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"Why are you questioning everything we stand for? What are you not telling us?"
Rumi whimpered in her sleep. Mira's words pounded into her skull like a bad headache, constant and aching with every syllable. Standing before her was a Mira she recognized—reaching out to her with concerned, anxious eyes. Then, in a cloud of violet smoke, she changed, fixing her with a red, icy glare. They were standing in a dimly lit backstage corridor amidst coils of wire and electricals. When she opened her mouth, what escaped was a distorted garble of a familiar voice, except stripped of all warmth.
“Did you seriously believe we would ever love you? Accept you?” the Demon Mira scoffed, stepping into Rumi’s personal space. “Pathetic,” she spat, peering down her nose.
“You’re a coward,” Zoey sneered, materializing next to her and circling around to Rumi’s other side. “Always have been. You couldn’t even tell your friends.” She laughed, grim and mocking. The sound was a ghastly echo in the long corridor. “What do they think of you now?”
Rumi’s hands lifted defensively. “Zoey—Mira,” she pleaded, desperate, broken. “This isn’t you. I know it isn’t. Please…” She backed away, but there was nowhere to go. Her back sunk into the wall of cables behind her. They pulled her in, cinching around her waist, wrists, ankles, chest, dragging her into the abyss. Her body struggled against the bindings and her eyes reached out, pleading. But her friends had already turned away. “No—No!”
“No!”
Rumi jolted awake in a cold sweat, throwing off her covers. Her chest heaved with short, ragged breaths. It took her a moment to collect herself—to realize that she was home. It was all over. Mira and Zoey were not angry with her, they did not hate her, and she was safe. Still, the mocking, distorted voices from her dream refused to leave her completely.
Rumi settled herself on the edge of the bed, gazing out the large, floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of her room. It was still dark outside—a silhouetted skyline dotted with pinpricks of light as the city slept when she could not.
Rumi was no stranger to sleepless nights. It was almost routine. Even now that she was no longer hiding, a lot of what happened continued to linger. Despite lying flat on her back in an attempt to welcome thoughtless oblivion, Rumi’s eyes remained open almost every night. Memories burned at the backs of her eyelids. Too much to keep them closed. An endless sea of what if’s and should have’s that threatened to drown her completely. Logically Rumi knew that this pattern couldn’t continue, that she’d have to talk about it sooner or later. She didn’t want a repeat of everything they’d just been through.
Her bedroom suddenly felt too small, too confining for all the memories and thoughts that pushed against her skull. She needed open air. She needed to breathe.
Rumi tossed off the rest of her sheets and stood on unsteady legs, shoving on a pair of teddy bear slippers.
+=={:::::::::::::::::>
"We have to hide it. We have to hide it and fix it."
Mira flopped back onto her pillow with a groan. Idiot. That's what she was. At least, it was how she felt ever since learning the truth about Rumi. Of all things... Why did I have to say that?
The statement had been about Rumi’s voice, not her marks. Still, the underlying message behind those words and the lingering regret of them created a tight, binding feeling around her chest. She couldn’t stop thinking of everything she’d said to Rumi in the last forty-eight hours before all hell broke loose. She knew Rumi was hiding something, not telling her everything, but… she figured it would’ve been something more trivial. She had no clue that Rumi was losing herself. Maybe, Mira wondered, if she’d paid closer attention—if she’d just seen Rumi instead of looking at her—
No. There was no reality where Mira ever could have guessed the depths at which Rumi had been drowning, and that just made her feel even more hopeless.
Mira resigned herself to the fact that she likely wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Not with all these thoughts she'd been harboring for the past couple of days swirling around in her mind. All of it felt foreign to her. Mira wasn't usually one to hold back when it came to her feelings. So why am I holding back now?
Maybe it was shame that, out of everyone in her life, she’d said the most horrible things to Rumi, one of her two closest friends. Not intentionally or directly to her face, but writing lyrics was a sort of communication wasn’t it?
A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live
“Ugh!” Mira snatched one of her decorative pillows and hurled it at the wall.
How can you sleep or live with yourself?
A broken soul trapped in the nastiest shell
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those venomous words. She slid off the side of her bed, meeting the floor with a dull thump, head hanging between her knees. Rumi… I’m sorry. I should have noticed. Should have—
Should have what? She’d failed. Failed to protect them, to keep them together. She had failed Rumi in every way possible.
There was no use thinking about it now. What happened was in the past. Gwi-Ma had gotten to them all, played them all. It happened. Now, they had to deal with the aftermath. That slow build-up of trust from the bottom floor... It wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to happen overnight. Mira knew that.
But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
Mira sighed, slipped her feet into a pair of cushioned slides and headed for the kitchen. If she was going to be awake now, she wasn't going to be awake, angry, and hungry.
+=={:::::::::::::::::>
Rumi wordlessly padded into the main room. The wide, open space and tall ceilings were a stark relief compared to the suffocating darkness of her bedroom. She quickly got to work preparing a mug of tea—something light and herbal to calm her nerves. She worked as quietly as she could so as to not disturb her band-mates.
Once her tea was finally in hand, she threw a discarded cardigan blanket around her shoulders that she’d found hanging on a nearby chair and tiptoed around the living room. Pulling the wide balcony door open with a soft hiss, Rumi stepped out into the night, feeling her shoulders instantly relax as soon as she breathed in the cool, crisp air.
There was a small side table with a coaster already there, waiting for her. It had become a habit of hers after all—stepping outside when the world in her head felt too cramped and stifling. Something about the night air, so high up in their tower, made Rumi feel fresh and new in a way mornings never could. Somehow, it set all the secrets hidden inside of her free. At night when everything was dark and everyone was away, it was just her and her shame, opened up to the wind and sky which held no judgement against her.
To Rumi, the balcony smelled like freshly fallen rain and freedom.
That was where Mira found her. After noticing the light on their electric kettle had been turned on, she followed the familiar, honeyed scent of Rumi’s preferred nighttime tea and eventually ended up at the threshold of their balcony door. Rumi stood outside, back turned. She looked relaxed in a way that made Mira’s heart ache with longing. It had been a while since she’d seen their leader appear so unrestrained.
Although the door had been left open, she still reached out and knocked gently on the glass window. Rumi jumped a little—settling when she saw Mira standing there, and scooted over to allow more room. A silent invitation.
Mira didn’t move. Not yet. Instead she hovered at the threshold, uncertainty etched into the worried lines on her face. Her previous turmoil still lingered, and seeing Rumi so soon after seared like salt in the wound. Mira felt her features glaze over into an indifferent mask. Her armor. Our faults and fears must never be seen. “Hey,” she managed, voice scraped raw with regret and the heavy feeling of sleeplessness.
Rumi smiled at her, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Can’t sleep?” Mira shook her head. “Me either.”
She was trying to play it cool, Mira realized. It wasn’t just anything that could keep Rumi awake at night. She blamed her eyes for being so damn sharp, otherwise she could’ve just turned around and went back inside. Pretend like she hadn’t seen Rumi’s trembling fist at her side or the quick flash of fear in her eyes when Mira had initially startled her. Like she couldn’t see the way Rumi was watching her, too.
Questions burned at the forefront of her mind. Is this okay? Do you want me here?
…Or are you still afraid of me?
“Do you—” Mira paused. Re-evaluated. “Is it…”
“You can stay,” Rumi said, timid. Somehow she’d seen right through her armor to the bleeding heart within; maybe they weren’t as broken as she thought.
Mira exhaled shakily. “Okay.” Still, she didn’t move from where she was standing. Words were piling up behind her teeth, all fighting for first place. She didn’t know where to start or if she even should. She looked at Rumi—really looked at her—and noticed the covering she had draped around patterned shoulders, hiding. Still hiding. Mira felt her chest pang with remorse. “Rumi…”
"I wanted to tell you, you know," Rumi blurted. Her eyes widened, seeming surprised at her own outburst, but kept going. "Every day. Every time the marks grew, every time there was one more thing I couldn't do with you two anymore, because then you'd find out.” She paused, turning to face her. “I wanted to tell you guys the most."
Mira slid through the open doorway and joined her by the railing. A silent shadow. "So why didn't you?"
"I didn't want you to see me the way I did." Rumi angled her head to find her reflection in the glass panes of the balcony window. Silvery, opaline marks framed the sleep-deprived face staring back at her. The mark of the beast. Her own, quiet demon, now on display for the rest of the world to see. "As a monster."
Mira visibly softened. The guarded mask she’d put on slipped away, and her hand moved as if to reach out, but held back. "Rumi…"
Rumi shot her a wry smile. "How could I tell you? Even though everything inside of me wanted to. I just… couldn't." She shifted away from the window, away from the light filtering out of the main room, bathing herself in darkness. "I only had to make it a little while longer… until we sealed the Honmoon for good. Celine said when that happened, the marks would go away, but until then—"
Mira frowned. Something finally, finally clicked in her mind. Oh, hell no. "She knew…? Did Celine tell you to lie to us?" She’d known Celine was always especially hard on Rumi, but she didn't think…
"What? No!" Rumi stammered, eyes wide. An obvious lie. She corrected herself, "Well, not—Not exactly–"
Mira made a low, aggravated sound in the back of her throat. She could tell just from Rumi's body language that she'd hit the proverbial nail on the head, and she wasn't about to just let that go. "What did she tell you?" Mira's eyes searched, sharp and demanding, but immediately softened when met with Rumi's wide, imploring gaze. Mira caught herself.
"Rumi… please," she said, tempering the harsh tone of her voice, willing it into something more malleable. Anger had its place and that place was not with Rumi. She found it, that careful medium, though the raw tiredness in her voice remained. "Don't hide from me anymore."
Rumi's grip on the cloak that hid her marks tightened. "I'm still scared,” she whispered. Broken, lost, afraid.
“I know—” Mira’s voice cut short, overwhelmed with regret. “I know… that we let you down before. But, Rumi… I’m never turning my back on you again. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” Rumi sighed and leaned heavily on the guardrail. Her eyes were screwed shut, hard. “Look at me.” Mira saw that her eyes opened, but remained glued on the streets below.
Mira sighed internally. It didn't seem she would be getting anywhere with Rumi this way. Then, something struck her, an idea—but she cringed at the inevitable tawdriness of it. Ugh, this is going to be so stupid…
Mira cleared her throat. She shifted back and forth on her feet but shook it off—she could do this. They did it hundreds of times. On stage. In front of millions of fans. Mira breathed in the night air like it was her last, and then she began to sing.
We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back
She reached towards Rumi, gently leading her back into the beam of light pouring from inside. Their reflections stood tall—strong. Golden and glowing. This was the Rumi Mira desperately wanted her to see. Not whatever demon-infested vision her mind had drawn up for her, not whatever Gwi-Ma had ever told her she was. No, she was this —strong, golden, and beautiful.
But now I’m seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
Mira slid her gaze from their reflection to the real Rumi, flitting over her face, her clothed shoulders, the iridescent scars that peeked out from her hairline. She thought she saw the beginnings of a smile on her lips, right before they opened.
Rumi’s voice wavered, uncertain. "The scars are…part of me."
"Darkness and harmony," Zoey's melodic voice chimed in from the open glass door as she joined them on the balcony. She'd never been a light sleeper by any means, but her ears had been hardwired to notice the sound of distant, quiet arguments. Plus, she never could resist a group sing-along. It was just in her nature.
She grinned and skipped over to them as they sang the rest of the chorus together. The way it was always meant to be. Hands joined, hearts entwined, voices loud, just as it had been when they’d woven their new Honmoon.
Show me what’s underneath
I’ll find your harmony
Rumi stepped back, slowly releasing their hands. She felt herself reaching for the hem of her blanket covering—
Fearless and undefined
—and let it fall.
The chill of the night air met her skin, but for once Rumi felt warmth like no other. Everything was still and safe with both of her friends by her side.
Zoey giggled, bouncing on her heels. She grabbed Rumi’s hand again and swung their arms together giddily. "Rumi," she said. "We're always gonna be on your side… You know that, right?"
"Yeah," Rumi smiled—genuine this time, one that spread all the way to her eyes. "Thanks, Zo." She looked between her two friends with a heart fuller than she could have imagined. "I'm really sorry for not trusting you guys with this. I never wanted to lie… but I did. I should have told you a long time ago."
"Yeah, you should have,” Mira drawled.
Zoey subtly elbowed her in the gut before plastering on a huge grin. "You're telling us now, and that's what matters! Oh," she said, tugging one of Rumi's arms in for closer inspection. "And your markings are just so cool-looking, I‘m kinda glad we can see them now!”
Mira smirked good-naturedly, finally feeling like herself again. "Yeah, they're pretty bad-ass. And, uh…” she fidgeted with one of her rings, looking sheepish. “We’re sorry too, Rumi. We should’ve been there for you when you needed us.”
“But we weren’t,” added Zoey. She looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “We’re really, really sorry Rumi! I don’t know what got into us. At the end of the day, you’re still our best friend, and we love you so much. Nothing’s ever gonna change that!”
“Yeah,” Mira smiled, resting a hand on her shoulder. Even the coolness of her silver rings on Rumi’s skin felt warm. “We’ll always be here for you.”
Rumi wiped at her eyes, putting on a soft but genuine smile. "I really love you guys."
“We love you too, Rumi! Right Mira?” Zoey said, nudging at her arm.
Mira huffed. “Yeah, we love you, too.” She ruffled Rumi’s already-ruined bed-head. “Dork face.”