a loud buzzer sounded. Studio B was made into a realistic looking city that was on the verge of ruin. The crumbling buildings and overall gloomy atmosphere added to the zombie apocalypse scenario.

“We need weapons,” Mira concluded and she tilted her head at a nearby fire escape.

“High ground,” agreed Rumi, already aware of what Mira was thinking.

Moving together as a perfect unit, they scaled the fire escape until they were on the roof of the building. Zoey squinted at the edge of it, shading her eyes and searching the landscape. “I think that’s an archery range,” Zoey observed, pointing to the distance. “I bet we can find weapons there.”

Rumi sidled up to her and showed the route from rooftop to rooftop. “Follow the path, look ground level to see if they’re hiding,” instructed Rumi, doubting Shadow Symphony would think to go for the high ground like they did. As they set a quick path to the strangely realistic archery range, Rumi couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously they were taking this. When she saw Mira’s questioning look, Rumi remarked, “I think we’re forgetting this is a game. I kind of feel sorry for them.”

“Twelve points, Rumi,” said Mira, her tones dripping with disdain. “It cannot stand.”

“What is this game worth anyway? We have to be at twenty after winning it,” said Zoey, pouting. “I know I should’ve looked up their point system. I totally forgot how they score this stuff.”

“Ohhhh, speaking of score,” Mira drawled in utmost glee. She paused atop the final building before the archery range, a feral grin on her features as she hurled a paintball at a figure poorly hidden behind a mailbox. There was a loud yelp and then a bong sounded. Releasing an altogether sinister laugh, Mira declared, “Got you Kimmi.”

“Dude!” Zoey exclaimed, raising her hand for a high five which Mira naturally gave.

“You saw her without your glasses,” Rumi observed, bumping her shoulder with Mira’s and giving her a bright smile. “Impressive.”

“My distance vision is on point,” said Mira, smirking.

They quickly descended the rickety fire escape from the nearest building to the archery range and dashed inside. Much to Zoey’s delight, her prediction was right and it had a variety of compound paintball bows. With their weapons in hand, they returned back to their previous high ground position. Going from rooftop to rooftop, with Zoey picking off Soon-bak next.

“I kinda feel bad for the fans,” Mira mused, “us taking them out long range must be dull.”

Rumi couldn’t help but agree, which is why upon spotting Iseul, she abandoned her compound bow and slid down the side of the building for a more close up attack. Darting down the alley, she clicked her tongue softly and when Iseul whirled around, Rumi threw the paintball directly at her vest, signaling the end of the game. Iseul looked at her with wide eyes and Rumi gave her a sheepish shrug along with a little hand wave. “You got me, Rumi-sunbae,” Iseul chuckled.

Before Iseul could say anything else, another paintball struck her from the building Rumi had descended from, causing Iseul to shriek in surprise. Peering upwards, Rumi saw Mira perched with her compound bow at the ready, scowl on her face.

“Mira!” Rumi chided, hands on her hips. “We won! The game is over!”

“Sorry,” called Mira, not at all sounding the least apologetic.

Faintly, she could hear Zoey scoff and based off of Mira’s bark of laughter, she presumably insulted Iseul.

They returned to boisterous applause as the next game was set up in studio. This time it was Mira vs. Yon for a simple game of darts. The only catch to it was that a dunking game. Meaning whoever achieved the perfect aim dunked another member of the opposing team in water. Dae left the decision of who would be dunked up to the audience and chants for Iseul and Rumi won out.

“My hair,” Rumi mourned as she sat on the dunking chair.

“Yon, I feel I should point out my make up as motivation,” Iseul joked, taking her place in the booth next to Rumi. “I’m confident you’ll look just as lovely wet, Rumi-sunbae.”

Hearing this, Mira glowered and that expression remained in place as Yon tossed the first dart, managing to land on one of the inner rings but missing the center target. Then it was Mira’s turn and with pin point accuracy, she threw the dart and hit the center.

A loud buzzer went off and Mira looked thoroughly pleased with herself as Iseul fell into the dunk tank. This was met with cheers and laughter and Dae pointing out they still had two more turns to go. At the second turn, Yon got closer to the center target and Rumi grew more nervous while a water logged Iseul fell into the tank for the second time when Mira scored again.

By the third try, Yon managed to hit the center target and Rumi released a wail of despair as she fell into the water. In response, Mira didn’t wait for her turn to be called before she threw yet another bullseye, sending Iseul into the water for a final time.

Iseul and Rumi were led backstage to change clothes. Mira started to follow only to be held in place by Dae’s cheerful questions about her skill at darts. The last contest put HUNTR/X at a disadvantage for the first time as it was a spicy food challenge and it was Ji-a vs. Zoey.

Zoey was infamously bad with spicy food, it was well known within their fandom and the hunters in the audience were already anticipating her reactions. “Mira,” Zoey whined, staring with horror as the chicken wings were placed in front of her. “Why couldn’t this have been you? I would’ve killed at darts!”

“I mean, technically we could skip this,” Ji-a commented with a lazy shrug. “How many points is this worth? If I win could we even beat HUNTR/X?”

“Ji-a, are you saying we need to increase the points?” Dae asked, a sneaky expression on his face.

“We had this thing won! I swear if you put it all on my ability to eat spicy foods,” threatened Zoey.

“What do you say audience? Should we increase the points?!” Dae belted the question out. Upon hearing a loud clamor of approval, he beamed. “That’s it then! It’ll be five points per wing, that way if Ji-a can eat all of them and Zoey can’t finish at least two then Shadow Symphony ties HUNTR/X for the game!”

Upon hearing this, Zoey looked dismayed. It was then that Rumi and Iseul returned, both of them dressed in casual athletic gear. Iseul looking completely out of place next to her bandmates in the process. Mira slid next to Rumi immediately, putting a hand on the small of her back and leaning down to murmur, “They’re making Zoey eat spicy wings. She’s got to finish at least two for us to win.”

“Zoey, you can do it!” Rumi called, clapping her hands in encouragement. “Just two!”

The upset pout on Zoey’s face didn’t go away with Rumi’s cheering, it only seemed to increase at the prospect of disappointing her. Then the buzzer sounded and Zoey closed her eyes, shuddered, then stuck the first chicken wing in her mouth, pulling off all the chicken in the process. She swallowed quickly, her eyes already watering then moved onto the second without taking a break. Following the same process with the second wing, Zoey quickly finished it. Everyone expected Zoey to end it there as she’d helped them win the game but everyone didn’t know about the points discussion HUNTR/X had.

Refusing to stop and let herself truly feel the spice of the wings, Zoey ate three more leaving HUNTR/X winning over Shadow Symphony by a score of twenty. When it was over, she quickly drank the entire glass of milk in front of her and asked Dae for another. Ji-a, who didn’t appear to have any issue with spicy food, slid her glass over to Zoey who eagerly finished it as well.

Dae brought the two groups together to announce HUNTR/X win over Shadow Symphony to the applause of the audience thus ending the show filming. Rumi immediately found her way over to Zoey, rubbing her back in a comforting gesture and Zoey clung to her with a forlorn expression. “Why don’t we get ice cream?” Rumi suggested, thinking of dairy products Zoey liked that would help with the spices. “What flavors should we get? Rocky road? Green Tea?”

“Neapolitan,” said Zoey, tucking her head into Rumi’s neck. “Is the only proper answer for us.”

“True that,” Mira laughed, leaning down to peer at the lyricist. “You doing okay, Zo?”

“It burns, Mira,” complained Zoey. She looked somewhat incredulous as she said, “I don’t know how you eat stuff like that on the regular. It’s evil I tell you.”

“Rumi-sunbae!” Iseul announced her presence and Mira instantly scowled, rising to her full height and staring the other singer down. Upon being met with this, Iseul cocked her head to one side then formed a shrewd sort of smile as she stepped closer to Rumi. “I wanted to ask you out. I’m not sure if you’ve heard but I’ve recently opened a dance club with my brother. I’d love for you to join me.”

At the words ‘ask you out’ being uttered, Mira and Zoey focused a death glare on the singer who simply arched an eyebrow in response. Rumi, in the meantime, was the epitome of decorum and said, “Thank you for the invitation but I have plans with my girls. Maybe we could visit your club some other time.”

Iseul blinked, appearing thrown off by the polite rejection, then cleared her throat. “Yes. That would be nice. What about tomorrow then?”

“Rumi,” Mira’s voice was low and lilting, her hand moving to clasp Rumi’s shoulder and gently gain her attention. “Aren’t you getting that special delivery tomorrow?”

“Special delivery?” repeated Iseul, forming something of a grimace. “Surely that would be in the day—“

“My kadupul!” exclaimed Rumi happily, thinking of the cuttings set to arrive in the afternoon. Looking to Mira, she beamed and continued, “Do you still want to help me with it?”

“Of course,” Mira drawled, the very picture of triumph as she smirked at Iseul.

“What’s a kadupul?” asked Iseul in confusion.

“It’s a plant native to Sri Lanka, that’s very difficult to cultivate,” explained Rumi, happy to discuss her plants with anyone that asked. “I’ve always wanted to raise one of my own but I’ve only been recently able to try. They require a lot of attention because of their environmental requirements.”

“A plant,” said Iseul derisively. “You won’t go out because of a plant.”

Instantly, Rumi’s friendly demeanor disappeared and her eyes narrowed at Iseul. Her posture became practically military in nature and the air itself seemed to almost grow colder. “Yes,” Rumi stated. “I won’t go out because of a plant.” She looked to the rest of Shadow Symphony who were hovering behind Iseul, watching the entire exchange, and bowed to them. “It was a pleasure competing against you.”

With that, Rumi turned on her heel and exited the stage. Leaving a thoroughly amused Mira and Zoey behind in the process. “You shouldn’t have insulted her kadupul,” Zoey sing songed knowingly, shoving her hands in her pockets and skipping backwards. “That killed all your chances.”

Mira leaned in, the smirk still ever present on her features, holding Iseul’s gaze as she declared, “I’m really going to enjoy crushing you at the Idol Awards now.”

—

They were in the midst of their car ride back to the penthouse when a burst of energy spread across the Honmoon, lighting it in waves of pink. Rumi immediately leaned forward, an easy charm to her voice as she said, “Could you let us off here, Min?”

“Here, Ryu-nim?” asked Min with some confusion, their driver studying the nearby shopping district.

Eyes quickly examining plethora of shops, Rumi’s gaze landed on a very conveniently placed ice cream parlor. Giving a laugh, Rumi explained, “We promised Zoey ice cream after that last challenge. This is only a few blocks from home, we’ll be fine to walk back afterwards.”

Min was already pulling the car over and they thanked him, exiting quickly. They kept their eyes on him, walking towards the ice cream parlor until the car turned the corner and they were out of his sight. They quickly dashed down a nearby alley, leaping onto the first rooftop, hopefully incognito as they headed towards the tear in the Honmoon.

“The ice cream was a lie,” Zoey grieved.

Mira snorted, understanding the video game reference for once. Then her eyes fixed forward on an all too serious Rumi who kept her position at the head of their formation. “Rumi. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Mira coaxed and when Rumi glanced back at her she kept her expression open. Hoping beyond hope that Rumi would tell her what she was thinking.

“It’s sunset,” observed Rumi, a foreboding tone to her voice. “There’s never been a tear this early in the day. Celine said they always attack past dusk. But this—“ Rumi stopped abruptly, biting her lip and keeping her gaze ahead. She didn’t want to think about Celine and what she said. Her rules. Her advice. Her edicts that she had chosen not to follow and now the Honmoon was breaking while there was still light.

Was it because of her? No, no. It couldn’t be. She’s not that important. She’s the least thing from it. Why would it matter what she did? Who she told? What she exposed?

She’s a hunter.

She’s a demon.

The Honmoon chose her to hunt and kill her own kind.

Nothing about her existence made sense.

“Rumi,” Mira’s voice was commanding and it demanded her attention. She gave it with an incline of her head, letting the visual know she was listening. “This isn’t because of you.”

“I know,” said Rumi tightly, keeping her attention on the tear ahead, demons already spilling out.

“Do you?” insisted Mira and Rumi frowned, wondering what exactly Mira wanted from her.

Instead of replying, Rumi flung herself from the rooftop, legs extended perfectly to crash through the window of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. In the center of it was the tear and over a dozen demons armed with clubs and swords emerging. Rumi summoned her saingeom, slashing through two demons, a sharp smile on her features as she saw Mira and Zoey run ahead, flanking her position.

Zoey released her shin-kal, the blades whistling through the air as they pierced their enemies. Mira swung her woldo with effortless precision, slicing and stabbing the demons as if they were made of paper. All while Rumi maintained her position in the center, leaping into the air, cutting off one demon’s head and slicing the next through with a smooth extension of her arm.

More kept coming.

It wasn’t enough, Rumi realized with certain apprehension. Swiftly ducking the club swung at her head, Rumi cleared her throat and sang the opening lyrics for Hold On. She bit her lip, hoping beyond hope that even with whatever that was earlier, Mira would pick up the next verse that belonged to her. Sure enough, as Rumi slashed the club wielding demon through, Mira’s voice rang out and soon Zoey was joining her.

Yes, Rumi thought, watching the Honmoon begin to heal itself.

This was what it needed. Their voices. Their song. Their unity.

This sentiment foremost in her mind, Rumi kept her gaze fixed on her girls, refusing to allow any threat to reach them. When she saw a smaller demon emerge from above Mira in a puff of pink smoke, sword in hand, Rumi pushed herself forward with frightening intensity. Sword extended, Rumi blocked his downward slash and kicked him in the stomach, hurtling the demon far from Mira. It didn’t have any time to recover before Rumi descended upon it, stabbing her saingeom through the demon’s throat.

Rumi could hear Zoey whoop at this but Rumi was focused on the demon to the right of her. One that she was sure Zoey would soon notice. All the same, something ugly rose up in Rumi that demanded she deal with it. To ensure herself that nothing could hurt Zoey and she hurled her saingeom at the demon’s head, smiling in grim satisfaction as it disappeared into smoke as she sang the final notes to their song.

The tear in the Honmoon sealed itself fully, returning to a shimmering blue and Rumi heaved a sigh of relief, hands on her knees as she peered up at Mira and Zoey. Inspecting them with vigilant eyes, confirming they were healthy. Rumi sped walked over to them, hands reaching out, traveling the path over Zoey’s arms and the rapper giggled at her attention. Once she was satisfied Zoey had no injuries, Rumi marched over to Mira who raised an eyebrow as if in challenge.

At this, Rumi hesitated, her hands frozen before she could reach Mira. Her voice was tentative and painfully concerned. “Are you all right?” Rumi asked.

“Rumi,” Mira chuckled, stepping forward and taking the singer’s hands in her own. “They didn’t hurt me, I promise.” Rumi deflated at this, her tension releasing and Mira dipped her head down, her lips millimeters from Rumi’s ear as she said in a throaty murmur, “But you can always touch me to make sure of it.”

A shiver went through Rumi, her eyes locked on Mira’s and there was something dark and wanting in her gaze. Something that made Rumi think of things she didn’t think she could ever have. And then, as if Mira wasn’t enough, Zoey slid in next to her, hand warm on her waist. Her fingers mapping an elegant path on Rumi’s skin and it was all Rumi could do to not lean into her touch. Zoey’s grip was firm and possessive, hand moving lower and slipping past the waistband of Rumi’s joggers.

What was this?

Mira hummed, assessing Rumi for a long moment. She pushed a lock of hair that had come loose from Rumi’s braid behind her ear, hand lingering on Rumi’s cheek after. The palm of her hand comforting and oh so confusing as Rumi looked at her wide eyed and expectant.

“Come on, pretty,” Mira murmured, her lips quirked in the most affectionate of smiles, looking at Rumi like she was something rare and precious. It made Rumi’s breath still in her chest. “Lets go home.”

It was all Rumi could do to nod her head and allow herself to led along. They taking a winding pathway from rooftop to rooftop until they reached their private terrace. Having the penthouse was an absolute must for the private roof access alone. With it, their comings and goings as hunters could be hidden far easier than any other location in the building. Rumi entered their code and they opened the door, walking down the private staircase that led to the small outer hall where the elevator that building staff had access resided. Mira made sure during the build plans for the penthouse that the terrace stairs let out to this area as an extra form of security. All too aware of her bandmates presence behind her and still lost in the memory of their touch, Rumi hastily entered the secondary code to gain access to their home.

The instant they were inside, Rumi muttered, “I’m taking a shower.”

Hurrying to her room, Rumi shut the door and slid down the length of it. Sitting on the floor and replaying those moments in her mind. Mira’s words, the look in her eyes, Zoey’s touch, greedy and hot on her skin. She knew what she wanted it to be. She wanted it to be desire, she wanted it to be love. Rising to her feet, Rumi made her way into the shower, refusing to be a liar and thought of their filming today.

The clear jealousy about Iseul.

Mira’s scowl, Zoey’s insult, them both standing in front of her as if to block Iseul from having access. It ran through Rumi’s mind as she showered, not wanting to deal with the effort of shampooing her hair tonight. Exiting the shower, Rumi changed into her most comfortable pajama bottoms and one of her rarely used tank tops then sat on her bed.

All her life Rumi denied herself things that made her happy. She repressed her wants. Try as they might to rid her of this tendency over the years of their friendship, Zoey and Mira couldn’t completely erase it. That made it so very hard to admit what she thought this could be… what she wanted it to be.

She wanted Mira and Zoey to desire her, to be in love with her, and most importantly, Rumi wanted them to feel that way for each other. Rumi wanted all of them to be together.

Impossible, that contemptuous voice echoed in her head, the one that sounded like Celine.

It was all too confusing. What she wanted vs. what this actually was. Rumi needed advice.

Normally she would ask Mira and Zoey but this was about them. They obviously weren’t an option. Celine? Just the idea of it made Rumi recoil. She supposed there was Bobby but it didn’t seem right, involving him in her personal problems. He already did so much for her. Giving love advice wasn’t on the list of manager duties nor should it ever be added. Professional lines should be somewhat maintained, after all.

Slowly, Rumi’s eyes drifted to her large bookshelf. On it sat a dvd collection of the romantic drama series her mother starred in. Next to it was an external hard drive Rumi had since she was thirteen. Written on it in impeccable script with silver permanent marker was simply the word mother. It was filled with as many video clips of Miyeong that Rumi could find. Sometimes when she was feeling lost and she didn’t have anyone to talk to, she watched them and pretended her mother was speaking to her.

Reaching for the hard drive, Rumi plugged it into her laptop and considered the folders. They were separated by work category and type. Such as Sunlight Sisters - Music Videos, Sunlight Sisters - Promo Interviews, Game Shows, and finally what she was looking for: Please Marry My Husband - Interviews.

Scrolling through the files, Rumi paused at one labeled Baeksang Arts Awards Nomination. Rumi recalled her mother speaking about her character arc in Please Marry My Husband in it. Clicking on the video file and expanding the player to fill the computer screen, Rumi leaned forward. Her mother was sitting on a couch with her costar Seokjin Kahn, a relaxed smile on her features.

“Please welcome Miyeong Ryu and Seokjin Kahn stars of Please Marry My Husband!” Jangho Wu, the talk show host exclaimed. “You both must be ecstatic at your nominations for best actress and actor for this year’s Baeksang Arts Awards. Miyeong, you must be especially proud of the best drama nomination, the show truly does revolve around your character, Jiwon Kang.”

“It does,” Miyeong agreed, releasing a charming laugh. Rumi sighed happily upon hearing it. Her mother had the loveliest voice, light and airy, like the sound of bells. She watched Miyeong tilt her head to one side in contemplation then continue, “Jiwon was such a joy to play because she goes through so much in the series. In particular, I enjoyed my scenes with Seokjin because they portrayed her emotional growth.”

“You really are wary of my character at first,” Seokjin Kahn remarked, speaking of his character Jihyeok Yu. “After way Jiwon is betrayed by Minwhan in her first life, it’s truly difficult to trust Jihyeok is genuine.”

“Yes, exactly,” said Miyeong happily, beaming at Seokjin. “I enjoyed showing that growth in Jiwon. Where we can see her trust for Jihyeok form after each time he proves to be wholly on her side. It was tricky to try and find the best way to show her slow acceptance that his affection is truly genuine. After what happens with Minwhan she doesn’t feel lovable and it takes some time for her to accept that simply because one man was horrible to her, it doesn’t mean another will be. That she should judge Jihyeok for who he is, and his actions, and not use what Minwhan did to her as a reason to distrust Jihyeok.”

“I don’t think anyone blames Jiwon,” remarked Jangho and the audience applauded, agreeing with him. “Minwhan’s betrayal in her first life was truly terrible! Sumin,” the audience booed upon hearing her name and Jangho held up his hands as if defending himself from it, “I just said her name!” Laughter now and Jangho finished his thought, “Sumin’s betrayal as well. Her husband and best friend, honestly anyone can understand Jiwon being unable to trust people having genuine intentions after that.”

“Still,” Miyeong mused, her expression thoughtful. “It’s an important lesson for anyone, I would think. Often in life we’re hurt or betrayed by someone we trust and after that it’s difficult to trust again. Or in Jiwon’s case, to love again. You doubt your instincts and wonder if it will have the same horrible end but judging one person unfairly due to the actions of another is a sad way to go through life. You’ll keep yourself from so much happiness that way. Just as Jiwon did until she accepted Jihyeok.”

“I agree,” remarked Seokjin with the fondest smile as he gazed at Miyeong.

After this, Jangho interjected about the upcoming Baeksang Arts Awards, asking how they felt about their nominations. Rumi watched her mother speak about her surprise as this was her first time acting, since she was singer. Particularly since Celine was the lead for the Sunlight Sisters. Saying this was her first time stepping out center, as it were, and to have this kind of reception was a bit overwhelming.

Rumi watched the interview to the end, her mother’s words playing on repeat in her mind.

Mira and Zoey weren’t Celine. They had always accepted her. They hadn’t hesitated, not once, and it wasn’t right to doubt them because of how she had been treated in the past.

Still, she wasn’t sure what they felt for her. They loved her certainly but was it romantic love? And was it the both of them? Did they want all of them to be together? Rumi flushed at this, her heart racing and a thrill going through her at the thought. Maybe she should wait and judge for herself. Pay closer attention to how they treated her before she made any decisions.

Biting her lip, Rumi considered the files in the hard drive folder. Maybe her mother spoke more about romance somewhere in her interviews for the drama. It was heavily focused in romance. Or Rumi could rewatch her show.

Her mother had won best actress for it, after all.

Coming to a decision, Rumi opened another video file. Smiling as her mother’s bell like voice filled the room. She spent the rest of the night putting together pieces of Miyeong’s advice and by the end of it Rumi knew somewhat of what to look for.

Of course, rewatching twelve episodes of Please Marry My Husband helped also. Seokjin had done a tremendous job in portraying Jihyeok’s love for Jiwon and his character was fairly restrained in nature. This made it easier for Rumi to learn what signs to look for if they weren’t glaringly obvious.

Rumi wanted to be brave, she wanted to trust, she really did.

She just had to be sure of their feelings first.

—-

The following day, once breakfast was finished and the dishes placed in the washer, Rumi found herself pulled into Mira’s room. She was soon sitting in her bathroom in front of the very chic vanity table Mira had purchased for make up application and storage. Sitting on a comfortable chair, Rumi blinked at her reflection while Mira stood behind her, methodically unwinding her braid.

“Have you thought more about what you want?” Mira inquired.

That was such a very loaded question but Rumi knew Mira was asking about her hair. “Not really,” said Rumi. “I’d like to remove twenty five centimeters maybe? For styling I want to keep my braid the same since it’s part of my image at this point. If you want to play with it for every day looks, I’d be fine.” Rumi peered up at Mira who looked at her with a steady gaze. “I always love everything that you do with your hair. You’re so beautiful.”

On hearing this, the tips of Mira’s ears turned red and for a short moment, so fast that Rumi nearly missed it, she looked so alluringly bashful. Then Mira quickly morphed back into her usual deadpan demeanor. Oh, Rumi thought, a smile playing on her lips. That was interesting.

Mira’s touch was meticulous and gentle, taking care to not pull on her hair, and Rumi felt herself relax into her touch. Her eyes drifted shut and Rumi sighed as she felt Mira sift through her long locks, fingers soon on the top of her head, massaging her scalp. “Rumi,” Mira’s voice came in a low murmur, almost vibrating through Rumi, with Mira’s breath hot on her cheek. “During the fight--”

A pause. One Rumi was well used to. Mira was incredibly good at reading people. Her skills of observation were scary frankly and more than once Rumi had found herself confronted by the dancer about not resting enough or being stressed. Mira always noticed if she or Zoey had any type of problem.

At the same time, Mira was nearly as bad as Rumi when it came to expressing her emotions. It didn’t help when she was paired with Rumi who was more reluctant than herself when it came to discussing feelings. In a fit of annoyance during one of their silent arguments Zoey had declared them both to be emotionally constipated. The term was disgusting but disturbingly accurate.

Rumi hummed and reached up, clasping Mira’s hand with her own. Opening her eyes to look at Mira with an encouraging expression. Wanting Mira to know she was there, she was listening, and she didn’t have to feel hesitant with Rumi. She’d accept her. Mira focused on Rumi’s scalp massage then said, “You know the tears in the Honmoon aren’t because of you, right? It’s been weakening for years, long before we became hunters. Those demons escaping has nothing to do with you telling us about you being a half demon.” This last bit Mira said strongly, leaving no room for argument.

Logically Rumi knew Mira was right. The Honmoon had been growing weak for some time. Her being truthful about herself had nothing to do with yet another break in it. But after being told to hide her patterns, hide herself, for the good of the Honmoon’s existence for most of her life… well.

“I know,” Rumi exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “Celine told me so many times to hide myself. That keeping my patterns, my demon side, a secret was for the good of the Honmoon. When it tore, it was like her voice saying those things came rushing back.” Swallowing the lump in her throat and blinking back the tears beginning to form, Rumi’s voice was strained as she continued, “In my heart, I know it’s not true. How could it be when being accepted for who I am has stopped my patterns from expanding? But she’s still there in my head. A voice that makes me doubt myself, that’s telling me what I’m doing is wrong.”

“I get it,” Mira cleared her throat, eyes focused on Rumi’s hair as she gently ran a brush through it, working through the tangles. “Every time I screw up I can hear my family telling me I’m not good enough. That I’m a disgrace to the Kang family name. My mother sighing about why can’t I be like Shin.” Mira scoffed as she delicately sprayed Rumi’s hair with water. “For the longest time I tried, you know? To be what they wanted but all it did was make me miserable. Then one day, I realized I would never be enough.”

Rumi whipped around in the chair on hearing this. “You are enough,” said Rumi urgently, grabbing Mira’s hand in her own and squeezing it tight. “You’re everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Same,” Mira revealed, her voice thick with emotion. The smallest smile, wry and almost disbelieving formed on her sharp features then Mira rested her forehead against Rumi’s releasing a shaky breath. “It was crap until I met you. Looking all prim and prissy and perfect in that audition.”

“I did not look like that!” protested Rumi, poking Mira in the cheek. “Take that back.”

Snickering at Rumi’s reaction, Mira smirked and bent down to search through the vanity drawers until she produced a very professional pair of hair shears. “This,” Mira intoned, doing a spot on impression of Celine, “is Rumi.” Gathering Rumi’s hair carefully in her hands, Mira’s tone was fond as she recalled, “And there you were, standing at attention, hands clasped behind your back. Not a hair out of place and the calmest look on your face, like you knew you belonged. Pissed me off, honestly.”

“We didn’t get along at first, did we?” Rumi mused, thinking back to the early days. When it had been just her and Mira. The first few weeks were difficult, she remembered that much.

“It was my fault,” admitted Mira, there was an underlining regret to her voice. “I was stuck on that first impression for the longest time. You remember, like a month into my training, how I convinced you to go to Seoul? Honestly, I just wanted to get off of Celine’s estate. I was starting to go stir crazy. On the way back to the station we ran into my brother.”

“I remember,” said Rumi, frowning now. “He was a jerk.”

“Yeah he was,” Mira murmured, her fingers soft and mindful as Rumi heard the first quiet snips of her hair being cut. “Shin started in with the usual. How I was a disappointment, how dancing was a waste of time, and that I was delusional for thinking I’d ever be successful as an idol. And you, all prim and prissy and perfect stood in front of me and told him off. Said I was the best dancer you’d ever seen, that I was already a success because I’d been chosen by Celine. Chosen by you. And that he’d regret his words.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” declared Rumi. She huffed as she thought of Mira’s brother. “He thought he was so much better than you. Who is he compared to you? A business man no one cares about? Honestly.”

“There she is,” Mira chuckled, an affectionate look in her eyes as she met Rumi’s gaze in the mirror. “The elitist nepo baby that I fell for.”

Rumi’s eyes narrowed at Mira and she retorted, “Nepo baby or not, I work hard.”

“Nothing about the elitism?” teased Mira, her gaze back on Rumi’s hair, carefully cutting the locks.

Shrugging her shoulders, Rumi said, “I suppose it’s accurate. It’s not like I went to school and hung out with other kids. Celine got me private tutors and I never really left her estate except for work. She had me doing industry gigs since I was ten. I’m well aware how I grew up wasn’t normal by any standard.” Rumi watched Mira in the reflection of the mirror for a long while. Her elegant movements, the way her brow furrowed in concentration. She was enchanting. “You were my first friend,” Rumi revealed.

Mira paused, looking up to study Rumi in the mirror. The smallest smile formed on her features but it captured Rumi with the affection it displayed. It was a rare moment where Mira’s heart was clear to see and Rumi found herself transfixed in her observation. Then Mira ruffled the hair on the top of Rumi’s head, her voice rough as she muttered, “You were my first real friend.” Clearing her throat, Mira focused back on the hair cut and continued, “I was a chaebol heiress. Everyone acted nice to my face when I was younger. Until I started to rebel against my parents idea of who I should be. Then it was nothing but other kids at school insulting me and endless gossiping from the adults about how I must be such a disappointment. You were the first person to be honest with me, to give me a compliment that was about me and not my family, and really mean it.” Mira’s gaze lifted to meet Rumi’s, her expression vulnerable as she said, “That’s why I need you to know how important you are to me, Rumi. You and Zoey are my family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of you.”

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind and so did Seokjin’s performance. That face he made as Jihyeok looking at Jiwon. The quiet longing and fervent desire hidden just beneath the surface, held back by caution and a fear of being too much too soon. There was so much of it in Mira now, Rumi realized.

Maybe it was what Rumi hoped? Maybe Mira liked her romantically the same as Jihyeok did Jiwon? That same quiet caring manner, unobtrusive and steadfast? Blinking back tears at the idea of it, Rumi saw the concern on Mira’s features and quickly smiled, not wanting her to worry.

Thinking of Mira’s earlier words, Rumi chuckled. “Same.”

A pause and Mira studied her with that sharp gaze that always saw so very much then she sifted through Rumi’s hair, which already felt lighter. “I want to try a braided updo,” Mira pondered, her fingers expertly moving through Rumi’s locks. “It’d be like another way for you to wear your signature look, you know?”

“I love it,” Rumi murmured, aware she wasn’t only talking about the hairstyle.

“We should try a waterfall braid sometime too,” said Mira in consideration, parting Rumi’s hair to form it into a smaller loose braid. A playful gleam emerged in Mira’s eyes and she remarked, “We should just make all braids your signature style.”

“All braids belong to Rumi?” questioned Rumi, vaguely recalling Zoey making a similar joke.

“They ought to, when she looks this hot,” Mira drawled and there it was again, that teasing way she had about her. It was flirting, wasn’t it? She wasn’t doing it to just to make fun, it was a compliment also.

Their conversation continued on, drifting from topic to topic until Mira revealed her finished hairstyle. The braided updo did look good on her, Rumi thought, looking at the hand mirror Mira held up. Rising from the vanity chair, Rumi contemplated Mira for a long moment. One that made her friend look at her with that familiar sheen of anxiety in her gaze, the one that held her back, just like Jihyeok in the drama.

“Thank you,” said Rumi finally, stepping forward to pull Mira into a hug. “This looks wonderful. You always make me feel better about myself.”

The visual hesitated for a moment and then Rumi felt strong arms wrap around her, holding her tight and Mira’s breath was warm on her skin. “You’re welcome,” Mira’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “That’s all I want. For you to see yourself how I see you.”

When they parted, Rumi could see the sincerity in Mira’s expression. The ardent desire barely held back and it took Rumi’s breath away, making her heart practically beat out of her chest.

She had one answer.

—

There was a consistent melody running through Rumi’s brain and as a result, she found herself in their music studio, sitting in front of her concert grand piano. Fingers running over the keys, Rumi brought the melody to life slowly. Pausing to make notations on her formerly blank sheet music.

Rumi was working through the introduction, feeling like she was on the edge of discovering what that next perfect note would be when Zoey entered the studio. She didn’t notice the lyricist at first, not until she felt Zoey sit next to her on the piano bench. Once Rumi found the perfect crescendo, she quickly wrote it down, not wanting to lose the melody. “Want to help?” Rumi asked, furrowing her brow as she considered her music sheet that was quickly filling up. Looking up at Zoey, she smiled. “I love your ideas.”

“Totally!” Zoey exclaimed, nodding her head eagerly. She formed an adorable frown, eyes searching their music studio filled with instruments. Most of which Zoey knew how to play. Turning to Rumi, eyes shining with excitement, she questioned, “Guitar?”

“Guitar,” Rumi agreed. “The song needs it.”

“This sounds like a nocturne,” Zoey mused, strumming her fingers over the guitar strings. “It’s building slowly so why don’t we try this?” Lowering her head, tongue sticking past her lips ever so slightly, Zoey played several chords and Rumi turned back her piano for accompaniment. “Yeah!” cheered Zoey, smiling happily. “That’s it. Why don’t we do this next?”

Over the next hour, they worked their way through the song until they arrived at the final notes. Rumi beamed, pleased to have the melody bouncing around her mind finally come to life. Leaning forward, Rumi kissed Zoey’s cheek, praising her, “You’re a genius.” Zoey reddened in response and kept her head lowered, still strumming her guitar. Observing her bandmate, Rumi shifted on the piano bench, her touch reassuring on Zoey’s waist. “Zo?”

“It’s nothing,” Zoey muttered, lifting her head and giving Rumi a wry smile.

Scooting closer, aware how Zoey found solace in physical touch, Rumi rested her chin on Zoey’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I like hearing your thoughts,” confessed Rumi. “Before I met you, no one told me what they thought, not really. Not the way you do, so open and honest. Mira tries but she’s like me. It takes effort for us to talk about our feelings. I’ve always admired how you’re so fearless in expressing yourself.” Zoey looked to her, brown eyes wide and shining. Rumi smiled softly, pulling Zoey firmly against her, breath warm on her skin as she concluded, “You’re the bravest out of all of us.”

“Rumi,” whined Zoey, her voice sing song and she plopped her head back onto Rumi’s shoulder. Rumi chuckled at this, kissing Zoey’s cheek fondly. Opening one eye, she formed a half hearted scowl and said in accusing tones, “You’re trying to get me to talk with your feminine wiles.”

“Is it working?” asked Rumi, amused.

“Yes,” Zoey pouted, reaching for Rumi’s arms to pull them more securely around her body. Sinking into Rumi’s embrace, Zoey remarked, “Remember when I first joined HUNTR/X? I didn’t share as much as I do now.” Rumi murmured her assent, recalling the days of a shyer Zoey, one who wasn’t as gregarious with her affections and open with her thoughts. “That’s because I came here straight from America. High School wasn’t exactly the greatest for me. I was the weird kid, I talked way too much for the teachers, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t connect with my classmates. It was like the more desperate I was to be accepted, the less that I was.” Zoey looked up at Rumi, a self deprecating smile forming. “Even the band nerds avoided me. I was a loser with Capital L.”

“You aren’t,” Rumi scowled.

Laughing happily at Rumi’s reaction, Zoey bopped her nose and Rumi scrunched her face as a result. “You’re gorgeous when you’re protective,” Zoey observed and Rumi flushed in embarrassment, hiding her face in Zoey’s neck. More laughter, cheerful and bright, the sound she loved best from Zoey. “But to the kids back in Burbank, I was a huge loser. I felt like one too. Always the odd one out. Too loud, too much, for everybody. I tried to make myself quiet to keep people happy but it sucked, having to monitor myself all the time.” Zoey tangled their fingers together and Rumi felt the softest kiss on her palm. Lifting her head, Rumi gazed at Zoey who was looking at her with such overwhelming devotion. “You were the first person to tell me you liked listening to me. I was talking your ear off about 80’s pop music. I realized that I was rambling, so I stopped talking and apologized because I really liked you and I didn’t want to be too much and turn you off. I remember you looked so cute and confused then you said that you wanted to hear me talk. That you enjoyed hearing me explain things I liked. That it was fun for you.”

“It is,” Rumi emphasized with a squeeze to Zoey’s waist. “It’s the most fun.” Rumi paused, trying to work the words out in her mind before she murmured, “You teach me so many new and interesting things and you’ve never make me feel stupid for not knowing about it.” Rumi held Zoey’s gaze with her own, sincere in her honesty. “I love that about you. I’ll always want to hear you talk, Zoey.”

“Me too,” said Zoey breathlessly. She leaned forward, kissing Rumi’s cheek, her voice a low utterance, “I’m so happy you trusted us with your secret. I know it must have been hard for you but I’m glad that you felt safe enough to tell us. To let us in.”

Rumi pulled back enough to gaze into Zoey’s eyes and they were shining with so much affection that Rumi felt her heart skip a beat. What Zoey had said was just like Jihyeok felt about Jiwon. How he was happy she trusted him because it meant she might return his love. Rumi bit down on her bottom lip at the thought of Zoey feeling like Jihyeok and watched Zoey’s eyes darken with desire. A gasp escaped Rumi’s lips and Zoey grinned, mischievous and knowing, then sank into Rumi’s arms, snuggling into her hold. Rumi was sure Zoey would feel her heart beating out of control and did her best to calm down.

She had her second answer.

—-

They were in their third hour of practicing the choreography for the Idol Awards when Mira declared they needed to cool down for their half an hour break. Zoey flopped down on the dance studio floor in a perfect impersonation of a starfish and Rumi laughed as she retrieved three bottles of water.

“Mira,” Zoey beseeched, waving her limp arms about. “Hug me, everything hurts.”

“How is hugging me going to help?” Mira responded in a deadpan inquiry, accepting the water bottle that Rumi offered.

“You’re soft,” said Zoey as if there could be no other answer. “Please,” Zoey cajoled, rolling onto her side and wearing quite possibly the saddest face Rumi had ever seen.

Mira huffed and rolled her eyes but all the same, in a single graceful movement she sat on the floor and pulled Zoey into her lap. “Better?” asked Mira sardonically.

“Much better,” Zoey affirmed, looking altogether smug as she wrapped Mira’s arms around her. “Shadow Symphony is lucky. Metal bands don’t have any choreo.” Mira scowled at this, poking Zoey in her side and making her squirm. “What?” she whined. “Is it so wrong for me to long to be lazy too?”

Rumi sat across from them, handing Zoey a water bottle then opening her own. When Mira turned an imperious glare her way, Rumi arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything,” Rumi said, lifting her hands in a defensive gesture. “Remember my preference for physical challenges? I like dancing. I’m just nowhere as good as you and Zoey at it, that’s all. So I can’t exactly argue when Zo says it’s hard work.”

“You’re a great dancer, Rumi!” Zoey protested. “If you weren’t Mira wouldn’t put you into so many complex sequences. Right, Mira?”

“Of course,” Mira agreed.

“Okay, fine,” Rumi conceded, leaning back on her hands. “Maybe I’m good but dancing isn’t easy for me. Dancing is practically instinct for Mira and you’re crazy talented at break dancing, Zoey. Besides,” there was a pause and Rumi felt a sudden impish urge overtake her as she continued, “I’m a better fighter.”

Immediately there were two loud cries of protest at this statement and Rumi broke into laughter, leaping to her feet and dodging Zoey who sprung at her for presumably a tackle. Mira swept her leg, attempting to trip Rumi who jumped in the air, and soon all their laughter filled the air as what was meant to be a rest break descended into an impromptu sparring session.

It only came to an end when Zoey and Mira came to the same conclusion on how to trap Rumi. Something that had Rumi ducking and them running straight into each other. Rumi was last woman standing, hopping on the tops of her toes, smirking triumphantly at Mira sprawled out on the floor with Zoey on top of her. She opened her mouth to taunt them on her superior fighting skills but Rumi froze at Mira’s expression.

That aching tenderness was there again as she brushed a lock of hair hair from Zoey’s eyes as one of her buns had come undone during their play fight. And Zoey? She returned it, her eyes bright and shining with such affection that Rumi felt her heartbeat stutter. Watching them together was breathtaking for Rumi. It was like she was suffused with happiness, seeing them together like that.

This was her third answer.

Then the all too familiar sound of Bobby’s ring tone filled the air, breaking the moment.

“Hi Bobby,” Rumi picked up the call, turning from her bandmates.

“Rumi! You all right? You sound tired,” Bobby said with concern.

“I’m fine, just being put through the ringer with Mira’s choreo,” said Rumi, goading Mira who gave her the middle finger. Something Rumi knew for a fact Zoey had taught her. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to make sure you got my email about a meeting with JYP,” informed Bobby.

Putting Bobby on speaker and opening her email app, Rumi saw it. “I got it. 10 AM at the main offices tomorrow. That shouldn’t be a problem. Are the usual suspects attending?”

“Uh huh,” murmured Bobby and she heard him flipping through his notebook. Their manager was strangely old fashioned and preferred taking hand written notes more often than not. “Celine can’t make it but it’s mostly going to discuss the plan for upcoming album and your hiatus time line.”

“Sounds fun,” said Rumi in droll tones. “Can you arrange Min to pick us up at 9:30 AM? Mira won’t get her car for another week.”

“Will do!” said Bobby cheerfully. “See you girls tomorrow!”

“Bye Bobby,” the all chimed together and Rumi ended the call. Unsure whether or not she was disappointed or grateful for the interruption. At least it gave her time to consider that perhaps she should come up with some sort of plan instead of simply winging it.

Yes, Rumi thought, watching Mira and Zoey cuddled together, happily chatting.

They deserved that.

They deserved everything.

They were her heart, after all.

—-

JYP wanted them on hiatus from performing for four months at the longest. During which they would spend one month working on their upcoming album. Zoey already had several songs banked that they could use and Rumi had managed to produce four different tracks that they could possibly pair up.

Bobby was insistent that they go on a retreat for the album. He offered countless examples of bands that produced incredible creative results when put in a new environment. Far from the overly produced and controlled corporate structure that they typically existed in.

As much as Rumi wanted to use their new home studio, the idea of going on a vacation of sorts with Mira and Zoey greatly appealed to her. The executives, surprisingly, were all for this plan as long as they stayed somewhat local. They left the meeting with a general plan for their album concept, first single release date, and potential Asia tour. Bobby promised to send Rumi different studio options with a decidedly vacation slant.

Overall, it was productive and the faith the JYP team had in them emboldened them for the upcoming Idol Awards. In JYP’s mind, the Artist of the Year would be theirs for a second time. Marking the third win, since they won Best New Artist the year they debuted.

The days passed quickly and soon it was the evening of the Idol Awards. Rumi was well aware of Mira and Zoey’s efforts to keep her away from Shadow Symphony and Iseul. Why, she didn’t know. The idea that Rumi would give the singer any thought after she insulted her kadupul was laughable. Even if the plant was only cuttings in her greenhouse she had just planted five days ago.

Besides that, she already had Mira and Zoey. Or at least, Rumi was hoping she would soon.

Despite their best efforts ultimately it was impossible to avoid Shadow Symphony entirely. The backstage of arenas could be shockingly small sometimes and they were direct category competitors. Both set to perform one after the other on the event schedule.

Shadow Symphony had just finished their performance, exiting the stage as HUNTR/X was heading from their dressing rooms towards the stage which was going through a set change for them. Rumi was at the head of the line, Mira and Zoey at her backs, when Shadow Symphony rounded the corner, their manager presumably herding them back to their dressing room.

“Rumi-sunbae!” Iseul stammered upon seeing her, sounding nothing like her confident persona.

“Iseul-ssi,” acknowledged Rumi staidly. Out of politeness and industry habits, she paused in her walk. Though she couldn’t help but lean into Zoey’s hand that was now resting on the small of her back, her touch on clear display. Directing her gaze to the rest of Shadow Symphony, Rumi presented them with a warm smile. “Congratulations. That was a wonderful performance. Your song is beautiful.”

The rest of Shadow Symphony thanked Rumi but eyed the interaction with their lead singer and Rumi warily. Iseul hesitantly stepped forward and Rumi looked to her with a flat expression on her stunning features. As Mira would say, it was giving nothing. No emotions. No reaction.

Just blank.

“Rumi-sunbae,” Iseul repeated, definitely nervous now. “I wanted to apologize for what I said before. I shouldn’t have discounted your hobby. I’d love to hear about your kadupul. I even looked it up! How it blooms is really very interesting and—“

Rumi held up her hand and instantly the words died in Iseul’s throat. Heaving a sigh and looking up at the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts, Rumi directed her gaze back to the other singer. Eventually, Rumi said in the most diplomatic of tones, “I accept your apology.” Iseul lit up at this and it appeared as if she was going to say something else but Rumi cut her off by continuing, “Deriding what someone else loves because you cannot see value in it is not an attractive trait, Iseul-ssi. I would correct it.”

“I—“ Iseul stammered then she swallowed hard. Dropping her head she muttered, “Yes. I agree.”

“Good,” said Rumi, utterly composed as she continued on her walk to the stage. Already noting the time for their own performance was approaching. Her stride self-assured, Rumi heard the sound of a slap and she couldn’t help but smile, aware that it was Mira and Zoey high fiving.

Then it was their cue and they emerged to the roar of the audience.

It was perfect. The staging. The song. The choreography. Rumi hadn’t remembered the last time she felt so exhilarated after a performance and when they ran backstage, sweaty and exhausted but riding high on the cheers of the fans, they clung to one another. Already tasting success before all the votes were in. Just from seeing the golden shine of the Honmoon, displaying all their efforts.

At the end of the night, when all the votes were tallied, they had won their third award at the International Idol Awards, defeating Shadow Symphony. Bobby swept them up in hugs and per usual, they attended the after party as was industry standard.

Rumi was at the bar, getting their drinks when she looked to her girls. They were heading from the dance floor to the JYP table where several other idols were gathered. Two members of Dream Rush, an upcoming boy band, were at the table all charming smiles as they chatted with Mira and Zoey. The more muscular of the pair leaned towards Mira, his touch light on her hand while his companion moved to sit on the other side of Zoey, putting hardly any space between their bodies.

The feel of the glass cracking in her hold made Rumi pause and take a breath. She could read her girls, even from here. They didn’t want the attention, they were just being polite, it was the same as Rumi with Iseul. Just as they had no reason to be jealous of Iseul she had nothing to worry about with those two.

“Your bokbunja,” Rumi murmured, sliding in between Mira and her muscular suitor. Her lips were millimeters from Mira’s cheek and when the dancer turned it would only take the slightest move forward for their lips to meet. Upon seeing Mira’s eyes widen, Rumi flashed her most charming smile. Before Mira could reply, she moved over to Zoey, disrupting the other intruder’s efforts in the same manner. “They had mint chocolate soju. I thought you’d want to try it.”

“Rumi,” Zoey drew her name out in almost musical tones, hooking their arms together as she took a drink. Her nose scrunched up and Rumi couldn’t help but smile at the all too serious look her face as she studied the alcohol. “It really does taste like mint chocolate.”

“Let me try,” Mira demanded and Zoey handed her the drink. “What the hell, it totally does,” remarked Mira, staring at the soju as if held all the secrets of the world. “Rumi where did you find this?”

“The bar,” laughed Rumi. “Should we get a bottle before we leave?” They nodded quickly in agreement and Rumi beamed, pleased she had chosen correctly. “Finish your drinks so we can go back to dancing,” stated Rumi in her very best leader tones, causing Zoey to down hers and Mira to chuckle but follow the maknae’s example. Directing an assessing gaze to the two boy band members whose name still escaped her, Rumi smirked and explained, “We’re celebrating our win. You will excuse us, won’t you?”

Before they could reply, Rumi already had Mira and Zoey’s hands in her own, pulling them back onto the dance floor. The beginning chords of their latest number one filling the air.

“That was brutal, Rumi,” Mira drawled, a smirk playing on her lips. Hands reaching for Rumi’s hips, pulling Rumi flush against her, leaving Rumi’s back to Mira and her front to Zoey.

“Such a mean unnie,” Zoey chided, laughing and sliding forward to hook her arms around Rumi’s neck. “Those poor boys just wanted to compliment us and you scared them.”

“And?” retorted Rumi, lifting an eyebrow as if to say ‘so what’. Pushing back into Mira, she placed her hands firmly on top of Mira’s, which were resting on her hips, encouraging Mira to increase the strength of her grip. Making it clear to whoever that saw them precisely who was holding her. Immediately after, Rumi focused on Zoey, impatiently tugging her closer, causing the rapper to fall into her. “I’ll give you enough compliments to last a lifetime.”

The reaction to Rumi’s words was instantaneous.

Mira held her tighter. Zoey pressed closer. It was as if they ceased to be three separate people. Becoming a perfect unit, moving in absolute synchronization, hearts and minds in total harmony.

This was it. The final answer.

Did Mira want her? Yes.

Did Zoey want her? Yes.

Did Mira and Zoey want each other? Yes.

Did they want all of them be together? Yes.

Rumi tried to calm herself from the sudden surge of emotion. It was overwhelming to realize that she could have everything she wanted, if she was only brave enough to pursue it. She was grateful the loud pulsing music and the darkness could provide something of a cover. This wasn’t the time for grand declarations. It wasn’t special enough. Not for the way Rumi felt.

Enjoy the dance, become absorbed in the music, and get lost in the moment. That’s what Rumi told herself.

Everything else could wait.

—

The next day, Rumi woke to Mira’s breath on her neck and Zoey tucked under her chin. Her head throbbed and Rumi groaned, staring into the darkness of the room. Feeling so very grateful they were in Mira’s room which didn’t have any natural light sources. That helped her migraine somewhat.

For a long while Rumi lay still and enjoyed the sensation of Mira and Zoey against her. Then her natural instinct to move, to be busy and productive took hold, and Rumi squirmed, reaching for her cell phone that was apparently tucked into the pocket of her pajama bottoms.

Squinting at the screen, Rumi saw it was almost noon and she had several messages. Most of which from Celine and Bobby. Feeling too hungover to deal with Celine, she opened Bobby’s messages. He described several different music studio options for them in South Korea that would serve as a retreat. The one that Rumi stared at longest was on Jeju Island.

The music studio was in the guesthouse of a property that had a five bedroom traditional house that featured a gorgeous nature trail nearby and was a five minute walk to the beach. Everything about it screamed romantic getaway. There was even a hot tub and state of the art kitchen.

It was perfect.

Rumi immediately texted Bobby, telling him to rent the studio for their month long retreat. Saying it was ideal for their creativity. Feeling utterly accomplished, Rumi smiled in satisfaction and settled back into the much acclaimed comfort of Mira’s big bed.

“Rumi,” Zoey whined, one eye opening to peer at the singer. “Why are you awake? It’s too early.”

“It’s almost noon,” said Rumi humorously.

Releasing a groan of disgust, Zoey rubbed her face on Rumi’s shoulder and moaned, “Too early. Way too early. I drank too much mint chocolate soju. We even brought a bottle home.”

“You told me to buy it,” Rumi reminded, shifting slightly and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “This is the best alcohol I’ve ever had. Direct quote from Ms. Zoey Choi.”

“Don’t quote me to myself,” Zoey grumbled while snuggling closer.

“That sentence makes no sense,” grunted Mira, her words muffled by Rumi’s neck. Rumi shivered at the feel of Mira’s lips on her skin as she spoke. Lifting her head, she frowned at the cell phone in Rumi’s hand. “I agree with Zoey though. Why do you have your phone out? It’s too early for work.”

“How do you know it’s about work?” demanded Rumi peevishly.

“Rumi,” Mira and Zoey said in unison, their tones chastising.

Releasing a noise of frustration, Rumi opened the page to the music studio booking on Jeju Island. Expanding the photos and holding her phone so Mira and Zoey could see, Rumi divulged, “I was making sure Bobby reserved this place for that album retreat we have planned.”

“Ohh, it’s by the beach,” said Zoey excitedly, scrolling through the photos.

“There’s a hot tub,” Mira noted, sounding thoroughly pleased at this.

“Well? Am I forgiven for the crime of texting slightly before noon?” asked Rumi sardonically.

“Put the phone away and go back to sleep,” ordered Mira, pushing the cell phone down and burying her face back into the crook of Rumi’s neck. “Then yes. You’ll be forgiven for hangover crimes.”

“Sleep,” Zoey mumbled, nodding her head in agreement. “And brinner.”

“Brinner?” questioned Rumi, perplexed at this unknown term.

“Breakfast for dinner,” supplied Zoey, opening her eyes to give Rumi the most imploring of gazes. It really was unfair how good she was at that, Rumi considered. “Please, Rumi?”

Heaving an exaggerated sigh and shoving her cell phone back into her pajama pants pocket, Rumi closed her eyes, already feeling sleep start to overtake her. “Fine,” she conceded. “Sleep then brinner.”

Muted murmurs of approval were the only response.

Then they were asleep, cuddled together, and dreaming of one another.

Chapter Text

For a more convenient trip, they chartered a private plane to Jeju Island. The flight took just under three hours vs. the eight hours it would have taken to drive then travel by ferry which was Mira’s suggestion so she could drive her new car. Ultimately, Mira agreed flying made more sense but Rumi could tell she was disappointed. Which is why Rumi made sure to have Bobby rent a car with the same year and model as her own, handing Mira the keys to the rental so she could drive.

Even though a little voice in the back of Rumi’s head told her it was technically illegal.

It would be fine. Mira was the best driver out of all three of them. There’s a reason Mira was the only member of HUNTR/X to purchase a car. Neither Rumi or Zoey liked driving. Rumi because she found it tedious and Zoey because she claimed to be traumatized from LA traffic and drivers.

“You’re such a rule breaker, unnie,” Zoey giggled, sliding into the backseat along with two pieces of luggage. They all packed a little heavy for the trip, especially considering the house had a washer and dryer. In Zoey’s case she brought her Nintendo Switch and gaming laptop on top of the laptop she used for music production. Leaning into the back of Rumi’s seat, she took in their surroundings. “It’s so pretty! I’ve never been here before. What about you two?”

“Only for a few hours filming something when I was twelve,” said Rumi, searching her memories. “I didn’t get to do anything. It was for work at Hamdeok Beach.”

“I came here when I was in elementary school,” Mira provided, a wistful smile formed on her features. “I was ten, it was back when I still got along well with the other kids. Yoon seon-saeng-nim was probably my favorite teacher and he was in charge of my group.”

“It sounds like you had fun,” Rumi prompted, wanting to hear more of Mira’s happier childhood moments.

“Yeah, we did the outdoorsy stuff. Toured the Manjanggul Lava Tube, saw Jeaonbang and Cheonjeyeon Falls. We even met some of the Haenyeo divers, those old ladies were tough,” Mira laughed, shaking her head in recollection. Then Mira’s face darkened and she said, “I had to leave the trip early though. My folks had some sort of event. They wanted to present the perfect family image because of the board. It was because of a merger or takeover, I don’t know—“ Mira scoffed and continued, “I begged my mother to let me stay. Yoon seon-saeng-nim was taking us to Nanta Theatre the next day. I was really looking forward to it because he made it seem so cool. Pretty sure that’s the first time she slapped me.”

The car got painfully quiet and Mira laughed. It was a bitter, broken, sound. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know why I remembered all that. Mood killer, huh?”

Rumi and Zoey offered matching words of comfort as Rumi reached out to squeeze Mira’s shoulder as a form of physical reassurance. There were countless things that Rumi missed out on as a child that she still longed to do as an adult. She was sure that Nanta Theatre was the same for Mira.

“We should go,” Rumi said decisively. Mira froze at this statement and Rumi turned to Mira who was concentrating on the road. “Nanta Theatre. Lets go.”

“Rumi,” said Mira, a tinge of embarrassment in her tone. “We really don’t—“

“Oh shit! The cabbage is flying everywhere,” Zoey exclaimed from the back seat and they could hear the sound of a video playing. Zoey had clearly looked up the show. “Mira we have to go. This looks hilarious. I never got to go to shows like this when I was a kid. My parents are lame.”

“Zo,” scolded Rumi, humor echoing in her voice. “Don’t call your parents lame.”

“They totally are though, they refused to take me to Disney On Ice,” Zoey pouted. “We don’t have time right now, Zoey. It’s too far to drive, Zoey. The Staples Center has bad parking, Zoey,” Zoey mimicked her parents excuses. “Parking is horrible everywhere in LA! And why is it Crypto Arena now? So stupid.”

“I’d like to go,” offered Rumi, smiling when she caught Mira’s eye. “Celine was too busy to take me to things like this when I was younger. I think it would be fun for us.”

“Okay,” Mira agreed after a moment, a shy happiness suffusing her.

Looking at Mira, it was as if she was glowing in the sunlight. Mira was so very beautiful whenever she dropped her defenses like this, trusting that she could be vulnerable with them. It made Rumi feel so very much and she knew how privileged she was. Only she and Zoey got to see this side of Mira.

Rumi ripped her attention away from Mira and back to her phone. Looking at the theatre schedule and considering what day and time would suit them best. “How about Wednesday at 4:30 PM?” Rumi asked.

“I mean, that works, but why not Friday?” asked Mira, a furrow of confusion on her brow. It really was the most random time to attend a show. Wasn’t that typically a weekend thing?

“It’s in the afternoon in the middle of the week,” supplied Rumi helpfully. “That show is probably going to be one of their slowest. There’s less chance we’ll be recognized.” Rumi turned to Zoey who was peering up at them with a curious expression. “If we don’t have to worry people filming us or asking for pictures we’re going to enjoy ourselves more. At least, I will,” said Rumi, suddenly unsure if they felt the same.

“That’s so smart!” Zoey enthused, bouncing forward to kiss Rumi’s cheek. “You’re totally right. The theatre will be super empty on a Wednesday. We don’t have go overboard with our disguises.”

“This is why you’re our leader,” said Mira approvingly.

Rumi blushed at this and leaned into Zoey’s fingers that were playing with the hairs at the nape of her neck. Taking in the beautiful scenery of Jeju Island, she resolved that they would have the best time on this retreat and she would come up with the perfect way to confess her feelings.

—

The road up to the property that contained the music studio was winding and surrounded by nature. While it was close to the beach, it also felt isolated in the woods as it was far from the other homes, and Rumi was instantly charmed. From the looks on Mira and Zoey’s faces, it appeared they agreed. Mira parked and helped Zoey retrieve their luggage while Rumi looked through the rental instructions Bobby sent her, entering the door code.

As soon as their luggage was inside, they set to exploring the house together. The living room was decorated with a couch, a strangely huge recliner, along with a traditional table setting low to the floor and had a single sliding door that connected to the large backyard, the kitchen was spacious and state of the art featuring a kitchen island like the one in their penthouse, and the bedrooms were elegant but simple. Three of which had full bathrooms and all had televisions. There was a small study that had a desk, couch, and television which Rumi insisted Zoey use for gaming. Zoey agreed happily as she clung to Rumi’s arm. They walked into the backyard that was more like a courtyard with high stone walls which added another layer of privacy to the property.

“I love it here,” Zoey breathed, taking in the outdoor scenery in wonderment.

“Yeah,” Mira agreed, a satisfied smile tugging on her lips. “It’s relaxing.”

“Lets check out the music studio,” said Rumi, beaming at them. Pleased that she had made the correct choice for their retreat.

They walked to a small house that most would simply assume is a guest house. Rumi glanced at her phone and entered a separate door code to enter. Inside were a plethora of instruments and Zoey dashed over to the digital audio workstation and mixing console, oohing and ahhing over all of the latest equipment. Rumi drifted towards the Yamaha upright piano, her fingertips running over the keys. Mira plopped down onto one of the oversized chairs, spinning around and strumming on a guitar. While she rarely chose to play the instrument on their albums, she was quite talented, and Rumi was always delighted to hear her play.

“Rumi,” Zoey called, “come test the vocal booth!”

Instinctively, Rumi reached for Mira’s hand, lacing their fingers together and leading the visual into the isolated sound booth with her. Once they were inside the fairly small space, only three by three meters, Rumi was all too aware of Mira’s proximity. Zoey’s voice echoed out the speakers, telling them to sing a few verses at a diverse octave range. Mira huffed at this and Rumi could only concentrate on the heat of her body and the captivating scent of her perfume.

Somehow, Rumi managed to sing the start of Hold On, belting out the final notes at the top of her lungs. Hopefully giving Zoey want she presumably wanted. When she was finished there was silence and Rumi, who found much of her confidence due to her voice, was suddenly quite anxious. Then Mira whistled and Rumi felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling Rumi back into Mira’s chest, and her heartbeat went wild.

“That’s our songbird,” Mira drawled, her face resting against Rumi’s, breath warm on her cheek.

“You sounded awesome!” Zoey enthused through the speakers. “This studio is great Rumi. We have to import the tracks you finished so we can start working! I’m totally inspired with all this gear.”

Feeling herself relax, well, as much as she could with Mira wrapped around her, Rumi laughed. “Why don’t we finish unpacking first?” she suggested.

“Awww,” Zoey’s disappointment filtered through the speakers. A pause and then she wheedled, “What if I promise to unpack before dinner if you let me import the tracks and play with them now?”

“You should give in, she’s going to wear you down,” Mira advised in languid tones.

Shivering at the feel of Mira’s breath on her skin, Rumi did her best to not fixate on the sensation and questioned, “You promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Zoey chirped and Rumi could hear the victorious tone to her voice.

“Then have fun,” Rumi laughed, reluctantly removing herself from Mira’s hold and walking out of the vocal booth. “I’m going grocery shopping. Text me if you want anything specific.”

“Will do, thank youuuu,” proclaimed Zoey cheerfully.

Rumi looked to Mira who followed her out of the music studio and the visual arched an eyebrow. “What?” she drawled. “I’m going to unpack like a good girl.” Rumi felt her cheeks heat up at this and Mira chuckled, her touch feather light as she pushed a lock of hair behind Rumi’s ear. “Don’t I get a reward?”

Her eyes going impossibly wide, Rumi stammered, “Dinner! You can pick dinner.”

Mira released a thoughtful murmur at this, then she held Rumi’s chin and formed a wicked smile. “Fried chicken. Yangnyeom for me, soy garlic for you and Zoey,” she replied and despite the out of control beating of her heart, Rumi noted that Mira remembered their favorites yet again.

“Done,” said Rumi, almost irritated by how breathless she sounded.

Studying Rumi closely, Mira hummed before depositing the most tender of kisses to Rumi’s forehead. “Thank you, unnie,” she said smug and charming all at the same time.

With that, Mira brushed past her and Rumi held her breath, only releasing a shuddering sigh when the visual was out of sight in the hallway. Telling herself to get it together, Rumi grabbed the keys from where they sat on the kitchen counter and headed out the door.

She really needed some space to gather herself.

—-

After dinner, Zoey rushed back to the studio, dragging Mira with her. Rumi let them go, promising she would join them after she organized her room. They gave her a time line of half an hour and she waved them off, a smile forming at their demands despite herself.

Ever the expert at efficiency, Rumi finished her task in twenty minutes. Upon entering the music studio, she didn’t find her bandmates at the digital audio workstation. Instead they were cuddled together on the couch in the control room, studying Mira’s cell phone intently, having a fervent conversation in whispers.

“Hey,” Rumi greeted awkwardly, unsure exactly what she was seeing.

Instantly, Mira and Zoey lept apart and Mira shoved her phone into her shorts pocket. They presented as the quintessential scene of a pair of children caught in the cookie jar. Rumi wondered what they were up to but she didn’t question them, content to find entertainment in their overdone panic. Somehow Rumi knew it wasn’t anything serious, not truly, so she let it go.

“Zoey,” Rumi said her name with a stern undertone, feeling the urge to play with them both just a bit. The rapper squeaked, looking at Rumi wide eyed, sure she was about to be interrogated. “What did our lyrical genius come up with while I was making dinner? Something incredible, I bet.”

“Totally!” Zoey blurted, doing her level best to look nonchalant. A grin quirked on Rumi’s lips and she tilted her head, silently asking Zoey to continue. Releasing a nervous laugh, Zoey hopped up and sat at the mix station, spinning in the chair before pulling up one of the tracks Rumi had provided. “I played with this one earlier and I think it’s perfect for Freefall,” Zoey handed her lyric notebook to Rumi, so she could look again at the song all three of them had worked on previously.

Listening to the track, Rumi considered Zoey’s changes. It was sharper, the drums more emphasized, and an electronic synth edge to it. When it repeated, Rumi sang along then contemplated a moment and said, “Mira.” Immediately on hearing her name, Mira was at Rumi’s side and Rumi pointed to the lyrics. “I think you should feature,” Rumi murmured, already hearing the song forming in her mind. “I’d work better as support. Zo,” Rumi looked to the rapper who was already focused on her, “do you have ideas for a verse and where you’d want to place it?”

Releasing a thoughtful noise, Zoey spun in her chair. “I’ve got a few things. I think it’d work best after the bridge,” Zoey stopped spinning and replayed the track at the spot she meant. “Right here, yeah?”

With a hum, Rumi replied, “Yeah. That would be a good place.” Arching an eyebrow, she prompted, “You don’t want to share? Or are you planning to freestyle?”

“Maybe,” Zoey drew the word out impishly, pulling her legs up onto the chair.

Wearing a bemused expression, Rumi turned to Mira. “You ready to lay down some vocals?” she asked playfully. “I think this song has Mira written all over it.”

“Born ready, boss lady,” drawled Mira, her smile glittering.

Rolling her eyes, Rumi whapped Mira lightly on the butt with Zoey’s lyric book. Mira gave an exaggerated yelp and pout and Rumi huffed, tossing her the book as she headed to the vocal booth. Plopping down in the chair next to Zoey, she understood the maknae’s urge to spin. Giving into it, Rumi went around in a circle one time before scooting next to Zoey.

“From the top,” Rumi stated, speaking to Mira in the booth and Zoey at the mix board.

“Aye aye,” said Zoey, giving a comical salute while Mira smirked inside the booth.

Huffing at their response, Rumi nudged Zoey to start the track, leaning back as Mira’s lower octave filled the air. As the track went on, Rumi knew she was right. This was Mira’s song. It was electric and dangerous and it had a deeper tone to it. Not light and poppy, it was heavier, and Mira was well suited to it.

Several hours passed as they worked their way through the song. Zoey and Rumi recording the chorus and Zoey adding her verse. Rumi and Zoey offering Mira suggestions on her vocals until somewhere after 2 AM they decided Freefall was perfect. Zoey proclaiming the Mira stans would love it.

Weary but accomplished, they trudged into the house and ended up in a pile on Mira’s bed.

“Why do we always end up in my room?” asked Mira in a sleepy mutter, burying herself under the covers. Rumi shrugged, having no response, simply rolling over and clinging to Mira’s back who was in the middle.

“I dunno,” said Zoey with a yawn, slipping into the bed and laying in front of Mira. “You always have the biggest bed? Blame your height.”

Mira scoffed at this, declaring this to be the excuse of munchkins before drifting into sleep. Despite her protests, this would do very little to change Mira’s room as the default group sleep location.

—

Late Wednesday afternoon, they arrived at the Nanta Theatre. As they walked up to the building, Zoey shaded her eyes taking in the giant red banner that featured four cartoon chefs on the front of it.

“There’s no dialog,” informed Zoey happily, looking to Mira and Rumi. “I looked up the show to get a preview and it’s music, comedy, and cooking but nobody says anything.”

“Makes sense,” Mira replied, thinking on it. “Foreign tourists come to Jeju a lot.”

They entered the theatre and Rumi pulled out her phone, providing the QR codes for the tickets to the attendant at the entry. Inside was a gift shop and several different options for photos. Rumi looked to Mira who was still presenting as a bit standoffish and decided to suggest it after the show. Instead she headed inside the theatre, pausing to show her tickets to the usher who led them to the left section fifth row, where Rumi had reserved three seats on the left side outer aisle.

“Mira, you should take the aisle,” Rumi murmured when the usher departed. Rumi claimed the third seat where, theoretically, if they had any neighbors they would be next to her. This left Zoey comfortably in the middle. Mira started to protest but Rumi reminded her with dry humor, “Which of us are munchkins again? You need the leg room.”

“I know you had a strategy behind these seats,” said Zoey teasingly, bumping her shoulder with Rumi’s. “Fifth row to the front? Why not the first row? Or the second and third?”

“First row: too much attention and flying vegetables,” stated Rumi, ticking off a finger and looking very much she was giving a lecture. “Second and third row possibly too crowded. Fourth row you’ve got the chance of more empty seats but people sitting in front of you. Thus leaving the fifth row with no one sitting in front of you and aisle seats to the left as the ideal choice.”

“Why to the left?” asked Zoey, eyes gleaming with merriment. Looking at Rumi like she held all the answers to the event seating universe.

“People like to sit in the center for a perfect view and they naturally enter to the right,” said Rumi matter of factly. “Which means the left section, left aisle will always be emptier.”

“You are such a nerd,” Mira said in deadpan tones. “Why does it strangely make you more attractive?”

“Because intelligence is attractive,” Rumi responded, looking all too serious as she said this.

Mira snorted at this but didn’t argue and Zoey giggled, wiggling in her seat. They continued to idly chat until the show started. The four performers entered the stage to applause and began with loud percussion using pots and pans. From there it went into a comedy sketch, using drums and cooking instruments for the music. In between the music and sketches they prepared food using rapid paced cooking techniques that did make cabbage go flying into the first row like Zoey had seen in the video.

After ninety minutes, the performers signaled the show end with a spectacular finale. Bowing to the applause of the audience. Rumi stood next to Zoey, moving her gaze from the stage to Mira, pleased to see a genuine smile on her features and a cheerful look in her eyes. They headed down the aisle and as they exited the theatre, Rumi nodded to the gift shop and said, “We should get some souvenirs.”

“I want a hoodie!” Zoey announced, eagerly skipping to the shop.

Rumi began to follow after but paused upon feeling Mira’s hand slip into her own. Lifting her head, Rumi met Mira’s gaze and felt her breath stutter in her chest at the look in her eyes. There was an intensity of emotion that Rumi wasn’t used to being directed at her. Mira slowly lifted her palm, cupping Rumi’s cheek in her hand as she leaned down to murmur, “Thank you for this. For thinking of me.”

“Always,” said Rumi. She stepped closer to Mira, peering up at her, trying to convey with both words and expression her sincerity. “I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Mira seemed frozen at this then her eyes crinkled around the edges. She shook her head, muttering something indecipherable under her breath before kissing Rumi’s forehead and wrapping her up in a hug. They parted after a minute, Rumi feeling hot from the attention, and Mira smiling softly as she held Rumi’s hand, pulling her towards Zoey and the gift shop.

In the end, Mira and Zoey got hoodies. Zoey’s in red and Mira’s in white, while Rumi decided to get a red cooking apron with the logo for the show and the cartoon chefs emblazoned on the front of it. Their gifts in hand, her eyes were drawn to the character standee and the large show logo in the lobby.

“Come on,” Rumi encouraged with a smile. “Let’s take some pictures.”

Setting their gift bag down, Rumi found a willing member of staff and they stood in front of the cartoon chefs, attempting to copy their poses. Rumi extending one leg to look as if she was beating on a drum, Mira rocking her hip to the side in a replica of the one female chef, and Zoey jumping in the air with her hands together in a clapping motion. The theatre staff member laughed, taking this picture and a much tamer one where they stood together, arms around each other’s waists in front of the show logo.

Thanking the usher who took their pictures, Rumi retrieved her phone. Smiling as she looked at them, before sending the pictures to their group chat so Mira and Zoey could have them as well. Walking back to the car, Rumi slid into the backseat as it was Zoey’s turn in the passenger seat and listened as Mira insisted Rumi could probably do all the food tricks they had done in the show.

Rumi didn’t give her opinion, she just enjoyed the lively debate as Zoey espoused her fears of Rumi losing a finger and Mira scoffed at the very idea as Rumi was an expert with her saingeom. When they arrived back at the house, Rumi told them it would be an hour until dinner and they echoed their acknowledgment. Zoey disappearing to play games and Mira saying she had some lyric ideas she wanted to work on.

In the meantime, Rumi recalled the very fancy hibachi grill she had seen when she was inspecting the kitchen on their day of arrival. Pulling it out, Rumi set it up on the kitchen island and turned it on. She stared at it for several seconds then turned it off and opened the refrigerator to stare at the contents. Retrieving a head of cabbage amongst several other vegetables and a bag of shrimp, Rumi had the beginnings of a plan. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest one but would it make her girls happy?

Oh yes, definitely.

Feeling energized, Rumi put on her brand new apron and set to doing her menial cooking tasks such as washing the vegetables, cooking the rice, and marinating the shrimp. Once everything was done with all the food neatly organized, the hibachi grill, thick wooden cutting board, and plates in their proper place Rumi called for Mira and Zoey.

Zoey poked her head around the corner from the study that had become her gaming room, headphones pushed away from one ear. “I’m streaming, I’ll be just a sec!” Zoey informed only to narrow her eyes at the scene before her and pause. “Unnie, are you—“

“I told you she could do Nanta!” Mira boasted, looking thrilled as she sat at the kitchen island. “No way Rumi isn’t as good as those guys. I’m telling you, sword skills are superior.”

“Rumi,” Zoey called her name in the most beseeching of tones. “Can I please stream this? Something tells me that this is going to be a show for the ages. We should commemorate it with our fans.”

“Zoey, really?” Rumi laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t even know how good I’ll be. I just wanted to try for Mira.”

“You’ll be great, I know it,” said Mira firmly.

“I feel like you’re going to be let down with those kind of expectations,” said Rumi in wry tones.

“It’s you, there can never be any disappointment,” Mira declared. Her gaze softened and she grabbed Rumi’s hand in her own. “You even trying to do this is fucking metal. Seriously.”

Heaving a sigh and wondering if she was going to regret this, Rumi looked to Zoey who was practically vibrating from excitement. “Fine,” Rumi relented. “But please let them know I’m an amateur.”

“You got it!” Zoey agreed, disappearing back into the study.

“I’m making her read chat from my phone,” said Mira decisively, opening up Zoey’s Twitch stream. “There’s no way I’m going to do it and miss the live performance.”

A few moments later Zoey emerged, phone and small tripod in hand. “I have the be right back screen up and sound muted,” she said breathlessly, sitting next to Mira and setting up the tripod and phone.

“You’re reading chat,” said Mira in droll tones, pushing her phone in front of Zoey where the ‘Be Right Back’ screen featuring an absurdly cute animated bee flying in circles was featured.

Zoey looked forlorn at this, staring at the screen. “Rock, paper, scissors?” she suggested.

“No way,” Mira said, folding her arms across her chest. “Rumi is going to kill this. I’m watching.”

“Why did I choose to be contrarian for the fun of it?” Zoey lamented in mock anguish, dropping her head to the kitchen island with a thump. “I regret my life choices!” she said with an exaggerated wail.

“Why don’t you both read chat when I’m done cooking. I’ll probably have everything done in fifteen minutes or less,” prompted Rumi as she reached for the vegetable oil and placed it next to the hibachi grill.

“Unnie,” said Mira and Zoey in unison, reverence in their voice.

“This is it,” Mira nodded, pointing at Rumi. “That’s why she’s in charge. The big ideas.”

“Our leader is the smartest,” Zoey agreed wisely, flipping her phone in the tripod around so she could remove it from ‘Be Right Back’ and return to streaming. Looking up at Rumi, she grinned mischievously. “Ready for your close up Chef Ramsay?”

“I’m a girl,” Rumi frowned.

“Rumi is Iron Chef, clearly,” retorted Mira.

“I’m back chat!” said Zoey cheerfully. “As promised we’re getting a Rumi cooking show! Remember this is her first time trying anything like this so be nice!” Zoey squinted, pausing to look at the chat log with Mira peering over her shoulder. “The chat is going wild. I think Twitter got ahold of it.”

Mira grimaced, looking at the viewer count, and said to Rumi, “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” Rumi questioned as the phone that was streaming turned to her. Looking at the screen she saw the always perplexing fast moving chat and then her gaze drifted to the viewer count. Her eyes narrowed and she said somewhat sternly, “Zoey. Why is there over 200,000 people in here?”

Laughing nervously, Zoey shrugged with her hands open in a placating motion. “I think they advertised it while I was gone? You know how the hunters can get.”

Rumi continued to stare an increasingly apologetic Zoey down before heaving a sigh and observing the monstrous stream that couldn’t be contained. Straightening her shoulders, Rumi tilted her neck side to side and then stated, “I’m going to try some hibachi cooking tricks like we saw today at Nanta Theatre.” Rumi paused to tug at the logo on the apron she was wearing, holding it up so the viewers could see. “I wanted to try this for Mira,” she emphasized. Somehow it was important that they know she hadn’t planned this for streaming. It was something Rumi wanted to do for her girls.

“You’re an expert in the kitchen and with knives,” Mira praised, practically beaming. “You’ve got this.”

This sentiment softened Rumi considerably and she couldn’t help but smile lovingly at Mira before focusing back on the hibachi grill and turning it on. Chat, meanwhile, exploded.

ryurumihadokan: I came for Rumi cooking and I get bonus Rumira? ‘You’ve got this?’ God loves me.

RainbowConexxion: Mira is the reason we have this content. She only wanted to try it for her? My heart!

7no11: rumira army seriously going nuts now. zoey didnt know what she unleashed here

ArrrrMATEY: the hot gf is popular huh this got way crowded fast

popdatnoise: i keep telling you zoey’s band is well known! they’ve got platinum albums

OLIVE_ENJOYER: i refuse to take responsibility. i simply posted onto twitter.

HuntThis: And then the Huntr/x official fan account found out with their million plus followers.

sunlitgarden: im here from TikTok and that huge Rumi stan account that posts thirst traps

OopsYah: RumiRyuNation? They do gods work with those videos. Expert editing honestly.

Rumi quickly came to the decision that she couldn’t focus on the chat or the fact she was being live streamed if she wanted to be even halfway successful. And she really wanted to succeed at this. Mira had been so happy at the Nanta show that Rumi wanted to recreate that same feeling here. If just a little. So wearing a look of determination, Rumi quickly spun the spatula and pot fork in her hands.

Positive the grill was at the proper high heat, especially after she practiced this several times earlier, Rumi sprayed it with vegetable oil, stepping back as it formed an enormous flame. Mira whistled, impressed at this and Rumi couldn’t help but smile in response.

Yes, she thought. Forget about the fans. That’s not who this is for. She was doing this for Mira and Zoey. To make them happy.

That in mind, Rumi’s confidence returned in full force and she grabbed an egg, spinning it on the grill then sliding her metal spatula underneath it. Holding in her breath, she balanced the egg, still spinning, on the spatula then gently bounced it into the air, carefully catching it spatula each time before placing it back onto the grill. She did this with two more eggs before cracking them on the grill for them to cook.

While the eggs cooked, she dumped the rice onto the grill, chopping up the eggs and mixing them together, seasoning the rice with soy sauce and sesame oil. Drizzling the grill with vegetable oil again, she added the vegetables next. Arching an eyebrow and giving Mira a smirk, knowing she’d probably like this part best if she could pull it off, Rumi set the cabbage onto the cutting board and retrieved a knife.

Chopping the cabbage with a musical rhythm and breakneck pace, Rumi laughed as some of it went flying. She quickly moved onto the other vegetables, repeating the pattern, aware of Mira’s eyes on her. Finished with her vegetable chopping, she slid them onto the grill after adding more vegetable oil to it.

Pushing the rice off to the side, Rumi carefully stacked an onion into a volcano of sorts. This was something she hadn’t managed to practice, and she was fairly nervous about the results. Once she had the onion stacked in five layers with a small piece falling through the center, she added oil. Rumi then retrieved the long lighter she’d found that she assumed was for the outdoor fire pit. Lighting the onion, she took a step back and watched as it was engulfed in flames, hearing Zoey cheer. As the fire kept going, Rumi used the pot fork to spear a mushroom and cook it in the flames.

turtlenationrise: holy fuckin shit how is rumi so good at this

OLIVE_ENJOYER: the fact that she did this just to make mira happy and she’s like expert level

hunterzzzzzzzz: RUMI!!!! DID YOU TAKE LESSONS????

RumiRyuNation: It is official. Rumi is good at everything. Why did I not expect this? I knew she loved cooking as much as gardening but hibachi expert? I did not see it coming.

ryurumihadokan: Didn’t Zoey say that Rumi wanted us to know she was an amateur? I think she’s trying this for the first time. Which… seriously, Rumi? How?

polytwist: this is the most entertaining yet weird thing i’ve ever seen an idol do

mirasleftballetslipper: HUNTR/X DO BE ON SOME WEIRD SHIT

rumiroomie: I appreciate they don’t do the usual question and answer or obviously label approved stuff. It makes them way more fun to watch, tbh. But seriously whenever Rumi is featured it’s like the most random content. Like that one time she was just watering her plants??? lol

ryurumihadokan: Ohhhh yeah! Her Poison Ivy plants. That was awesome.

RumiRyuNation: I think it’s because she famously doesn’t understand social media.

SoCalSweetie: celine raised her in the forests of gyeongju, technology is not her thing

Rice and vegetables cooking, Rumi focused on the shrimp, sliding them onto the grill in a line with the spatula. One by one she moved them forward and in a smooth motion chopped off their tails using the pot fork to hold them and spatula to cut. Once the tails were removed and the shrimp in smaller and more edible pieces, Rumi flipped the tails one by one into an empty bowl nearby. Scowling when she missed one and it landed on the floor. Zoey booed at this and Rumi laughed, focusing on the fried rice which was nearly finished cooking now that the shrimp had been added.

Soy sauce drizzled on the shrimp, vegetables, and rice, Rumi mixed rice and vegetables then used the spatula to pile it onto Zoey and Mira’s plates. She watched the shrimp cook a little longer, turning them over and observing them studiously before adding the shrimp to the top of the plates with some flair, flipping them on one at a time and feeling very proud that not one had landed on the floor. Meal plated, Rumi turned off the grill and set the spatula down, presenting the first plate to Mira.

“Your dinner, madame,” said Rumi with exaggerated manners, giving a slight bow.

“Thank you, good sir,” Mira returned, laughter in her voice as she took the plate. Putting it down, she quickly rounded the kitchen island and pulled Rumi into a side hug. Her breath was warm on Rumi’s skin as she whispered in her ear, “My own personal Nanta show. That was so great.”

Rumi flushed at this, pleased Mira had enjoyed her attempt to provide cooking entertainment. She squeezed Mira’s waist, finding comfort in her presence then leaned forward to give Zoey her food. As she did so, she was vaguely aware of the stream that apparently they had all lost track of. “What’s the verdict, Zo?” she asked warily, eyeing the rapper’s phone like it was an explosive device.

“Rumi were you a hibachi chef in a previous life?” Zoey read, amused.

“No,” said Rumi staidly, reluctantly letting go of Mira so she could eat. She concentrated on the grill, removing the last of the food for her own meal. “Anything else?”

“Did we enjoy the Nanta show?” asked Zoey now, moving the phone away from Rumi which made her relax greatly as she went about cleaning the grill.

“It was fun, I liked it a lot,” said Mira before taking a bite of the fried rice. “Rumi!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is really good.”

Zoey followed suit, eating some of the fried rice, releasing a moan of satisfaction and nodding her head quickly. “It’s super tasty, unnie,” she agreed.

“Thank you,” Rumi replied, smiling and pleased they enjoyed it. She walked to the refrigerator to retrieve a coke for Zoey and pouring Mira some barley tea. Placing the drinks in front of them before she grabbed a bottle of water for herself. Sitting next to Mira, she took a bite and hummed in consideration. “I want to try making kimchi fried rice next time. Would you all like that?”

“I love kimchi fried rice,” Mira said, she had a tender expression on her face as she looked at Rumi. “I know yours will be delicious. Everything you make is.”

mirasleftballetslipper: MIRA WHY

OLIVE_ENJOYER: these girls

OLIVE_ENJOYER: its like they taunt us singles

OLIVE_ENJOYER: with their gay chemistry and softness

7no11: no but mira is so soft with rumi always all the time. anyone else she’ll want to kick their head in but with rumi it’s like flowers and sonnets.

ryurumihadokan: To be fair she gets sappy with Zoey too. But yeah, Rumi and Mira are a lot.

mirasleftballetslipper: A LOT OF PERFECT SHIP

popdatnoise: this stream had everything. rumi the hibachi chef. mira being sappy. zoey gaming.

HuntersDontQuit: i’m calling that zoey ends the stream in five minutes or less. rumi is getting antsy

parapperdazoey: RUMI HATES US

RumiRyuNation: Rumi hates social media. Unfortunately we are a part of that.

parapperdazoey: NOOOOOOOO

As if on cue, Zoey gave chat a wide grin and waved at her phone. “Thanks for joining us on Rumi’s impromptu cooking stream! We appreciate your support!”

“Thanks, chat,” said Mira with a nod as the phone turned to her.

“Thank you for watching,” said Rumi in very proper tones, looking at Zoey’s phone and trying to ignore the fact that the stream had somehow risen to over 500,000 viewers at some point.

“Bye chat! HUNTR/X out!” Zoey sing songed, ending the stream with some flourish. Once the stream was closed, Zoey turned to Rumi with the biggest puppy dog eyes she’d seen in quite some time. “I didn’t know it would that busy, I swear. I only had like 35k viewers for my gaming stream.”

“It’s all right,” Rumi replied. “I wouldn’t expect that response either. Especially not for me cooking.”

“Rumi,” Mira drew her name out in humorous tones. “You once got 300,000 people to watch you water plants. I think 500,000 for a full on hibachi cooking show is pretty on brand for you.”

“I forgot about that!” Zoey gasped. “I should look up those fan edits again. There were a few that had you either as like the embodiment of Mother Nature or Poison Ivy. It was pretty hilarious.”

“I still don’t agree with the Poison Ivy accusation,” Rumi grumped.

“You told them about your Death Camas,” said Mira dryly. “Death Camas, Rumi. What did you expect?”

“It’s a pretty flower! So is the Night Blooming Jasmine,” Rumi argued. “Just because a plant can be poisonous doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.” She turned to see Mira and Zoey looking at her with identical expressions that were half amusement and half adoration, making her blush at the sight. Feeling flustered, Rumi pulled her gaze away from them and cleared her throat and focused on the most important part. “So you both enjoyed it?”

“It was amazing,” said Mira emphatically, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Rumi felt Mira’s fingers on her chin, turning her head so their eyes could meet. Once they did, she smiled oh so affectionately, tracing her fingertips across the line of Rumi’s throat. “You were amazing. Thank you for doing that for us.”

Zoey left her seat and came around the other side, clinging to Rumi’s back and Rumi shivered at the feel of Zoey’s breath on the back of her neck. Rumi felt the rapper rest her chin on her shoulder and warm arms wrapped around her waist. Zoey rocked them to and fro then murmured, “You’re awesome. It was super fun watching you be Iron Chef hibachi. Please do it again sometime?”

Putting her hands on top of Zoey’s and leaning into Mira’s touch, Rumi sighed, closing her eyes and feeling utterly content in this moment. This is all she wanted.

To make them happy.

—

The nature trail surrounding the house was extensive and filled to the brim with a variety of plants and trees native to Jeju Island. Rumi found herself exploring the path every other day, going a little bit further each time, and enjoying the sights thoroughly. Something about being in nature always soothed her. There was a lack of expectation, of judgment, you could simply exist in the quiet.

For the longest time Rumi was only able to be herself with her plants.

With people she had to hide, to put on her mask, play the part of Miyeong Ryu’s daughter and Celine Kwon’s ward. The tragic princess of pop whose mother died in a fire that Rumi barely escaped herself. It was a story known to everyone in South Korea and in a way it was oppressive.

Being known like that made it so people believed they knew who Rumi was. Who she should be and how she should act. It was almost as if the world felt they had some type of ownership to her since they were aware of her existence since birth. Honestly, long before her birth if you wanted to count Miyeong’s controversial pregnancy.

Miyeong’s pregnancy was a scandal since she refused to name her husband, if she even had one, and it was only in her death that the public opinion of her changed. Death canonized Miyeong in a way. Transformed her into this mythical being who never had any flaws.

This attitude transferred to Rumi.

A perfect tragic child. Orphaned idol chasing after her mother’s shadow. Isn’t she so sad?

Being half demon just made everything worse. On top of the pressure to meet the fans expectations there was the element of knowing she could never meet them. Not with what she was. How could she? It was impossible, she wasn’t even human.

Running towards an ideal she would never reach. Hiding who and what she really was. That was Rumi’s experience with people and it was exhausting.

Her plants though? None of that artifice was needed. It was a refuge from deceit where Rumi could simply be and not have to worry about putting on an acceptable front. The plants didn’t care she was Miyeong’s daughter, Celine’s ward, an idol, or a half demon. They just needed her to care for them.

And Rumi enjoyed caring for things.

It made her feel useful, made her feel loved. Like she was worth something, like she mattered.

So Rumi found a haven with her plants and relaxation being amongst them. Which left her a frequent traveler on the nature trail. The beauty surrounding her also served as inspiration and as she arrived back at the rental property, Rumi had the beginnings of a melody running through her head.

Entering the music studio, she found Mira humming and playing the guitar. Rumi was motionless upon seeing her, as if transfixed by her presence. Then, scolding herself for this, Rumi brought herself back to attention and formed a smile. “Have anything yet?” asked Rumi in genial tones.

“The start of something maybe,” replied Mira, spinning in the oversized chair. Watching attentively as Rumi made her way over to the piano. “What about you?”

“I had this stuck in my head during my nature walk,” Rumi supplied, playing the melody she had been obsessing over the past hour.

Mira hummed and moved into the control room to sit at the digital audio workstation. “Play it again?” she questioned, starting record. Rumi did as she was asked, moving a little further along in the melody. When she finished, Mira played the freshly recorded track featuring Rumi’s piano. A thoughtful expression on her features as she worked, Mira soon played it again. The melody had been transformed it into something bright and urgent. “How’s that?”

“I like it,” Rumi said breathless with excitement. “What about this next?” She ran her fingers over the keys, moving onto the next part, and Mira made a noise of affirmation, releasing her version a moment later. A full bodied laugh escaping her, Rumi said eagerly, “Want to keep going?”

“Duh,” Mira snorted.

“I’m calling Zo,” Rumi said, rushed and hurried as she retrieved her phone. She could feel there was something special here. They needed Zoey to complete it though, it wouldn’t work without her.

“Rumi?” Zoey answered in confusion, no doubt wondering why the singer was calling them when they were on the same property together.

“Mira and I are working on a song. Come help?” Rumi coaxed, an almost cajoling tone to her voice.

“Of course!” replied Zoey happily. “One minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Rumi murmured, unbearably pleased as she hung up the phone. Looking to Mira who lifted an eyebrow and wore a knowing expression, Rumi felt herself flush. “Zoey’s coming,” Rumi supplied.

“Did you really think she wouldn’t?” Mira asked, humor and underlining concern in her question. When Rumi bit her lip and avoided Mira’s gaze, she heard the visual grumble. “Rumi, she would do anything for you. Just like me. And working on a song? Something Zoey loves with someone she loves? No brainer.”

Rumi started to reply but the music studio door burst open, announcing Zoey’s arrival. She beamed at them, bouncing on her heels and whipping off her hoodie. “What’ve we got?” she demanded.

Laughing instinctively, Rumi turned to Mira with a smile, who drawled, “Come to the booth, Zo. I could use your help. Rumi’s been working this out on the piano with me.”

“Gotchu,” Zoey nodded, moving into the booth and sitting next to Mira. The instant she sat down, Rumi and Mira waited for the inevitable chair spin. Sure enough, as soon as Zoey’s bottom hit the chair, she spun in a circle, a lopsided grin on her features as she did so. “Play it!” Zoey ordered. “Chop, chop!”

“I’ll chop you,” muttered Mira but still played what they had for the track.

Her legs bouncing and close together, Zoey closed her eyes and leaned forward, hand in her chin. She looked like some alternate universe version of The Thinker statue, Rumi considered. After a minute, Zoey jerked out of her self-induced trance and wheeled over to the workstation. “What about this?” she offered, the urgency to the song increasing but with a harsh drumbeat added.

“Wicked,” said Mira, awed at Zoey’s addition. “You have lyrics for this one?”

Releasing a thoughtful noise, Zoey searched the pouch of her oversized hoodie and pulled out three of her journals. Flipping through the green one covered in turtle stickers, she muttered, “Maybe 91506?”

Heading into the control room, Rumi read the lyrics with Mira, recognizing instantly it was a song Zoey had written about herself. Even without the Burbank zip code, Zoey could be seen in every word. It was a song about not fitting in, feeling like you were too much, and making yourself small to be accepted. Only to then experience the joy of finally finding your place and your people, the family you were meant for, and them accepting you unconditionally.

“It’s perfect,” Rumi murmured, kissing the top of Zoey’s head, breathing in the citrus scent of her shampoo. “I think we should finish the instrumentals then start on your vocal tracks. Mira and I should sing back up on the chorus. Do you want to sing this entirely or sing and rap?”

“I don’t know,” said Zoey hesitantly. “Do you think my vocals would work singing this? I don’t exactly have your range or Mira’s… well, Mira.”

Mira’s eyes narrowed at this statement but didn’t say anything. Instead Mira looked to Rumi who moved in front of Zoey, kneeling down and clasping their hands together. “Your voice is beautiful,” said Rumi adamantly. “It soars and is theatrical. There’s drama in the that way you sing, you always emphasize the exact right words,” Rumi said in ardent tones, her eyes shining with admiration. Cupping Zoey’s cheek in her hand, Rumi uttered, “Your singing is delicate but powerful. Filled with wonderful contradictions, just like you.” Zoey reddened at this and Rumi smiled softly and prompted, “Do you want my opinion?” On hearing Zoey’s quiet assent, Rumi said, “These lyrics deserve your singing to do them justice. Nothing else will make them sound as good.”

Zoey’s eyes teared up at this and she clung to Rumi, burying her face into the crook of her neck, Rumi kissed her cheek, releasing a soothing mutter. “Should we try it?” asked Rumi gently. When Zoey nodded into her, Rumi beamed and said in bright and encouraging tones, “Ready to finish the instrumentals?”

“Yeah,” Zoey mumbled, rubbing her eyes. When Rumi pulled back, she could see gratitude in Zoey’s expression along with an incredible devotion shining in her eyes. The sight of it seized Rumi’s breath from her chest. Especially when that shy smile spread into something blinding in its brilliance. “Thanks, Rumi.”

“Anytime,” Rumi said, pressing another brief kiss to the top of Zoey’s head.

Slowly but surely, they completed the song. First bringing the urgent and rushing instrumentals to a satisfying conclusion before recording their vocals. Rumi in the control booth, encouraging Zoey through every section, giving compliments and suggestions to bring the best out of her singing. When it was time for Rumi to join Mira in the vocal booth, she found herself halted just outside the booth by Mira’s hands holding her in place. Rumi blinked, looking back at the visual.

Ducking her head, Mira’s voice was low in her ear, “Things like this are why you’re the leader.” Rumi turned to look at the steadfast sincerity on Mira’s features and felt a lump form in her throat. A knowing smile, full of humor and endless affection, tugged on Mira’s lips and she drawled, “Good job, unnie.”

Huffing at this, Rumi shook her head and pulled Mira into the vocal booth.

In thirty minutes they had the chorus down and they joined Zoey in the control booth. Mira sprawled out on the couch, Rumi sitting on the end with Mira’s head in her lap as Zoey mixed the song. It was a relatively early session for them, finishing it in time for a late dinner at 8 PM.

Satisfied with their work, they headed back into the house, Rumi already contemplating what to make for dinner when Zoey proclaimed, “We’re a PB&J sandwich.”

“Who is what?” asked Mira, a shrewdness in her narrowed gaze.

“Me and you,” Zoey gestured animatedly to herself and Mira, “are peanut butter and jelly. We give the sandwich the flavor, right? Rumi is the bread, she holds us together, and gives us texture and balance.”

“Why does that make sense,” said Mira in befuddled amazement.

“She’s the lyricist,” said Rumi by way of explanation. Rumi couldn’t ever comprehend how Zoey’s mind truly worked but she didn’t need to. It was enough to appreciate and be continually inspired by it.

“I’m a poet don’t you know it,” said Zoey, laughing and waggling her eyebrows at Mira who snorted.

“Does the poet want tacos for dinner?” asked Rumi, thinking of the flour tortillas she recently purchased. It would make for a fast and relatively easy meal since they were eating later in the evening.

Zoey whooped in response and Rumi headed to the kitchen to begin cooking. From the corner of her eye she could see Mira pull Zoey into a quiet conversation, their voices urgent, much like the other day. There was a tinge of curiosity, wondering what they were discussing, but Rumi left it.

She would find out eventually.

Eventually wound up being thirty six minutes later, when Rumi called both of them for dinner. She was finishing their plates, placing slices of lime next to the steak tacos, and adding the toppings, making sure to keep the cilantro far from Mira’s plate. Instead, she retrieved a bottle of sriracha for Mira to add as much as she wanted to her meal. Turning with the plates in hand, Rumi paused upon seeing an oddly stiff and nervous looking Zoey and Mira standing at the kitchen island.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Rumi again, considering them for a moment. Putting the plates down in what had become their usual seats at the island, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Mira and Zoey shared a silent exchange then Zoey hastily pulled a potted plant from behind her back and thrust it forward, setting it in front of Rumi as if some form of grand offering. Rumi was immediately drawn to it, touching the velvety blue petals. “I love hydrangeas,” Rumi murmured, a smile playing on her lips at the unexpected gift. “Did you get this for me?”

“There’s a card,” Mira pointed out and Rumi blinked, noticing it for the first time.

Opening it, she saw the an advertisement for a Hydrangea Festival at Hueree National Park. Rumi was still studying the lovely illustrations when Mira cleared her throat and said, “It’s only an hour away. They’ve got a bunch of gardens we could tour. Would you want to go?”

Fields of hydrangeas floated through Rumi’s mind, captivating her with the beauty it presented. The answer was almost automatic but she stopped to consider Mira and Zoey. For Rumi everything always came back to them and her bandmates weren’t interested in botanical things like she was. Unlike Rumi, they would most likely find the festival dull at best.

Before Rumi could bring this up, Zoey cut into her thoughts, her voice determined, “We want to go with you, Rumi. That’s why we’re asking.” A pause then Rumi felt Zoey’s fingers on her chin, lifting her gaze so their eyes met. “You remember how you said it’s fun listening to me talk? This is like that. We like being with you when you’re doing the things you enjoy. It makes us happy.”

Doubt still clinging to the edges of her mind, Rumi looked to Mira who smirked then said in a playful reassurance, “You’re not the only girl who likes to look at flowers, Rumi.”

“I’d love to go,” Rumi confessed shyly. “Thank you both for asking.”

“We arranged to tour it privately next Monday,” said Mira quickly. Almost like she was afraid that Rumi would change her mind.

“Mira’s going to drive us in the morning. We’ll need to leave at 8 AM,” Zoey added, beaming.

“That sounds wonderful,” Rumi exhaled, feeling strangely overwhelmed at the thought they had clearly given her.

“Good,” said Mira and Zoey in perfect unison. Their tones filled with satisfaction.

—

Lying in bed, unable to sleep, Rumi scrolled through social media posts about the Hydrangea Festival, taking in the various gardens and the colorful fields of flowers. She hadn’t known this event existed and the fact that Mira and Zoey had found it for her? It touched Rumi beyond measure. Being considered in such a manner wasn’t something Rumi was accustomed to.

The more stories she heard about Zoey’s and even Mira’s childhood and youth, did Rumi realize hers was devastatingly empty of happy memories. Rumi didn’t think her early years were necessarily sad but her days were very much filled with an everyday type of grind. As if she was an adult in a child’s body. Certainly she heard enough people tell her she was mature for her age. Rumi spent those years training at the historical estate for hunters in Gyeongju with Celine, at singing or dance lessons, filming or performing in Seoul, and the occasional daytrip for work such as the one to Jeju Island when she was twelve. That’s what her youth consisted of.

Rumi’s life revolved around what Celine wanted for her, not what Rumi might want for herself.

There was a practicality to everything in her life. Even the gifts she received. There weren’t any toys, instead she was given books to further her education, musical instruments to practice, or training weapons to master. Things that would advance Rumi as the person Celine sought her to become.

It was only after meeting Mira and Zoey did Rumi realize how very oppressive and conditional Celine’s love felt. Rumi had to act a certain way, perform to a certain standard, to achieve Celine’s muted affection. Even then it was given out in small scraps that left Rumi begging for more.

Mira and Zoey were gregarious and effervescent in their love. It was given easily and freely. There was nothing Rumi had to do to achieve it. Simply existing was enough for them.

At first Rumi couldn’t quite believe it. She kept waiting for expectations to be put on her, for demands to be made, but when days turned into months then into years and they remained the same, Rumi could feel herself relax for the first time in her life. To not be constantly on guard and alert, waiting for their love to be taken away at the smallest mistake. The obsession to be perfect easing just slightly in their presence.

And this festival? Arranging a private visit so she could enjoy the experience without having to disguise herself or worry about any fan interruptions or eyes on them? It was so very sweet and thoughtful and it made Rumi feel so very much. Especially when she looked at the pictures of Hueree National Park and the hydrangeas. The location was incredibly romantic and the fact she’d be going with Mira and Zoey?

Wait.

This was romantic.

An idea coming to mind, Rumi quickly scrolled through the pictures. Taking in the various festival locations, each one more charming than the last until she came upon the Pond Hydrangea Path. It was a nature walk in the woods, hydrangeas lining the path and the clear waters of the large pond that featured several intricate viewing benches next to the water’s edge.

It was the perfect place to confess. Made even better because Mira and Zoey had thought of this with her in mind. She could tell them what the day meant to her, what they meant to her, in a location that they had arranged.

It was perfect.

A plan forming in her mind, Rumi scrambled over to her desk, removing the journal she used for song lyrics. Intent in finding the perfect words to tell Mira and Zoey how desperately in love she was.

This, naturally, kept Rumi up for most of night and left breakfast to Mira and Zoey. Rumi woke to a quiet knock on the door, Mira opening it to reveal Zoey holding a tray with gilgeori toast and tea.

Touched beyond words as she took a bite of the sandwich, Rumi filed the moment away. It was yet another reason she was so very in love and she couldn’t wait to tell them.

—-

The day of the trip to Hydrangea Festival at Hueree National Park, Rumi woke at 4 AM to prepare. She wanted to shower and she knew how long it would take to dry and style her hair. Not to mention her outfit choice. What if the clothing she spent two hours picking the night before didn’t look good in the light of day? There needed to be time for contingencies.

Recalling Mira’s statement that all braids should belong to her and the freedom her new hair length provided, no longer touching the ground when loose, Rumi considered using a different style. Ultimately putting her hair into a waterfall braid. Something Mira and Zoey had never seen on her and paired perfectly with the summery baby blue mini dress she had chosen to wear. It was light and breathable, ideal for warm weather, with short sleeves, a plunging neckline, and the length stopping just above her knees.

Sliding her feet into a pair of elegant laced sandals, Rumi studied her reflection in the mirror. Out of habit, she turned in the mirror, making sure her patterns weren’t visible. While she had shown them to Mira and Zoey privately she wasn’t ready for them to be on display. Doing something like that would involve press and explanations and most trying of all, facing Celine’s judgment. It simply wasn’t worth it to Rumi. Not right now. Trying her level best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, she looked at the time on her phone. Thirty minutes till 8 AM, releasing a sigh and smoothing down the invisible wrinkles in her dress, she grabbed her phone, sliding it into the convenient pocket of her dress.

Rumi set to making coffee for their travel mugs, smiling when she heard the tell tale sound of footsteps approaching. Turning, she was met with the sight of Mira dressed in navy blue mid-rise wide-leg linen pants and cream colored tank top. The outfit was simple but refined and looked wonderful on Mira. So much that Rumi was spellbound at the sight of her.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rumi said in hushed tones, unable to help herself.

Mira lowered her head, a bashful look on her features, before her gaze lifted, pinning Rumi with an intense study as she stepped closer. “So are you,” Mira murmured, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Rumi’s.

The loud slam of a door interrupted their moment and Zoey came sliding around the corner. She wore an elevated version of her usual style. A pair of distressed jean shorts, loose green blouse that revealed a hint of cleavage, and a black cotton blazer with the sleeves rolled up just before her elbows.

“Hey pretty ladies,” Zoey greeted, giving them her best winning smile.

Laughing at this, Rumi handed Zoey her travel mug of coffee, and swept a lock of her hair back. “You’re looking very pretty also,” Rumi complimented. “I like your outfit.”

“Mira helped me pick it out,” revealed Zoey with a blush.

“You look good in anything, Zo,” Mira responded smoothly, squeezing the rapper around the waist. Making Zoey squeak and Mira chuckle. Sliding her sunglasses on, Mira arched an eyebrow. “Ready to go?”

Confirming cheers answered her and they headed to the rental car. The drive to Hueree National Park was filled with meandering conversation and an air of anticipation. There was something palpable and unspoken building between them. Upon arrival, Mira called their contact at the park who met them at the main gates, leading them inside with a lively smile.

“We appreciate your consideration,” Mira told the park director as they shook hands. “You don’t know what it means, being able to have this privacy, Yeo-nim.”

“Thank you greatly for the donation,” Yeo responded. “Our park employees were delighted to have three hours off with pay. They wanted me to express their gratitude to you.”

“It’s the least we could do,” said Zoey, smiling. “We are taking away their usual work hours, after all. We’re just happy we could come in when you’re normally closed for the day.”

“Of course,” said Yeo happily, leading them into the park where they could already see hydrangeas blooming. “As discussed, the Hydrangea Festival will be absent of employees for the next three hours, until noon.” Giving a short bow, he said, “I hope you enjoy the grounds.”

With that, they were alone, and Rumi looked to Mira and Zoey, emotions welling up in her as she questioned, “You paid the employees to not be here?”

Mira and Zoey exchanged a look between them then Zoey replied, “You said you would enjoy yourself more if you don’t have to worry about people filming us or asking for pictures.”

“Employees can do that stuff too,” Mira remarked in droll tones. “Remember that hotel in Busan?”

Rumi shuddered upon recollection, smacking Mira’s arm lightly. “Why did you remind me of that? We caught that guy going through my clothes!” Rumi grimaced, trying not to think which particular items he had been interested in. She had been frozen upon seeing the hotel worker but Zoey, of all people, sprung into action and in an unusual fit of rage, put him into a rear naked choke until security arrived. Looking to Zoey, this memory firmly in her mind, Rumi nudged her. “You had him unconscious in less than a minute.”

“Dad enrolls us in jiu-jitsu lessons once we’re six,” said Zoey with a shrug. “You got to know how to handle yourself in Cali. Well,” she tilted her head in consideration, “America really.”

Opening the pamphlet to study the map for the festival, Rumi pointed to the Hydrangea Greenhouse. “Why don’t we go here first? It’s closest,” Rumi suggested.

“Sounds good,” replied Mira, smiling and tucking her sunglasses into her back pocket.

“How many colors do hydrangeas come in anyway?” asked Zoey curiously, walking backwards along the path to the greenhouse.

Rumi’s eyes lit up at the question and she replied, “They come in a variety of shades. Blue, pink, white, cream, purple, green, and red. The Bigleaf hydrangeas color is actually determined by the soil’s pH. They’re blue in acidic soil and pink in alkaline soil.”

Zoey whistled then turned to open the doors to the greenhouse. They stepped inside to a world of color and Mira stared at a bush that was partially white and pink. “That’s interesting,” Mira commented. “I didn’t know they can change color like that.”

“Isn’t it?” Rumi beamed. “Some of them can transition colors, like from white to pink over time.”

They strolled through the greenhouse, admiring the flowers until they came upon a wrought iron bench sitting below a whimsically designed archway. It was surrounded by blooming hydrangeas in varied shades of pink, red, and purple. “Photo op!” Zoey announced in joyful tones, grabbing their hands. She pulled Mira and Rumi over to the bench then looked around quickly until she found a high table with festival pamphlets decorating it. Pulling it forward, she flipped open her phone’s kickstand. “I set it for a thirty second delay,” Zoey informed, hurrying over to them, sitting on the other side of Rumi. “Smile!”

Rumi felt Mira and Zoey rest their arms over her shoulders and she relaxed into their touch, a genuine smile playing on her lips as the click of the camera sounded. Zoey retrieved her phone, grinning as she looked at the picture before turning her phone around so Mira and Rumi could see.

“Nice,” Mira decided, sounding undeniably pleased. She put an arm around Zoey’s waist, leaning down to murmur in her ear, “You look adorable.” Lifting her gaze, Mira focused on Rumi, reaching for her next and sandwiching herself in between her two bandmates. “And you look stunning.”

“I think that’s you, Mira,” said Rumi with wry humor.

“Mira is very fashion, fashion, model, baby,” observed Zoey. “I think you look sweet,” Zoey said to Rumi with a gentle smile. “Sort of like a really hot first grade teacher.”

Her brow furrowing in confusion, Rumi laughed. “I don’t know if that’s good or not,” she remarked.

“It’s good,” said Zoey cheerfully. “Ms. Lopez in first grade was definitely my first baby gay crush.”

Shaking her head, Rumi led them out of the greenhouse and towards the Olle Hydrangea Trail. After a moment of consideration, she reached out, taking Zoey and Mira’s hands in her own. They strolled down the trail, taking in the varieties of hydrangeas which included bigleaf, panicle, and mountain. As they walked and chatted, Mira and Zoey asking about the flowers and Rumi answering happily.

Once they were at the Seasonal Flower Garden, Rumi felt brave enough to confess. Especially when she glanced at her cell phone and saw it was almost 11 AM, leaving them with just an hour remaining. Steeling her nerves, Rumi led them down the Pond Hydrangea Path. It was filled with an endless sea of white, blue, and purple hydrangeas of differing shades. The sight was calming for Rumi, especially as she sat on the bench at the water’s edge and mentally prepared for what she wanted to say.

“I wanted to thank you both again, for arranging this,” Rumi began in earnest, looking at them with an open expression. For the first time in her life, Rumi wanted the emotions she felt to be on clear display. So they could see for themselves everything that she was feeling. “You don’t know what it means to me that you found this and thought of me. That you knew I would enjoy going here and made the effort to have it be a private experience so I’d be able to actually relax. I want you to know,” Rumi paused, looking from Mira to Zoey and swallowing the lump in her throat at the tenderness in their eyes. There was a depth of affection there that made Rumi’s heart race upon seeing it.

“I want you to know,” Rumi began again, her voice rougher now. “I’ve never had anyone love me the way you both do. Most of my life it was Celine and people who drifted in and out of my life for work or training. Tutors, voice or dance teachers, and other industry pros. Vague acquaintances at most. Celine,” Rumi sighed, trailing off and trying to think of the best way to explain it. “She loves me. I know she does but there’s a distance she keeps. Almost like she’s afraid of getting too close? I don’t know if it’s because of losing my mom and Eunji or something else. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m a half demon. That she’s afraid to love me because I’m partially something she was trained to kill. Because my father’s a monster and that means some part of me is one too.”

Mira and Zoey protested this and Rumi shook her head, smiling at them softly and squeezing their hands. “It’s all right,” Rumi murmured, strong and insistent as she said this. “I have you now.” Rumi tilted her head back, gazing up at the blue sky, considering how very different things were from her childhood. “I was always ashamed of who I was. What I was. Until I met you. Knowing you’d love me, support me, no matter what is what allowed me to tell my truth. I thought I’d spend my entire life hiding who I was and always feeling ashamed that I was half demon. I still feel ashamed sometimes, it’s hard to let that go after twenty one years but it’s getting better and I know it’s because of you two.” Rumi looked to them now, releasing a soothing murmur upon seeing the tears in their eyes. She wiped the tears that had already fallen from Zoey’s face and kissed her forehead gently. When she pulled away, Rumi gazed at them both, open and heartfelt, leaving everything on the line as she said, “You’re the most important people in my life. No one matters to me as much as you two. That’s why I need you to know how I feel.”

A pause, the smallest, slightest thing, seconds really, but it felt like a lifetime to all three of them until Rumi continued, her voice unwavering in its certainty, “I’m in love with you both.”

Stunned silence and it was stifling and put Rumi on edge until Mira moved. Her hand trembling, Mira caressed Rumi’s cheek and her voice was sardonic and filled with emotion as she said, “You always have to be first, don’t you?” Rumi blinked and Mira chuckled. “We brought you here to confess.”

“We’re in love with you too,” Zoey revealed, tears still thick in her voice, having moved closer to press against Rumi’s back. “I’m pretty sure Mira and I thought this spot was even the best place to tell you.”

“It was the Outdoor Hydrangea Garden,” Mira corrected, her laugh a bit incredulous at the situation. She groaned, resting her head on Rumi’s shoulder as she grumbled, “I can’t believe that you confessed before us. We’ve had this planned for over a week, Rumi.”

Laughing as she held Mira’s face, lifting it to meet her own, Rumi smiled. “I’m the leader for a reason, remember?” Rumi teased. “Besides, you picked the perfect spot. Why do you think I chose it?”

There were tears glistening in Mira’s eyes and such love and affection that Rumi felt her heart race at the sight of it. Moving forward, as if on instinct, Rumi captured Mira’s lips in a kiss. There was a moment where they remained still, lips simply pressed together, then she felt Mira smile, and then Mira’s lips were moving against her own. Firm and fierce, devouring Rumi in a kiss that left her breathless. There was a hunger and desperation to it, like Mira had to prove to Rumi in this moment how very much she loved her. Like there might not be another chance and Rumi gave in before responding in turn, pulling Mira closer, her grip unrelenting, biting on Mira’s lower lip as they parted.

“Fuck, Rumi,” Mira muttered, her eyes gleaming with desire.

“I love you,” Rumi murmured, kissing Mira again. Light and sweet and promising. Then she turned to Zoey who was watching them with a darkened gaze, her breath shallow. Reaching out to the rapper, Rumi’s hand wound around her waist, pulling Zoey forward and into her lap. Zoey released a squeak at this and Rumi grinned, wild and free, her hand sliding up to clasp Zoey’s neck, tugging her down so their lips could meet. Zoey was quivering with anticipation, eager in her exploration, making Rumi gasp and cling to Zoey’s hips. As Rumi had done with Mira, she tried her best to match Zoey’s energy, responding just as fervently, increasing the pace and rhythm, her tongue pressing for entrance and smiling when Zoey complied with heated passion. There was a greed to this kiss, as if they couldn’t possibly get enough of the other, and they only parted when there was a need for air. Once they did, breathing hard and resting their foreheads together they heard Mira snicker and Zoey rolled her eyes. Rumi watched her, a fond smile playing on her lips as she pressed a kiss to Zoey’s forehead, saying once again, “I love you.”

“Rumiiii,” Zoey called her name, tears already welling up again.

“Come here, crybaby,” Mira ordered, grabbing Zoey and moving her from Rumi’s lap onto her own. An affectionate smile formed on her features as she cupped Zoey’s cheek. “No more tears, even the happy ones. Maybe our confession didn’t happen how we planned but we got our girl, right?” Zoey nodded, rubbing her eyes and Mira murmured something low and comforting in her ear then kissed her.

Rumi could tell from how they fell into one another this wasn’t something new to them. Zoey sank into Mira’s arms and Mira drew Zoey closer with practiced ease. The kiss was languid in its desire, slow and steady, one kiss leading into another, leaving Rumi aching as she watched them. There was a familiarity and comfort that Rumi longed to have with them.

Soon, she thought.

Their romance was just starting, after all. All the same, it made Rumi wonder how long they had this. How much she had missed by hiding her patterns, hiding herself, from them. Regret welled up within her and it must have shown on her face as Mira poked her in the side and noted, “You’re brooding again. That’s not allowed today. This is happy memories only day.”

“I don’t brood,” Rumi protested, pushing Mira’s fingers away as they started to tickle her.

Mira and Zoey exchanged looks of pure skepticism. “Rumi,” Zoey said her name kindly but with marked disbelief. “You brood more than anyone I know. Sometimes it’s at Batman levels.”

“Batman levels?” echoed Rumi, perplexed by this comparison. Bemused when Mira and Zoey nodded in joint agreement. Rumi huffed then explained, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but think of how I wasted so much time keeping a distance from you both. We could’ve had this sooner.”

Upon hearing this, Mira and Zoey’s expressions softened. Turning incredibly tender and devoted as Zoey scooted forward, kissing her gently. Hands delicate on Rumi’s features, tracing them as if they were priceless artwork that Zoey wanted to memorize with her touch. “That doesn’t matter,” murmured Zoey. “Let’s not spend any time on regrets. Now that we know we’re in love we can be the best demon hunting pop group throuple in history. No competition, right?” remarked Zoey, forming a lopsided smile.

“What competition?” Mira snorted. “Pretty sure we’re alone in that category, Zo.”

Hopping off Mira’s lap, her arms stretched above her head, Zoey wore a mischievous expression. “We don’t know that!” argued Zoey playfully. “Rumi what do the hunter diaries say? There had to have been another group that were in love like us!” She paused then looked contemplative and said, “Celine is still pretty hung up on Miyeong and Eunji.”

“Zoey!” shrieked Rumi, disturbed at the thought of her parental figures together romantically. Even without seeing a lot of film of Eunji, she considered her a parent just as much as Celine and her mother simply because of how Celine spoke about her. Then again how Celine spoke about her mother and Eunji did give Zoey’s theory some merit.

“Those are her moms,” said Mira in laconic but chastising tones, rising to her feet. “Uncool.”

“I’m just saying,” Zoey shrugged, skipping backwards, still grinning.

“Well stop it,” ordered Rumi, shuddering as she stood up, taking Mira’s hand in her own. “You’re making me disobey Mira’s happy memories only request.”

Laughing cheerfully, Zoey paused in her skipping to walk alongside them, taking Rumi’s free hand in her own and swinging it as she leaned into Rumi. “Want to see where Mira and I planned on confessing in the Outdoor Hydrangea Garden?” Zoey beamed. “It’s the prettiest spot.”

“Of course it is,” said Rumi affectionately. “You chose it.”

They headed to the garden, chatting and leaning into one another. When they arrived, Zoey tugged them to the exact spot she and Mira had decided would be perfect for their own confession. Rumi insisted on taking a picture and Mira held her phone above them as they wrapped their arms around each other and smiled. They studied the picture immediately after, already feeling sentimental as they looked at it. A colorful sea of hydrangeas surrounded them, the sun shining down, and them smiling and in love.

Studying the photo, Rumi was struck by sudden inspiration.

This should be their album cover.

—-

When they arrived back at the house, there is a moment of painful silence. As if they’re not sure what comes next then Zoey looked disgruntled as she said, “Not doing this! No awkwardness allowed on happy memories only confession day!” Pulling Rumi to her with surprising possessiveness, Zoey clicked her tongue, rising on her tip toes to lace her hands around Rumi’s neck. “Make out with me.”

Laughing at this, Rumi didn’t have time to reply before Zoey kissed her vehement and demanding in her exploration, tongue pressing for entrance. Rumi sighed, melting into Zoey’s embrace and wanting the rapper closer, she crouched down and slipped her hands underneath Zoey’s thighs. Lifting her in a casual show of strength that Zoey grinned at as she wrapped her legs around Rumi’s midsection. Slightly off balance, Rumi felt Mira steady her with a firm touch to the small of her back.

Mira’s hand remained there, guiding Rumi towards the living room where she sat in the ridiculously oversized recliner and pulled Rumi, along with Zoey, down onto her lap once the footrest was extended. Zoey parted from Rumi with a giggle, moving to kiss Mira next while Rumi left a line of kisses on Mira’s neck, delighting in the shiver that ran through the visual’s body at her attention.

Time escaped them during their make out session. Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed without their knowledge. There was a laziness and relaxation to their kisses, a lack of urgency, there was desire of course, but that wasn’t the end result building to something more. They weren’t going to take things further, not so soon. This was an affirmation of their feelings, an expression they hadn’t been able to share until now, and they delighted in finally having it. Greedy to show one another the depth of their love and affection, each of them needing the other to feel the truth of it through their touch.

They had taken a brief break in kissing, content to rest together, Rumi’s head buried into the crook of Mira’s neck and Zoey resting against Rumi’s chest. Rumi’s gaze was fixated on Mira, shining in the sunlight, her expression so very peaceful that it tugged at Rumi’s heartstrings. Unbidden, Rumi shifted in Mira’s lap, kissing the sharp line of her jaw as she murmured, “I knew I loved you when you killed my hyacinth and instead of telling me, you panicked and tried to replace it with an identical plant.”

Mira blinked, looking at Rumi with a dumbstruck expression. “That soon?” Mira questioned, wonderment and surprise in her voice.

“Sometimes it feels like I’ve always loved you,” Rumi revealed, a smile on her lips as she pressed them to Mira’s cheek before nuzzling closer. Rumi couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “You did a terrible job with the replacement hyacinth though. They were different shades of pink.”

“I couldn’t remember the exact color and I had no way to check because I buried the evidence,” said Mira defensively, grumbling when Rumi’s chuckle turned into full blown laughter.

“Where did you bury Baxter?” asked Rumi teasingly.

“You did not name that plant Baxter,” Mira snorted, a fond look in her eyes.

“I have no memory of this whatsoever,” remarked Zoey, looking completely lost but thoroughly entertained at the story of Mira’s botanical homicide.

“It was before Celine found you,” said Rumi. “Mira had just turned seventeen a month before.”

“Six months after I met her,” supplied Mira helpfully.

Zoey turned an interested gaze to Rumi, moving forward for another kiss. Deliberate and full of passion, one kiss leading into another, Zoey pausing in between to murmur, “And what about me, unnie?” Rumi didn’t reply at first, moaning as she lost herself to the soft demand of Zoey’s lips. Only able to concentrate when Zoey finally pulled away with a knowing smile. Her breath hot on Rumi’s cheek as she asked, “When did you know that you loved me?”

“Lotte World,” Rumi sighed, breathless and wanting, kissing Zoey and tugging her closer. Needing desperately for there to be no space between them. “When you spent almost an hour trying to win Baxter for me.”

“Baxter?” Zoey repeated with confusion. "I won you a plant?"

“No, the Bulbasaur plushie,” Rumi offered, pulling Zoey down for another kiss.

“Since when do you name everything Baxter?” demanded Mira, gently drawing a protesting Rumi away from Zoey’s lips. Smirking before kissing Rumi herself. “You’re messing with us,” Mira accused.

“I’m not,” Rumi insisted, a slight whine to her voice. “Baxter is my default boys name.”

Zoey, in the meantime, was doing the math. “That was seven months after we met,” Zoey remarked. Her nose scrunched up and she wore an expression of slight disappointment. “You fell for Mira first and faster?”

Mira looked infuriatingly triumphant at this and Zoey glowered in response. “Don’t look so smug, I know you how long you pined for us,” Zoey declared, eyes narrowed and Mira snapped her mouth shut, the tips of her ears turning red in response. Zoey hummed at this and leaned into Rumi.

Studying them both with a curious gaze, Rumi inquired, “What about you two?” When Mira and Zoey directed their eyes to her, Rumi blushed under their attention. “To me, it feels like you’ve been together for awhile. I don’t think I noticed because I was so wrapped up in myself. Is that right?”

“I suppose,” Mira drew the words out, appearing to search for the proper explanation. After a moment, she continued, “Zo and I have known we were in love with each other and you for over a year."

“We talked a few months before last year’s Idol Awards,” Zoey explained, her gaze tender and supportive as she looked to Mira. “As for us being together… we’ve kissed but we weren’t exactly a couple.”

“It didn’t feel right,” said Mira gruffly, focusing on Rumi. “Without you.”

Zoey nodded, reaching out to push a lock of hair from Rumi’s eyes. “We decided to wait until we thought you were ready,” Zoey added. An affectionate smile formed on her features and she leaned forward to kiss Rumi sweetly. “After you told us about being a half demon, we knew it was time.”

“It felt like there wasn’t anything between us anymore,” said Mira somberly, kissing Rumi’s cheek. “It was like you had dropped your last wall and were letting us completely in.”

“I was,” Rumi confirmed, leaning her head back and relaxing into Mira’s touch. “I did.”

“You know,” Zoey began teasingly. “Ever since that day we’ve been trying to romance you.”

Rumi was agape at this. Her body going completely still and it felt as if her brain stopped working. They had been trying to do what? When? How? And why did Rumi never notice?

Her bewilderment must have shown because Mira and Zoey burst into laughter, causing Rumi to sputter and turn red with embarrassment. “It’s not funny!” Rumi complained, folding her arms across her chest.

“Unnie,” Zoey cajoled, holding Rumi’s cheeks in her hands, overwhelming affection in her gaze. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit. We’ve been working like crazy to romance you and you never noticed.”

“At least we know subtext isn’t effective with Rumi,” said Mira in blithe observation. “So we got something from all of our failed attempts.”

“We’re useless lesbians,” said Zoey mournfully. “Well, you’re a useless lesbian. I’m a useless pansexual.”

“You aren’t useless!” objected Rumi. “Even if I didn’t realize you were romancing me, it still helped me realize your feelings for me. That and how jealous you both were of Iseul.”

Upon hearing Iseul’s name, Mira and Zoey formed matching scowls.

A laugh escaping her on seeing this, Rumi kissed Zoey then Mira, and murmured, “It’s only because of your support that I was able to tell you about my patterns and being a half demon. I never thought I would ever have anyone I trusted enough to tell them about that,” Rumi confessed. “And you romancing me gave me the courage to confess today.” Gazing at them both, squeezing Mira and Zoey’s hands, Rumi said, “You make me a stronger, braver, person. That’s just one of the reasons I love you both.”

The reaction to her words was immediate. Zoey sniffled and tucked her face into Rumi’s neck and Mira looked at Rumi, an intense ardor in her gaze as she moved close for a soft and clinging kiss. Painfully tender in its expression of love and Rumi sighed, sinking into it as she reveled in the sensation of Zoey’s lips that were leaving a trail of kisses on her neck.

Maybe Mira and Zoey’s plans for romance and confession didn’t exactly work out the way they wanted but did it really matter when this was the end result?

Rumi didn’t think so.