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Rumi knew that they were a dramatic person. They had known it for a while, considering they would stand on tables in taverns and tell stories or speeches to people far and wide. From the north to the south, from the east to the west. Anywhere they went, they left some part of them in that location; need it be a memory that the people in the area could remember for ages, or words that would stick with the people who were just looking for a drink.
To get to the point, Rumi was a dramatic person.
However, when they laid eyes on Peter for the first time, they would tell people for the rest of their life that it was love at first sight. Some would call them dramatic for this; they always had been dramatic anyways. Calling their first meeting love at first sight wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary. Some would call them a hopeless romantic. If asked, Rumi would simply say that it was fate for them to meet.
And it was. Rumi knew that it was fate ever since their sword had shown Peter to them in a vision. They knew it was fate when they spotted the man in the crowd and picked him out from the rest. It wasn’t necessarily a big thing when Peter was picked out - Rumi simply needed someone to play the viola for them - but it was still a fateful meeting nonetheless.
Once they had finished telling their big story, they quickly hopped down into the crowd and grabbed Peter by the arm. “Let’s go, friend.” They whispered as they dragged Peter along, still holding the man’s arm tightly as they dragged him through the crowd.
Amongst the clapping and cheers from the crowd, they directed themself and Peter into a small booth that they could sit in, and was fairly surprised that the man had started to bawl over the little bit of praise he was given and began to cry even harder at Rumi simply asking for his name.
Looking Peter up and down, Rumi saw a man who wasn’t conventionally attractive. A disheveled bowl cut, clothes that didn’t fit him right, and oh gods was this man an ugly crier. Yet, Rumi respected Peter for this.
Rumi had to be perfect. They had to be showy and charismatic enough for the crowd to get hooked on every word this stranger said. To do this, they had practiced ever since they were young. Of course, they had been good at it even when they were a kid, but they had to be the best .
Peter was far from perfect. He seemed to never be confident about almost everything he said, and never seemed sure of himself. Even from one look at him, he seemed to have no charisma in the slightest, and Rumi loved him for that.
“...but aside from that, no.” Oh gods, when did Peter start talking? Rumi spaced out while analyzing the man.
“That’s wonderful, Peter.” They nodded, trying to act as if they were listening intently to whatever dream Peter was talking about. Something about being mush? Rumi was at least half listening.
Peter broke out into tears again.
- - -
“Peter, you’re perfect.” The words had slipped out before they even had time to control themselves. They supposed that they had just gotten comfortable around Peter extremely fast - too fast for comfort. The two had been talking alone for maybe five minutes at most.
They quickly covered it up with some more motivational words that brought Peter close to tears again. Once they seemed to have distracted Peter from those three words that they had uttered, they quickly met up with Thanatos after that. A robot who would have appeared to be emotionless if it weren’t for the fact that every other word seemed to be powered by anger.
They quickly set off. The neverending night unnerved Rumi a little bit. They wrapped their arms around their stomach and kept close to the other two. They already seemed to provide comfort to Rumi. Maybe it was the fact that Thanatos seemed to have strength that could protect the whole group from a pack of wolves if needed be, or maybe it was Peter’s compassion and kindness that never seemed to falter even though he had just met the two. It didn’t matter what the reason was. The group provided a small amount of comfort, and Rumi accepted it with open arms.
They quickly fell into routine as the days progressed. Rumi could never accurately tell when the days passed by. It was always dark, and then somehow darker than a normal dark, which confused them immensely. They all seemed to fall asleep whenever needed be. Sometimes, they would be blessed with an inn that they could all stay at (and Rumi could tell tales while there) or they were unlucky and would have to set up a makeshift camp wherever they were if one of the group members were mere seconds away from passing out (most of the time, it was Peter).
But while they walked, they would all engage in conversation. Usually it would go like this: Rumi and Peter would try to get Thanatos to open up, but Thanatos would only respond in short and concise sentences. Rumi and Peter would both get tired of trying to get Thanatos to talk, so they would just talk amongst themselves.
One time, they all stopped by a town that had a river. Rumi pulled Peter aside and showed him that if you rub two wet rocks together, it can usually make a sort of paste that could be used as face paint and that depending on what colored rocks you rubbed together, resulted in a different color outcome every time.
“For example, if you rub two gray rocks together, you’ll just get a gray paste.” They explained. “The dirt from the river is sticking to the rocks. And the color from the rocks rubs off onto the dirt which turns into the paste. If you rub two red rocks together, you’ll get a red paste, and so on and so forth.”
Peter seems ecstatic to learn this information. Rumi knew that Peter loved rocks. It was all Peter focused on when he still had his job. “And what happens when you rub gray and red together?”
“Well, let’s find out.” Rumi motioned Peter closer, and handed Peter a red rock (he already had a gray rock in his hand). When Peter rubbed the rocks together and wiped the paste onto his hand, he seemed a little disappointed.
“Aww man… it’s just the red we already have but darker.” Peter muttered, pocketing the rocks into his bag. “I was kinda hoping it would turn pink or something.”
Rumi didn’t have the heart to remind him that it was white and red that made pink, not gray and red.
And not even a few minutes later, Exandroth had come out and began to set fire to the river.
Rumi really didn’t like Exandroth. Sure, he was a little bit more charismatic than Peter; but Exandroth was also a major dick. Every time Exandoth would take over Peter’s body, he sprouted wings and just mutilated Peter’s body in any way he could. Peter described the feeling as if he were on fire any time Exandroth took over.
Rumi wished they could heal the wounds the archangel gave Peter, but there would be no point. It would only provide Peter a few minutes of comfort and prolong the inevitable pain Exandroth would hand him once he took over, and it would just make Rumi tired. It was a lose-lose situation.
The one time Rumi did watch Peter fall unconscious in battle, they rushed over to his side, panting slightly. They were also in pretty bad shape, but they would never let the party know because they were perfect .
They quickly healed Peter back to consciousness and held his head in their hands. “You have to live.” They whispered to Peter. The last thing they saw was a wide eyed Peter nodding slowly before an extremely painful shock ran through their whole body, and they fell unconscious.
- - -
“Rumi, you can’t hide your injuries like that.”
The shapeshifter stared at Peter. They had defeated the goddess of faith, and they were quickly shaken awake once the battle was over. The first thing they noticed when they came to was all of the injuries running down their body. They quickly covered them up again, and left with the group to go find a place to camp out for the night - but not before they noticed Peter staring at them with a look in his eyes that they couldn’t decipher.
Looking back, he was probably analyzing what Rumi was doing at that moment. Peter had obviously connected the dots together. He wasn’t stupid. He was actually very smart. Rumi had come to recognize that as they continued their journey together. However, they wished at this moment that Peter wasn’t intelligent enough to be able to piece the puzzle together. They wished that Peter hadn’t gotten so comfortable with the group to now be able to confront Rumi.
(That was a lie. They were glad Peter had gotten comfortable enough to speak his mind)
“It isn’t okay for you to do that because then we don’t know when you’re hurt and scenarios like what just happened earlier today can happen again.” Peter’s words dragged Rumi out of their thoughts and they quickly rejoined the conversation.
“I’m fine, Peter.” Rumi assured him, smiling softly.
“Well, you weren’t fine back there.” Peter pointed out. His voice seemed fragile; as if one more word from his mouth could cause a dam to break. “I mean, what if next time you- you die because we don’t know when you’re badly hurt?” He started to get choked up, eyes brimming with tears.
The tense atmosphere that was originally laid out quickly shifted to one that was delicate. One wrong move, and this could all turn south. Rumi knew that. “Peter-”
“You really scared me back there-” Peter blurted out, face lightly dusted with blush from embarrassment. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off. Go ahead.”
Rumi could tell that Peter was trying to keep it together for this talk. Rumi didn’t know what to say. For once in their life, they didn’t know how to respond. Someone genuinely cared enough about them to be scared for their wellbeing. Of course, Rumi had people like that in their life, but it never seemed real. Those were just people who followed them around for a few days before the illusion Rumi put up quickly wore off. Peter saw through the illusion and still cared for them.
“Peter,” They began, voice cracking. “I- I’m sorry.” They murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought that seeing me at my best would give others confidence to continue to fight, but it appears I was wrong.” They clasped Peter’s hand in theirs. His hands were warm.
“I won’t hide my injuries anymore. I understand now that hiding does more harm than good.” They stared at the hands that were clasped together for a few more seconds. “I hope that you can forgive me.” They looked up, and Peter was still staring directly at them, face more red then a few seconds ago.
They kept holding his hand.
“I- y-yeah. I forgive you.” Peter stuttered out. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He also continued to hold Rumi’s hand.
- - -
“Whatever you say… bestie.” Rumi blinked a few times in confusion at the words Peter had just uttered. Was he serious right now?
Rumi had grown to recognize his feelings for Peter a few weeks ago. Ever since he looked Peter in the eyes and told him he was perfect, he had known.
“...bestie?”
“Bestie.” Peter seemed to solidify his words, but his face gave away everything. He wasn’t the best at hiding his feelings. Even in the dark, Rumi could see that Peter’s face was a dark red from how close Rumi was to him.
Well, now was as good a time as any. “Peter, I am in love with you.” As soon as the words left Rumi’s mouth, a mixture of emotions began to clash in their brain. Anxiety, relief, happiness, worry.
Peter’s eyes widened with shock. “Is this a dream?”
It took everything in Rumi to not laugh at Peter’s words. He shook his head slightly and pulled back, extending his hand out.
Peter took it and let Rumi lead him away into the woods.
It was certainly a night for Rumi. They made a deal with a god and then proceeded to… not important. What mattered was that a deal was made. If Thanatos wanted to get pissy and throw a tantrum later, then that was a problem for future Rumi. For now, Rumi preferred to stay in the present. They leaned closer into Peter and slowly closed their eyes, a smile still present on their face even after the gentle hands of sleep took them.
- - -
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. This wasn’t how it was in the visions. It hadn’t even been a full day after they confessed their love. They were supposed to love each other for the rest of time, hold hands at any given opportunity. Hell, they were supposed to go on a dinner date once all of this was fixed.
But now nothing was fixed. Thanatos had walked off after Rumi lashed out, the sky was still filled with nothing but darkness; an empty void that seemed to mock Rumi anytime they looked up because not only had they failed their mission, but now the love of their life was laid in their lap, a sword through his chest and the usual goofy smile on his face was gone.
Peter was dead.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.
They leaned forward and rested their forehead on his, now letting an emotion other than shock take over. A sob wracked through their entire body, and they let the tears flow freely. Grief bloomed in their heart like a flower and quickly spread through the rest of their body. They leaned back and stared at Peter’s face for what felt like hours. Peter hadn’t even had any closure when he died. He died confused about what he had done, when in reality, he had done nothing wrong. It was that bastard Thanatos who had stabbed after being so easily tricked-
They were doing it again. They were lashing out once they got hurt. They shut their eyes and took a few deep breaths. When they opened their eyes, they immediately saw Peter’s dead body again, and that started a whole new round of sobs to shake their own body. They looked to their left, and saw the rocks that had spilled out from Peter’s bag. Just by examining them, they seemed to be painted.
The colors were very muted, and the paint seemed to be extremely flakey, but it made them cry harder, because they knew where the paint was from.
Because it wasn’t exactly paint. It was the paste that Rumi showed Peter how to make.
They knew it was unwise to make deals with gods. They had done it once before though, so they could do it again. They thought hard about what they wanted to say, and the message was sent.
They just hoped that their prayer would be answered.