Chapter Text
Mira wasn’t sure what to expect when she got up the next day. She’d gone to bed feeling… unbalanced. She came back hoping to apologise, or at least let Rumi yell at her. She absolutely deserved it, even if Rumi was hardly the shouting type.
Instead she got a really awkward evening with Zoey. She made it clear that she was with Rumi — and possibly even with Rumi? — and that was non-negotiable. Mira could either join them, or she could leave. And then they spent the rest of the evening dancing around an elephant big enough for their giant living room.
After Zoey went to bed, Mira spent several hours doomscrolling her own band’s purported demise.
The comments were not kind to her. Her public persona was brash and uncompromising, so naturally everyone assumed the whole thing was her fault. Nevermind that she was the one fleeing in tears; nobody could imagine the poised leader or the adorable maknae picking a fight.
She probably shouldn’t have hit the soju as hard as she did, but after the fifth call for her public execution she decided she needed it. And then she needed more of it, and eventually the bottle was empty and she was miserable.
Now she was awake, and future Mira’s problem had become present Mira’s problem. The hangover was really the piece-de-resistance of a shitty night.
Even before the… incident, the day after a concert was usually scheduled as an off day. Idols didn’t exactly get weekends, but Huntr/x had a non-negotiable break day.
Usually, that day was rest and recovery. Usually it was spent eating delivery food and watching movies all day, maybe dinner out if they got antsy. Usually, there were absolutely zero commitments to anyone who didn’t live in the penthouse.
That day of rest had passed now, and that meant the schedule was starting to fill back up. The work calendar was filled with rehearsals and meetings, and the first was at 9. Great. Production discussions didn’t require full “idol mode,” but she still needed to be professional and presentable. She debated just going back to bed.
One of Sunlight’s stable of production assistants texted her, letting her know when the car would be to pick her up.
The world kept on turning.
“Just me?” she texted back.
“Rumi’s already at the office, Zoey’s sleeping in.”
Small mercies, she’d get to avoid the awkward conversations for just a little longer. Or maybe waiting for the other shoe to drop was worse than resolution. The pit in her stomach remained regardless.
Mira rushed through an abbreviated morning routine. Enough concealer to make her look put together, waterproof mascara in case she wasn’t. Hair brushed and out of the way in a tight business bun. Clothes that were elegant but quiet about it. Antiperspirant instead of perfume.
The car pulled up and the PA proffered a coffee. Mira nodded her thanks, and then sat in silence. After a couple monosyllabic answers, the PA stopped trying to make conversation.
She walked into the giant Sunlight building and the day almost felt normal.
The current meeting was, of course, dull as hell. Mira had been raised as a chaebol scion; she knew that this was how the world was really run. People in very boring meetings, making decisions with more money than most people would see in their entire lives.
Every concert Huntr/x put on was an absolutely colossal production. Dozens of people in the weeks before prepped visuals, organized transportation, double-checked the merch. Come concert day, the staff ballooned to more than a hundred. Those people needed to be vetted, hired, instructed, everything. Payroll, catering, all the oil that kept the machine running smoothly.
Mira knew all of this. Mira also didn’t know why it had to involve her specifically. Celine would probably give some vague answer about “a performer who doesn’t know her own business will find herself out of it,” which was probably wisdom. Most days she could at least manage to pay attention, maybe even take some notes.
But today the venue selection exploratory group wasn’t enough to keep her mind off her other bandmates. It was nonsense about “synergies” and “risk management,” tired sports cliches, and a few people who clearly just liked the sound of their own voices.
There might not be another venue that needed exploring. Nobody that day had addressed the breakup rumours, not in this meeting, or the fitting earlier, or the photoshoot after that. Sunlight was filled with consummate professionals, or at least professionals with a healthy fear of an irate Celine.
Mira almost wished someone would ask. It made her feel like she was going insane, that everyone else was just moving forward as if her world hadn’t tilted on its axis. But really, what would she say? Were there any answers that would feel satisfying to a commercial real estate specialist, let alone Mira herself?
What could she say to Rumi? Did Rumi even want to talk to her? Did Zoey? She’d put all her feelings on ice, switched into business mode, and nodded along when consultants described “sightlines” or “crush capacity.” But inside everything was still roiling.
She was sorry. She had to say how sorry she was. But that couldn’t possibly be enough. What would fix this? Was there anything she could say? Would she wait in this holding pattern forever? Could she stand it?
Was there any other choice?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, cutting her spiral off. As covertly as she could, she peeked at the message. It wasn’t exactly professional, but neither was anything she’d done in the last 24 hours, and this was a pretty minor infraction. Maybe something could take her mind off—
The message was a meeting invite, in Celine’s office, right after lunch. The only other attendees were Celine, Zoey, and Rumi. Mira’s attendance was marked as “mandatory,” which almost made her snort in the middle of the meeting. It was so obvious it might have been a dry joke.
The appointment brought both relief and despair. The location of their reunion had been chosen. Now she just had to survive it.
The meeting ended. It must have, since Mira now sat by herself in the staff canteen. She picked half-heartedly at her bibimbap. Not only was her table empty, nobody sat at any of the adjacent tables either. Her aura was seemingly bad enough to give her an exclusion zone.
The minutes ticked by agonisingly slow, a thousand imaginary conversations running through her head. Yet when she finally got up, she still had absolutely no idea what to say.
Celine’s office doors were shut again. It definitely wasn’t a good sign to be here twice in as many days.
As she walked in, she noticed two things immediately. One, Rumi didn’t turn to greet her, which she deserved and could barely stand. And two, Celine was firmly back in Business Mode.
A shame, some tequila would’ve really hit the spot right now. Maybe absinthe.
Mira tried her very best not to feel like she was walking into a courtroom. Zoey did turn and give a weak smile, but for Zoey that was almost worse than no reaction at all. Their maknae usually did nothing by half measures.
“Thank you for joining us, Mira,” Celine said evenly.
It was phrased like she was late, but Mira knew for a fact she was a minute early. And what was she supposed to do, come in and make small talk? With these two women who probably hated her?
“Afternoon Celine. Zoey. ...Rumi.” Hopefully that pause was just in her head.
“Hello Mira,” Zoey said quietly. More red flags.
Not a word from Rumi.
“Should I start polishing my resume?” Mira tried to quip.
Celine just quirked an eyebrow. Somehow even that felt menacing. “You tell me.”
“What?”
“I’ve called this meeting here because we need to collectively decide what future Huntr/x has, if any.”
Despite her best efforts, Mira felt her temper rising. Her calm went out the window, and she started saying the worst possible things.
“I would think that would be Leader-nim’s decision. She seems happy to keep us in the dark.”
Rumi had a lot of media training, but Mira didn’t miss the nigh-imperceptible flinch. At this point she didn’t care.
Celine opened her mouth but Zoey was always quick on the buzzer. “Rumi was under no obligation to share this with us.”
“She didn’t have to shout it from the rooftops, but I think we’ve earned a little more trust than that!”
“So you could run out of the tower shouting? You’re not exactly doing a great job of keeping secrets!”
“If we found out about it earlier I wouldn’t have needed to! It just came out of nowhere!”
“She had no choice!”
Mira was really starting to see red. “There’s always a choice, Zoey! I thought we made that clear when we joined! I don’t keep any secrets from you two!”
“Not one? Really? What about that bottle of Absolut in your sock drawer?”
“What were you doing in my sock drawer, Zoey? And I’m allowed a nightcap once in a while, I’m an adult!”
“Then act like it, Mira. Take some responsibility. For once in your life.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“GIRLS.” Celine shouted over them.
Tears were streaming down Zoey’s face. In the other chair on the far side of Zoey, Rumi was trembling.
Mira had really messed up this time. She couldn’t even manage five minutes without losing her temper, and she was still seething. She should’ve come penitent and instead she was already screaming.
Maybe they really would be better off without her.
“Mira.” Celine’s tone was even, professional, and completely merciless. “I understand that this is an… emotional time. But this is a business meeting, and we are making a business decision. Please show some decorum.”
“…Yes Celine.” Mira bowed her head for good measure.
“I am going to ask you again. Do you wish to be part of Huntr/x going forward?”
Mira knew that her entire life was balancing on this one moment. The pit in her stomach wouldn’t let her forget that. She was standing on a precipice, and the void was calling.
A day ago, this would’ve been the easiest question in the world. Huntr/x was unbreakable, they’d still be performing for halmeoni decades later. Finding Rumi and Zoey was the single best thing that had ever happened to Mira.
And it was slipping through her fingers like sand.
“…I don’t know,” she said quietly.
The room went silent. It was Celine who had broached the subject, but when Mira said it out loud it suddenly became terrifyingly real. The end of Huntr/x, of the best times of her life. A past-tense, an ex.
Another family disappointed.
“I suggest you figure it out soon. And even if this is the end—” Rumi shuddered again “—It’s in everyone’s best interests to come to a graceful conclusion. A few interviews, maybe a graduation concert. Do you think you can do that, Mira?”
She found herself nodding, because that was what she had to do. She owed everyone that. But she was still stalling, equivocating. Anything to put this decision off just a little bit longer, to keep that door open just a little more. To believe that something else was possible, that she hadn’t broken it beyond repair.
“Very well. We’ll need you to release a public statement as soon as possible. Communications has been drafting a couple of options, but I’ll select one and send it for you to post.”
Mira usually managed her social media accounts herself, but she was under no illusions that they were really hers. Asking her was a courtesy here.
“Understood.”
“To keep up appearances, you’ll need to all return to the tower together. We can arrange separate living spaces for you all, but it’ll take time. Until then, please try to keep it civil. We’ll clear your schedules as best we can, but media appearances will still go on as normal. I’ll go over the talking points…”
Celine faded into the background as Mira found herself completely disconnected from the reality in front of her. The words filtered in like she was underwater, distorted and echoing. Blood roared in her ears, her stomach roiled.
She looked over at Rumi, who hadn’t said anything since the meeting began. Rumi, who normally led Huntr/x from the very front, who was solid as a rock in front of a hundred thousand fans, looked like she had been broken. Zoey was holding her as best she could in the fancy office chairs, awkwardly leaning over the armrests to get even closer. They were right there, if only she could reach out. They were miles away, and they were never coming back.
Mira sat perfectly straight, her body falling back into some stupid etiquette training. She tried and failed to will her soul back into her body.
How did it go so wrong so quickly?
They all rode back in the same company car, to keep pretending everything was okay. Zoey sat as close to Rumi as she could, glaring over at Mira.
The meeting had been… Zoey didn’t like to be a pessimist, but the vibes were Not Good. The shouting match was already a bad look — and in front of her ostensible boss! — but then Mira had said those three terrifying words.
I don’t know.
It wasn’t over until it was over, but that the breakup was even on the table made Zoey want to throw up. In just a couple days they had gone from “all cuddling on the couch, like normal platonic friends do” to “can barely exist in the same room without shouting.”
The only thing holding Zoey together was how fragile Rumi looked right now. The poor girl (and yes she WAS Mira, you asshole) looked like a stiff breeze could knock her over. Rumi needed Zoey, and so Zoey was okay.
It was so ridiculously different from Before Rumi they were barely even the same person. It broke Zoey’s heart into pieces, all over again. She threw it back together and gently squeezed Rumi’s hand. She might’ve imagined the faint response. She hoped not.
They had debated having the car enter through the tower’s front door, really hammer home the business as usual façade, but that was quickly discarded. Rumi was barely able to speak, let alone project the Leader-nim image that the press expected to see. Instead they drove straight into the parking garage, security guards watching carefully to make sure no enterprising photographers tailgated.
The vibe in their private elevator was somehow even worse, but at least that trip was short. As they stepped out into their penthouse, their Home, Mira looked back, as if debating saying something. But whatever it was, she changed her mind and disappeared into her room without a word.
Zoey maneuvered the zombie-like Rumi onto the couch, wrapping her up in blankets and putting something hopefully distracting enough on the TV. Then she retreated into the kitchen to collect her own thoughts.
As she busied herself making evening tea, she finally let her smile slip. This sucked! Everyone was miserable and there was absolutely no reason for it. Mira wasn’t stupid, she was just stubborn and angry. If they could all just get on the same page, maybe they could… maybe it would all work out after all.
Maybe this family could actually stay together. Maybe this time nothing had to break beyond repair.
Looking down at the counter, she realised that she’d made tea for all three of them without even thinking about it. And it was there, standing still in the kitchen with the kettle boiling gently, that she finally felt herself break.
She cried silently, desperately not wanting to bother anyone. The last few days finally caught up to her, and she sank to the floor as she tried to hold in her sobs. She hadn’t, she couldn’t… she just wasn’t enough. Everyone needed her to be strong, to be the thread that held it all together, and then Huntr/x had split right down the seam.
Was there any coming back from this? Even if they all talked, was this kind of rift repairable? Could there be a life after this?
If you learned love was conditional, how could you un-know that? What kind of confidence could you have in your family when you knew? Their mettle had been tested and found wanting. It was over, there wasn’t any way for things to go back, she was going to live through it all over again and there wasn’t ever going to be anything she could do and everything would fall apart all over again and it was all her fault and—
The beep of the kettle above her interrupted the spiral. On autopilot she poured the hot water into the waiting mugs. Mira, Zoey, …Rumi.
Zoey had to get back to Rumi. Rumi needed her now more than Zoey needed time to herself. That could come later, when everyone else was taken care of.
Rumi was sitting quietly on the couch, almost unmoved from where Zoey had left her. The nature documentary played in the background, but Rumi showed no indications of even noticing.
“Tea,” Zoey announced quietly. Rumi startled a little bit, then took it.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to.”
“‘Course not. I wanted to.”
“Mm.”
A beat.
Once again, it seemed it would fall to Zoey to carry this conversation forward.
“Rumi, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Maybe some other time that flirt would’ve meant something, but now it just felt perfunctory. The warmth turned to ash on her tongue.
The girl next to her didn’t even smile.
“I just… I wanted more time,” Rumi finally said. “It’s been so good, but… it was never going to last.”
“Hey, let’s not give up quite yet. Mira will come around, I’m sure.”
Rumi laughed, but it wasn’t the right laugh. Zoey heard a sharp, dismissive sound that sounded completely alien.
“Even if she did—” And her tone conveyed how likely Rumi thought that was — “It’s all going to come public soon enough. Sunlight will probably throw me under the bus to save the rest of the company, probably.”
“You… You think Celine would do that to you?”
“Probably. She’s got a lot of employees to think about, not just me.”
“Rumi, she’s your mom.”
“It’s a business meeting,” Rumi repeated. “We’re making a business decision. Don’t worry about me. Plus you and Mira don’t want to get dragged down—”
“I do.” Not the context Zoey wanted to say those words in, but that was for later-Zoey.
She was not going to let Rumi believe for a single second that she was in this alone.
“What?”
“Rumi, I told you, I’m not going anywhere. I won’t. I’m not signing any statement. I’m not turning my back on you, not for a second. If you go down, we go down together. I promise.”
Rumi stares ahead, eyes vacant. “You shouldn’t. It’ll be career suicide to be associated with me.”
It was all Zoey could do to not shake her. “When then my career can go kill itself! I don’t know if you’ve looked at your royalties cheque recently, but we’re set for a very long time. I’m not exactly going to be flipping burgers if we stop doing shows.”
“You’d miss it. You’re so talented, so brilliant out there. You love the stage—”
“I love you, Rumi.”
Rumi’s jaw snapped shut, train of thought finally derailed.
Zoey didn’t let up. “Sure, it’s fun being on stage. I love the fans, the energy, the music, it’s such a rush! But none of it, not any little thing, would be worth it if you weren’t there by my side. I don’t want to do it without you. I care about you, Rumi.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Ugh. What are you saying?”
What would it take to get through to her?
“You shouldn’t love me. You’re beautiful, you can go out and find a real girl who—”
“Oh shut up, will you?”
And at that moment, Zoey decided there was one very easy way to get Rumi to stop saying those horrible things. She turned, making sudden eye contact with very surprised looking Rumi.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
And then she leaned in and her lips met Rumi’s.