Chapter Text
Rumi coughs.
She doesn't think it would mean anything.
It shouldn't mean anything.
(Why does it mean so much?)
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She gets off the elevator, too high off adrenaline, too excited to stop for a moment. She needs to keep following the momentum. She releases the new single only moments after returning back to their penthouse. Like stop motion, Rumi can see the process in front of her: shooting a music video for the single, Mira, interviews, Zoey, days flashing by.
The lights are bright overhead and Rumi feels her throat squeeze as she tries to sing the chorus of Golden. The music cuts and Mira and Zoey look at her, concerned. She waves them off. A dizzying heat creeps up her neck as they start again.
Rumi feels her entire lungs and throat squeeze as she reigns it into a small cough. A sinking feeling fills her as she feels something bloom under her ribs.
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Sometimes, when Rumi is alone, she tries to imagine how happy she will be when she is fixed. When the Honmoon is golden and the demons and her shameful heritage are gone from this world. She imagines Mira and Zoey excited to finally relax at the bathhouse together. Touring together. One day retiring as idols and living a quieter life. With them, together. She holds their hands, reaches out to touch a cheek and-
(She tries not to think about the other possibility: the marks not going away. Zoey and Mira leaving. Rejection. Running. Hiding. Dying-)
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Rumi tries to imagine happiness as mockingly delicate petals sit on the counter.
(A few are pink, bright, long, and remind her of Mira. Daisies? The rest are dark blue, short, slightly curled at the edges. Carnation, she recognizes after a moment. There's a delirious pang that strikes her of how entwined she must be that the meanings of such flowers are immediately understood.)
Rumi feels both her shoulders and throat burning as she stands in the low lit dressing room. There is a small bead of blood that she watches, transfixed, dripping from one of the petals to the counter. Fear and confusion fill her as her pulse hammers in her ears. It must be something to do with her heritage. To be coughing up flowers? She cannot think of a time that Celine would have mentioned such a symptom either human or… otherwise.
She unzips her shirt to see her patterns have crawled further up her neck.
There is only one thought that runs through her head as she quickly gathers the few petals and runs out of the building.
'I can't let them see.'
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Rumi runs several blocks at a full tilt just needing to get away. She's fit but after a near ten minutes of pushing at an unrelenting pace, she slows down to a more reasonable clip and eventually spots a roof access stairwell to make her way to the roof. Her thoughts are too jumbled still so she takes a breath and tries to sing the chorus again.
“No more hiding, I'll be shining like I'm born to be…” She feels something shift under her ribs. “Cause we are Hunters, voices strong and I know I believe-”
Her throat throbs and she can feel her pulse heat through the marks on her arms. Tears well in her eyes as a hacking cough causes her to collapse and spit out a strange mix of blood, saliva and petals again. She stares down in disbelief as the wind lightly moves one of the petals.
“How am I supposed to fix the world–fix me–when I don't have my voice…?”
She feels another shift under her ribs, “Why now, when I'm so close?” A shaky breath. “...Why?”
“Why?!”
Something hot burns across her body and Rumi feels the bile catch in her throat as she watches her shout ripple purple across the Honmoon.
Rumi sits there in silence.
Rumi thinks of early mornings. Sitting in the kitchen, the first one awake and sipping on coffee. Mira starting breakfast after the smell of the coffee finally entices her enough from her bed. Eventually, Zoey peels out of her plushie pile and blearily walks into the kitchen, smelling the various foods that Mira has started to prepare. She slumps next to Rumi, already nibbling on some toast and hot coffee. Zoey leans on her shoulder, makes a small grabby motion and Rumi always just smiles, heart in her throat, as Zoey takes a bite of her toast. Mira puts a plate in front of Zoey and places her returning hand to Rumi's shoulder.
Sometimes she can't take how soft it feels.
So some mornings she gets up early, hoodie pulled tight with a cap and sunglasses. Her mind will wander, thinking of the next tour, next interview, next promotion. She pushes herself, running for an hour or two, before the tenuous train of thought breaks. She’ll think of those soft mornings with Mira and Zoey. Mira adjusting her body, teaching her new dance moves. Zoey leaning against her as she writes more lyrics on the couch.
Rumi starts to imagine again. Thinks of the things that she wishes she had the strength to say instead of running. Actually voicing how much she would like Mira to play with her hands. Asking Zoey to braid her hair. How long she's been in lo-
Petals drift as her coughing eventually slows.
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Rumi makes her way back home, holding herself tightly, thoughts still racing through her head. She isn't quite sure how long she's been gone but vaguely knows it's been at least a couple hours. Not long enough to have Mira and Zoey majorly worry, but would worry enough that she knows she needs to return.
To them.
They are waiting for her, changed out of their costumes and watching the elevator door. She watches as Zoey stands as the doors open and as she steps in, both are quick to meet her. Mira's hand on her back is warm and is soon joined by Zoey's soft touch on her shoulder.
They stand for a beat before Mira lets out a relieved sigh.
"You need to eat. Go change."
Zoey squeezes her shoulder and Rumi feels herself unfurl slightly, nodding and quickly moves to her room. She moves automatically: closing the door, quickly removes the costume, grabs a comfy sweatshirt to put on over her pajamas, swipes her make-up off, and joins them in the kitchen.
Zoey had just put some water glasses on the table and Mira looked to be ladling some soup from a pot on the stove to a bowl. They look up when she enters and Zoey gives her a quick squeeze before sitting down. Rumi feels a pinprick under her rib as she sits next to Zoey and watches as Mira puts the bowl in front of her.
Rumi stirs her soup, “I…I'm sorry about the show.”
Zoey briefly reaches out and the warmth of her hand eases her nerves. “Rumi, it's okay! I'm sure everything will be fine. Bobby can handle it!”
Perfectly on queue Zoey's phone rings and Bobby very quickly confirms he is not handling it. Rumi ducks her head, a wave of shame creeping up her neck. She drops the spoon and looks back up as Mira ends the call.
“It's alright, we can reschedule another live show within days.” Mira's cool reassurance is normally effective but the petals she grips in her pocket makes her doubt.
“I…I don't know if that's going to be possible. My voice, it's in trouble.” She swallows thickly as Mira and Zoey share a look.
“Wait, in trouble?” Mira's gaze back at her makes her feel exposed. “Then why did you push up the Golden release?”
Rumi just needs them to understand, “Because we're so close, and it's so important.”
Zoey looks between her and Mira, “Okay, how do we handle this? What do we tell the fans? Maybe we should call Celine?” Rumi feels her shoulders slightly hunch.
Mira leans forward, “We know what she'd say, Zoey.”
Zoey laughs and clears her throat, “Oh, right.” Zoey puts on a serious face as she and Mira repeat the mantra that Rumi has drilled into her head since she could walk.
“We are Hunters. Voices strong. Your faults and fears must never be seen.”
Zoey and Mira's voices wash over Rumi as she gazes at them.
Mira smirks,“You sound just like her.”
“Yeah, that's how she says it.” Zoey nudges Mira.
They snap their focus back to Rumi.
“No. We gotta hide and fix it.”
“For sure. We have to hide it. Mm-hm.”
Zoey lets out a nervous laugh, “Rumi, why don’t we take a break?” Rumi can feel the panic well up. “We’ll skip the Idol Awards this year and-”
“No. No way. It’s our most important show. It’s when we strengthen the Honmoon for the entire year. We can’t skip it. We just can’t. Not when i’m so close.” Just the thought of skipping the awards sets Rumi on edge and she can feel the way her shoulders hunch. Rumi hears their small laugh but her gaze is caught on the steam coming off her soup. She can feel bile in the back of her throat.
Zoey places her hand on her shoulder and Rumi can feel her shoulders drop reflexively. “Hey, We’ll get through this. We can get through anything. Together.”
Mira smirks, “Okay. We have two weeks to fix Rumi’s voice. Any ideas?”
Rumi lets their voices wash over her. She can feel the day has worn her out so she stays quiet and finally eats while Zoey talks about the “totally legit” wonder doctor she found. It’s soft and comforting and Mira shoots her a look. She slightly raises an eyebrow and Mira just looks between her face, the soup and settles on Zoey who is still trying to convince them of the “very real credentials of Healer Han.” It makes the slight twist she feels in her lungs feel irrelevant as Zoey starts to go through the litany of other ideas she has.
Rumi is able to eat about half the soup before finally excusing herself from the table. She moves steadily, thanking Mira softly for cooking, leaving the bowl in the sink and bids them a good night. She takes a deep breath as soon as she shuts her door, hitching slightly as a cough builds. She stifles it as best she can.
Rumi gently removes the petals from her mouth.
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Mira sighs and curses softly as Rumi’s door closes with a soft click.
“Me too.”
Mira turns at Zoey’s statement and just nods, “I know she works just as hard as us but there’s always been something that feels like there’s more to it.”
Zoey gets up from the table, helping Mira gather the remains of the dinner and hums. They work silently for the moment, putting away the few leftovers and washing the dishes.
They don’t notice the small petal under the table.