Chapter Text
Rumi fell asleep in her bed.
She woke up in a hospital.
A dark, dirty hospital. Harsh, flickering lights. Grimy tile walls. Cobwebs and rats. The smell of rot and old chemicals.
Someone was carrying her. Holding her tight. She looked up at their face. Jinu. He grinned.
No. The hair grew long, grey at the edges. It was Celine.
The grey vanished. Zoey?
The hair turned pink. Mira.
Lavender, now. An unfamiliar shade. But then the person lit up with patterns. The whole hospital did. Purple and red pulsing violently. Vile heartbeats in the dark.
Rumi struggled to get out of the demon's grip, but they held her too tight. Her pulse pounded, her vision tunneled.
Her captor grinned. Sharp yellow teeth with canines jutting forward like fangs.
The grin grew.
Larger, wider, lips splitting, teeth growing, eyes burning fiery orange above it, cheeks pulling back like wet clay, fire engulfing the room, fire engulfing them both as the grin tore that face apart but still there was no escape, no way to get her limbs to move, no way to close her eyes as the grin broke and the teeth clamped down on her throat-
It wasn't Rumi's first nightmare in the month since the Idol Awards. She'd had one a week, maybe two - warped memories of Jinu's betrayal and his death, of Zoey and Mira with weapons leveled at her, of Celine either refusing to acknowledge her or cutting her down like she'd begged for.
She would jolt awake, sweat pouring down her temple and heart pounding in her ears, and reassure herself that it was all over. The past was in the past. Jinu was gone; she'd forgiven Zoey and Mira. Celine... those were harder. But she still had a foundation. Something to ground her, to help her forget the nightmare and drift back into sleep.
Those nightmares had meaning, but they also had resolution.
She hadn't had a strange, out-of-place nightmare like that one since she was a child. She figured she'd outgrown them.
Sitting up in bed, Rumi checked the time. 11:47 p.m. She had only slept a few hours. She could go back to sleep. Close her eyes and move on like she always managed to.
But when she laid her head back down, she saw that horrible grin on the back of her eyelids.
Her heart jumped.
And her head hurt. An ache behind her eyeballs: sharp, like something was trying to pop them out from within.
Wincing and navigating with half-squinted eyes, Rumi stumbled out of bed and over to her bathroom. Her patterns were on fire - the same crimsons and violets she saw in the nightmare. Shambling through the door, she flipped the wrong switch, groaned at the loud, brief sound of the vent fan and eventually found the lights. The sudden illumination was harsh, but it thankfully drowned out the distressing glow roiling across her skin. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; her eyes burned amber with dangerously slitted pupils and her fingers were halfway to being claws. I look like hell. And I feel worse. Her talons only interfered as she fumbled around for some painkillers, which she washed down with a handful of sink water that tasted like copper. She clamped a hand onto each side of the sink to steady herself and really, truly looked at the demonic woman in the mirror. Is this what they all saw? What they see? I'm just one bad headache from turning into a monster.
Her patterns flared - purple drowned out in waves of crimson and scarlet. Rumi felt them on her skin all the time, constantly aware of how her mood was being broadcast by the heat and chill in her pores. But as she stared at herself, thoughts beginning to spiral, she felt the patterns underneath her skin. Digging, crawling, itching, like she was hosting a colony of ants in her flesh and they were all on the move. Pain wasn't the right word for the feeling - and discomfort was too tame.
It was agonizing.
Agonizing enough to draw Rumi out of her self-flagellating spiral, all thoughts replaced by the acute awareness of the crawling under her skin. She scratched at her arms, claws leaving red marks to match the red patterns, but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling. So she scratched more, deeper, until she drew blood and yet another shade of red joined the torturous palette.
Stop. Stop! Please just fucking stop!
She stormed out of the bathroom and threw herself into her bed, rolling around like she could put out the fire raging across her body. Every time she closed her eyes, the terrible grin greeted her. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, and brought a pillow to her face so she could muffle the screams that she wasn't capable of holding in. She could feel the pills being dissolved in her empty stomach, but she couldn't feel the relief they were supposed to bring. Not as fast as she needed it. Minutes ticked by torturously, her head feeling fit to burst and her whole body under siege.
Half an hour after the nightmare, Rumi had never felt more exhausted. Her body was full of dread sensation and a sea of adrenaline; her mind was empty of any thought except for the wish that it would all stop.
It didn't.
But it did get easier.
The headache dulled. The crawling slowed. Her patterns dulled in luster, and she finally felt some control over herself returning. Sleep, though, was out of the question.
Rumi decided to exercise. Not the fitness practice of her idol-self, but the warrior training of her hunter-self. Grueling, high-intensity, working herself until her muscles burned hotter than her patterns. Until her body ran out of the energy it needed to fuel this horrible sensation; until her claws receded and her eyes stopped hurting and her skull stopped throbbing.
An hour later, and her result was mostly just further exhaustion and sweaty nightclothes.
But at some point during the routine, she found a bit of clarity. Another sensation that she could isolate from the agony: a pull, or perhaps a call. Like someone beckoning her to join them; like an empty chair begging to be sat in; like a silence that her anxiety demanded that she fill. It was pulling her to one side of her room - south, she estimated - and if she stepped in the opposite direction, the aches worsened. But when she walked towards it, when she pressed herself up to the wall as close as she could get to it? That helped. That relieved the headache and killed some of the ants under her skin. She stepped back, and it all returned.
So she left her room. Followed the pull.
It led her to their south-facing living room window, but the call hardly felt answered. Wherever she was being beckoned to, it was much further away.
The sight of the Honmoon, platinum and strong, brought her some measure of comfort.
The sight of herself in the reflection did not. Her claws had fully grown, and her eyes were gleaming a deeper gold than ever before.
Following it just made this worse. It wants to make me a demon. Fully. And if I resist, I'm tortured for it. Why? Why now? Why, when everything was going right for once?
Ever the feather-light sleeper, Mira woke up to the clatter of metal coming from the kitchen. Her eyes flicked open, but no daylight peeked out from under her blinds. She checked her phone: 3:04 a.m., no new messages. What the fuck, Rumi? No way in hell it was Zoey - they were on hiatus, and Zoey never got up before sunrise without a good reason. Probably didn't hear the banging, either. Zo sleeps like a dog. And sure, Mira and Rumi seemed to be in competition to see who could be the first to wake up and make them all breakfast... but this was unreasonably early. Something was wrong.
She flopped out of bed with a groan, reached around in the dark for her glasses, and grabbed her phone before looking out her door. She didn't smell anything cooking, and the lights were all off. Goosebumps raced up her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck rose sharply. Her free hand rested gently upon a chord of the Honmoon, but she hesitated to summon her weapon. She would never again do that to Rumi.
Her door left ajar, she crept forwards. Muscles tense, footsteps light.
Down to the kitchen.
Where her breath failed her and her heart skipped two beats.
Rumi was sitting in the dark, her patterns flaring with an intensity she'd never seen before. Claws out, braid undone, head bowed.
"Rumi? Are you okay?" Mira rushed forwards, all caution abandoned. Rumi glanced up at her, and the expression of combined pain and panic in her glowing eyes hit Mira like a punch to the gut.
Shoulders pulled low and tight like she was trying to disappear, Rumi gestured vaguely to the cookpot next to her. As if that explained anything at all. "I was- yeah, I'm- sorry, did I wake you up? I- I didn't mean to-" Rumi's voice cracked on every word, demonic inflection and emotional strain betraying just how not okay she was. "I wanted- just. Just some tea. But we didn't have- have any- so I- Broth sounded good, but- but- the pots were dirty, and I... my hands... I couldn't-" Her shoulders shook and her eyes turned glossy as tears started to breach the surface.
Mira dropped to her knees next to Rumi and, following her instincts, wrapped her into a hug. Her heart broke as Rumi limply tucked her face into Mira's neck and wept.
Rumi kept her arms at her sides. Briefly, Mira realized that some of the crimson on them wasn't glowing.
Oh, Rumi... What do I do? I don't know what I'm doing.
Mira flipped her phone around in her occupied hand, flicked over to her contacts, and made a call. She watched it ring, every second drawn out into infinity with Rumi's shattered sobs rattling through her chest.
Come on. Please. I need you here. She needs you here. I know you've got a custom ringtone for me. Pick it up.
"Mira...?" Zoey sounded like she was still half asleep. "It's so late... what...?"
Get up and get down here, dummy. "I'm in the kitchen with Rumi. She's freaking out. Help." Mira felt Rumi twitch, pulling away slightly, at the mention of her name. Shit. That- damn it, think for a fucking second before you talk. "Freaking out?" That's... awful.
Thankfully, the urgency got through to Zoey. "On my way!" was all she said before hanging up, and she flew into the kitchen just seconds later. Her eyebrows shot up as she analyzed the scene. A frantic, unspoken question passed from her wide eyes to Mira - whose eyes were even wider as she waved Zoey over. To Mira's relief, their maknae seemed to know exactly what she had to do as she slid into place on the other side of Rumi.
Zoey put a gentle hand over one of Rumi's and laid the other on her back, right over her pounding heart. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay! Breathe, Rumi. Just focus on my voice and breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth." Gingerly, she rubbed a small, comforting circle across Rumi's back. It was frightening how tense she felt, how coiled and powerful her muscles were underneath her sweatstained shirt. But Rumi followed her directions, so she kept it up. "Inhale, two, three, four. Hold it, two, three, four. Exhale, two three four. Just like that. You're going to be alright, okay?" It wasn't a question in need of a response, but Rumi attempted one anyways by nodding into Mira's neck. It made Zoey smile in spite of everything. Zoey kept babbling out instructions and platitudes, holding her hand and rubbing her back, helping Rumi walk herself out of what must have been a panic attack. I've had my share of them, girl. I've got you. Zoey to the rescue.
She then noticed the thin streaks of dried blood on Rumi's arms. Her stomach churned. Oh no, baby...
Zoey also noticed how firmly Mira was holding Rumi - like she was the most valuable and most fragile treasure on the planet. Zoey couldn't fault her for it. After everything we've gone through together? I'd rather die than let her go through this alone. Whatever this even is...? Is this, like, demon puberty? Demon pregnancy?? No way???
Then Rumi pulled away - slowly at first, like she wasn't expecting to be allowed out of the embrace. Her breathing had finally calmed, and her patterns seemed to be calming down slightly. But Rumi's fiendish features hadn't vanished in the slightest. She cleared her throat with a thick cough, and as her hand slipped free from Zoey's it was clear that her body-wracking shudders had merely been replaced by a frail shivering. Is she cold? But she's sweating. Is she sick? Demon sick? Will our cold medicine work for her? Should I get a blanket? I should get her a blanket. Zoey's tired, frantic stream of thoughts was, fortunately, interrupted as Rumi finally spoke up.
"Thanks. I... I'm sorry I woke you both up..." Rumi's head sunk with naked guilt.
Zoey shook her head frantically. "What? No. You were having a panic attack and needed help. You don't have to apologize for that. We're here for you. Plus, it was technically Mira who woke me up!"
"And I won't apologize for it, either. But yeah, Rumi, what Zo said. We're here for you. Do you... want to talk about what's wrong?" Mira had one hand half-raised, unsure of whether Rumi still wanted physical contact and what to do with it if she didn't. "How long have you been awake?"
Rumi wiped at her eyes with her sleeve and shrugged weakly. "Had a nightmare at midnight. What time is it?"
The other two girls shared a look of distress. Mira tilted her head. "It's past three a.m., Rumi. You couldn't go back to sleep?"
A glassy, distant look passes over Rumi's eyes. With the three of them lit only by Rumi's glow, they couldn't miss it. "It's only been three hours? I thought the sun was going to be up soon..."
Zoey couldn't stop the sympathetic whine that rose from her chest. "That won't be for a while. There's still time to get some rest if you want to go back to sleep, y'know."
"Can't. I can't. I've still got a headache and my skin's still crawling and I still see the nightmare when I close my eyes."
Mira felt a little nugget of panic settle in her own chest at that.
She asked the question at its core, unsure if she really wanted to hear the answer but unwilling to avoid it: "What was the nightmare, Rumi? Was it... was it us again?" I swear, I'll never forgive myself. Not if I'm still hurting you. She hated how much relief she felt when Rumi shook her head.
"I don't remember most of it. It wasn't familiar. I was in a hospital, or some sort of laboratory, and someone was grabbing me. And I don't know who they were but... They were a demon. They swallowed me with their patterns and they grinned- this horrible smile- before they killed me. I woke up like... like this. I don't know why, it's never happened with my other nightmares. But it's- that, that was just the start. Next was the headache. I felt like my skull was fracturing and my eyeballs were going to burst. But honestly?" Her voice cracks painfully. "I'd take that outcome over the crawling. I can't scratch the itch. It's like I've got bugs crawling around under my skin. It just won't stop."
"Fuck, Rumi, that's awful. Can we- can we do anything? Have you taken any medicine?" Mira rose up on her knees, ready to rush off to fetch a solution.
"I don't know. I- Yeah, I took some ibuprofen. I think it helped a little. I-"
Zoey interrupted her. "And you didn't take anything before bed, did you? Sometimes, as a kid, my dad would give me Benadryl to help me fall asleep. But I took too much one time and I felt like my bones were full of spiders and I kept seeing the Hat Man."
Rumi smiled a little. "No, no scary pills and no 'Hat Man'"
"Benadryl's not a scary pill! It's for allergies." Zoey put on a little pout for emphasis.
Mira snorted. "You just said it made you trip balls as a child. Maybe things are different in America, but that sounds pretty scary to me... And pretty cool, too."
"Trust me," Rumi said with another shake of her head, "if it makes you feel like this, you don't want it. I want to die just to get some peace. And the only thing that's made it better makes me worse."
After a few beats of silence, Zoey cocked her head to the side. "You gonna explain that one, Rumi?"
"I just... I feel something pulling me. That way, south." Rumi pointed past them, towards the living room. "There's something or someone that's calling me that way. If I go away from it, the torture gets worse. If I go towards it, it hurts less, but all my... my demon side comes out. I can't control it. I sat against the window for so long. It felt like the whole night must have passed. Then I started to get thirsty, so I wanted to make tea..." Rumi looked over her shoulder wistfully. "But I guess we're all out. I- That's when I started to spiral. Couldn't even hold a pot with these stupid things." Sniffling, she held her big, clawed hands up for demonstration. "I just... I just want it to stop. I'm so tired. It's like I'm being torn in half."
Zoey's eyes started to water. That's all... too familiar. "Hey, hey, you're gonna be okay, okay?" Oh, Jesus, I'm blubbering already. "We'll figure this out, Rumi!" She reached for Rumi's hand again, and Rumi accepted it willingly. She only looked a little surprised when Mira grabbed the other.
"Zoey, Rumi, does any of that ring any bells to either of you? Nightmares, patterns, pain, compulsions to go to some creepy laboratory that's who-knows-where?"
Zoey shook her head, wiping at her eyes. Rumi's brows knitted as she set her gaze on the kitchen floor and racked her brain for answers. Finally, something clicked.
"Jinu. Jinu said something like this." Rumi closed her eyes as she recalled the memory.
She missed the look that passed between Zoey and Mira. Concern from one; disgust from the other.
"He said Gwi-ma whispered to him, to all demons, through their patterns. It's how he controls them. Jinu was surprised that I didn't hear him, didn't feel that compulsion. And I-" Rumi's eyes snapped open, shielding her from whatever nightmare was writ on the other side of her lids. She shook herself. Mira felt Rumi's hands go clammy; Zoey felt the shiver that ran through her fingers. "I tried to free him from that. Tried to- It- It worked, but it was too late. Too late to really save him."
"It's not your fault, Rumi," Mira squeezed her hand in reassurance. "You aren't responsible for his choices." The way she said 'his' belied the grudge she still harbored. You're dead and gone, demon boy. Get out of Rumi's head.
"Besides," Zoey tried to pick up more optimistically, "you did save him. Or helped him save himself. Jinu's soul is free - no more torment!"
Rumi grimaced. "He didn't deserve the torment. I'm not sure any demon does. Gwi-ma's just... evil. And now he's calling for me." She deflated in front of their eyes, physically and emotionally.
Zoey looked ready to cry again, but Mira interjected. "No, wait. You said Gwi-ma's whispers. But you're not hearing a voice, are you? Just a feeling?" Rumi shook her head, and Mira continued. "That night, Zoey and I heard Gwi-ma whisper to us. We heard his voice. He was playing on our fears," You don't deserve a family, "not just forcing us to go somewhere. He was, like... persuasive?" She looked at Zoey, hoping for some backup.
"Yeah! Persuasive, seductive, deep sexy voice that indulged all of our worst self-perceptions so that we'd be at such a low point that we'd willingly sacrifice ourself to him." Zoey nodded enthusiastically. Rumi looked confused; Mira looked horrified. "Besides, the Honmoon's sealed. We haven't seen or felt a single breach since we did it, and the only demon stragglers we've run into have been weak little dudes. How would Gwi-ma be reaching you?"
"I don't know, Zoey!" Rumi was frustrated, but she hadn't meant to shout like that. She shrunk. "Sorry. I... I just don't know. Maybe he found a way and he's getting revenge. Maybe I'm just cursed. Maybe..."
"-maybe it's demon puberty!?" Zoey couldn't help herself.
Mira narrowed her eyes. "This isn't a joke, Zo."
"I know! I'm not making fun of you, Rumi. I promise. I just want us to consider all the possibilities, y'know?"
Rumi nodded, the smile creeping back onto her face. "It's okay. I think I could actually use some levity right now." The smile didn't really reach her voice. Even with the low, demonic tone interweaved into her words, she sounded weak and strained. "Because if I don't laugh I think I might go back to crying." Each syllable seemed a struggle.
Without a thought, Zoey squeezed her hand. No, no. No more tears, girl. You're breaking my heart. But she forced a smile and said what she ought to: "It's okay if you need to cry some more, Rumi. It can be healing. I cry all the time! I cry at sea turtle videos, I cry when I burn my food, I cry if my food order gets messed up, I cry if I see strangers arguing in public..." And as if her tear ducts were colluding, her eyes began to water. She sniffled. "You can cry with us if you want! You're safe here. With us, I mean. Y'know? We'll keep you safe."
In the dark, a wet streak rolled down Mira's cheek. She fought the urge to wipe at it, to give any proof of her own fragility - Zoey could cry, Rumi could cry, but not her. Fortunately, her voice stayed steady. "Yeah, Rumi. We're not going anywhere. We're by your side no matter what. And we'll figure this shit out, trust me." She straightened up and swallowed hard when Rumi turned to her. Why was I ever afraid of those eyes? "Even if we don't know where to start."
Zoey wiped her eyes again, the cuffs of her pajama shirt now covered in damp spots. She suddenly looked sheepish. "You know who might know where to start?"
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Zoey, no."
"I- I'm not saying- Look, Celine's still got so much more experience than us, so..."
"And she still hasn't apologized for anything. Rumi deserves better than-"
"We haven't talked to her in a month! Maybe she will apologize. Maybe I'm being stupid and we can just forget it. I definitely don't want to fight about it..." Zoey shrunk a little, loosening her grip on Rumi's hand.
Mira cringed. There you go again, pushing them away.
Rumi tightened her hold on both of them and summoned all the strength she had left. "You're both right. I don't know if I'm ready to talk to Celine again. It hurts just to think about. I've been waiting... waiting for the right time to reopen that wound, I guess. Waiting for when I feel strong enough to face her. And I feel so, so weak right now. But waiting for the right time has never worked out for me. And Celine might have answers, or insights, or... or whatever else we're lacking. So I think we should try."
"She better have an apology, too." Mira grit her teeth. "But I'm ready if you are. I meant what I said: we're not letting you go through this alone. Never again."
At that, Rumi smiled - not her wide, goofy grin of amusement that Zoey so easily elicited, but a smaller, warmer one. "Thank you. Both of you. So much." And then she shifted, moving as if to stand up.
"Woah, slow down. Where are you going?" Mira chided her, but she rose to her feet herself and helped pull Rumi up with her. Rumi stumbled forwards, limbs out of her control, and Mira caught her with a laugh. "It's still the dead of night."
Lingering a bit too close to Mira for a bit too long, Rumi blinked in apparent confusion. "Right. Sorry. Feels like I've been awake for a whole day." She shuffled backwards, eyes distant. "I... I don't think I can go back to sleep. Or even go in my bedroom, honestly. It's easier just being out here. You two can go back to bed, just let me know when we're gonna go..."
Zoey snorted. "Nuh uh, we're not about to leave you alone right after we promised not to. You know what you need? Because I know exactly what you need! Well, I've got a few ideas. But top of the list! Top of the list is couch. Straight to couch, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred worries." She tugged on Rumi's arm with resolute purpose. "I've got a video playlist that'll melt your brain and make you forget alllll about everything. Come on!"
Mira couldn't help but laugh some more as the three-link human chain pulled her along. "I'll make us an early breakfast if Miss Deathgrip here ever lets me go. You sure you're up for this, Zoey? You never wake up this early."
"I'll be fine! I'm on a mission!" Zoey cackled like the little witch she was. A brief, intense yawn interrupted her - then she went right back to cackling.
I don't deserve these two.
Rumi's cheeks hurt from laughing. The rest of her was still hurting, too, but the distraction really, truly helped. Messy plates sat on their coffee table, the greasy porcelain reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors from the room's sole source of light (aside from Rumi herself) - their TV, which was fifty or is this number fifty one? Youtube videos deep into Zoey's legendary playlist.
The gremlin herself had passed out a while ago, face nestled into a plush throw pillow propped up against Rumi's thigh. Mira threw a blanket over her, and Zoey hadn't even twitched a muscle since. How does she do it? From full speed to lights out in an instant. I'm so jealous. Even when I'm not feeling like... this, it feels like it takes ages for me to fall asleep...
To Rumi's right, Mira was glued to the screen. Her exhaustion was obvious, but, whether through discipline or spite or something else, she held strong.
She nudged Mira with her elbow (which was blood-free; Zoey had helped her clean off her arms without an ounce of judgement. How could she be so casual, so accepting, about that?), leaned over, and whispered out of the side of her mouth while keeping her eyes locked on the TV, "This doesn't count, by the way."
The look she received, caught in the corner of her eye, was one of utter bewilderment. Hehehe. "What?"
"You know."
Mira leaned forwards, trying to force Rumi to look at her. "No, I don't. What are you talking about?"
Losing the fight with her own big, silly grin, Rumi pushed a finger to her lips. "Shh! The baby is sleeping!"
Mira rolled her eyes. "She'd sleep through an earthquake. She has, actually." Despite her dismissive words, Mira did drop her voice to a whisper. "Rumi, what do you mean by 'this doesn't count'?"
Rumi shrugged, still grinning, still avoiding Mira's eyes. "I'm still in the lead. Four-fifty-nine."
Those intense eyebrows just narrowed further as Mira leaned as far as she could in front of Rumi without tipping over. Not a single indication that Mira had caught on yet. Oh, you're tired tired, huh? Let's see how long it takes- Mira put a hand on Rumi's thigh to steady herself as she twisted and leaned further, finally positioning herself in front of Rumi's face - who squeaked and tried to look away. With her other hand, Mira grabbed Rumi's face from under her jaw, squishing her cheeks to hold her in place. And then she muttered a dark threat: "Shhhh. The baby's sleeping, remember?" Her tired eyes held murderous intent. "Now, Ryu Rumi, you're going to tell me exactly what the hell you're talking about. And if I don't like your answer, you'll regret it."
Incognizant of why her pulse was suddenly pounding in her ears, Rumi nervously laughed. "The- we- Mira, our competition! I'm still in the lead. Four-fifty-nine a.m., fried eggs and American bacon. Today was an anomaly, it doesn't count."
The eyebrows finally rested. The murderous intent did not. "You little shit. You're keeping score!?"
"Yeah! You aren't?"
"I thought it was... it was just a thing! A thing without a score!"
Somehow, in spite of the fog of exhaustion in her head and the strain in her throat and the clamp secured over her jaw, Rumi managed to put some cheekiness in her reply: "You only think that because you're looosiiing!"
Mira squinted at her, put on her scariest frown, and tightened her grip. I'm in danger. "And you're only winning because you cheated."
Rumi gasped. Or she tried to. It was rather awkward with so little control over her own face. "Cheated!?"
"That was the last day we've all had to wake up that early all month. I can't compete with that! Plus, you played to the judge's bias. You basically bribed her with that bacon."
Rumi glanced down at the 'judge' in question who, in spite of all the movement and definitely-not-whispered threats, hadn't moved at all. She shrugged and giggled nervously. "You have to know your audience, Mira. All's fair in love and war!"
Mira finally released her grip, crawled back out of basically being in Rumi's lap, and sunk into the couch cushions. She crossed her arms and groaned. "Oh, this is war. This is definitely war. You don't have any idea what you've just done."
Wow. My heart is racing right now. Scary.
"Didn't take you long to go from 'we'll protect you, Rumi'," Rumi lowered her voice to an almost comical degree as she mimicked Mira, "to declaring war on me."
There was a beat of silence that felt like it stretched too long. A pang of anxiety shot through Rumi before Mira spoke. "Oh, I haven't changed my mind on anything. I'd still die for you. Zoey and I will do anything we can to keep you safe..." Mira tried to make her words sound ominous, intimidating, hinting at the 'but' to come after. Yet Rumi still felt their authenticity, too. The truth behind them. "...because now I'm the only one who gets to hurt you." And, just as reassuringly, Rumi could feel the inauthenticity of that threat. The ridiculous evil smile Mira put on certainly helped. "Nobody else is allowed to get their hands on you. Not demons or people or curses. I, alone, have the right to destroy you."
Mira was a terrible liar, but she knew how to put on an intimidating act - the dark edge in her voice had Rumi's stomach twisting in terror.
"What does the winner get, anyways? Besides bragging rights." What? How are you acting so casual so suddenly? Not fair!
"Uh- I don't know. We'll have to ask the judge."
Mira snorted. "Yeah, well, the judge is getting her beauty sleep. You wanna keep watching this mind-melting stuff? It's starting to hurt me."
"Same, honestly, but... well... I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings... And it is funny. Even if I don't know what's going on."
"Eh, we can stop it here. Zo will be happy we saved the rest to watch with her while she's, like, alive. I need to stretch my legs." Mira stood up, arching her back and sighing with delight as her spine straightened out. Rumi felt a pang in her chest as her eyes lingered on Mira. I envy your body. You always look so elegant without even trying. Mira bent over, grabbed her phone, and checked the time. "It'll be, like, half an hour til the sun's up. Find us something to watch? I'll handle the dishes, I know you've got a dog in your lap." Mira and Rumi shared a smile at the little messy-haired human burrito, swaddled and snoozing. She scooped up their plates but stopped mid-movement with an eyebrow raised at Rumi.
Am I in trouble?
"Hey, you said it sucks to go back to your room, right? Want me to bring you some of your clothes?"
Oh. Not in trouble. Opposite of trouble. Mira...
"Um... that- that'd be really nice, actually. Thank you. Wait- actually, no, I got all sweaty and stinky, I should shower."
Mira shrugged as she began to walk away with their plates. "Up to you. But I was up in your face and I don't think you smell bad at all." Her footsteps retreated, leaving Rumi no space to argue.
Rumi picked up the remote and began to idly flick through their viewing options as her thoughts began to wander.
I really don't deserve these two.
Why did I ever doubt them? How could I ever doubt my best friends in the whole world?
And why didn't I doubt Jinu?
Why did I choose him over them?
Because of a stupid crush? Because he understood me in a way I thought they couldn't?
Or did he manipulate me? I mean, he did, but was that always his plan? Or was it Gwi-ma manipulating him?
Why did I let myself, let all of us, get into that mess?
Because of Celine? Because of how she raised me?
Did she doubt my mother? Did my mother doubt her?
I'd be the reason for it. The reason their group broke up. The reason they lost a member.
Footsteps approached from behind. Rumi flinched. Stupid. She looked over her shoulder; Mira was balancing a large bundle of clothes between her arms, keeping a careful hold while gripping a pair of shoes in each hand. "I didn't know what outfit you were feeling so I just brought a bunch. Grabbed one of my hoodies you like stealing, too." Mira smirked with well-earned confidence. "Take your pick."
Rumi felt quite warm all of a sudden. Maybe Zoey was on the right track. Maybe this is demon menopause. "Thanks, Mira. You didn't have to... but thanks."
Mira plopped the pile at the end of the couch and returned to her seat next to Rumi. "It's no big deal. You find something to watch? Something that doesn't tickle my brain stem."
"Oh, uh, yeah. A few ideas. I was thinking..."
It turned into a discussion about the shows in question... a discussion which lasted into the sunrise, with not a single decision made between them. It ended not with a selection, but with the sudden stirring of Zoey, who asked for five more minutes of sleep while simultaneously reaching for her phone to start scrolling through short-form videos.
Mira... Zoey... you said I'm safe with you. That you'll be with me no matter what.
I believe you. I believe in you.
Thank you for believing in me.
The roar in her head and the crawling under her skin were fighting viciously. But that torment would not be forever. They would beat it. They had to.