Chapter Text
Rumi was splayed out on the couch, watching garbage on the television. Zoey and Mira had a shoot going on today, and Rumi had business meetings that prevented her from joining them. She missed them terribly, though they had only been gone a few hours, she longed to lay her head in Mira’s lap or to fall asleep on Zoey’s shoulder, but she was out of luck and all alone. Her patterns pulsed blue with longing thinking about them, and she wondered what she would do if she were ever without them for longer than a day or two. She had felt herself be slowly lulled into sleep, her eyelids heavy, she was just about to pass into darkness when suddenly
*Bringgg**Bringgg**Bringgg**Bringgg*
Rumi panicked, the harsh noise ripping her from the welcoming arms of sleep. That was the ringtone she had reserved especially for Celine. She had wanted to make sure that she would always know to drop everything when she called. Celine used to call very rarely so it was never a problem, that is until that night under the tree.
Rumi’s knees aches as she knelt on the dirt, the back of her hands rested on her thighs, her sword rested on her palms. The rough stones dug into her flesh, and Rumi knew she deserved it. All she could do now, all she wanted to do now was wait for oblivion, but oblivion never came. She gasped softly when she felt the sword leaves her hands, winced at the clang as it clattered behind Celine. She inhaled sharply as she felt Celine’s hands on her shoulders, touching her patterns. Celine hadn’t touched her patterns since she was six years old and they appeared for the first time. She remembered that hesitant touch, brushing against them as if to check her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. It had been the last time anyone but her had touched her patterns. Rumi stared into Celine’s eyes as she talked, listening blankly to words about promises, only stirring when she heard her talk about acceptance.
Rumi gasped as she returned to the real world, still staring down at the ringing phone. It had been months since that night, and Celine and Rumi’s relationship has been strained to say the least. In the days that followed, Celine had called her at least ten times, probably more than she had called her this whole year. She had left messages, but Rumi hadn’t bothered to listen to them. Eventually Celine seemed to accept that Rumi didn’t want to talk to her, and the calls became much less frequent. Rumi slowly reached down to hang up the ringing phone like she had done so many times before, but then she felt the Honmoon’s threads tighten dangerously at this thought.
“Fine”, she grumbled, “you win, I’ll talk to her.” Almost as if breathing a sigh of relief, the Honmoon’s threads relax. She picks up the phone and hits Accept.
Rumi is about to open her mouth to say something when, “…Rumi.” Rumi’s entire body stills when she hears her aunt’s voice, raspy and broken like she had never heard it before. Terror grips her heart as if in a vice. “I need your..” Celine is cut off mid sentence by a terrible coughing fit, and when she finally stops coughing she finishes, “help.” The line was silent, Rumi had dropped her phone on the second cough, if Celine had been able to hear over her coughs she would have heard the terrified pounding of footsteps as Rumi ran out of the penthouse as fast as she could.
As Rumi sprinted to the elevator and started violently pushing the button as fast as she could over and over again, she thought about the last time Celine had gotten sick. Demon hunters immune systems were almost perfect, and so they very rarely got sick, a necessity when the future of the world depends on you traveling the world in concert; however, that meant that when they got sick, they got it bad. The last time Celine was sick was 9 years ago, and it had been terrifying, she has a huge fever, she couldn’t eat without throwing up, and she had such bad coughing fits she couldn’t sleep. Rumi had called an ambulance, she was alone and scared for Celine’s life. Before the events of the idol awards had happened, it was easily the most scared she had ever been. It had haunted her nightmares for years.
She made the 30 minute drive in 20, and as she rushed to the front door of the house where Celine had raised her, she couldn’t help but notice that something was wrong. The garden around the shrine, around the tree was overgrown, not like she hadn’t cut the grass this week, more like it had been weeks, maybe months. She noticed more details, each one a blaring warning sign in her head that something was not right here. There was a footpath through the overgrown grass leading to the tree, it was a sign that Celine had known about the grass, had come out here, but she hadn’t bothered to fix it. ‘How long had she been sick?’ Rumi thought desperately praying to every god she could think of that she wasn’t too late, that she wouldn’t find her mom’s Celine’s body lying in her bed.
She opened the door and stepped into the home, her nose immediately overwhelmed by the smell. She almost gagged. In that moment she truly regretted having her enhanced sense of smell. As she walked into the kitchen she began to identify all of the places the smell was coming from. The garbage had been left to sit in the bin for days if she had to guess, it looked like Celine hadn’t done the dishes in weeks, and there was open bottles of whiskey on the table, surrounded by used whiskey glasses. It was a testament to her love for Celine that she pushed through the smell to get to the hallway where the bedrooms were. Rumi walked swiftly down the hallway, opening the door to Celine’s room and stepping inside.
The open door sent light streaming in through the hallway to illuminate the dark room. Celine’s room wasn’t much better than the kitchen. There were clothes strewn over the floor in haphazard piles, the blinds were drawn shut and the window was closed. Rumi quickly closed the door behind her, not wanting to wake Celine if she was asleep. The only sources of light in the room was the sunlight that made it through the blinds and the soft glow of Rumi’s patterns. They glowed a light purple, almost lavender, a color her girls had come to associate with worry. As Rumi’s eyes adjusted to the dark, her demon heritage redeemed itself, her eyes easily able to cut through the dim light in the room. Her gaze fell on a figure curled up in bed, they were twisted into fetal position, their arms holding an object Rumi couldn’t quite make out against their chest like their life depended on it. Rumi recognized the figure as Celine almost immediately, and she quickly went over to her bedside. Celine’s eyes were closed in sleep, but they stirred awake as Rumi approached. Her eyes instantly locked on her, staring at her like she was a ghost. Now that she was closer Rumi could make out the object that Celine was cradling: it was a stuffed animal. At first Rumi was confused and thought that she might have gotten it from Zoey’s room, that was until she looked more closely at the stuffy. She remembered this one, it was one of hers! She must have been five when she got it, looking at it rekindled her memory of the day she got it.
Celine had taken little Rumi to a carnival, “A reward for my girl learning to read!” She had said. Rumi looked around in amazement at the sights and the sounds. She had never seen anything like it in her life. She wanted to do everything, ride every ride, visit every stand, and eat every food. She dragged Celine along, and she remembered looking back at her and seeing the smile on her face as she was pulled to the next ride. It was the happiest Rumi had ever seen her. It was coming to Rumi’s bedtime, but she had thankfully tuckered herself out completely. Celine had picked Rumi up and carried her on her back on the walk to the car, her little legs had walked all they could. They were about to walk out when one of the toys caught Rumi’s eye.
“Eomma! Eomma! Look at that tiger, can I get him please, please, please!” Rumi begged, and Celine looked back at her and smiled.
“Okay, I’ll get him for you, then we’ll go home, okay?" Celine said, and Rumi could see the warmth in her eyes and in her smile.
“Okay!” She nodded vigorously, almost hitting Celine in the head.
Celine set Rumi down gently on the ground with a chuckle. “Be careful, Ru, you could have hit me!” Rumi nodded chastised, but there was no malice in Celine’s voice. Celine walked up to the stand and said “Three throws please.”
The stall owner asked, “Sure you don’t want more? This is a very difficult game!”
Celine winked at Rumi, causing her to giggle, and boasted “This is all I’ll need. Here Rumi, why don’t you try and throw one.” Her throw barely made it over the side. Rumi felt sad, and was almost going to cry when Celine said, “Don’t worry, I got this.” It was a milk bottle game she remembered, and she watched in awe as Celine expertly knocked down all the milk bottles, winning the grand prize. “Which one do you want, sweetie?” Celine asked with that sparkle in her eye.
“That one!” Rumi pointed enthusiastically, her finger pointing at a large stuffed purple tiger. It was over half as big as she was.
“We’ll take that one.” Celine informed the store keeper, who still looked rather shocked that she had won with only two balls. He grabbed the purple tiger from behind the counter and gave it to Celine, who immediately bent down and handed it to Rumi with a smile.
Rumi cheered and clutched it to her chest, beaming like she was the happiest she could possibly be. “Thank you Eomma!” Rumi yelled, hugging her stuffed animal. Celine’s expression fell a little bit at the title, but she made no mention of it, squatting down so she could give Rumi a piggy back ride as they left the carnival.
Rumi blinked away tears as she remembered that day, it had been one of the happiest days of her life. She knew now why Celine’s face had fallen when she called her mama, but little Rumi had never realized. She looked at the stuffed animal and saw that its head was still wet with tears. She came back to reality and met Celine’s gaze, “Celine,” the name felt like lead in her mouth remembering how she had called her Eomma, but she chose not to dwell on that right now, “how are you feeling? Are you ok, do you need anything?”
Celine’s voice rasped out words that Rumi had to struggle to put together, “You… came.” She sounded surprised, and it felt like she had stabbed her in the heart.
“Of course I did, now shush, don’t strain your voice.” Rumi answered, trying to hide the sorrow in her voice. The bags under her eyes told her she hadn’t slept in days. She felt her forehead and yanked her hand back, Celine felt so hot. “I’m going to get you cold medicine and a cool towel now, okay, try not to fall asleep again until I get back.” She said, trying to hide her terror as she stood up. She had to bring this fever down, and soon.
Rumi left the room, quickly moving to the bathroom to collect what she needed, grabbing a bowl from under the sink placed there for just this purpose and filled it with cool water while she got a handful of washcloths and a bottle of cold medicine. She went as quickly as she could, she couldn’t let her Eomma Celine die.
Rumi walked back to Celine’s room as fast as she could without spilling. She knelt by her bedside and gently mopped up the sweat that had poured across Celine’s face with a dry washcloth before she laid a cool wet cloth over her forehead. She measured out a dosage of cough syrup and fed it to Celine, who drank it without complaint. The medicine apparently went down a little funny as it sparked a fresh coughing fit, and Rumi watched as Celine moved her hand up to cover her mouth, but halfway there she ran out of energy. Rumi was well and truly scared now. “Just fall asleep, I’ll take care of you.” She reassured Celine, her hand brushing Celine’s hair behind her ear.
Celine was almost asleep when she murmured, “I thought I was never going to see you again.” Her words sent guilt shooting through Rumi, and she was about to respond when Celine said, “I don’t deserve you, I never did.” She missed Rumi’s reaction, sleep had already taken her for the first time in days. Rumi was devastated, what did she mean that she didn’t deserve her, it was Rumi who didn’t deserve Celine! Rumi had thrown away all of the olive branches, had spit in the face of Celine’s attempts to repair their relationship, and now Celine was sick, and she still thought that she didn’t deserve her. Celine was sick and she was clutching Rumi’s stuffed animal and crying into it.
Rumi knew that Celine had been wrong about so many things. She knew that Celine had messed a lot of things up. Rumi knew that Celine had been wrong about her patterns and the Golden Honmoon and Zoey and Mira’s reactions. Rumi also knew that she was a first, and she knew that if she had been in the same position as Celine she would have made many of the same mistakes she did. Rumi knew that Celine was broken and alone when she raised Rumi, and that her trauma had never been allowed to heal. Rumi had been happier than she had been in years these last months, but she had always felt like some piece was missing. She never could figure out what it was, but now as she sat at Celine’s bedside, she realized that she had missed Celine. She missed her mom. If she lived through this Rumi promised she would repair their relationship.
Rumi kept vigil at Celine’s bedside all day, only leaving to grab a hoodie to wear, both because it was cold and because she didn’t want Celine to wake up deliriously and think she was some random demon. She mopped at Celine’s face, kept the towel cool, and gave her cold medicine when she needed it. She had texted her girls from Celine’s phone to tell them where she was and to tell them not to come down and help, she thought having all of them there would be overwhelming for Celine. It was nine pm, Rumi had been here for almost eight hours, and she felt exhausted, but she refused to fall asleep, especially because Celine’s fever was spiking again. She was thankful for the hoodie, the house was always cold at night and she had the hood pulled over her head, covering her hair.
Rumi was on full alert when Celine began to thrash in her sleep, Rumi ran her hand through her hair like Celine used to do when she had nightmares. Celine’s eyes flew open, her eyes were wide, flitting wildly from one wall to the other, delirium had clearly set in. They landed on Rumi, and she appeared to calm down as she looked at her. Celine tried to reach her toward Rumi, but her arm fell, weakly flopping off the side of the bed. Celine’s cracked voice filled the room, and Rumi knew that she would never forget the look on Celine’s face as she spoke. Her eyes were dull with fever but they lit up as she spoke, her cheeks drawing up into a weak sorrowful smile despite the flush coloring them.
“Mi-Miyeong? Is that you?”