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Zoey groaned, pressing her palm to the shallow cut on her thigh. It stung like a bitch, but it wasn’t the worst hit she’d taken. What bothered her more was that she’d yelped in surprise when it happened.
It was absolutely her fault that Rumi turned her head away from the demon she was fighting. Her fault that the demon took advantage of it. Her fault that it jumped onto Rumi’s back. She thought Mira killed it before its teeth and claws even got through the leather of Rumi’s jacket, judging by how she seemed more shocked than hurt, but still.
“I’m sorry!-”
“It’s fine.” Rumi’s response was curt enough to make Zoey flinch. She must have caught it because she added a softer, “You’re good. It happens.” Rumi smiled at her and lifted the collar of her jacket to peer at her shoulder underneath. Zoey was pretty sure she didn’t imagine the way her expression shuttered for a moment, but then the smile was back. “Didn’t even get me.”
“Is your leg okay?” Mira asked, already taking Zoey’s wrist and pulling her hand away so she could take a look. It really was only shallow. It would probably stop bleeding with a bit of pressure and a few minutes. Honestly, she was sort of annoyed she’d reacted to it at all.
As was often the case with Zoey’s actions, she wasn't entirely sure what possessed her to respond the way she did. Maybe she just wanted reassurance Rumi really wasn’t upset with her, or maybe she wanted Mira to keep looking at her all soft and gentle.
“Hurts,” and, okay, it was probably the former, because she pushed her luck with “I think Rumi’s gonna have to carry me.” Mira looked over her shoulder to share a glance with a bewildered Rumi.
“What? Why me?”
Zoey gave a coy smile and shrugged, taking a step towards her.
“You aren’t even limping!”
“Ruuumiiii” she whined, “I’m wounded! Don’t you love me?” There it was. Rumi’s expression shuttered again. Definitely not imagining it. She felt something unpleasant jolt through her chest and she suddenly needed someone to tell her nobody was annoyed. It was the same sort of animal urge that had led her to acting out as a teenager, to keep pushing for forgiveness over something so minor they probably hadn't even thought about it until she actually annoyed someone and they told her to fuck off.
Her imminent spiral was cut off by Mira scooping her up like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her arms around Mira’s neck and beamed up at her. Emboldened by the affection and ever quick to swing between moods, she leaned back until she could see Rumi around Mira’s arm and stuck her tongue out.
She cackled in delight when Rumi held her hands out and scrunched her face up into a universal ‘what the fuck’ gesture. Zoey tried to lean back further.
“Keep wiggling. See what happens.” Mira groused. She tucked her head back into Mira’s chest with a squeak.
Mollified by the arms around her and the soft chuckle she heard from Rumi, she managed to keep her hands and feet inside the Mira hug until they got back to their apartment, upon which she was promptly and carelessly dumped onto the couch.
“Hey! I’m hurt, Mira! Hurt!” she whined.
“Yeah, yeah. Stay there.” Mira grumbled, heading to the kitchen to rummage for some paper towels. Celine had taught them all how to care for their wounds, because how would they explain to a hospital why a kpop star had claw marks all over them? They could only joke that it’s because Mira bites so many times.
Zoey wiggled backwards into the couch cushions and patted the seat next to her. It wasn’t immediately filled with Rumi, prompting her to look over. Rumi was holding her upper arm, rubbing her thumb over her shoulder with an indecipherable, distant expression that set Zoey’s teeth on edge.
She loved her girls—and she knew they loved her too!—but they were both so hard to read sometimes.
“Rumi?”
“Mmh.” Rumi hummed vaguely. It wasn’t really a response, more just a… sound. She’d be forgiven for disregarding an instruction, probably, so she dislodged herself from the couch and walked over.
“Rumi.” she tried again. Rumi blinked, refocusing her eyes on the sudden Zoey.
“What? Sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep. Fine.” Rumi’s eyes darted away.
Zoey wasn’t as good at reading people as Mira was, but she didn’t have to be. Rumi was lying.
“It’s okay if you got hurt, you know,” she reached out to put a hand on Rumi’s arm. “You’re never mad at us for getting hit, so-”
Rumi pulled away from her so harshly Zoey nearly lost her balance.
“I’m fine, Zoey.” Rumi snapped, and Zoey recoiled. She opened her mouth, then closed it so hard her teeth clicked.
Rumi’s face closed off again. The silence between them stretched, and Zoey hated it, but she didn’t know what to say.
Mira chose that moment to round the corner. She tossed the roll of paper towels, along with some antiseptic cream, onto the couch. She pointed at Zoey.
“Thought I told you to stay.” Mira said. When neither of them moved she narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I just-” Zoey started at the same time as Rumi said “Nothing,” and then, softer, “I’m gonna go get changed.”
They both watched her leave in silence. Mira raised an eyebrow at Zoey.
“I don’t- I don’t know what happened.” Zoey hated that her voice cracked, just a little. “I just asked if she was okay.”
Mira huffed a sigh. “You know what she’s like. She’s probably just annoyed at herself for not dodging.” She gently pushed Zoey’s shoulder and pointed at the couch. Zoey complied, flopping down onto it.
She watched Mira kneel next to her and ripped off a sheet of tissue to hand to her. “Yeah, but-... I mean, it’s kinda-”
“Don’t.” Mira warned, taking the tissue and pressing it to the cut. “It’s not your fault she’s like that. You know how Celine was with us. Rumi grew up with that.” Zoey winced. She hoped Mira mistook it for pain.
It was the only real point of contention between the two of them. Zoey knew Mira didn’t even dislike Celine, but she rebelled against any authority figure—the more they demanded respect the more Mira spat and hissed. Zoey thought Celine was… nice? But she was strict, especially with Rumi, so…
“Yeah. I guess."
Rumi didn’t slam the door to her bedroom. This was notable, because she kind of wanted to. She wasn’t even sure why she was so annoyed. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
But her shoulder burned, and Zoey was being so nice, and she was going to have to throw away her stupid shirt because she’d seen how bloody it was when she checked, and she knew how soft and gentle Mira’s face would be when she fixed up Zoey’s cut, and she couldn’t carry Zoey even though she’d wanted to because it hurt, and she was going to have to sort this out on her own, again, and-
Nope. Fix this, then sulk. The wound needed to be dressed and hidden before Zoey or Mira came to check on her.
Rumi pulled her jacket off, dropping it to the floor as she crossed over to the bathroom and flicked the light on. She paused when she caught her reflection in the mirror, just for a second, and then she was tugging her shirt (long sleeved, always long sleeved now) over her head and tossing it back into the bedroom.
She was going to have to find a way to get rid of that without Zoey or Mira noticing. She couldn’t explain away that amount of blood.
The lighting in her bathroom, as it turned out, was just as good for checking wounds as it was for doing makeup. She kicked the door behind her and leaned in close to the mirror (don’t look at the patterns), bringing her hand up to tug at the bite marks gently (don’t look at the patterns), then pulled her shoulder forwards so she could check the back too (don’t look at the patterns). Not all of the teeth got through the jacket—it looked like it was only the fangs—but what had gotten through had dug in pretty deep.
It was going to need stitches.
She’d been hurt like this before. She even kept a first aid kit in her bathroom specifically for injuries she couldn't risk Zoey and Mira seeing.
She grabbed the kit from under the sink, dropped it on the countertop, and flicked it open. Stitches were fine. She could do stitches. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t neat because who was going to see her shoulders anyway?
First step was cleaning the wound. She had to make sure the injury site was clear of debris or she might seal in an infection. If she closed her eyes she could almost hear Celine giving her the instruction. It was comforting. Following instructions was comforting and safe. She didn’t realise she had actually closed her eyes until she opened them again.
She didn’t look away from her reflection quick enough.
The fucking patterns. They’d spread so much in the past two years and she didn’t even know why. Was she just running out of time? Had she done something wrong? Had she done something to deserve them spreading down her arms and across her chest like an infection?
Aside from being born, obviously.
Obviously.
She thought back to Zoey’s “don’t you love me?” earlier, light and playful and she does, of course she does. She loves Mira and Zoey so intensely it takes her breath away. She loves them in ways she won't ever tell them, but she’s lying to them. Every time they kill demons and she says they got them all she’s lying because they didn’t, she’s right there, she loves them so much and if they find out they’re going to kill her.
A sharp sting in her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts. She'd dug her nails into her shoulders, into the bite, and she had to release her grip carefully because she could already see where her fingers had caught the uneven edges of the wound and tore it further.
She took a deep breath. It didn’t really steady her, but it’s what Celine told her to do, so she did it anyway.
It wasn’t until she’d prepared her tools and pressed the needle into the raw and ragged edge of one of the punctures on her back that she realised she couldn’t fucking reach it properly. Couldn't get the needle through the other side of the wound. Couldn't close it. Couldn't stop it from bleeding.
Can’t stop the patterns from spreading. Can’t stop herself from being a demon. Can’t stop snapping at her friends. Can't love them the way she wants to. Can’t, can’t, can’t-
She yanked the needle out and tossed it into the sink with a strangled sob.
“You’re such a baby. I think you just wanted me to hold you.” Mira chided as she finished taping a gauze to Zoey’s leg. She enjoyed the way Zoey spluttered in response.
“I- wh- no! I would- I’d just- listen!”
“I’m listening.” she said evenly, goading.
Zoey didn't respond for a moment, then flipped her off. It made Mira cackle. It would’ve made Rumi laugh too, if she wasn’t being so… weird.
“Hey. I’m gonna check on Rumi.” Mira wasn’t going to ask Zoey to come with her, but she was glad when she heard her hop off the couch and pad after her. If Rumi was upset Zoey would be better at cheering her up, and if she was angry then Zoey would hear the shouting anyway.
Mira knocked on Rumi’s door gently.
Nothing.
“Rumi?”
Silence.
She knocked more firmly, to the same result.
Mira looked over to Zoey, who shrugged a little helplessly, then sighed. She tested the handle to see if it was locked.
It wasn’t.
She pushed the door open to peek her head around, just in case Rumi was asleep or actually had just gone to get changed or something, then opened it fully when she realised Rumi wasn’t there at all.
She wrinkled her nose when she registered a warm, coppery smell, and her brain supplied blood at the same time Zoey inhaled sharply. Mira followed Zoey’s eyeline and spotted it too. Rumi’s jacket and shirt were on the floor, which, of course, she’d gone to get changed, but one sleeve of the shirt was torn and stained a deep red.
The honmoon hummed anxiously around her.
Zoey nudged her arm and nodded towards the bathroom door. It wasn’t shut all the way. Mira put a hand on Zoey’s shoulder and crept closer. She was about to call for Rumi again when…
A sob?
The sound shattered whatever tension was making the two of them so careful. Mira didn’t slam the door open because Rumi could’ve been right behind it, but her rising panic made it difficult to control herself.
Her stomach twisted at the sight inside. Rumi was leaning over the sink, hands braced either side of it, clad only in a bra and jeans, shoulders shaking, and there was so much blood, and how did Rumi have so many scars, she didn't get hit that often, and what were the bruises- no. Not bruises.
What the fuck.
Mira was pushing Zoey behind her before she’d even fully understood what she was seeing. Something in the back of her mind whispered no, no, don’t as she plucked her gok-do from the threads of the honmoon. She was one of the honmoon’s chosen. It didn’t resist her, but why did it feel so sad?
“Where’s Rumi.” and it was not a question because she didn’t ask demons questions. Rumi The demon whipped around to face her, and god, it looked so much like Rumi it scared her, but it had gotten her face wrong. Rumi never looked this frightened.
“Wh- no, I- wait- wait- let-”
Mira snarled at it. It couldn’t even get its words out between short, harsh breaths.
“You weren’t-... supposed-... please, please wait-”
It was trying to curl in on itself, make itself smaller. Good. She was glad it was scared of her.
“Where’s Rumi.” Mira snarled out again, pointing the tip of her gok-do to the demon’s chest. When it didn’t answer she took a step forwards and bared her teeth. “What did you do to her.” She could feel her voice raising, because why wasn’t it answering her? Why was there so much blood? How could it have done this so fast, without them feeling it? They were only in the other room, for fucks’ sake-
She almost jumped when Zoey’s hand landed on her arm and gave a gentle tug.
“Mira.”
Mira didn’t look away from the demon.
“Mira, that is Rumi. Look.” That got her attention. She glanced over her shoulder at Zoey, only briefly, she wasn’t letting this thing out of her sight for more than a second. “She’s bleeding. Have you ever seen a demon bleed?”
She lowered her gok-do slowly and narrowed her eyes. No, she hadn’t. Demons just vanished, they didn’t bleed, and she could see the blood trickling from the wound in its shoulder, so how…
“Rumi?”
She hadn’t locked the door. She’d gotten in her head and made a mistake and she hadn’t locked the fucking door.
She knew they were talking, their mouths were moving, but Mira hadn’t taken her eyes off her and Rumi hadn’t taken her eyes off the gok-do and all Rumi could hear was a keening buzz.
She tried to explain but claws were wrapping around her lungs and squeezing and she couldn’t get enough air to form the words. Her limbs were heavy, immobile. She couldn’t defend herself even if she’d wanted to—and she didn’t. Not really. She wasn’t going to fight them. She wouldn’t risk hurting them more than she already had.
She loved them, and they were going to kill her. It was a kindness to them all to just let it happen.
But she was still shaking so hard she could feel her bones rattling. Stop being a coward. She forced herself to meet Mira’s eyes but she didn't open her mouth to say sorry because she thought if she did she’d throw up and-
The gok-do lowered.
Why did Mira lower her weapon? She was a hunter facing a demon. She wanted her to raise it again. She wanted her to dismiss it entirely. She wanted to live, god did she want to live, but not if it hurt Mira and Zoey. She would, even if she didn’t want to, because that’s what demons do.
She caught Zoey moving in her peripheral vision and she backed up instinctively, pushing her spine against the sink.
But Zoey didn’t have her weapons. She was holding her hands out, palms outstretched, placating.
The look in Zoey’s eyes would have made her laugh if she were capable, because she’d seen that look. It was the I want to befriend this wild animal look. It was the don’t be afraid, little buddy, I’m just going to put this food down right here for you look.
Whatever force was squeezing her lungs took a fistful of her heart for good measure.
She was afraid Zoey was going to touch her. She was afraid she wouldn’t.
She wanted so badly to lean into the hand Zoey was offering.
The demon inside snapped and snarled and said let her hold you. The hunter inside tugged the leash and said you’re disgusting.
Or maybe it was the other way around. She couldn’t tell anymore. She couldn’t think.
She couldn’t back up any further and Zoey’s hand was on her shoulder, and how could she stand to touch her patterns, doesn’t she know how much danger she’s in, and before Rumi could make a conscious choice the rubber band in her limbs snapped and she’d jerked to the side, to run—because even though she said she wasn't going to make this harder for them she was a liar—in the only direction she could go. She just needed to get away.
She was too numb to feel it, but she heard the glass wall of the shower stall shatter even above the rushing in her ears. She hadn’t meant to crash through it, hadn't even realised it was in the way. Why wouldn’t they just kill her?
She was cold. Absolutely freezing. Her brain couldn’t make sense of it. Her skin had been burning earlier, and now she was-... being doused in cold water?
The sheer absurdity of the shower being turned on made everything inside her slow.
Huh?
The water stopped. All she could hear was the staccato puffs of her breathing and the gentle tinkling of broken glass circling the drain. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a hand holding the shower knob in the ‘off’ position.
It must have been Zoey’s because Mira was walking towards her now, face taut in… anger? Worry? The panic had started to ebb out of her system, leaving her hollowed out and her brain too sluggish to understand the expression. Mira is going to finish the job now, it eventually supplied. She was too tired to try and explain. Celine would have to do it. She closed her eyes and waited.
But then she was being grabbed and pulled and her world was abruptly very warm and solid. She was afraid to open her eyes just in case it meant Gwi-Ma had claimed her, but when she did she found the truth was worse.
Mira was hugging her. She’d pulled her away from the water and the broken glass and was sitting on the bathroom floor with Rumi cradled in her lap. The panic started to rise again and she struggled—weakly, more like wriggling—in Mira’s firm grip.
Mira’s voice was gentle when she muttered “Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe.” into Rumi’s hair. Her voice wasn't steady, a current of fear ran through it, but it was so kind.
The softness of it finally sapped the last of the fight out of her. With a heaving, broken sob, she pressed her face to Mira’s shoulder and gave in.
She couldn't make out the words but she knew Mira had said something else because she felt her voice vibrate through her torso, and then she was being lifted.
It occurred to her, in an absent sort of way, that she’d never been held like this before. Skin to skin, tucked up into someone’s chest like something worth protecting. She found she no longer cared what was being done to her. If they killed her, at least they’d held her like this first.
Zoey’s hands were shaking so hard it took her three attempts to get the hand towel off the drying rack. Her eyes flitted over the first aid kit on the counter, then the needle in the sink. After a second of deliberation she doused the needle in disinfectant and took that and the kit with her to the bedroom.
Mira had sat Rumi down on the bed. For a moment Zoey thought she was rubbing Rumi’s back, but no, on closer inspection she was just keeping her propped up. She’d never seen Rumi look so boneless before.
She was awake though, because her eyes were following Zoey as she crossed the room and put the first aid kit next to Mira. Seeing without seeing, she thought, because her eyes were glassy and her expression was terrifyingly blank. She stopped watching when Zoey crawled onto the bed behind her.
Zoey crossed her legs and shuffled closer until her knees were bracketing Rumi’s hips. With a soft apology, just in case she could register it, she took the towel and pressed it against the bite. Rumi’s patterns shifted as her muscles twitched.
She cleaned off the excess blood—the wound didn’t seem to be bleeding much anymore, which was good—and became aware of just how many scars Rumi had. Small ones, big ones. She was pretty sure she could remember some of them, remember Rumi smiling and waving her off saying it’s fine or it didn’t actually hit me.
How many times had Rumi sat in this room and treated her own injuries, alone, while Mira and Zoey fussed over each other?
She tried to make eye contact with Mira, just to see if Mira looked as lost as Zoey felt. Mira glanced up at her. She’d found a pair of tweezers in the first aid kit and made herself busy pulling shards of glass from Rumi’s arm, the one that had hit the shower stall and broken it. There weren't many, and Zoey was more worried about how Rumi wasn't even reacting to it. She knew how much it hurt having glass pulled out of you.
The two of them fall into a quiet tandem, with Zoey cleaning and stitching the bite and Mira plucking out the glass.
Zoey couldn’t see the face Rumi made when Mira ran out of glass to remove and instead took Rumi’s hand in her own, but she felt every muscle in her back tense under her fingers.
She was almost afraid to ask in case it made the panicky, fragile animal in Rumi’s heart bolt like she’d tried in the bathroom, but she really did need them, so she said “Mira, scissors?”
Mira didn’t take her eyes off Rumi as she passed them over, or as she took them back after Zoey had snipped the loose end of the sutures.
Once again, Zoey wasn't sure what possessed her to act, but she pressed a soft kiss to Rumi’s bare shoulder. She could feel Mira’s eyebrow quirk, but she was freed from having to explain herself—couldn’t even if she wanted to—because Rumi’s head snapped around so she could look at her, owlish and wide-eyed.
Zoey gave a weak shrug and attempted a comforting smile. It ended up somewhere around ‘wobbly’, but it was the thought that counted.
“Why-... I don’t-...” Rumi’s voice was hoarse when she finally spoke. She swallowed and looked from Zoey to Mira, from Mira to Zoey. “Why are you helping me?"
It was such a strange question that Zoey had to look to Mira for the answer. Mira looked back, just as confused.
“Because… you’re hurt?” Zoey tried.
Rumi swallowed again and shook her head. “My patterns- I’m-...” She gestured down at herself with her free hand, but when she tried to finish the sentence she made a choked sound instead.
Mira took pity on her. “We have to talk. Obviously. Later.” she said. Zoey was glad Mira had spoken up because she knew Mira had the self-control to keep her eyes steady on Rumi’s while she spoke. Zoey absolutely did not, and had found herself looking at the patterns etched across Rumi’s upper back. “But whatever-... whatever this is, you’re Rumi, and you’re hurt.”
The sob that tore from Rumi’s throat was so sudden and raw that it made Zoey startle. “I’m half demon. How can you even look at me?”
Zoey had found herself wondering that, too. Honestly, she didn’t have an answer. It felt like her brain was scrambling to pin the words Rumi and demon together but failing miserably. The word ‘demon’ kept sliding off and leaving an empty space that was being filled with ‘my friend’, and ‘I love her’, and ‘how could I ever not look at her?’. The idea of her being anything but Rumi, her lovely Rumi who snorts when she laughs really hard even if she denies it and remembers exactly how Zoey and Mira like each type of tea they keep in the cupboards, is so absurd it slips to the wayside completely. But she felt like Rumi was waiting for an answer, so she gave it a go.
“Okay. That’s-... I mean, this is all a lot, right? I’m still sorta… processing, I think?” It wasn’t a good attempt, but she’d tried. Zoey looped her arms around Rumi’s stomach and rested her chin on her uninjured shoulder.
Rumi went entirely rigid, and for a moment Zoey was worried she’d crossed a line, but then she melted completely into her arms.
“Why don’t you hate me?” Rumi whispered, and it was such a broken sound that Zoey felt hot pinpricks of tears form behind her eyes.
“I mean, I’m pissed at you for not telling us. But hate? Nah. I don’t think I could hate you.” Mira said, and it was so blunt and so Mira that Zoey could see the sides of Rumi’s cheeks twitch up into something resembling a smile.
“I-... I wanted to. Um. To tell you. But I didn’t-... how would I even-... Celine said-...” and as soon as that name left Rumi’s lips both Zoey and Mira stiffened. Celine knew? Zoey glanced over to Mira and could see the scowl already forming. She shook her head and mouthed ‘not now’. That was a tomorrow conversation, for a Rumi who’s held together by more than shaky sutures and all the good intentions Zoey and Mira could muster.
Rumi must have noticed, though, because whatever she tried to say next didn’t seem to be about Celine. “I-... can-...” She stopped herself again.
“Tell us what you need, Rumi.” Mira said.
She must have squeezed Mira’s hand, or tugged it, or maybe they developed telepathy, because Mira didn’t wait for an answer. Suddenly both Zoey and Rumi were wrapped up in a hug.
A damp hug. Zoey felt a tad guilty, because weren't you not supposed to shower with open wounds or something?
“...Sorry for turning the shower on.” she mumbled into Rumi’s shoulder. When neither of them filled the silence that follows, she carried on. “Um. Back home I used to have panic attacks. Like, all the time. My mom would make me hold ice cubes. I think the cold would like… shock my system or something? I dunno. It helped. I thought it might help you too.”
The silence stretched. Zoey babbled. “I read somewhere that it’s to do with your nervous system, like your body says ‘oh god, there’s ice, I’m freezing, this is now the most important thing’ and stops paying attention to whatever you were freaking out about, because-”
Rumi put Zoey out of her misery by finally speaking. “Thank you,” and then, quieter, “can you stay in here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
Zoey’s “Obviously!” came at the same time as Mira’s “No.” Zoey gave Mira an incredulous look because what the hell, Mira?
“Your bed is damp and it smells like blood and there’s broken glass here. Put some pyjamas on and come to my room.” Mira looked at Zoey and grunted, “You too, I guess.”
Zoey knew it was to make Rumi laugh, and it worked, because she heard a wet, wobbly giggle and it made the whole room feel softer and lighter. She would gladly be in the firing line for Mira’s teasing if it made Rumi smile.
Mira left to prepare her room and Zoey stayed to help Rumi get changed because now that the adrenaline had left her system she knew that she must be aching all over. Just a regular panic attack would do that to you, much less one that involved… well, all of that.
Zoey ushered the now pyjama’d Rumi into Mira’s room and dragged her into the bed between the two of them.
Mira raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Swap sides with me, Zoey.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because you’re wiggly, and you’re on Rumi’s injured side.”
Zoey couldn’t argue with that. Especially not when it made Rumi chuff a laugh again.
The conversation tomorrow was going to be difficult and unpleasant, Zoey knew, but tonight Rumi was alive and sandwiched safely between her and Mira and things were going to be… not good, but okay.
Definitely okay.