Chapter Text
They'd known each other for almost two months at this point. That was considered a long time to know a demon, according to Rumi. But maybe that's because she hadn't stopped to talk and killed the demons the first chance she got. But who cares?
Two months ago Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were triple checking the Honmoon. They quickly skimmed over Seoul because they were starting their world tour and wanted to make sure that most demons were gone. Celine could handle the rest. In other words, it was your average hunt.
But then an enormous group of demons appeared. There were more demons than their ages combined. It was insane. And one of those demons just happened to be Jinu.
𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚.
Anyways, Jinu slashed at Rumi and her patterns became visible to him. For some reason he helped hide them from Mira and Zoey. The same night Jinu asked if Rumi wanted to meet him in Bukchong. A mix of curiosity and interest led her to go. It started off with him interrogating her about her patterns and getting nothing. Then he told her his story of how he became a demon.
He was alive 400 years ago. His family was dealing with severe poverty and lived on the streets. But a voice, Gwi-Ma, told Jinu that he knew a way to help get Jinu's family out of this life. Soon enough, Jinu and his family lived in the palace. However, patterns crept up his body. They eventually consumed him entirely, and when they did, his family was thrown out onto the streets. Ever since, Jinu's been living in the demon realm with Gwi-Ma.
Rumi told him about how her mother died and how she's been shamed for her patterns ever since she was a little kid. She didn't know why. Probably to just make him feel slightly better. They kept talking and agreed to meet up the next night, same time and place. Eventually, they just kept meeting every single night. They now know each other like best friends.
Rumi never showed hr patterns to him for the longest time. She always wore longsleeves or sweaters or turtlenecks or something like that. But then after 53 nights of meetings and 76 meetings in total, her patterns were exposed.
They were sitting on the couch in HUNTR/X's living room, talking and arguing like they'd known each other for years. Mira and Zoey were at the bathhouse. Rumi was wearing a loose and baggy longsleeve, barely staying on her shoulders. Then Derpy bumped into her, and the patterns on her shoulder were exposed for Jinu to see.
Just for a second.
A teeny, weeny little small second.
And that's what caused Rumi to freak out.
She scrambled to cover it, frantically grabbing the shirt and pulling it up faster than the speed of light. Blink and you miss it. She buried her face in her hands. Jinu heard her mutter something like "our faults and fears must never be seen" over and over again.
"Rumi. Why are you freaking out? I have them too," He told her. He removed his vest and sweatshirt, revealing the patterns on his arms. Underneath was a plain white T-shirt.
Rumi glanced up slightly. That was progress.
"It's just me," He told her. "I have them too. I know what it feels like. I know what's going on. You can trust me."
He had no idea about the weight that statement held.
Rumi was still in denial. "But Jinu. You 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 know what it's like. You don't know what it's like to be raised as an adult. You don't know what it's like to be raised by someone who only wants you out of honor. You don't know what it's like to be training for everything every second of your life. You don't know what it's like to be told that you're a mistake, day in and day out. You don't know what it's like to be told that half of you is less than worthless and should never be seen. You don't know what it's like to hide from the people that you trust most. You don't know what it's like to be part of countless attempts of pure torture, while the face of the person who raised you stared you dead in the eye and claimed that it was good for you. You don't know what it's like to be hoping for a fantasy every second of your life. You don't know what it's like to be hoping for a prediction. Hoping for something that might as well never happen."
She was crying. No, sobbing now.
"Rumi, what do you mean?" Jinu asked.
"I mean that I was born this way. My dad was a demon and my mom was a Hunter. I never had a chance to do something that would prevent me from this. At least you had a chance. A shot at a life most take for granted," Rumi sniffled through the tears.
Jinu looked at her. He forced her to look up at him. "Rumi. It's not your fault. You're not a mistake. You're anything but a mistake. The fault goes to whatever bitch raised you. You had a chance. But they screwed it up. You're perfect."
Rumi sniffled slightly. "...Thanks," She replied weakly, and leaned into his side, head resting on his shoulder. That was all he needed.
Little by little, Rumi started to show more of her arms to him. Wearing slightly too small longsleeves. Rolling up her sleeves slightly. Wearing turtlenecks that reached down to her forearm.
There was one day where Jinu met up with her in her room. It was your average day. Nothing special about it.
But then Rumi came to open the sliding glass door.
She wasn't wearing a longsleeve.
She wasn't wearing a turtleneck.
She wasn't wearing a sweatshirt.
She was wearing a tank top.
Her patterns were exposed.
Not by a sleeve falling.
Not by getting torn open.
But by 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
She never had to show them.
But she did.
And Jinu was 𝙨𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧.
"Rumi," He said. "Your patterns."
"What about them?" She snapped.
"They're 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡."