Work Text:
Rumi doesn’t like the beach.
The wind picks up and whips sharply against her cheeks, already pink from the cold air coming in off the ocean. She pulls the strings of her hoodie tighter around her face and tucks her chin to her chest, a pout already forming on her lips.
It’s their first day off in months and the first day where the weather isn’t completely miserable after a long winter of wild rain and cold wind. So, when Zoey eagerly suggests the beach and Mira immediately agrees, Rumi doesn’t know how to say no—doesn’t know the other girls well enough to argue, doesn’t know herself well enough to realise that, despite their short time together, she already doesn’t want to deny them anything.
They reach the bottom of the steep wooden staircase built into the rocky shoreline and Zoey is immediately kicking off her sandals and sinking her toes into the dark, damp sand. She skips a few steps forward and spins around to face the others, grinning brightly and already beginning to strip down to her swimwear. Mira follows at a slower pace, stepping onto the beach and pausing, closing her eyes as the fresh air hits her face and inhaling deeply. Shoulders loosen and the watchful, wary look falls away, leaving her features soft and serene in the overcast light. She moves purposefully, removing her clothes to reveal the one-piece swimsuit underneath, carefully placing them on the sand beside her shoes.
Another gust of wind blows along the beach, but Rumi suddenly isn’t so cold. An unexpected flush warms her frozen cheeks the sight of her friends stripped bare in front of her. She means to be respectful and avert her gaze, but her eyes move back to them without her even realising it, gliding over the smooth expanse of Mira’s thighs and hovering on the beautifully freckled skin of Zoey’s shoulders. She remembers herself when Mira turns from her neatly folded clothes and catches her staring. A miniscule smirk flicks over her features before Rumi has time to spot it.
“You aren’t coming in?” Mira asks.
Rumi shakes her head shyly, heat spreading from her cheeks to her ears, “I’ll mind your things,” she murmurs.
Mira’s eyes soften, searching Rumi’s face even as she tucks it further into her hoodie.
Zoey pauses halfway through tying back her hair, “You don’t want to swim? You sure?”
Rumi feels a genuine smile curl the corner of her mouth at the care in Zoey’s tone, “Yeah, Zo, I’m good.” And it isn’t the whole truth, but it isn’t a whole lie either. The cold breeze is already burrowing through her clothes, but the delight on Zoey’s face and the patience on Mira’s is all it takes to distract from the chill.
Zoey opens her mouth to respond, perhaps to argue or plead, but Mira nudges her side with an elbow and whatever she’s about to say turns into a surprised yelp.
“You heard her, she’s good,” Mira says, sidestepping to evade Zoey’s lunge and effortlessly placing a hand on Zoey’s forehead, keeping her at arms’ length.
“Mira!” Zoey laughs and stretches her arms, but they still aren’t long enough to reach Mira.
“It’s fine—go, have fun,” Rumi insists, smiling at their antics.
Mira withdraws her hand with a smirk and turns, striding confidently towards the water. Zoey hesitates a moment longer, giving Rumi a soft grin and a small wave, before she hurries after Mira, chatting enthusiastically about Jeju Island’s weather and coastal wildlife, hopping on one foot as she haphazardly pulls off her pants and adds them to the chaotic trail of clothes behind her. Rumi likes how at ease they both are. Likes seeing them comfortable and being silly with each other. Likes imagining how she might fit into the scene. A shoulder nudge, here. A smile, there. A hug, hopefully one day.
Rumi is staring again. She looks away and lets out a long, frustrated breath and finally steps onto the beach. Closing her eyes, Rumi focuses on the way the sand gently shifts and gives way under her weight, feels her runners sink into the surface. She takes a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to remain still for a few beats, then opens her eyes.
Unlike the others, Rumi doesn’t remove her shoes or clothes. She follows their footprints in the sand, collecting Zoey’s discarded clothes, meticulously folding each item and placing them with Mira’s. Then she picks a nearby patch of sand, somewhat dried by the sliver of sunlight peeking through the clouds, and sits. She hugs her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees, a small furrow to her brow while staring out at the sky.
Predictably, Rumi’s eyes slide to the sea almost immediately, locking onto the figures in the distance, already knee deep. Zoey’s delighted shrieks reach the shore as Mira splashes her. The sound softens Rumi’s frown, broodiness dissolving and turning into something tender and affectionate as she studies them.
When the water reaches their waists, Mira dives smoothly and resurfaces a few seconds later, long hair slicked back. Though she can’t see any details at such a distance, Rumi averts her gaze anyway to stop her mind from wandering and imagining water sliding along skin. She tilts her head towards the sky again, enjoying the slight warmth from the weak sunlight even as the wind bites at her skin.
A large bird flies in big, looping circles above the ocean. When a stronger ray of sun breaks through the clouds, it hits the bird’s dark body and highlights the tips of its wings in a soft golden brown. Rumi watches as it drifts on the wind, steady and smooth despite the wild breeze.
Time passes pleasantly, despite the stinging grains of sand against her face whenever the wind pinks up. Rumi rarely has days like this lately—always hunting and training, always hiding. She’s still tense—she needs more than a day off and a moment of peace to undo decades of stress and rigidness—but the grip on her legs relaxes slightly as she watches the girls swim and the birds glide. Rumi’s thoughts soften at the edges as she enjoys the unfamiliar calm.
A drop of water hitting her cheek brings Rumi back to the present. She squeaks and jumps in surprise as Zoey flops onto the sand beside her, flashing a smile at Rumi.
“Greater spotted eagle,” she greets, gesturing to the shadow in the sky, the movement flinging more water at Rumi.
Rumi tucks her head closer to her knees to avoid the droplets, but Zoey’s giggle draws her out of hiding and she tilts her head to the side and looks at Zoey. The other girl pulls a towel from the neat pile of their belongings as she settles properly on the sand.
“They migrate from further north—come to Jeju for the milder winters,” she adds conversationally.
Rumi contemplates this, shrouded in the safe cocoon of her arms, then says softly, “I used to see them a lot when I was little.”
Zoey wraps the towel tightly around her shoulders and doesn’t say anything.
Rumi hesitates, then continues quietly, “Celine liked to come here and let me run along the beach. She said it was to build endurance, but—” she shakes her head, a small, fond smile on her face, “I think she just wanted me to get my energy out.”
Zoey smiles, eyes sparkling with interest and amusement, “Ryu Rumi, were you a handful?” she asks cheekily, “Because my dad used to take me to the playground and the skatepark every day for the same reason and I was totally a handful.”
Rumi feels her cheeks warm at the friendly teasing, “I, uh—” she clears her throat and changes the subject, “I’ve seen other birds here, too. Mostly along the rocks.” Rumi points to the other end of the beach where dark rock rises out of the sand. “I can show you sometime, if you want.”
“Yes!” Zoey is immediately on her feet.
Rumi blinks, surprised, and stares blankly at Zoey’s outstretched hand while her brain whirs, trying to process the sudden, unanticipated shift.
“Now?” Eventually, her brain catalogues the change and Rumi untucks her arms and accepts Zoey’s hand, “What about, uh—Mira?” she asks as Zoey helps her to her feet. Zoey follows her gaze to where Mira is floating on her back, a picture of elegance and peace.
Zoey lets go Rumi’s hand to cup both around her mouth, “Mira!” In the distance, Mira lifts her head from the water and looks back at the beach, “We’re going for a walk!” Zoey’s shout is accompanied by a gesture to the rocks. A lazy wave is all the acknowledgement they receive before Mira relaxes back in the water.
“All sorted,” Zoey smiles. Then, much to Rumi’s surprise, she reaches over and reclaims Rumi’s hand, linking their fingers together as she tugs Rumi along and launches into a talk about all the bird species on Jeju Island. Rumi blames her blush on the sharp breeze.
The walk is languid. Zoey maintains a steady one-sided conversation and Rumi listens contentedly. When they reach the edge of the beach, Zoey drops Rumi’s hand to scramble up the dark, volcanic rock, hands and bare feet easily finding holds. Rumi follows with bit more hesitance. Her runners slip on the wet surface of the rock. Her hands scrape against grains of sand and she cringes in the coarse sensation.
A pleased exclamation pulls her attention before the uneasiness becomes overwhelming. Rumi pulls herself up the last couple of inches and her gaze immediately locks onto Zoey, crouched over a shallow pool of water situated in the rocks. Zoey glances up with wide, eager eyes and gestures excitedly to Rumi. Brushing the sand from her palms, Rumi cautiously steps closer, carefully navigating the pockmarked surface until she’s next to Zoey.
“Look!” Zoey urges softly, grasping Rumi’s fingers and gently tugging her down while pointing with her free hand. Rumi dutifully squats and follows the direction with her gaze. A small red sea star sits at the bottom of the pool. Rumi looks intently, taking in its stumpy legs and saturated coloration, intrigued by the little creature nestled beneath the water.
“Isn’t it amazing?” asks Zoey, all hushed and happy. Rumi looks up from the sea star and takes in Zoey’s face, lit up with elation at the tiny life in front of her.
“Yeah,” Rumi agrees, equally as soft, admiring the way Zoey’s smile wrinkles the edges of her eyes, “Pretty amazing.”
After a final blissful sigh, Zoey blows a kiss at the sea star, stands up and stretches, hands on her hips as she surveys their surroundings. Another happy sound leaves her as she takes in all the different pools of varying sizes and depths. She immediately starts exploring, expertly hopping from rock to rock, all the while avoiding the crabs and other creatures with homes in and around the water.
Wisps of hair escape from the braid that Rumi meticulously tied earlier that morning. With a huff of frustration, Rumi tucks the loose tendrils under the edge of her hoodie and follows after Zoey.
They explore. Zoey goes first, eager and gentle. Rumi follows, stepping back from the familiar role of leader to bask in Zoey’s endless knowledge. The younger girl keeps up a steady monologue about tidal ecosystems and marine conservation as they move from pool to pool. There are several tangents about her childhood in California that are completely unrelated to tide pooling, but Rumi isn’t bothered in the slightest. She takes each of Zoey’s stories and tucks them safe in her mind to turn over later while lying in bed.
Zoey wanders in no particular path, from the edge where the rocks are especially slippery to the opposite side where they give way to earth and grass and shrubs. Something catches her eye in the shrubs and she eagerly waves at Rumi to come and see. Rumi stands at Zoey’s side and follows her gaze and sees a flock of small brown birds, wings speckled with darked spots, long bills fossicking for bugs in the grass.
“Dowitcher,” Zoey explains softly, glancing at Rumi and giving her an excited grin, “Long-billed, if I had to guess. Isn’t it great?” Zoey says everything is great: the dowitcher; their dinner last night; the discovery that she’s a universe-destined idol and demon hunter, bestowed with magical abilities and weapons and soul-bound to Rumi and Mira for the rest of their lives. Rumi can’t help but agree as Zoey beams at the birds and points out their nest in a patch of grass nearby.
The birds aren’t overly concerned by their presence and after a couple of minutes of polite observation they silently disappear into the shrubs. Zoey stands and effortlessly starts up the conversation again.
Distracted by Zoey’s earnest lecture about coastal erosion as she leads them over the rocks, Rumi stumbles and Zoey steadies her with a quick hand on her elbow. Warmth seeps through her sweater and Rumi stares dumbly, eyes flicking from Zoey’s hand to Zoey’s face. Zoey doesn’t miss a beat, smiles brightly and smoothly pulls Rumi by the elbow and points.
A small crab stands on a patch of sand among the rocks. Zoey prods it gently with a finger and it twitches, taps a dance in the sand, pauses. Zoey laughs, soft and delighted, leans briefly into Rumi and sighs. There’s another glitch in Rumi’s brain as she blinks, but Zoey is up again by the time she lifts her eyelids. Rumi tracks Zoey with wonder as Zoey hops to another rock and hums under her breath. She begins singing quietly—at first, Rumi assumes it’s an American song she hasn’t heard before, but then she hears the lyrics and she’s pretty sure the song is made up because Zoey is singing about a crab. A little crab with a little dance.
Around them, the Honmoon hums in affection and amusement, and its obvious happiness settles behind Rumi’s sternum.
A good feeling, she concludes. She hears Zoey’s delighted voice in her head. ‘Isn’t it great?’ A great feeling, she corrects.
Another step. A shell. A sea anemone. A snail. Another story, another song. Even as the sun is hidden by a mass of dark, moody clouds and the sky dims to something ominous, Rumi is content to stay on the rocks.
The wind surges and snaps, flinging sand across the rocks and hitting Rumi’s face and hands. She cringes at the sting. Zoey notices her discomfort immediately and moves to stand in front of her and block the worst of the wind with her towel.
“Time to go,” Zoey says, not unkindly, but Rumi shakes her head.
“I’m fine,” she forces through clenched teeth.
Zoey cocks her brow, curious and bemused, “I thought you didn’t like the beach?”
Rumi starts to argue, but a blast of wind blows the words from her and replaces them with shivers, “I d-didn’t say th-that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Rumi gapes at Zoey’s—admittedly correct, though uncommonly candid—conclusion and Zoey assumes her silence is a concession. In a repeat of their previous roles, Zoey grabs Rumi’s hand and steers them over the rocks. They separate to descend and Rumi barely discerns the sand grinding abrasively against her hands as she matches Zoey’s movements and scrambles down to the beach.
Zoey snatches Rumi’s hand back as soon as they’re both on the sand and makes a show of rubbing both of her palms over Rumi’s fingers to try and warm them with the friction. Rumi shoves her other hand into her pocket and grumbles halfheartedly under her breath while Zoey giggles and teases her gently.
Halfway back and Zoey bumps her shoulder and points to the sky, where the eagle from earlier is still flying above the shoreline. Rumi watches in fascination as the bird dips and dives in the fierce wind currents, then her gaze slides to the water itself, searching, but there is no sign of Mira. For a second, Rumi’s heart stutters. Where is Mira? Her eyes flick from the water to the beach and Rumi releases a breath she doesn’t realise she’s holding at the sight of Mira still here—obviously—and walking towards them.
“Are you guys ready to go?” Mira prompts when they close the distance, aiming for casual and undermining it when the next gust of wind raises goosebumps up her neck and causes her to shiver.
“I’m fine!” Zoey announces proudly, puffing out her chest, “I run warm!”
“Lucky for you,” Mira drawls, drawing a giggle and a wink from Zoey.
“I’m f-fine too,” Rumi adds, to the same effect as last time—none.
Mira ignores Rumi’s feeble declaration in favour of stepping forward and bundling Rumi into her arms. Rumi barely resists snuggling closer as Mira tucks Rumi’s head beneath her chin and she runs her hands along Rumi’s arms and back.
“Aw, Rumi, you look so cozy!” Zoey coos, “On second thought, maybe I am cold, can I have a hug too?”
“No.”
Zoey gasps at Mira’s response. Slowly thawing in the shelter of Mira’s embrace, Rumi only huffs in amusement. Over the top of Rumi’s head, Mira and Zoey look at each other, endeared by Rumi’s behaviour.
“Come on,” Mira says, making sure Rumi stays tucked snuggly under her arm as she turns and snags Zoey’s wiggling form with the other and squishes her close to her other side, “Let’s go home. Showers, hot chocolates, couch—in that order.”
“Couch, couch, couch!” Zoey chants.
The clouds darken as Zoey collects her belongings. She forgoes redressing and decides to stick her sandy feet into her sandals and bundle the rest of her clothes into her arms and calls it a day. When the first raindrops begin to fall, the water soaking through her hoodie is the farthest thing from her mind as she bites her lip to hold back a laugh.