So sad that spop is getting kicked off Netflix. This series meant so much to me growing up, it what lead me to realize I was trans.
Its so important that queer media doesn't fall into obscurity, share this around so that people in the future can appreciate the beauty that is saphic freinds to enemy's to lovers.
Series Summary: Takes place after the Idol Awards before they all go to the bathhouse together for the first time
Chapter Summary: The girls get back after the Idol Awards, and things are awkward. Rumi is still shut off and continues to isolate herself, Mira and Zoey want to help her but don't know how.
Masterlist
Word Count: 2288
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Wow, I can't wait to keep writing about these girls - if there are any requests let me know and I can try to include them!
---- RUMI POV ----
I couldn't get the screams of our fans out of my head.
They'd been deafening on stage—thousands of voices chanting my name, our name, Huntr/x—but now, with Mira and Zoey standing beside me, hand in hand, patterns visible for the whole world to see... somehow, it felt quieter inside me. Not peaceful, exactly. Just... easier. Like maybe I could breathe again.
"Ready to go home?" Mira's voice was gentle, but it still pulled me out of my head. She was looking at both Zoey and me, the streetlight catching the glitter still on her cheeks.
"Yep," Zoey said without hesitation.
I just nodded. Words felt like they'd cost me too much right now.
The ride home was silent. Not tense, just... thick. Like the air itself was holding back something we weren't ready to say. Every time I caught either of their eyes in the reflection of the car window, we both looked away.
When we got back to the dorm, Zoey and Mira immediately flopped onto the couch in perfect unison, like they'd been choreographed. I stood by the doorway for a second, clutching my bag like a shield before finally speaking.
"Hey, I'm gonna get a drink. You guys want anything?"
"Just water, please," Mira said without looking away from the TV screen.
"Cherry Coke, please, Rumi!" Zoey's voice had more sparkle to it, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed everything quickly. But the moment I reached into the fridge, I froze—like my own body had turned on me.
The sleeves of my hoodie had slipped just enough for the faint shimmer of my patterns to show against my skin. My marks. My curse. My reminder.
A voice curled in the back of my mind, cold and poisonous:
They'll never fully accept you.
My jaw tightened. I didn't want to believe it. I wouldn't believe it.
Shoving the thought away, I returned to the living room and handed them their drinks. They'd found some turtle videos on the TV. Of course. Zoey was smiling faintly—she could talk about turtles for hours and never get bored. Mira looked relaxed, but I could tell she was still watching me in that quiet, sharp way she did.
"Thank you, Rumi," they both said in unison. And then... silence again.
A few minutes passed before Zoey scooted over, leaving a space between her and Mira. She patted the spot, her voice hopeful.
"You wanna watch some videos with us?"
My instinct screamed no. My voice almost said it too, but I caught myself and hesitated. Zoey reached out, trying to take my hand—and I flinched, pulling back before I even realized it.
"Uh... I-I should probably have a shower," I said, forcing a small laugh. "You know... post-stage sweat." I hoped it sounded casual.
"Oh. Okay." Zoey's reply was short. Disappointed.
Mira didn't say anything. She just watched the exchange quietly, her eyes unreadable. I walked away—too fast, too obviously—and shut my bedroom door harder than I meant to.
That's when the voice came again. Louder. Familiar. Her.
Celine's voice slithered through my thoughts:
I should've killed you when you asked me. You're a mistake. A monster.
"No. No, no, no, stop—" I whispered under my breath, but it didn't stop. My chest tightened until it hurt.
The last 24 hours crashed down on me like an avalanche.
The deal with Jinu. The promise to take the girls to the bathhouse. The Idol Awards. Singing Golden, then Takedown. Mira's demon form. Zoey's demon form. Seeing them for real. Running. Arguing with Jinu. Celine's face. Asking her to—Jinu's sacrifice. The new Honmoon. Standing with my girls. Now this.
It was too much. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor, pressing my hands to my ears like I could block it all out. My heartbeat was pounding, every thud a reminder that I was still here—still this.
A shower. Yeah. A shower was exactly what I needed. Wash it all off. Pretend, for a little while, that the water could make me clean.
---- MIRA POV ----
After everything that happened tonight, I just needed a second to breathe.
The Idol Awards had been chaos from the start—spotlights, fake smiles, microphones shoved in our faces. But that wasn't what made my chest feel like it was going to cave in.
It was everything else.
The Honmoon—our shield, our bond—being shattered.
Rumi's patterns, glowing under the stage lights, marks she'd been hiding from us... hiding from me... for years.
Watching the fragile threads of our found family snap and fray.
And then, somehow, against all odds, standing side by side with my girls to create the new Honmoon.
It had been too much. Even for me.
I sank deeper into the couch, Zoey sitting beside me, distractedly fiddling with the can of Cherry Coke Rumi had just given her. The three-month hiatus had felt like an eternity. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—our comeback, our victory lap. Instead, the whole ride home had been thick with awkward silence, and now... Rumi was keeping her distance again.
She said she was going to take a shower. I heard the water start maybe ten minutes later, but something about the way she'd practically ran to her room... it didn't sit right.
I've seen Rumi perform under pressure that would make most idols crumble. I've seen her take down demons twice her size without blinking. But I've also seen the way her eyes go distant when she thinks no one's looking, like she's slipping somewhere I can't reach.
Zoey glanced at me, clearly picking up on my mood. I didn't say anything. Not yet.
The thing was... I was done with all these lies. Done pretending I didn't notice when she flinched away from our touch. Done acting like I couldn't see how much she was hurting.
Because the truth?
I love her. I love Zoey too—but Rumi's the one who makes me ache. The one who makes me want to fight harder, yell louder, dig until I hit the root of whatever's eating her alive.
And right now, she was upstairs, drowning in something I didn't understand.
I stood. Zoey opened her mouth, maybe to ask where I was going, but I just held up a hand. "Give me a minute."
The hallway felt longer than usual as I walked toward Rumi's room. The sound of the shower echoed faintly from behind the door, and for a moment, I hesitated. I could walk away. Pretend I didn't notice. Let her keep her walls up.
But that wasn't me. Not when it came to her.
I knocked, firmly enough to be heard over the water.
"Rumi? It's me."
No answer.
I pressed my palm to the door, leaning in until my forehead rested against the wood. My voice dropped, softer now.
"I'm not going anywhere, you know. You can keep pushing me away if you want, but I'm still gonna be here when you're ready to stop running."
The water kept running, steady and relentless, like it was trying to wash the whole night down the drain.
And for the first time tonight, I hoped it wouldn't.
The shower finally cut off.
For a few seconds, I just stood there, listening to the faint drip of water and the shuffle of movement. The door cracked open, steam curling out into the hallway like it was trying to push me back.
Rumi stepped out slowly, a towel draped over her shoulders, her hair dripping in dark strands that clung to her face. She wouldn't look me in the eyes—just kept her head down, like she was hoping I'd lose interest and walk away.
"Hey," I said quietly.
"...Hey," she replied after a pause, voice flat, guarded.
I took one step closer, careful not to corner her. "Please don't shut us out, Ru."
She flinched almost imperceptibly. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are." My tone stayed gentle, but I didn't back down. "We want to help. Zoey and I—we're here for you. But we can't do that if you keep pushing us away."
Her hands tightened on the towel. "I'm sorry. I think I just... need time."
"I get that," I said, nodding slowly. "And that's okay. We've all been through hell. And we'd do it again, all of it, if it meant keeping you safe. But please, Rumi... let us face it together."
Her gaze flicked up, just for a second, then dropped again. "You don't understand. I don't want to hurt either of you."
"Too late," I murmured, a faint, bittersweet smile pulling at my lips. "We already care about you way too much for that to stop now."
She gave a shaky exhale, half a laugh, half a sigh—but when I reached out, she stepped back just slightly, shifting the towel higher over her shoulders. That's when I saw it—her forearms, faintly red like she'd scrubbed them raw in the shower. My stomach tightened. I didn't say anything, but my eyes lingered for a beat too long. She noticed and pulled the towel tighter, her movements defensive.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, like she'd practiced the lie.
I didn't push—not yet. Instead, I slowly extended my hand again. "The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you."
She hesitated, her eyes flickering between my hand and my face, as if weighing whether to trust me. Then, finally, she let me take it.
Her skin was still warm from the shower, and even through the faint redness, I could see the shimmer of her patterns underneath. They pulsed faintly, like they were aware of the moment too.
"I know you think your patterns make you different," I said. "And you're right—they do. But they don't make you less. Not to me. Not to Zoey."
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but instead she whispered, "I don't know if I can believe that yet."
"That's fine," I told her. "Then I'll believe it for both of us until you can."
She blinked hard, and for the first time tonight, she didn't step back when I pulled her into a hug. I kept my arms around her, careful not to touch the places I'd seen red, but close enough to let her know she wasn't alone.
---- ZOEY POV ----
Tonight was rough.
We all knew it.
But we were here—together—and I kept telling myself that meant we could get through anything.
Rumi was quiet, though.
Isolated.
Like she's always been.
I thought maybe that would've changed now that Mira and I know about her patterns. I mean... that was a huge secret to keep from us. Now that it's out in the open, I figured maybe she'd start letting us in.
But she hadn't. Not yet.
We still don't know much—why she hides them so fiercely, what they really mean—but it didn't feel like a conversation to have tonight. Not after the Idol Awards, not after the chaos, not after everything else.
And Mira... well, Mira being Mira, she'd clearly noticed too. She has this way of reading people like she's flipping through a book, and with Rumi, she doesn't even need to turn the page.
I'd been trying to focus on the turtle videos, but let's be real—my eyes weren't on the screen. The apartment felt way too big without Rumi sitting between us. The cushions where she should've been were still dented from earlier, and every time Mira glanced toward the hallway, I felt that same little knot twist tighter in my chest.
When Mira stood up, she didn't even have to say where she was going. I just gave her a look, and she gave me that don't follow me hand wave.
So I stayed. For a while.
But sitting there, watching turtle videos alone while the two of them were down the hall? The silence felt heavier than the cheering crowd we'd left hours ago. Ten minutes later, I couldn't take it anymore.
I padded down the hallway, my socks soft against the floor, and slowed as I heard Mira's voice—quiet, steady, the way she gets when she's trying to keep someone from breaking apart.
I rounded the corner and saw them.
Rumi stood just outside her room, towel draped around her shoulders, damp hair clinging to her face. She looked... small. Not in the physical way—she's still the same Rumi who could outsing, outdance, and outfight anyone—but small in a way that made me want to wrap her up and keep her safe.
Mira had her arms around her, holding on like she was afraid Rumi might vanish if she let go. Rumi wasn't exactly hugging her back, but she wasn't pulling away either. That was something.
I didn't even think—I just moved.
In two steps I was beside them, sliding my arms around both their shoulders until we were one tangled mess of damp hair, warm skin, and tired hearts.
"I'm here too, you know," I murmured into Rumi's shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone, Ru."
She didn't answer right away. I felt her shift slightly, like she was adjusting to make room for me in the hug. The towel loosened a bit, and for just a second, I caught a glimpse of the faint shimmer of her patterns under the hallway light. She didn't pull it tighter again.
Her arms came up slowly, hesitantly, until they were around both Mira and me. And that's when I felt it—her leaning in, just enough to say without words that she was letting us hold her up, even if only for tonight.
We weren't fixed. We weren't fine. But we were still us.
hey, don't cry. one cup heavy whipping cream, two tablespoons granulated sugar, three tablespoons cocoa powder and whisk until stiff peaks form for three ingredient chocolate mousse, okay?
gummygunk
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
titsay
janainaart
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
vaporwave
prguitarman
andulkaphoto
ellievsbear
