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Floating above the arena everything seems small, even then, the only thing the trio can see is the radiant iridescent lines that are now the new HonMoon, the one they made together. And it is not golden, no, it’s something better, like a rainbow isn’t just one color but many, complete.
And they can feel it’s strength pulsing like the heartbeat of a concerto in full swing.
The fans continue cheering as their feet touch the stage once more, none of the three have words, if only these people knew the harmony of their voices combined gave them the power to defeat evil itself, maybe then, they too would be standing in quiet awe at the miracle they did together.
Rumi feels her hands being held gently, and as they walk outside in a trance there’s part of her heart that feels pure happiness and hope. Mira and Zoey holding her without a hint of revulsion when the events of the day weight heavy in her mind. For now she casts them aside.
They manage to get out unseen using the back entrance, this being an unsanctioned concert means they have no security at all and they know fans can get dangerous very fast. They are outside when the victory stupor finally breaks; Mira lets go of her hand first in order to take her phone.
-I would walk home, but I’m beat, I’m calling a cab.
Zoey walks towards a patch of grass stretching towards the sky until her back pops before falling backwards, satisfied groan on her lips.
-Yes, please, I don’t want to move a single muscle ever again, supercharged magic or not, I’m dead.
Rumi smiles gently at her antics and is about to say something when her right hand cups her chest after feeling a strange, painful wave. Her breath hitches as she looks down, fingers clench the white top, closed over nothing, there is no wound there to make her body numb and squeeze from the inside.
-Rumi, are you okay?
Zoey asks already sitting on the grass, worried eyes scanning the now hunched figure to try and figure out what’s wrong.
Mira too lowers the phone in order to observe her, half a step in her direction.
Rumi tries talking and needs to swallow before she finally can.
-I don’t know, I feel...
A new sensation, which she can only describe as an wave of agony, overwhelms her, causing her to gasp as her knees buckle beneath her. The next instant Mira and Zoey stand right at her side holding her, worried and trying to evaluate the situation that doesn’t seem to have a clear problem to fix.
Mira reclines Rumi against Zoey’s embrace allowing her to gently uncurl the tightly clenched hand from her chest, she needs to look at it and find what’s wrong. Moving the top aside is a little hard with how tight it is and she is thankful for the zipper at the front that lets her see better. There is no wound there. She then brings Rumi towards herself and checks her back with the same intention, once again finds nothing, and so she starts touching every rib to make sure they aren’t broken.
Rumi shakes her head as her jaw clenches up with a new spasm.
-Where does it hurt, did someone get you?
Zoey’s voice trembles as she asks, unable to do more than hold her as Rumi gasps opening her eyes, her now shaking fingers are held immediately in reassurance.
-I feel... bad, wrong .
Zoey and Mira observe with rapt attention when the patterns on her skin pulse all over her body at the same time Rumi whimpers and cries out, they don’t know what they are supposed to look like other than purple, and already they aren’t that anymore, they have no idea if this is normal. The Honmoon around them is making a strange, unknown noise as its lines tremble and shake.
-Do you think it has anything to do with you being... a demon?
Zoey asks as gently as she possibly can and Rumi thinks she starts to understand.
-Celine was wrong.
A desperate laugh leaves her mouth as tears cascade down her cheeks. Mira and Zoey look at one another with worry at the pain in Rumi’s voice.
-She thought my patterns would go away when it turned gold. That no demon would be able to pass or return if they were here but...
Her laughter is tinted with irony and hurt so deep it makes their inside twist.
-Rumi.
Mira whispers, not understanding, and Rumi will try to explain, she owes them.
-I am half demon. I think my soul might be hybrid too. The demon is not just the marks, and I think... I think the Honnoon might be trying to purify me, but...
Zoey gasps this time as she gets the gist of it.
-It’s part of you, not a parasite, not an extra, it just is, it can’t go anywhere, it’s two parts of a whole!
Mira and Rumi nod at the same time, it makes sense with what little information they have.
A new wave makes the patters lighten up and this time Rumi screams, her friends hug her to no avail for there aren’t any blows to block, no enemies to throw themselves in front of. Rumi can hardly focus in anything other than burning oil being poured into her veins, trying to purge something it simply cannot reach.
-What do we do?!
Mira says panicked, Zoey shakes her head a few times, trying to come up with something.
-Celine?
Mira rejects the idea immediately.
-No, if she had no idea about this she won’t know what to do either. This has no precedents.
-Hospital?
They start talking over each possibility so fast is hard to keep up, pros and cons fly as their voices become desperate when they start running out of ideas.
Rumi is trembling in their arms and knows there is nothing they can do. The quick fire conversation stops dead on its tracks when her hands gently touch each shoulder.
-Take me home, please?
Her voice is but a whisper, it’s meaning has the duo around her flinching, denying and sobbing at what she is implying.
-There must be something we can do.
Zoey whispers as she cleans her own tears on the jacket sleeves, holding Rumi’s hand gently, like you would a baby bird.
-Maybe we can break the HonMoon?
Mira asks unsure as she observes the lines of it that now share the same color Rumi’s patterns do, and she would do it in a heartbeat if she knew how. Rumi rejects the idea strongly. She will not let thousands die at the hands of demons just so she can live, if this is her end, then she is happy they have made a barrier that seems strong enough to keep everyone safe, and one that isn’t based on lies too.
-No. I just want to go home.
Mira ends up carjacking the first vehicle she can find, because their driver is too far and Rumi’s state would be impossible to explain anyways. She returns to where Rumi and Zoey stayed waiting and helps bringing Rumi inside, laying her on the back seats with her head on Zoey’s thighs so she can rest while Mira drives them home.
It’s a quiet, dark trip only interrupted by quiet sobs, Zoey doesn't even ask Mira how or when she learned to steal cars.
Rumi for her part has no idea what the other two do with the stolen car, or how they get inside the building without being seen, she can only feel the arms holding her safely against Mira’s chest, focused on her warmth instead of her own body and trying to memorize her face like she didn’t know it by heart already. Eventually she is laid on a soft bed, her own, she realizes, she is in her room.
Zoey is pacing like a caged animal, full of anxiety that makes her pull on her buns until they loosen up as she silently begs her brain to give her more ideas, anything at all that might help, but she’s coming up empty.
Mira stays completely still and unable to stop staring at Rumi, the tremor in her fingers the only thing currently in motion. The both of them are grasping at straws. Celine trained them in first aid meticulously so they would be prepared when sooner or later a demon got them; they know how to sew wounds together, how to stop bleeding wounds, how to stabilize a fracture and keep a still heart moving. But this? None of it would work now.
Trying to mend a soul didn’t seem possible.
At last, Mira sighs heavily and decides they can, at least, make Rumi comfortable.
-Zoey, bring some towels and a bowl with cold water, please.
Zoey stops mid step and eagerly follows the order, briefly sparing Rumi a glance before leaving the room.
Mira sits heavily over the bed, her shoulders dropping in surrender before taking one of Rumi’s legs, fingers deftly loosening the long white boots that end up being thrown at the farthest wall in pure rage. She closes her eyes, gently nudging them with her knuckles to soothe the overwhelming despair she feels, and reopens them when she senses Rumi’s clammy hand over hers, squeezing it gently and cradling her as though she is not the one lying in agonizing pain, teetering on the precipice of certain death. Like Mira’s pain is more important than her own. Honestly? Classic Rumi.
Zoey returns leaving all the stuff on the bed close enough to reach, quiet as a mouse in the most uncharacteristic way until she calls Rumi’s name in a question, she is squirming and holding her stomach before gagging. Zoey’s eyes go wide and loses no time jumping from the bed, water bowl in hand, running to the balcony in order to empty it’s content on the floor there. As she returns Mira is holding Rumi so she can sit up and the bowl is quick to be used for a new purpose.
Rumi’s slightly empty stomach proceeds to puke whatever is left for the next ten minutes as her skin pales three times over.
Mira takes the mess to clean it up without a word leaving Zoey to take her place hugging the trembling figure against her. Rumi has a high temperature, her skin covered on a sheen of cold sweat and the demon patterns burn even hotter than the rest of her. She clears her throat a few times to talk.
-We will get you out of this costume, alright?
Rumi makes a sound that could have meant anything and Zoey lays her back down carefully. She walks into a closet she’s never been in and digs for some comfortable clothes, finding a cotton sleeping short is easy, she gives up on a tank top in about two seconds, in the entire time they have known her Rumi’s never wore one of those, now they know why. Mira would have some, so that was her next stop.
Mira is already back, a new bowl joins the team in case Rumi needs it.
-Mind if I give her one of your tank tops? She’s too feverish for a pullover.
Mira nods wordlessly and gets started on undressing the rest of her, dipping a hand towel in cold water to clean the sweat and battle leftovers from fair skin, switching the costume pants for the pyjama shorts is easy enough, the tight top is clinging to her sweaty skin and it takes some effort to pull it off, once it’s done Mira covers the naked chest with a towel to give her some form of privacy as she cleans her up.
Her eyes run up the patterns marking her skin and the only hatred she feels is towards herself for not making Rumi feel safe enough to tell them on her own terms, and because right now, they are the representation of the thing that is killing one of her best friends, a third of her soul no less, and they won’t even make it painless for her. Seeing Rumi squirm and whimper in agony is a punishment all by itself.
Zoey returns leaving the top at hand for Mira and then kneels at the other side so she can lay a cold towel over her forehead, Rumi’s features relax slightly and her eyes blink open to give her a weak smile.
Zoey does her best to return it.
None of this was fair. For a moment everything was alright, sure, they should have been eating ramyeon while having a long, civilized conversation after saving the world , rebuilding broken trust and strengthening their bond even more than before. Because, after everything that had happened? Rumi had come back, she had saved them from the literal flames of hell awakening their minds with her song and together they had triumphed.
So this? This... wasn’t fair. And part of her felt hatred against the Honmoon for making her family, a part of her soul, suffer like this. Someone who had done nothing but feed it’s energy and keep it safe and sound for most of her life, Rumi didn’t get to have a normal life, she had been trained to do just this since she was a child, answering her calling way earlier than Mira and herself.
Speaking of Mira, Zoey worries for her right now. Her shoulders are high against her neck and her chin too close to her chest, she knows her well enough to see she’s a blink away from falling appart at the seams, and the only thing stopping it is Rumi needing them. She very carefully touches her shoulder.
-I got her, go change.
Mira looks like she wants to refuse, but Zoey knows she needs a few minutes alone before what’s coming next. She seems to hold her breath until her shoulders sag with a long, silent exhalation, nodding.
-Yell if you need anything.
She mumbles and gives both of them a quick kiss on their foreheads before leaving quickly.
Soon after Zoey finds herself caressing Rumi’s head when she shivers and trembles until she calms a little. Her long braid is a mess and the perfect target for restless fingers that end up smoothing it out knot by knot, fingers trailing between long strands as the new day peeks from the windows, it seems warm and bright outside... none of it reflects the atmosphere in the room.
Rumi whimpers in pain once more, her figure curling into herself as Zoey can only look in frustration and fear at how vulnerable the usually composed woman is.
-I’m here.
She whispers softly as she pets her face gently. She can barely understand they lifted their weapons against Rumi, everything seemed so trivial now, loosing her simply wasn’t worth it.
Rumi’s eyes are closed harshly, eyebrows drawn together making lines cross her forehead. Zoey uses her fingers to work the muscles in her jaw without success, even then she doesn’t stop making small circles over them. At one point Mira returns in short pyjamas and a serious face reflecting her inner fight.
-Any changes?
Zoey shakes her head slowly not mentioning she just continues deteriorating. Mira takes her place back at Rumi’s side and changes the already warm forehead towel for a new one.
-Go change.
And it sounds like an order, Zoey suddenly understands how hard it is to leave Rumi right now when every second could... could be the last. Mira must read her mind because the next second there is a hand pressing gently against her arm that makes her nod, she kisses both their foreheads too, before getting up.
-Be back soon.
Even then, she hesitates at the door, casting a glance back at them before making a mad dash to her room. She breaks a record and finishes washing her hair in about three minutes, then she hops into the first pyjama she can find as soon as she is dry enough and ignores the fabric clinging to the parts of her skin that are still damp.
Zoey’s heart beats like a hummingbird's at every second spent apart, and it clenches tightly as her feet finally crosses Rumi’s door to climb into the bed feeling winded and lightheaded. Mira is holding Rumi between her arms, purple hair falling down like a waterfall from her head nested against her chest. Zoey doesn’t hesitate in hugging them both.
To the rest of the world, Mira might seem cold and distant, careless even. Not to Zoey, she knew it was armor, she knew the way this woman held the very few people in her heart tightly with cheer loyalty and protection. She loved fiercely.
The next thing Zoey thinks makes her stomach clench once again. Here they are, wearing pyjamas, sure, it means they are comfortable. It also reflects in how little they can do to help. They won’t be running anywhere, there won’t be any mission to complete in order to find a miracle cure. Staying here and accepting is out of their hands is the hardest part about the current situation.
Rumi opens her eyes after Zoey kisses her cheek tenderly, even after everything she still clings to that little smile filled with resignation and love, like she’s already surrendered and accepted her fate. Mira extends an arm towards a glass of water when Rumi fails to talk a few times, holding her steady as she drinks little sips of liquid. Rumi was capable of dominating a room with her sole presence and it was so, so strange seeing her this small and frail between their arms.
-I just wanted to say-and she has to clear her throat again-how sorry I am. My lie ended up hurting you too and...
She sighs heavily.
-You can ask. I want you to know the truth before I... leave.
Zoey burries her head under Rumi’s chin when her words sting her.
-I don’t care anymore, Rumi.
She whispers against her skin, and it’s the truth. Feeling the warm skin and the still beating heart in her chest is all that matters right now.
Mira nods in agreement.
-Whatever it is, you came back , you saved us. Thanks to you every single person in that audience is alive. Thanks to you Gwi-Ma is gone.
And Rumi doesn’t speak words, but Mira knows the pleading face she is making, and so she nods and thinks.
-When we saw your patters, I thought you might have been a demon from the start, but you’ve never tried to boycott us. The next thing was that you made a deal with Gwi-Ma, maybe related to your lost voice, or something else. But then you mentioned you are half demon.
Rumi nods.
-That’s right, no deals, I was born like this. The patterns started growing as my shame did, until they got my voice too.
Mira and Zoey can scarcely believe it, a human and a demon? They couldn’t help but wonder if it had been consensual. Their training said no, then again Rumi’s mom was dead so she couldn’t answer questions.
Mira takes a lose strand of hair from Rumi’s face and tucks it behind her ear.
-Rumi, none of this was ever your fault, you never helped Gwi-Ma, in fact you always did the best you could to fight him, and you hold no blame in being born either, so why hide it from us?
Zoey agrees nodding and wondering the same thing, of all the possible scenarios this was the best one, and even then Rumi had decided to hide.
Rumi stops looking at them then.
-I always felt like a mistake. A hybrid that should have never, ever happened. And we are hunters, I just couldn’t... Celine always said... no, it’s more than that, the sole idea of loosing you two breaks my heart into pieces. My entire life I have been so, so ashamed of myself that saying it out loud seemed harder and harder with every new day.
Mira closes her eyes and breathes slowly to process the answer, Zoey is faster and is quick to hug her harder.
-You are not a mistake, you are Rumi. The one who brings me food when I spend too long at the study, the one who listens to me ramble non stop, the one who always worried our skills were sharp and also the one taking point against every demonic horde so they wouldn’t surpass us.
Mira nods in agreement and talks next.
-I don’t know what Celine said for you to think like that, to not trust us, honestly? It might have sucked for a few days, I might have thrown you out a window or two, but we would have talked and worked through it together , instead of finding out the worst way possible... and you said the golden Honmoon was supposed to make them disappear?
Rumi confirms as her eyes swell up with tears.
-Celine said my patterns would go away along with the demons once it was done, that I would finally get to be normal, loved, seen without secrets, that nothing could change until it happened.
She laughs without a hit of grace.
-I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. She was wrong. Who knows, maybe her idea of solving the problem was this.
Mira would give zero fucks the next time she saw the older woman so she could have a piece of her mind. The idea of Rumi hating herself like this because her mentor couldn’t get over her own biases, even looking at how human Rumi was? It boiled her blood. Rumi was, obviously , not a soul eating creature to be feared.
-What changed, Rumi, what did Jinu have to do with anything?
Zoey asked next and getting Mira out of her own head. It was true, Rumi had mentioned working with him.
-As I said, I lost my voice when the patterns reached my throat.
Zoey opened her eyes wide as her mind went lighting fast.
-If you weren’t able to sing, it would have been impossible to complete the Honmoon. And him...?
Rumi shrugged and there is pain in the gesture.
-He found out about my patterns at the men’s bathhouse, instead of letting you see, he covered them and then wanted to talk. It’s... complicated. I thought... know we cared for each other, that I could trust him, but then he used every word against me, my biggest shame to humiliate me in front of thousands, in front of you... and then he saved me?
Rumi shakes her head confused, she needed more time to understand it better, time she no longer had.
-All I know is having someone to talk helped, he was a demon, but really? He was just human, flawed, full of feelings, mistakes and all. And I think that helped me to see myself as such, to accept myself a little. And it made my voice return.
Mira breathes deep and sets aside any anger towards the subject.
-I wish you had come to us and not a... someone else. I am glad it helped, and now I understand why you couldn’t stand Takedown anymore, that must have sucked a lot. And why he protected you from Gwi-Ma when we could not.
Rumi sighs tiredly.
-You two are the most important people in my life, I never wanted to...
A coughing fit takes over right as the Honmoon lines shake with violence around them, it starts like normal cough, but it keeps on going stronger until Rumi is barely able to regain her breath, Zoey gently places a small towel against her mouth and worriedly looks at Mira as they run circles on Rumi’s back, until it finally stops and she sinks in Mira’s arms with a low whine and completely exhausted.
-What do you need? Anything, Rumi.
Her tired trembling eyes open slightly before closing up once more.
-Hold me? Don’t... leave me alone.
-Never, we are here with you.
Zoey stops blinking when her brain is unable to understand the red spots the towel in her hand now have. Eventually Mira is the one who takes it away gently before holding her cheek with care and patience until she coaxes her out of the stupor. Zoey closes her eyes nudging the warm hand as tears fall on it, trying to follow the gentle way in which Mira guides her to breath deeply. As always, Mira is a patient and steady beam that waits as long as she needs.
They end up laying down eventually, Rumi in the middle as they hold her close, Zoey is curled up against her side having intertwined their legs together, pressing her cheek against a pattern filled shoulder. Mira uses her long arms to envelop the both of them as her chin rests over Rumi’s head.
-We love you, Rumi.
Zoey whispers as she gently kisses one of the patterns on her neck, her hands trying to quiet down the tremors with gentle caresses that don’t ever stop.
The next hours seem both a blink and eternal in nature. The room is overtaken by heaviness and silence only interrupted by Rumi as she fights for her own life. She doesn’t wake up again more than a few seconds and doesn’t try to talk either.
She mostly wakes up shaken up by new spasms as her patterns light up with scorching light, being stung by pain that comes more often every time only to develop in coughs that stain the towel red.
Her soul’s melody distorts itself note by note and it shows in the weakness that overtakes her heavily, there’s a small but constant dribble of blood leaving her nostril that keeps being cleaned over and over by her guardians. They sit her when she chokes, brow furrowed, or when new gags make her puke reddish liquid into the bowl. Zoey and Mira clean her and caress her heated skin, whispering sweet nothings into her hears until she settles down, making her as comfortable as they possibly can.
The sun starts it’s slow descent outside, just another day for the planet. Inside the room Rumi’s breath becomes more and more irregular along with any hopes of recovery. The idea of it stopping completely at any second has her family trying to hold onto her with the cheer will of their arms around her alone.
The fact one of them could die in the line of duty always existed, a topic they almost never talked about but was reflected in the unaccountable amount of hours they put polishing their skills, and in the vigilance over their team every time a battle happened so they could react and protect each other before it was too late. This felt different. They had won the war, won against Gwi-Ma himself and even then they found themselves in here. In the end the feeling was the same, it was like their hearts were being torn appart.
As all this time passes Zoey and Mira listen to the Honmoon quietly.
The souls chosen by it, always three, are connected like no others. The barrier had joined each others soul songs until three lines had become one, and like it had been from the start, they could hear each other’s melody when they focused, even before meeting, even when Zoey had been impossibly far at the other side of the globe and knew nothing of destiny and demons.
It was the thing that guided each huntress to each other over and over again, the thing that made them reach and search for the missing parts of their songs until at one point or another in their lives the need to follow the lines to them ended up bringing them together. To complete the symphony.
Mira’s soul is warm, powerful and constant, it sounds like a violoncello and bass, holding the symphony with measured power that exploded and took over when she got mad. Zoey, for her part, was pure rhythm and fireworks, sweet flutes running constant and expressive accompanied by something that sometimes sounds like a marimba, soft and charming... and that sometimes is more of a drum, explosive and full of cadence. Like melted sugar with a hint of spice.
Rumi’s melody was always layered, her music was emotional and expressive with hints of a deep burning, a melancholic mourning of sorts. Rumi was an elegant and complex piano accompanied by violins flying with emotion, and a soft acoustic guitar that feels like a lullaby.
As Mira and Zoey listen they shake every time one of Rumi’s notes goes out of tune. The Honmoon, a melody on itself, hasn’t stopped pulling and crashing against Rumi since it’s birth hours ago like waves against a cliff, making Rumi’s instruments start missing notes until her melody is broken and frail, her piano sounds out of tune, the violins are losing strings altogether and her guitar quiets down entirely at the same time Rumi stops trembling only to lay there motionless and pale as her chest struggles to force air inside.
Zoey is the next one to whine loudly, a hissed lament between lips at the broken melody, her arms press harder into Rumi’s prone figure.
-Why is the Honmoon doing this, Mira? Rumi’s always been half demon, and it chose her anyways! Why did it decide now it doesn’t want her? She is ours, you can’t take her!
Mira has no answers, so she simply caresses her neck to calm her down... except... her frown deepens as an idea comes to mind.
-You are right, Zoey, she’s always been half demon, so why does it have a problem now ?
Zoey raises her head to hear her out better while Mira seems to be connecting invisible dots together.
- We made this Honmoon, together. It’s stronger than ever stopping demons, as far as we know. And Rumi? Well she’s felt like a mistake her whole entire life, and she’s carried that shame until today, a song, hug and a week won’t change that so soon.
Zoey’s eyebrow lifts in question.
-True, but I still don’t get why its tearing her soul appart now.
Mira sits up wildly gesticulating with her arms.
-It’s stronger than ever, and it just doesn’t undesrtand her melody that isn’t human because not even she does, not so soon, I don’t think so. The old one was based on a perfection that isn’t real, our faults and fears must never be seen . It fell into pieces the second those came out to the light. Rumi... this new Honmoon is made with love and acceptance that, hey, nobody is perfect. Not golden, not just one color but platinum, alive, changing.
Zoey bites her lip as she nods slowly as she sits up too, her arms moving alongside Mira’s as they untangle their thoughts together.
-And Rumi must still feel like... something that just... doesn’t belong. Her soul’s song always has this thing that doesn’t fit in, out of tune, very low and hidden... so this new Honmoon isn’t trying to destroy her, it’s...
-Trying to tune her.
They say at the same time. And for a moment their faces lighten up. Then Zoey frowns and looks at Rumi.
-So the new Honmoon isn’t rejecting her. It just can’t find her true melody because Rumi herself is singing the wrong one, Celine’s, the one that says she is dangerous, broken, unworthy.
They both quiet down immediately in order to stare at Rumi when yet another violin string snaps with a horrible sound and she stops breathing altogether.
-No, no, no, no, Rumi, please, don’t give up yet.
Zoey yells hovering over Rumi, supported by her elbows on the mattress on each side, both free hands touching and caressing her cheeks and neck strongly as she begs until finally, Rumi breathes again and they both sigh. Zoey stops hovering but stays close.
Mira cleans the sweat from Rumi’s neck and collarbones to try and regain her own breath.
-Maybe... we can help? Before it’s...
Zoey nods and there’s a spark of something in her eye now. Decided. Strong.
-We are a symphony, we were born to be together, so lets be together.
They cradle Rumi between their arms, sitting her up on the bed. Her body is still feverish to dangerous degrees and there is barely any fight left in her, a small tremor here or there that make the patters light up like broken LED lights.
Mira leans in close to whisper into her ear.
-You don’t have to keep changing your song, Rumi, it’s not broken, it’s beautiful. It’s you.
Zoey leans her nose against damp tresses on her temple.
-We will help you sing it until you understand, Rumi, we love you just the way you are.
Mira leaves a slow kiss on of the patterns above her eyebrow.
-You are enough. There is nothing wrong with you, Celine is mistaken, your patterns don’t make you unworthy of love. You are not a mistake.
-And we accept you no mater what.
They both share a look and silently nod to focus until the Honmoon lines are everywhere, still shaking way too strong around Rumi.
None of them knows what they are doing as their eyes close to listen and start singing. The notes shy and unsure at first as they start closing in to Rumi’s melody bit by bit, replacing the now broken instruments with their voices before attempting to tease the hidden echo to come play. It’s similar, in a way, to what they just lived at Namsam, but this time there are no spectators, just them accepting a hidden and buried truth.
If anyone had been there to listen, they would have heard two voices singing a melody without lyrics, for them though? There was a whole band behind them. The melody moved persistent yet kind against Rumi’s strange echo, not like the Honmoon who had tried forcing it out, just gentle and filled with love instead, the cadence of their voices anxiously awaiting for it to reveal itself so they could empower it in harmony.
The longer they sand the better and clearer it became.
It wasn’t a new instrument, not really, Rumi had always been classical, rooted in the old customs and traditions Celine had taught her. But the echo? As Zoey and Mira nudged it loose it turned out not to be a complete stranger after all. Suddenly the classic piano started sounding more like a keyboard, the broken notes replacing their song with the modern instrument instead, one that was both old and new, like two worlds colliding in peace. The violins returned with cheer energy and elegance soon after.
Zoey and Mira didn’t open their eyes in such state of deep focus, they could feel life returning to Rumi as the Honmoon stopped acting like a battering ram to start supporting the melody instead. The tremors stopped and so did the bleeding in a matter of minutes.
Rumi woke up with a gasp the exact same moment her guitar did, it’s sound electro-acoustic in nature, capable of new sounds it couldn’t make before to answer her partners melody.
Zoey started laughing full of relief, song being interrupted for a moment at seeing Rumi alert and awake so she could press a wet kiss on her cheek.
-That’s it, Ru-Ru, come back to us.
Mira pressed her forehead against lilac hair and waited for Zoey to start humming again so she could speak, not wanting to stop singing yet. Not until they were sure it had worked.
-We are here and we love you, Rumi, so sing with us.
Rumi was gasping, not out of pain this time but simply hungry for air that had seemed scarce seconds ago. Her face was tear struck, not in sadness but astonishment at how light she felt inside as her song was sung, her true song. Part of her was surprised it wasn’t squeaking violins and horrible sounds.
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like.
She knew then, undoubtedly and definitively, that something this beautiful couldn’t be a monster. Not with the irrefutable love imprinted by their voices on each note.
Her voice was clear when she finally joined them and the Honmoon resonated soon as their voices harmonized together, calm and gentle this time. Zoey and Mira squeezed her until they felt she could handle her now strong and clear song, letting go gently to integrate their own.
The invisible lines shone in a way that rivaled the one generated by thousands of people in the arena hours ago.
Because this was them , the three chosen souls in this generation, and this? This was their song.
No more masks, no more lies and no more pain. Just pure, absolute harmony.
There came a moment when the three of them started laughing, relieved and happy after the last note was sung between intertwined arms, kisses being shared freely over every bits of skin their could reach without separating.
-I didn’t know I could sound like that.
Rumi whispered in awe as Mira pressed her arm gently in support.
-It always was there, and now it won’t be quiet ever again, this is your song.
Zoey nods as her hand runs through sweat dampened hair without a single care.
-No need to be fixed, no need to change, Rumi, just be yourself.
Rumi agrees.
-I guess it wasn’t trying to purify me, or heal or kill me... it just wanted me to be heard, loved, to be myself.
They all nod and let go slightly of each other, Mira bites her lip looking to the side, there was something she needed to say.
-I’m sorry I lifted my Gok-do against you, Rumi. I was confused and hurt and even then it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t imagine how yo felt, all your fears turning real.
Zoey swallows.
-I can’t believe we did that instead of listening to you.
Rumi denies the statement, hands raising gently to quiet them down.
-I didn’t really leave you more options, the situation was chaos and the worst possible way you could find out. I said everything poorly, choose every word wrong... I should have never kept this a secret.
Zoey caresses a pattern on her shoulder, color no longer white hot and unbearable like bleach but multicolored in nature.
-These aren’t burning anymore, do they hurt, are you alright, Rumi?
The woman smiles bright and free, and even disheveled and tired she is radiant.
-Never felt better.
The afternoon saw the trio covered in blankets and pillows over their couch, dirty dishes and leftovers would wait until tomorrow to be cleaned and a documentary on leatherback sea turtles played quietly on the background, illuminating their sleeping shapes gently; a pile of tangled arms and legs that would be uncomfortably numb the next morning, it was irrelevant, nothing could have keep them apart after the last day.
They were born to be together, after all.