Chapter Text
After the battle against Gwin-Ma, the girls hid behind the stage to escape the crowd of journalists and fans. The phone vibrating in Mira's jacket pocket was the only thing that tied her to reality. Everything was in chaos - in her mind as well as at the stadium. Zoey had vanished into the halls in search of a safe exit for them, while Mira remained sitting there on the speaker, holding a semiconscious Rumi to her lap, trying to take in and process everything that had happened in the last few hours.
The dancer felt like her mind had been trampled after the mass possession she, Zoey, and the entire audience had just gone through. The adrenaline from the battle and the surge of power Rumi had shared with them had completely drained away, leaving behind nothing but a crushing, all-consuming exhaustion that settled deep into her bones.
Rumi trembled in her arms. Her body burned with fever, and the unfocused eyes floated somewhere between consciousness and delirium, trapped in a state that seemed endless.
Mira sat frozen, caught between helplessness and rising panic. Just hours ago, she and Zoey had raised their weapons against Rumi. She had been ready to fight her to the death if it came to that. The mere memory of that thought made her chest ache like it was being torn in two, and she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. Her hands trembled as she held the leader tighter, afraid to let go.
She loved Rumi.
She would kill Rumi.
Was the girl in her arms still the same one she had fallen in love with?
Mira searched Rumi’s face, desperate to find a glimpse of the “old Rumi.” And it was there. Still there. Buried beneath the exhaustion, beneath the fever, and those damned patterns she had learned to hate. She had spent years admiring the leader, in rehearsals, on tour, even in those quiet naps on the couch.
She had memorized her smiles, her silences, every quirk and gesture. But never — not once — had she seen the demon buried deep beneath it all. And perhaps more frightening than that… She had never wanted to.
The air felt too heavy to breathe. Each inhale stuck in her chest, like it couldn’t make it all the way down. The storm inside Mira’s mind was spiraling fast, louder, like it would tear her straight out of herself at any second.
Zoey .
She needed Zoey. Only she could reach into the dark, grab Mira by the hand, and drag her back from the edge, from the void Mira’s own mind had built around her.
So she clung to the warmth in her lap, to the weight of Rumi’s body against hers, and prayed Zoey wouldn’t take too long.
☾ ⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*
Rumi was using every ounce of strength she had left just to stay awake.
Through the haze of her blurred vision, she could see soft pink strands of hair and Mira’s face hovering close to hers. Everything that had happened that night came back in flashes, disjointed and chaotic. Lights; Screams; The bitter taste of fear; All of it foggy, like she was trapped in a dream she couldn’t wake up from.
But she knew, somehow, that she was with her girls. And Mira’s arms, warm and steady, were the safest place in the world.
The leader didn’t notice the exact moment unconsciousness took over.
She remembered coming to, the sensation of being carried, but her eyelids were too heavy, her vision too blurred to make out anything at all.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she emerged from that feverish daze. Her eyes opened slowly, stung by a pale light streaming through the car window. It was the sunrise, casting soft orange hues across the interior. She realized she was in the backseat, lying in Zoey’s lap, while Mira sat in the driver’s seat.
Rumi recognized Bobby’s voice through the car’s speakerphone as he and Mira argued about something related to the press. She heard Mira asking for a few days off before any official interviews, and promising she’d make a statement on social media to deny the Huntrix breakup as soon as possible. The words echoed distantly, like they were coming from underwater. But just hearing “Huntrix” was enough to stir something inside her.
They were still here.
They were still together.
At some point, she felt Zoey’s fingers in her hair, gently fixing the strands that had come loose from her braid during the battle. Rumi shut her eyes tight. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Zoey.
It was the second time she had revealed the demonic patterns on her body in front of them. The first time, the shock of it had come with tears and weapons aimed at her head. Now, silence hung between them — heavy, yes, but strangely comforting.
Because Zoey and Mira knew the truth now.
And still, they were here.
None of the three said a word for the rest of the ride. Rumi wanted to. God, she wanted to. But she couldn’t. Nothing felt right to say — not now, not yet. She wished things could go back to the way they were.
Back to before.
Together they created a new honmoon — one even stronger than the last. But between them… the cracks were still there.
“Can you walk?”
It was Zoey who finally broke the silence when Mira pulled into the penthouse garage, and Rumi gave a small nod in response.
As they stepped out of the car, Mira wrapped an arm around her waist, holding up most of her weight. The closeness was inevitable, but uncomfortable. Rumi could feel the touch, feel the care… But she couldn’t feel relief.
Mira refused to look at her.
Her gaze shifted constantly, toward Zoey, toward the ground, toward anything that wasn’t her.
For the first time since accepting her origin, Rumi felt uncomfortable being so exposed. Her markings were a cruel reminder of the lies she had carried for so long.
In the elevator, the mirror in front of them only made everything feel colder. The patterns on her body had taken on a translucent lavender hue, pulsing faintly as the light shifted. For the briefest moment, she caught Mira’s gaze in the reflection — and in it, there was no judgment.
Only pain.
And exhaustion.
As they stepped through the penthouse door, Rumi felt her muscles begin to loosen. That apartment was her sanctuary, not because of the furniture or anything material, but because of the memories it held. The three of them had come from broken homes, and yet, they had managed to build something new.
Together, they were a family. And the happiest memories of Rumi’s life lived within those walls.
The girls helped Rumi into her suite, heading straight to the bathroom.
Mira settled her carefully on the edge of the tub, her touch gentle, but her gaze distant, unreachable. Rumi couldn’t take her eyes off her. Without a word, the dancer sank to her knees beside the tub and began filling it with warm water. Across the room, Zoey dug through the drawers beneath the sink, searching for something to bring down the fever.
“Second drawer on the right,” Rumi said, her voice heavy with exhaustion she was clearly trying to hide.
Zoey finally found the right medicine and handed it to the leader, a shy smile tugging at her lips — unable to hide how happy she was to hear Rumi’s voice again.
“The bath is ready,” Mira murmured, trying to keep her voice steady as she dipped her hand into the water to test the temperature.
Her shoulders were tense, and her movements felt too rehearsed to be natural. Mira was always the perfect balance of reason and emotion, but now, something inside her looked like it was about to spill over at any moment.
Rumi wanted to reach out, to speak, to act — anything that might soften the distance between them. But what could she possibly say, when she was the reason Mira couldn’t meet her eyes?
“I’m sorry,” Rumi said at last. The word hung in the air like a spark, catching both of their attention. She was far too exhausted to hold a conversation, but the apology was real.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice breaking as a silent tear slid down her cheek, her chin trembling from the effort of holding back the sobs.
For the first time Mira truly looked at her. Tears streamed down her face, blurring what little makeup had survived the battle, but she didn’t wipe them away. Their eyes met, and held — just for a few seconds, locked in a silent exchange. Both of them searching for something, a reason, a forgiveness, an understanding that neither knew how to give.
Mira was the one to look away first. And without a single word, she rose quietly to her feet and walked out of the bathroom, leaving behind only the sound of water and everything they hadn’t said.
Rumi didn’t know what she had expected in response to her apology, maybe an accusation, maybe an embrace. But the silence hurt more than any answer could have.
“Mira!” Zoey called out, taking a step to follow her, but stopped herself. Instead, she moved closer to Rumi, who remained completely still, as if even the smallest movement might be enough to shatter what was left between them.
“I’ll be right back,” the rapper said softly, gently brushing the tears from the leader’s cheek with the tips of her fingers. It was a small gesture,but it meant everything to Rumi. Zoey had always shown affection through touch, and that, at least, didn’t seem to have changed between them.
Alone, she finally allowed herself to cry — not the quiet, controlled tears she’d held back until now, but the kind that came with trembling shoulders and a heaviness that sank into the room. Slowly, Rumi stood and made her way to the sink. She gripped the edge of the counter, drawing in a shaky breath before daring to lift her eyes to the mirror.
The reflection staring back at her was bruised by exhaustion, touched by fever, but somehow… still familiar. She looked wrecked, yes, but not unrecognizable. Despite everything, she was still herself. Still Rumi.
And then she saw it.
A soft neon shimmer pulsed across the mark on her cheek, glowing differently than the others. It was exactly where Zoey had touched her, as if her body, in ways her mind hadn’t yet caught up to, had answered that touch.
A silent confession written in light.
A feeling she had taken so long to understand.
☾ ⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・
Zoey caught up to Mira in the hallway. She didn’t think, just wrapped her arms around her from behind, pressing her face into Mira’s back as if trying to disappear into the warmth there.
Mira didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached up and gripped Zoey’s hands tightly, like someone anchoring themselves to the only thing keeping them steady.
“Please… don’t leave me alone again,” Zoey whispered, her voice soft, pleading, a little broken. “This is something we have to face together.”
“I’m sorry…” Mira didn’t answer right away, she paused, searching for something that might make sense even to herself. Her voice came out so raw, so heavy with hurt, that Zoey instinctively tightened her hold, as if her arms alone could keep Mira from slipping away. “I can’t,” she finally said. “Not right now. I just… I need time.”
Zoey was carrying her own ghosts.The Gwin-Ma’s influence still lingered in her mind like smoke, curling around her thoughts, feeding every insecurity she thought she had buried. She felt like she had to be the bridge, the thread holding what remained of them together But the fear whispered constantly that she wasn’t strong enough, that no matter how much she tried, it might not be enough to keep them from falling apart.
“Rumi needs us.” Zoey said, her voice low and trembling. She didn’t even know where she was finding the strength to keep standing.
Mira pulled away from the embrace with a sharp movement, as if the words had struck something deep inside her, a place she had been trying so hard to guard.
“She lied to us!” Mira burst out, her voice too loud, too sharp, and Zoey flinched at the sudden shift in tone. She feared Rumi might hear them.
“All these years!” the dancer went on, her voice cracking as fresh tears spilled down her face, tears she no longer bothered to hide. “I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t, and it’s driving me insane!”
The moment the words left her mouth, Mira realized how much she’d let her emotions slip. Ashamed, she shrank back into herself, her outburst leaving an echo in the hallway. Zoey said nothing. She simply turned and made her way toward the living room, the soft sound of Mira’s hesitant footsteps trailing behind her.
The sun had fully risen, casting the apartment in a soft golden glow that brought with it a strange sense of comfort, almost warmth. The rapper walked over to the window and stopped there, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The new colors of the honmoon stretched across the city, shimmering softly even in the brightness of day. Zoey smiled as she realized how perfectly they matched the patterns on Rumi’s skin. She had to admit, she’d spent a while just watching the way they glowed against the leader’s body as she slept in her lap on the way back to the apartment.
Zoey closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself.
If they kept feeding into the anger, all they’d do was hurt each other even more. And if it came to that… then she would have failed them. Again.
“I know you feel betrayed because of the lie… I felt the same way when we found out.” Zoey began to speak with her eyes still closed. She knew that if she opened them, the tears would spill over. “But it’s not just us who’ll have to forgive her. Rumi is going to have to forgive us , too.”
She took a deep breath. Her throat was tight, the words catching halfway,
but with each one that left her lips, the knot inside her chest loosened.
“We pointed our weapons at her, Mira. At our Rumi . In the worst possible moment.” Zoey had always been too empathetic, and now that her thoughts were finally settling, she was able to step into Rumi’s place and see the meaning behind everything she had done. “And even if we understand now that she was never the enemy… We treated her like one.”
“We were trying to protect ourselves,” Mira interrupted. It wasn't an excuse, just something she told herself, over and over, hoping it might soften the truth.
Because what consumed her was that she had been ready to end Rumi if it came to that.
“And wasn’t she also just trying to protect herself when she lied to us?!” Zoey shouted, turning to face her girlfriend.
Mira was already seated on the couch, her body folded in on itself; elbows braced on her knees, face buried deep in her hands. She looked like she was trying to disappear inside her own silence.
“No one walks away from this clean,” Zoey continued, her voice sharper now, shaking with the weight of it. “She’s not innocent. Neither are we.”
When no response came, Zoey stepped closer and knelt quietly in front of Mira. She reached out, carefully taking the dancer’s hands in hers, holding them like something fragile.
“Forgiveness has to come from both sides… otherwise, it won’t last.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
“I still can’t,” Mira admitted after a long pause. “I can handle everything with the band for now… that feels easier than facing Rumi right now.” She closed her eyes and let out a quiet sniffle. There were no more tears, only the emptiness they had left behind.
Zoey lifted a hand and touched her face with the lightest brush of her fingers, tracing a slow, tender path along her cheek like she was trying to ease the ache beneath the surface. She wished, more than anything, that she could take the pain from Mira, but she knew that kind of healing could only come if the three of them faced it together.
“I love her so much…” Mira whispered, like she was still trying to understand the weight of her own heart.
“And I love both of you.” Zoey replied, gently cupping the dancer’s face in her hands. Her eyes searched Mira’s, quietly asking for permission, waiting for a sign that it was okay to move closer.
Mira gave a small nod and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was soft and delicate. Zoey could taste the salt of her tears, but she didn’t pull away. She needed that moment more than anything.
The relationship between Mira and Zoey was still new.
And maybe that’s why everything felt so much more intense now.
The desire among the three of them had always been there, lingering in glances that lasted too long, in touches that stayed just a little longer than they should. But it was during the production of Takedown , when Rumi was gone more often than she was there, that the balance between them quietly began to change.
Zoey had been so immersed in the lyrics that she asked Mira to help with the beat, and what started as a simple request soon turned into long nights spent side by side in the studio, their focus drifting between melodies and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. They had collaborated countless times before, rehearsals, recordings, choreographies, it wasn’t new.
But that song…
That one felt different.
One night, while Rumi was gone again, they ended up going out for drinks, just the two of them. They needed to escape, even if only for a little while. Everything was happening all at once: the honmoon had to be restored, the song never felt quite right, the SajaBoys, the demons… and Rumi, who felt like a stranger wearing the body of someone they used to love.
From that day on, they began slipping quietly into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. In the end, Rumi wasn’t the only one in the group carrying a secret close to her chest.
“You’re not alone, okay?” Mira whispered when the kiss ended, her voice quiet but certain, like she needed to say it out loud just as much as Zoey needed to hear it. As she pulled back, her eyes drifted briefly toward the kitchen. “I’ll make breakfast for you two,” she added, trying to sound light, composed. “After that… I’ll stay in my room.”
Zoey nodded, quietly agreeing to the plan. She already understood that maybe this was her role now. Not to fix everything, not to force what wasn’t ready,
But to become a bridge between the two of them.
A quiet connection, steady, patient.
Something built separately.
☾ ⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・
Eventually, Rumi found just enough strength to step into the shower. The fever medication seemed to be working, and though her body still ached, her mind was finally beginning to clear.
She didn’t know if creating the new honmoon had drained every last drop of energy from her, or if it was the demon blood in her veins manifesting something new. All she knew was that she had never felt this kind of exhaustion before.
Not even close.
Zoey stepped into the room without knocking. She had changed out of her stage clothes into a pair of loose plaid pajama pants and an oversized black T-shirt speckled with tiny pink stars. Rumi recognized it immediately — it was one of Mira’s favorites. Her hair was loose, still damp, dripping slightly onto the collar of her shirt, and the soft scent of soap lingered in the air as she passed, trailing quiet comfort behind her like a breeze.
“Sorry it took me so long…” Zoey said as she stepped closer, her voice softer now, and steadier. The shower seemed to have breathed some life back into her. She sat down on the bed beside Rumi, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees to her chest, unconsciously mirroring the way the leader was sitting. “I couldn’t stand wearing those clothes a second longer.”
“How is she?” Rumi asked, glancing briefly at Zoey. The space between them felt... familiar. Too familiar. Like an echo of something they used to be, now performed on autopilot. It was like they were reenacting a memory of comfort,
rather than actually living it.
“Tired. I think we all are, huh?” Zoey replied softly, her gaze lowering until it settled on Rumi’s hands. Only then did she notice the delicate bracelet made of colored threads and the way Rumi was tying small, uneven knots into it, over and over again. “Mira made breakfast, in case you’re hungry.”
Rumi just nodded. She was starving, but decided to leave the meal for later. Something told her that there was a conversation lingering between them. One that hadn’t happened yet, but needed to.
“Do you want to ask me something?” Rumi said, finally breaking the silence.
She set the little bracelet aside, then turned fully to face Zoey, her expression open, steady.
The question seemed to catch Zoey off guard. She blinked, hesitated for half a second, then glanced down and motioned toward the bracelet with a small tilt of her chin.
“Was it Jinu’s?”
Rumi let out a short laugh — soft, almost relieved.
“So many things you could ask… and that’s the one you go with?” the leader teased, shaking her head with a half-smile. She leaned in, nudging Zoey’s shoulder playfully with her own, a gentle push, just enough to break the tension without breaking the moment.
She knew Mira and Zoey had always carried a hint of jealousy when it came to her friendship with Jinu. He had been a genuinely good friend and Rumi didn’t have many people outside their tight circle. There was Bobby, Celine… and her girls. That was it.
Jinu had tried, once or twice, to blur the lines between them. Flirtations that came with soft smiles and lingering pauses, but Rumi could never give him what he wanted. Her heart had long since chosen its place.
Still, the leader had never been with anyone — and it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. The desire had always been there, lingering beneath the surface, in glances she let last too long, in moments when her hands almost reached but didn’t.
But wanting was never the problem. What held her back was everything that came with it: the exposure, the risk of being seen too closely, and the unbearable weight of dragging someone else into the chaos that lived inside her.
She couldn’t give herself to anyone, not completely, not while her marks remained unresolved. Celine had always reassured her: once the honmoon was sealed, the patterns would fade.
She would become human, free of the curse in her blood. But Rumi had never truly believed it. Because beneath the hope was a fear she could never shake: that instead of being saved, she would be claimed. That her place wasn’t in the world of the living, but among the very demons she was supposed to fight.
“He was the first one who found out about my patterns,” the leader continued, her voice quieter now as her eyes drifted back to the bracelet in her hands. She could feel Zoey watching her, silent, steady, waiting. “Do you remember when my voice started failing during the Golden release?”
“It was the patterns?” Zoey asked immediately, and Rumi nodded.
The rapper remembered that time clearly. It was when Rumi had first started to pull away from them, and when absolutely everything had begun to fall apart.
“They were spreading, and I… I was scared you’d find out.” She paused, trying to untangle her thoughts. The words didn’t come easily.
It wasn’t the direct answer to Zoey’s first question, but Rumi could see all the other questions lingering in her eyes.
And the leader was done hiding. If they were going to talk about this, it had to be from the beginning.
“My father was a demon,” she said, closing her eyes as the words left her, the truth landing heavy in the silence between them. “I was born this way.”
Rumi waited for a response from Zoey that never came. Her fingers tightened around the bracelet. Jinu had helped her come to terms with her origin. And now, she needed that same kind of support to keep going.
“That’s why I stopped wearing short sleeves… The marks grew over the years.” She hesitated. “I tried to tell you before, but Celine wouldn’t let me.” Rumi opened her eyes and turned to Zoey, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “And please, don’t blame her for that. She was just as scared as we were.”
“We could’ve helped you,” Zoey said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to take in the weight of everything Rumi had just told her. Her heart ached at the thought of all the years Rumi had spent carrying that fear alone. Hiding, hurting, surviving in silence. She had hunted and killed creatures just like her father…
“I know you would have,” Rumi replied with a faint, sad smile, her fingers returning to the bracelet, tying a few more slow, absentminded knots. “Jinu found out that day, during the fight… in the bathhouse.”
She paused. The memory was still vivid, like it had happened just yesterday.
“We started talking, and at first, I thought he was going to blackmail me. But he didn’t. He just… wanted to understand. And that’s why I felt safe with him.”
Rumi noticed the way Zoey’s eyes narrowed. The rapper never could hide her displeasure when she heard something she didn’t like.
“My mom was a hunter too… And she fell in love with a demon. So I started to realize they couldn’t all be evil.” She paused, then added, “That gave me the courage to talk to him. And all of it… helped me accept this part of myself.”
It was a simple confession, but the silence that followed made the weight of it impossible to ignore.
“I get it,” Zoey tried to say, but her voice caught slightly on the way out.
Rumi felt her stomach tighten instantly. It was like she had brushed against a wound that hadn’t finished healing.
“But… I can’t help being upset.” Zoey continued, her eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.
She drew in a slow, shaky breath, the kind that tried to hold back a thousand things she didn’t have the strength to say.
“You trusted a complete stranger, Rumi. And that could’ve cost you your life.” Her voice softened, losing any trace of accusation. It wasn’t anger, just a truth too heavy to carry alone. “You could’ve trusted us… You could’ve trusted me .”
Rumi didn’t answer right away. Her fingers moved again over the bracelet, but the knots were uneven now, her hands trembling more with each pass of the thread.
“I know,” she whispered finally, eyes falling shut as if the words cost her something to say. “And I’m sorry.”
Rejection.
That’s what she was expecting, the same as before. And now, with the truth laid bare, it felt even more inevitable. The tears didn’t fall, but the ache sat heavy in her throat, thick and unmoving.
Rumi flinched slightly when Zoey reached out and took her hand. The touch cut through the noise in her head, pulling her back. Her fingers stilled over the bracelet, only then did she notice how hard she’d been pulling the threads, twisting them with too much force.
She raised her eyes slowly, uncertain, and met Zoey’s gaze. There was pain there, deep and honest, but also something softer. Something steady. And despite everything she feared, there, in Zoey’s eyes, was forgiveness.
Zoey gave a small, melancholic smile. She brought Rumi’s left hand to her lips and, with her eyes closed, pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles. She didn’t see it, but Rumi did. The marks on her hand shimmered faintly at the touch.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, saying nothing, their hands still gently intertwined. Zoey’s kiss still lingered, warm and quiet, burning softly against Rumi’s skin. And for a moment, she didn’t know how to move forward, how to carry the conversation from there.
“I’ll go get breakfast,” the rapper said, letting go of Rumi’s hand gently.
Rumi wanted to ask her to stay just a little longer but the hunger was starting to press at the edges of her awareness. And stepping out of the room meant one thing: the chance of running into Mira. She wasn’t ready for that. Not after the bathroom. Not with her heart still aching.
They were all too tired.
That conversation would have to wait.
Once she was alone, Rumi leaned back against the headboard, her eyes drifting between the colorful threads of the bracelet and the glowing patterns on her arm. The way her patterns had reacted to Zoey’s touch… it unsettled her. Because now, hiding what she felt would be even harder. She let out a long, weary sigh.
It felt like she had just stepped out of one secret, only to fall straight into another.
When Zoey returned, her energy had settled back into that warm, familiar softness, the one she carried so naturally before the conversation. She held a simple tray in her hands, but it had clearly been prepared with care: rice cakes, fried eggs with soft, runny yolks, and two glasses of iced green tea. Rumi smiled when she saw her, surprised by how comforting the gesture felt, how familiar it was. Zoey had always cared for them through touch, while Mira showed her love through acts of service.
And that breakfast…
That was Mira’s way of being present, even from afar. It was Rumi’s favorite.
The silence now was comfortable. And for the first time in a long while, the space they shared felt natural again. Almost like it used to.
With her stomach full and her body finally allowed to relax, Rumi drifted off quickly. Sleep came fast, pulling her under before she had the chance to resist. She could feel Zoey moving restlessly beside her — the rapper had always taken longer to quiet her mind. And though Rumi slept… she did not rest.
☾ ⋆*・ﾟ:⋆*・
Rumi woke with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she scrambled upright, hands clutching at the sheets like they might anchor her to reality. Her heart pounded loud in her ears, and for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The sudden movements stirred Zoey, who blinked awake, disoriented at first. The bedroom was cloaked in soft, fading light. The sun was setting, they had slept through the day.
“Shhh… it’s okay,” Zoey whispered gently, her voice low and warm, like a thread hanging Rumi back to the present, while reaching out to pull the leader into a hug.
But the moment her hand touched Rumi’s arm, the leader flinched, her body recoiling instinctively. Zoey froze, immediately pulling back.
It wasn’t her fault.
And Rumi knew that. She knew. But her body still reacted, a reflex burned into her by the nightmare that had once been real. Memories from the Takedown performance still haunted her: the demons wearing her girls’ faces, their hands ripping her clothes away, the violation, the exposure… That vision hadn’t left her. Not in her dreams, not even when her eyes were wide open.
“Can I hold you?” Zoey asked, unsure of what to do, but needing to offer something.
Rumi nodded. And this time, she let the rapper guide her back down into the pillows, allowing herself to be gathered into her arms.
She took a deep breath, lungs aching from the tension, and let the comfort of Zoey’s presence begin to settle over her. Her right hand moved gently across her back in slow, steady strokes, while her left traced a soft rhythm from shoulder to elbow, a quiet, calming motion, almost like a dance.
Rumi wrapped her arms around Zoey’s waist and allowed herself, for the first time in a long while, to simply… let go. When she opened her eyes, Rumi saw what she already expected: The patterns on her arm shimmered softly wherever Zoey’s fingers touched, glowing with a faint, pulsing light, like her body was breathing through her skin. The intensity wasn’t the same as before, gentler now, more subdued, a quiet sign that her body was beginning to grow used to Zoey’s touch.
“Are you feeling better?” Zoey asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Rumi’s forehead.
She let out a soft breath and nodded.
“A little,” she answered, offering a small, tired smile. She never would’ve imagined they’d come this far, this quickly, not after everything.
And yet, here they were. The warmth between them felt familiar, almost like nothing had changed. Almost.
But deep inside, something still ached. A hollow space that comfort couldn’t quite reach.
“You have this… Calming effect on me,” she said quietly, her voice laced with gratitude. Zoey smiled, resting her chin softly on top of Rumi’s head.
“Do you want me to stay here tonight?”
“Yes. Please,” Rumi answered almost instantly, her voice quiet, and buried her face into Zoey’s shoulder without hesitation. The T-shirt Zoey was wearing had absorbed both their scents, but beneath it all, Rumi could still catch a faint trace of Mira’s perfume. Subtle, but there.
It was Mira who was missing, the piece that hadn’t returned yet, the one that still left a quiet ache in her chest. So many times they had all fallen asleep together in that same bed, Rumi curled up in the middle, pressed between them. They used to fight for space, steal each other’s pillows, complain about tangled limbs and blanket theft, but none of them ever wanted to leave.
And now, more than anything, Rumi longed to have that back.
☾ ⋆*・:⋆*・
Rumi wasn’t the only one haunted by nightmares, Mira had been facing hers too, just… alone. Three days had passed since the battle, and the dancer felt more drained than ever.
She and her girlfriend had finally carved out a quiet moment for themselves, curled up together on their beloved couch in the living room. Zoey was laughing at an episode of some animated series, completely absorbed, light and carefree in that way only she could be. But Mira wasn’t really watching. She was just letting herself breathe, leaning into the comfort of Zoey’s warmth, her attention focused more on the shape of her smile than anything happening on the screen.
Rumi had become deeply dependent on Zoey’s presence and Mira knew it. She could see how her girlfriend was stretching herself thin, pouring attention and care into both of them, juggling two fragile hearts at once without complaining. But what the dancer hadn’t expected was how torturous the silence had become. The time spent alone with her own thoughts, the hours when Zoey’s arms weren’t around her, felt heavier than she was ready to admit.
From a very young age, Mira had learned to value her own company. That’s how it had always been in her parents’ house, no one to help her, no one to lean on. So she figured things out on her own. She had to, and by the time her parents and brother tried to rebuild that sense of family…
It was already too late. She didn’t need them anymore.
But now she needed someone, she needed Zoey. So she inched closer, tucking herself deeper into the warmth beside her girlfriend, who was tracing gentle patterns on her thigh with the tips of her fingers.
Rumi was up on the terrace, where the private dance studio was located, having a one-on-one conversation with Celine.
Her adoptive mother had shown up unannounced. Rumi hadn’t wanted to talk, not at all, but after a lot of insistence, she finally gave in. Mira understood better than anyone what it meant to have complicated feelings about a mother figure. And Celine… Celine gave Mira chills.
“So…” Zoey began, glancing over just as the episode ended, “What do we do about Takedown?”
She had no idea, but over the past few days, Mira had been combing through social media. Reporting and taking down every single video she could find of the performance, the one where those damn demons had exposed Rumi.
“I wiped the demo from our computers, just to make sure there’s no chance of a leak.” Mira said calmly, choosing not to mention the hours she’d spent flagging videos and filing takedowns.
It was the only way she knew how to keep taking care of Rumi from a distance, quietly. But if she said it out loud, she knew Zoey might read too much into it.
“I saved a version on a flash drive,” she added, reaching for it. “I wanted to decide with you what we’re going to do.”
“This song took so much out of us…” Zoey began.
“And it was the one that made us real.” Mira added carefully, choosing her words with intention. She didn’t want to just delete the file and pretend it had never existed, because for them, it had meant something.
But for Rumi…
“She hated that song,” Zoey finished for her. “And honestly… there’s so much anger… It doesn’t feel like us anymore.”
“I think we should let her decide,” Mira concluded.
It felt like the right call, and Zoey nodded in quiet agreement.
“Are you going to talk to her?” the rapper asked after a stretch of silence, turning to Mira with eyes bright with hope.
“Today?!” Mira shot back, incredulous. She hadn’t even begun to prepare herself for that kind of conversation. “Give the girl a break. I don’t think she can handle facing both me and Celine on the same day.”
Zoey narrowed her eyes. She hated when Mira dodged serious topics with those little jokes and Mira knew it. Deep down, she also knew she was just delaying the inevitable. They lived together, after all. How much longer could they keep playing this game of cat and mouse, avoiding each other in the hallways, retreating into different rooms the moment one of them walked in?
Mira wasn’t ready.
She could feel it, the wounds were still too raw, too present to pretend they didn’t hurt. But the longing for Rumi… That was starting to hurt too. And it was getting harder to ignore.
And then there was Zoey’s exhaustion, the quiet kind, the kind that settled in her shoulders and behind her eyes. She was doing everything she could to hold them both up, trying to keep her balance on a tightrope that never stopped swaying.
“I’ll try,” Mira said at last, and the words were enough to pull a wide smile from Zoey, followed by a few soft giggles she couldn’t quite hold back.
Without hesitation, Zoey leaned in and kissed her. A kiss that tasted like celebration, like a breath of hope. Mira was completely addicted to the sweet flavor of those lips. Without thinking, she pulled Zoey closer, needing more. The rapper straddled her lap, wrapping her legs around Mira’s waist. Without breaking the kiss, she tangled her fingers in Mira’s hair, pulling her in deeper, pressing their bodies together until there was barely space left to breathe.
A sigh escaped them both.
Mira loved Zoey. She had known that for years. Zoey was her refuge, the calm in the middle of every storm. But even then, deep in her chest, there was an ache in the space that belonged to Rumi. And that love… That one was real too. Different. Louder.
More chaotic.
Her two loves balanced each other in a way that made impossible sense, and now, more than ever, Mira knew: she needed both of them to feel whole.
In that moment, with Zoey in her arms and Rumi still lingering in her thoughts, Mira was certain of one thing: She needed to stop running. Giving in wasn't a weakness. Her instinct to pull away every time things got hard…It only ever led to more pain. For her. For them.
The sound of the front door opening cut their kiss in half. Zoey scrambled off Mira’s lap in a hurry, nearly tripping as she tried to put some distance between them, while the dancer took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing.
Without saying a word, Zoey gave her a subtle gesture, a quick flick of her fingers toward Mira’s hair, and then flopped onto the couch with as much casualness as she could fake.
Rumi walked in without Celine. She was trying to keep her composure, but the way she shut the door made it clear: she was angry.
“We saved the planet, built a better honmoon, and all I get in return is a lecture.” Rumi muttered, letting herself fall into the armchair beside the couch.
Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance. It was the first real attempt at closeness from Rumi, and even if her words sounded bitter, they both recognized it for what it was. The leader kept her gaze down, her elbows on her knees, head cradled in her hands. Mira’s eyes moved over her: the long sleeves pulled all the way to her wrists, the gloves that didn’t quite match the outfit, the flawless makeup carefully layered across her face.
Too careful. Too deliberate.
She knew, instantly, Rumi had tried to hide every mark on her body. The dancer drew in a slow breath and rose to her feet, feeling Zoey’s gaze linger on her like a silent question.
She walked a few steps toward the hallway, hesitating only when she reached the edge of the room. Then, with a quiet shift in direction, she stopped, just beside the armchair where Rumi sat, still folded in on herself.
“With us… You don’t have to hide anymore.” Mira’s voice was soft, almost tender.
Rumi didn’t lift her head, but Mira noticed the subtle shift in her shoulders, the smallest movement, like the sentence had touched a place still too raw to name.
The dancer lingered for a second longer, then turned to Zoey with a silent apology in her eyes, for still not being strong enough to give Rumi the conversation she promised.
Then she left, no more words. Just the soft sound of her footsteps disappearing down the hall, carrying the weight of everything that hadn’t been said.
☾ ⋆*・:⋆*・
Mira was sprawled on Zoey’s bed, quietly watching as her girlfriend got ready to go out. It was the opening of a new bar with a skate ramp, an event Zoey had promised to attend long before everything had happened. And, to Mira’s surprise, it had been Rumi who convinced her to go anyway.
The dancer had wanted to go too, more for the company than the event itself, but Zoey didn’t want to leave the leader alone. It was only a few hours, but still… Mira could sense there was something behind Zoey’s hesitation, something unspoken, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.
Her girlfriend was wearing loose pants and a hoodie from Huntrix’s last tour, a piece of merch she had designed herself, with that signature blend of sporty edge and effortless cool.
Mira couldn’t take her eyes off her.
There was something in the way the hoodie hung loose off one shoulder, the relaxed rhythm of her walk, the way her hair fell slightly out of place, not styled, not intentional, just… Zoey. She wasn’t even trying, and still she had Mira’s heart tripping over itself with every glance.
“You two gonna be okay?” Zoey asked as she finished getting dressed, holding up two pairs of sneakers, one in each hand.
Mira nodded silently and pointed to the pink pair with a faint smile. Zoey smiled back, a quiet look of understanding passing between them. Her girlfriend always picked the best outfits and she knew it.
“I’ll be back before you even get the chance to miss me,” Zoey promised, stepping closer to Mira.
She leaned in and began leaving kisses across her girlfriend’s face, one on each cheek, one on the tip of her nose, another at the edge of her chin. A trail of affection, as if she were memorizing her one last time before stepping away.
She paused, just for a breath, sparkling eyes meeting Mira’s, and for a second, neither of them moved. Then Zoey kissed her, a kiss that started gentle, a press of warmth and softness, but deepened quickly into something slow and full of need. The kind that made Mira lean in without thinking.
Zoey’s hand slid up, fingers curling behind her neck, pulling with just the right amount of pressure, not demanding, just grounding. When they finally broke apart, breath mingling between them, they both smiled because in that moment, they didn’t need to say anything else.
They had exchanged countless “I love you” with nothing but a look, quiet confessions passed in silence, woven into lingering eye contact and the way their expressions softened just for each other. That small ritual of holding each other’s gaze for a few seconds, saying everything without a word, had become a habit they’d never quite break.
Zoey seemed a little out of it as she stood, her thoughts still trailing behind even as her body moved. She walked toward the door with a casual slowness, grabbing her phone from the dresser along the way. Just before stepping out, she turned her head for one last glance, and there Mira was, still lying on the bed, her eyes following Zoey with a quiet kind of warmth.
“Hey… Aren’t you forgetting something?” the dancer asked in a casual tone, raising an eyebrow. Zoey tilted her head, genuinely confused for a second.
“Do you want another kiss?”
“Not that I’d say no to that, but…” Mira replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she nodded toward the corner of the room with her chin. The skateboard was still propped up against the wall, completely forgotten. “Sorry for the distraction,” she added, voice sweet, but laced with just enough irony to make Zoey roll her eyes and grin.
Zoey shook her head, laughing under her breath as she tried, and failed, to hide the flush rising to her cheeks. She grabbed the skateboard, still smiling, her eyes distant, like a part of her hadn’t quite come back down to earth yet.
When she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?” she said, the hesitation in her voice giving her away. “I just… I don’t like leaving you two alone.”
“It’s going to be fine… If I need, I’ll call you,” the dancer said with a faint smile, doing her best to sound calm, to give Zoey enough peace of mind to actually leave.
Zoey nodded one last time, then closed the door behind her with a soft click.
And then came the silence.The apartment always felt emptier when Zoey was gone.
Still in her girlfriend’s room, Mira was lying on the bed, lazily scrolling through social media with one hand, though her attention drifted often. She loved being in that space, loved how every inch of it felt like Zoey.
The posters lining the walls were a mix of musicians from all over the world, some vintage, some new, arranged with no real pattern, but somehow making sense. Stickers were scattered across the furniture, clinging to drawers, the mirror, the edge of the nightstand. Chaotic, mismatched, and entirely her. In one corner, the guitar leaned casually against the wall, right beside the skateboard she almost forgot on her way out. Every detail felt lived-in.
But what she loved most was the wall dedicated to them, a carefully assembled collage of photos featuring the three of them: Zoey, Mira, and Rumi, caught in spontaneous, unguarded moments. Laughter mid-burst, arms thrown around each other, heads tilted together. They weren’t the polished pictures fans were used to. These were theirs.
Private. Messy. Real.
A quiet archive of a life they had built together, and that still existed, even if cracked around the edges. Every time Mira looked at that wall, something tugged at her chest. A dull, persistent ache that lived somewhere between memory and longing. The kind that made her want to reach out and touch the past.
To shake off the feeling that had started to sting beneath her ribs, Mira made her way to the kitchen. Cooking had always been her form of comfort, not just for herself, but for them. It was something she liked to take care of, something that made her feel useful.
Mira didn’t need words of appreciation, she didn’t do it to be noticed, she did it because it mattered. Because putting care into small, ordinary things was how she held them close, even in silence. It was her quiet way of loving, unspoken, but always present.
In the kitchen, everything felt a little quieter. The noise in her head softened, and her thoughts, usually tangled, began to line up in a slow, steady rhythm: chop, season, stir, wait. One small task after another. Nothing rushed. It was one of the few places where her mind knew how to breathe. Where things made sense. Where she could find, even if just for a while, a kind of peace that didn’t ask for much.
“Do you need help?” Rumi’s voice broke the quiet, and Mira jumped slightly.
She’d been so focused on what she was doing that she hadn’t even noticed Rumi coming closer. She turned toward the voice, and for a second, it felt like the air caught in her throat.
Rumi wasn’t hiding anymore.
She was dressed in soft black sweatpants and a simple white tank top, the kind that left most of her skin exposed, unguarded. The marks across her body were visible now, glowing faintly in the kitchen light, no longer tucked beneath layers of fabric. Her hair was no longer in the usual braid. Instead, she’d pulled it up into a messy bun, loose strands falling around her face in quiet waves.
Mira had always loved when Rumi wore her hair like that, undone, a little wild, like something honest was finally showing through.
The dancer lowered her gaze for a moment, quietly tracing the violet tones branching across Rumi’s skin like lightning, impossible to ignore.
Zoey had been right. Rumi looked so damn beautiful with those patterns.
“Just about finished…” Mira replied once she managed to steady herself. “Can you set the table?”
“Tteokbokki?” Rumi asked, peeking over the stove, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, almost shy.
For the first time in days, Mira was able to meet her gaze directly. And it hit harder than she expected. Rumi looked exhausted, not just physically, but in a way that sat deep beneath her skin. There was something heavy in her expression, in the way her shoulders curved inward, and her eyes… They were swollen around the edges, as if the tears hadn’t dried all that long ago.
She had cried. Mira didn’t need to ask because she could see it, and she felt it, too, like a bruise in her own chest.
“Extra spicy, just the way you like it,” Mira said, matching Rumi’s smile with one of her own.
As Rumi moved around the kitchen setting the table, Mira found herself remembering, this was one of the dishes she had taught Rumi how to make, back when the leader had decided she wanted to learn how to cook. Some of the attempts had been complete disasters. Others… had genuinely surprised her.
She felt the memory rise to the surface, pressing gently against her chest, but she didn’t say anything. Not now. Instead, she went back to stirring the pan, letting the warmth of the moment stay intact.
They ate together in silence, but to Mira’s surprise, it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something steady about it, something familiar. The kind of quiet that didn’t demand explanation. Like their bodies already remembered how to share space, even when the words hadn’t caught up yet.
Mira could feel the leader holding something back, the way her gaze lingered just a second longer than usual. And as they began clearing the table, Rumi finally let it out, her voice quiet but firm, like the words had been waiting their turn all evening.
“Does it not bother you… seeing the patterns on me?” Her voice was low, but there was no hesitation in it, just something close to fear beneath the surface.
Mira closed her eyes for a moment, she wasn’t used to this version of Rumi, stripped down, so direct it almost hurt, but she understood why. Everything was raw for her right now, and truth be told, it was raw for Mira too.
“They’re part of you, aren’t they?” she finally said, her voice quieter now, careful. Like she was trying to find the right shape for something she didn’t fully know how to carry. “I don’t really have a choice… except to get used to them.”
Mira kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds. Because as stunning as Rumi looked with them, those patterns were a reminder. Of what they had gone through. Of what it had taken from them. She inhaled slowly, letting the air settle in her lungs before speaking.
“I just still feel afraid…” There was a pause, not for dramatic effect, but because the rest of the sentence was hard to say out loud. “Afraid of what those patterns represent.”
She didn’t look at Rumi when she said it, she didn’t think she could. The words dropped like a stone, and the leader felt every ounce of it.
“You think I haven’t been afraid this whole time?” she shot back, her voice uneven, not sharp but heavy, trembling at the edges. There was more than anger in her tone, there was pain. The kind that had been sitting just under the surface, waiting for a crack to spill through.
Mira stood frozen by the kitchen counter, her hands resting on the edge, as if the cold surface could somehow ground her. She could feel Rumi’s gaze at her back, intense, and impossible to ignore. That wasn’t the answer Rumi had been expecting. And yet, it was the only one she had been able to give.
The truth was, Mira wasn’t Zoey.
She didn’t know how to turn emotions into poetry, didn’t have the instinct to lace pain with beauty and make it easier to hold. Zoey could fill the silence with something tender, something healing. Mira, on the other hand, only knew how to feel things too much and say them too little. Her thoughts were never still, everything inside her felt too loud, too chaotic, and when she tried to give it shape, the words stumbled out crooked. Never quite what she meant.
“You were afraid, I know,” Rumi’s voice trembled despite her best effort to keep it steady.
Mira turned to face her, and that’s when she noticed it: the violet patterns across Rumi’s skin had shifted. What had once been soft and faint, now glowed in a vivid magenta, alive and unmistakable, pulsing with everything Rumi was holding back.
“But you don’t know what it felt like,” the leader went on, her words gaining weight. “To see that fear in your eyes… like I was just another monster. Like everything we had, everything we were, meant nothing.”
“I only pointed my glaive at you because I was protecting Zoey!” Mira said, her voice not cold, but certain. This time, there was no hesitation. Because it was the truth. And saying it out loud hurt more than she expected.
That had been the only reason. The only thing strong enough to make her raise a weapon against Rumi.
Never for herself. She would rather die than hurt her.
But she would never, ever, let Rumi hurt Zoey.
“Protecting Zoey…” Rumi echoed, the words slow, almost hollow, like she needed to say them out loud just to believe, her jaw tight, her eyes fixed on Mira, trying to see the dancer through the anger. “As if I were the danger.”
“Rumi, try to see it from my side…”
But Rumi just walked away, her back rigid as she headed toward the living room. And Mira, caught in that moment between guilt and helplessness, had no choice but to follow.
The air shifted around them as they moved, like something invisible was vibrating beneath the surface of the apartment. The lights above flickered, once, then again, their glow pulsing faintly, syncing with the storm Mira knew was building inside Rumi.
It was subtle, but unmistakable. Her emotions were leaking out, brushing the edges of reality, warping it ever so slightly, like her presence alone could bend the room. And Mira felt it in her chest, in the tightening of her breath, in the way her footsteps slowed without meaning to.
The space between them had never felt this close, nor this far.
Mira instinctively shifted into a more guarded stance. There was a flicker of fear in her chest, not of Rumi herself, but of what might happen if she lost control. This was the same woman who had summoned the power to rebuild an entire honmoon from scratch. If she chose to, she could just as easily destroy everything in her path.
“You thought I was going to hurt her,” Rumi said, her voice cracking as the first tears began to fall. Her gaze now trembled with anguish. “You thought I was going to hurt both of you!”
“Rumi, listen to yourself!” Mira snapped, her voice breaking into a shout before she even realized. “You think I wanted any of this? I didn’t know what you were… I was just trying to protect everyone, trying to hold things together when everything was falling apart!”
Rumi flinched like the words themselves had struck her. Her lips parted, but her breath caught in her throat. Her voice came out shaky, almost inaudible, but full of hurt.
“But you weren’t trying to protect me , were you?” She could barely hold herself together as tears welled up in her eyes. “You looked at me... and you saw something dangerous. You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”
“You pushed me away first!” Mira shouted, the words spilling out before she could hold them back.
Somehow, they had ended up standing only inches apart, drawn to each other not by warmth, but by the storm brewing between them. Their eyes were locked, neither one backing down, each glare fueled by weeks of pain and silence. It was like they were finally saying everything they’d swallowed for too long, letting their rage speak through gritted teeth.
Mira felt the shift in the air then, Rumi’s power stirring again. It was different now: thicker, more unstable, like it couldn’t decide whether to lash out or to collapse in on itself. But this time, Mira didn’t back away. She stood her ground, fists clenched at her sides. “I tried to reach you,” she said, breath quivering and voice rough with emotion. “Again and again. I begged you to let me in… And every time, you shut me out. You shoved me away like… Like I wasn’t enough .”
“And aren’t you doing the same thing right now? ” Rumi snapped, her voice erupting louder than intended.
But something was wrong. The sound that came out of her wasn’t entirely her own. It carried a distortion, a deep and unnatural echo that rippled through the air like a warning. It hit Mira like a punch to the gut.
Because that voice… it sounded just like them .
The demons.
Not the ones they fought out in the open, but the ones Mira had battled in silence, the ones that crept into her mind when no one was watching, that whispered in the dark when she was too exhausted to resist.
And now, that same voice was coming from Rumi… The person she had once believed was her safest place.
“I’m telling everything. Ripping open wounds that haven’t even had the chance to heal,” Rumi continued, each word laced with betrayal, as if only now she was realizing how deep the pain still ran. “Every question Zoey asks me, I answer… Everything. ”
Her voice flickered between something human and something else entirely guttural, a resonance that crawled along the walls of the apartment like an echo of something far larger, far darker, than either of them could see.
The sound reverberated through Mira’s chest, stealing the air from her lungs and making her breath catch mid-sentence. The words hurt, cut deeper than she expected. But even through the pain, she could feel it, something unraveling inside Rumi.
Something slipping further away, and Mira couldn’t let it happen. She had to stop her. Before the voice, the grief, whatever force was bleeding through, became something they couldn’t pull her back from.
“But you hide,” Rumi continued, her voice unraveling, each word more unstable than the last. She pointed a trembling finger straight at Mira’s chest. “You hide from me . You hide from yourself! ”
The lights above them flickered in chaotic bursts, casting sharp shadows that danced across the walls. The air grew dense and hotter, pressing in from all sides like a storm about to break. The floor beneath Mira’s feet began to tremble, the vibration creeping up her legs like a warning.
But that didn't stop her.
She stepped forward, steady even as everything around her shifted. Rumi pulled back instinctively, her body locked in tension, like a wild animal that had been cornered, every muscle tight, ready to flee.
Mira didn’t hesitate. She caught the opening, the slightest shift in Rumi’s stance, and moved in, slipping one arm around her shoulders in a tight hold. It wasn’t an attack; it was an attempt to keep the leader grounded.
They had trained together for too long. Mira could read Rumi’s body like a second language and unfortunately, the feeling was mutual. They had memorized each other’s sequences, each tell, each instinct.
Rumi reacted instantly, her body jerking in resistance, muscles tense and unwilling. The power surrounding her surged — thick, electric — vibrating so intensely that the picture frames on the walls began to tremble against their hooks. The air itself pulsed, heavy and warped, as if the room could barely contain what was building inside her.
She thrashed against Mira’s grip, fighting against it with all the strength she had. But Mira held on.
They crashed into the coffee table, and Mira heard the sharp crack of shattering glass. She stumbled with Rumi, the two of them tumbling together in a tangle of arms, legs, and ragged breaths, before hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Rumi screamed out at the impact and immediately tried to get up, her body reacting on instinct, but the unstable energy surrounding her left her disoriented.
Mira adjusted quickly. She shifted to her knees and, with a fluid motion, swung herself over Rumi’s waist. Her legs tightened around her, not in violence, but in a silent trembling demand to stay .
Strands of Mira’s hair fell over her face, catching the light as she leaned in. She was breathing heavily, and so was Rumi. Her hands found the leader’s wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them into the cold floor. Mira’s grip wasn’t perfect, her fingers were shaking, but she didn’t let go. She couldn’t
The weight of her body pressed down just enough to hold Rumi in place, their chests rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The space between them was scorching and thin, full of rage, fear, and something else.
“I’m here,” Mira managed to say, her voice steady despite the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m not going to hurt you… It’s just me.”
She didn’t know if she was restraining Rumi or holding herself together.
Maybe both.
Rumi froze, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, lips parted as if caught mid-breath. The magenta markings on her skin hadn’t faded, they shimmered faintly, pulsing in steady rhythm like heartbeats.
“You don’t have to fight me,” Mira went on, the words catching slightly. “I’m here… with you.”
Rumi blinked, the glow in her eyes slowly fading, as if whatever force had taken hold of her was beginning to loosen its grip. Her gaze met Mira’s, then flicked down to her mouth, lingering for a breath before returning to her eyes. The silence between them felt fragile, intimate, like something unspoken was about to surface.
It felt like the beginning of something, or the return of something that had been silently waiting.
Then, in an instant, it shattered.
Mira was pulled backward with a violent jerk, the sudden force catching her off guard. She hit the floor with a heavy thud that knocked the breath from her lungs, her body sprawled at Rumi’s feet.
Zoey threw herself between them, dropping to her knees with her arms spread wide in a protective arc, as if sheer instinct could create a barrier strong enough to hold back the energy still vibrating in the room. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving beneath the weight of the moment. The rapper’s eyes moved frantically between Rumi and Mira, back and forth, searching for signs of injury, signs that they were still themselves .
It felt like the room could explode all over again at any second and Zoey was right in the center of it, trying to hold the storm back with nothing but her body.
Only then did Mira and Rumi seem to notice the chaos around them. The living room rug was crumpled and pushed to one side, bunched awkwardly beneath their feet. Picture frames lay scattered across the floor, some face down, others tilted at odd angles, their contents shaken loose inside cracked glass. The coffee table had been knocked over, books strewn across the room, a shattered glass resting in pieces near the couch. Another cup still spun lazily on the hardwood floor, liquid trailing behind it in uneven arcs.
The silence that followed settled like a thick fog, not peaceful, but suffocating, wrapping around the three of them, dense with everything left unsaid. Zoey remained where she was, still kneeling between them, her eyes glassy and wide, flicking from one face to the other, searching for answers neither of them could give.
“The screaming…” she started, but her voice faltered before the rest could come out. She tried to take a deep breath, but the air caught in her chest, coming in painful gasps. “I could hear it… from the elevator,” she said at last, and the words landed heavier than any shout. A sob slipped out before she could stop it. “I thought… I was too late.”
Her legs gave out. She staggered backward, arms limp at her sides, shoulders folding in under the weight pressing down on her. Her eyes stayed wide, shimmering with unshed tears, scanning the room like she was still looking for proof that it was over, that they were safe.
But beneath the fear was something else: a kind of hurt Mira hadn’t seen on her before. It wasn’t just panic, it was disappointment, so deep it ached like a wound.
“You two are acting just like my parents did before the divorce…”
It hurt.
The words cut through Mira like a blade. She’d lost count of how many times her chest had splintered in the past week, how many ways she’d been cracked open. But this one wasn’t like the others. This time, it didn’t come from rage or panic. This time, it broke her in a different place. It was because of Zoey’s raw pain.
Mira stood frozen, as if her body had forgotten how to move, as if even breathing had become something she had to will herself to do.
It was Rumi who moved first.
Quietly, without saying a word, she sat down beside Zoey and wrapped her in a tight embrace, full of the kind of care that knew that words wouldn’t be enough. She held her as if trying to put the pieces back together with nothing but her presence.
The patterns on Rumi’s skin now glowed softly, like a calm sea after the storm. They pulsed slowly, in rhythm with Zoey’s uneven breaths, as if responding to her pain. Mira watched in silence, eyes glassy, her heart sinking deeper into her chest. She didn’t know how to fix any of it, didn’t even know where to start, but in that moment, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she needed to be part of that hug.
She crawled toward them, each movement careful, almost reluctant, as if afraid the moment might break if she got too close. When she finally reached them, she paused just long enough to steady herself, and then she extended her arms and gently wrapped them around both girls, folding herself into the warmth of their presence.
Zoey let out a louder sob the moment she felt Mira’s touch, sharp and involuntary, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed herself deeper between them, tucking her face into the space where their shoulders met, like she wanted to disappear into the safety of their bodies.
It was all that made her feel safe.
And all that, in that moment, still hurt .
Rumi turned her face toward Mira. Her eyes were filled with regret, not just for what she had said, but for everything she hadn’t been able to voice. Mira understood it without needing to hear the words. She knew, because her own eyes were saying the same thing.
The three of them stayed there, holding each other in the middle of the wrecked living room, surrounded by everything that had been knocked out of place. The silence no longer felt dangerous. It was heavy, but it was shared.
The emotional scars were still there, and maybe they always would be. But at that moment, they all seemed ready to lower their guard. To stay, to try again. And maybe, if they held on tight enough, to build something new.
Together.