Chapter Text
Mira has always known she likes girls, ever since she was a little kid and found herself smiling when her female classmates grabbed her by the hand to go to recess. It was yet another thing her parents found problem with, the way her gaze wandered towards the dolled-up faces of the daughters of their rich friends, instead of the suit-clad bodies of their sons.
Mira is sure that if it wasn't for the fact that it would have absolutely trashed their reputation, her parents would have shipped her off to a conversion camp by fourteen. Instead, she got the promise of A Lot Of Money and a full-paid apartment for herself, under her name, with all expenses covered, as long as she kept discreet and made sure to ignore both boys and girls, since Mira refused to fake attraction to the opposite gender. It turned the already cracked relationship between her and her parents into a pile of shattered glass, but it kept their family somewhat civil and united until Mira joined the HUNTR/X and her difficult personality, resting bitch face and tendency to do whatever she wanted became the things that made her famous.
Nowadays, her parents had a portrait of her in her debut outfit right next to the magnified picture of her brother in his graduation robes. They bragged and bragged about their successful children, their little perfect boy and amusing problem daughter, both who had found their own ways in life. It didn't matter that her mother had slapped half the life out of her when Mira declared she was going to become an idol, or that her father had called her the shame of their family all her life, and continued to do so now. To show embarrassment was to lose, and the Janggoks didn't lose. Mira was their darling wildcard, and they would accept interviews where they talked well about her and defend her to the public as long as she brought riches and fame home.
Even her older brother, who had never spared a warm glance her way and made sure to shoot down her dreams at every chance he got, kept a small Mira keychain on his work crossbag. The tabloids absolutely loved it when rich, handsome young CEO Janggok Ji-ho displayed such obvious support for his little sister. Of course, Mira and Ji-ho haven't talked once in more than ten years, since way before Celine approached her with her failed-but-not Overall Awareness Test. But the press did not know that, and Mira made sure to like and retweet the snapshots of Ji-ho buying her special edition Funko Pops.
A mutually beneficial relationship, they had. It was all they had, but Mira was Korean, and an idol. She could not afford to be marked as an ungrateful daughter. She already was lucky enough to be called badass and cool instead of disrespectful and unfilial.
For a few years now, they have kept the daggers they used to hold at each other throats sheathed. Mira won't talk about the emotional, psychological and sometimes even physical abuse she suffered under their roof, and her family won't even hint about the fact that, as an adult, Mira’s eyes still linger on pretty smiles, long hair and small breasts instead of broad shoulders, sculpted arms and flat asses. Even though she does, though now it's her groupmates’ instead of those of their female choreographers or other idols.
So that's how she finds out, really. She's looking at Rumi’s defined midriff and her perfect handful of tits between outfit changes, and suddenly her eyes zip right to a previously undiscovered, minuscule strip of bicep. Mira has never seen Rumi's bare shoulders before, seeing as she's the most polite and reserved of the tree of them.
But now she's looking, and suddenly it clicks.
Everything clicks.
Zoey has a fascination for public baths and no problem to run between rooms looking for her last abandoned notebook in just a pair of panties and an oversized shirt; and Mira refuses to work out in more clothes than necessary and her biggest form of indulging is buying lingerie sets that include camisoles and baby dolls, items that she wears around their shared living space because she's shameless and she sometimes catches Zoey staring or Rumi escaping the room looking as red as a strawberry.
Rumi, however, it's different.
Rumi not only refuses to show much skin, she also keeps herself apart. She's the last one to join group hugs, and if they are looking at something in the living room together, she will curl up in the armchair, instead of the couch with Mira and Zoey. When they are sent merch, no matter how Mira or Zoey arrange it, after Rumi looks at the displays her own stuff is always a bit further away than where they put them in. For the longest time, Mira looked at Rumi's back retreating behind a partition screen, and sending looks at her arm thrown behind Zoey's shoulders during a movie, and the way their Barbie dolls arranged to be leaning against each other were suddenly separated, and thought Rumi hated them.
It hurt, of course. Despite her multiple admirers thought kindergarten, and grade school, and middle school, Mira never really knew friendship until first year of highschool, a year after of being introduced to demon hunting and discovering what weapon suited her best, and what fighting style, and how fast and strong and connected to the Honmoon she was. The answers turned out to be the Gok-Do, which Mira absolutely adored, boxing, which, sick, and very, all in that order
Her prowess put her in a class of five at sixteen years old, with the other handful of hand-selected girls around the same level of talent. Jung Hyeon and Yoon Yeong-Hui were good, fast on their feet and quick of mind, but Yeong-Hui was a bit too headstrong, a bit too brash, and got held behind until she learned restraint. Hyeon, on the other hand, was never truly interested in becoming a demon hunter. She didn't like messes, or violence, or having to make difficult choices. She became an idol, yes, but not a demon-hunting one, while Yeong-Hui later joined another girl group, High Garden, who did hunt demons. She became great.
Mira, Gun Ae-Cha, who insisted on being called Zoey from the very beginning, and Sagong Ho, who picked Rumi for herself later on, became incredible. Unstoppable. HUNTR/X took the charts by storm, and they rose higher and higher. Their first fan event hosted more than five thousand people, the next one reached hundreds of thousands. People paid to come to Meet & Greets with them, and shook their hands or hugged them with tears in their eyes. The first time Mira found out someone got her signature tattooed on them, she was almost catatonic for a full day. The only video ever of her tearing up in public is from a fan showing her Mira sleeve, norigae front and center, pink all over like an afternoon sky.
It's something that Mira has with them: with funny, loyal, wonderful Zoey, and controlled, kind, lovely Rumi. They are her best friends, her soulmates, her first real family. They are the only people Mira wants to go home with, the only ones she wishes to grow old next to. And until a bit after their debut, it seemed they were on the same page. They spent every hour of every day together, cried and trained and laughed and won together.
And then Rumi started distancing herself.
It seemed that the more famous HUNTR/X became, the more important, the more Rumi stepped back. Mira tried to ask, to be there, to pay attention, but there didn't seem to be any kind of explanation available. She and Zoey became closer in their grief, and even their combined efforts were unsuccessful to bring Rumi back to them. She would agree to sleepovers but never stay the night, and go shopping with them but stray away. She would not join them at the baths, or go swimming with them, or borrow their clothes, or seek them. Ever. Zoey sometimes leaned on her, but Rumi never took long to shrug her off.
And maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much, if it had always been like that, but that was not the case. At the start, Rumi was as sticky and codependent as the rest of them. She would linger, and easily let them hold her up, tuck her under their arms and braid her hair and sandwich her in the couch. She would rest her head against Mira’s shoulders and sigh when she hugged her against her side, fall asleep like that; she would find Zoey after a long day and wait patiently until she got the memo and pulled her into her arms for a long, tight hug. During sleepovers, she would slowly but surely creep towards them, and they would wake up in a tangle of limbs, comfortable and sweaty.
Mira doesn't remember when it started to change. But she can recall with perfect clarity the hurt in Zoey’s eyes the first time Rumi sidestepped her when she approached her for a hug, and how she had retreated to her bedroom, coming out only at night, for dinner, not looking at either of them in the eye.
And of course, it could have been just yesterday when Mira sat besides her in the couch and threw her arm around her, only for Rumi to quite literally get up and walk away.
Mira never understood what happened, what changed, what did she do for Rumi to start as resenting them—and it broke her heart. Because she loved Rumi, like a friend and like a family and even more than that, more than she should. She loved her just like she loved Zoey, and though she couldn't have Zoey either, at least she was close.
Sometimes Mira wondered if Rumi knew, if she had figured her out. Rumi is a legacy child, daughter of a former famous idol, with another as her adopted mother. She would not risk HUNTR/X, successful as they were, just because Mira sometimes slipped and ogled them a bit, because Zoey was clingy, because they both couldn't help but pester her. But maybe Rumi wanted to.
Maybe Rumi realized, just like Mira’s parents had, like her brother did, like Zoey did. Maybe she knew Mira wasn't normal, and it disgusted her, wanted to have nothing to do with her, except that she couldn't exactly kick Mira out, nor could she just leave, unless she was ready for a scandal to happen.
Zoey seemed sure that that wasn't the case—after all, Rumi still joined them, still tried. She came to the sleepovers and the movie marathons and the shopping sprees and never seemed to hate it or be uncomfortable. Every once in a while she would slip, even, and pull Zoey close, keep Mira near. Whenever she was very happy or very sad, Rumi would lower her walls, and they could all be together, like it seemed so right to be.
Mira had her answer now, she supposed: it wasn't that Rumi figured out her secret, it was that she had one of her own.
Rumi, one of the best demon hunters of their generation, if not the best. Rumi, a legacy child. Rumi, who had cursed and killed the things without hesitation, sometimes even with fervor, and did so with a smile on her face and her sword held high.
Rumi who has patterns—the patterns, dimly lit and unnatural in her skin. Rumi who is a demon, partially if not fully.
Rumi, whose face pales and crumbles with terror when she catches Mira looking at her.
“Mira…?” She asks tentatively, eyes wild and hands trembling.
Mira doesn't know how to feel. Can she trust Rumi? She's a demon—but she's her family, too. One of her best friends. Her ally. Possibly the love of her life.
Her patterns are pretty, a glowy kind of lilac, with a somewhat golden shine.
Mira gulps, then shakes her head. “Your makeup is a mess,” she snarks, and approaches Rumi to fix it herself. Part of their routine. Rumi won't let them near her much, but she's happy to let Mira do and fix her makeup, and will occasionally allow Zoey to brush and braid her hair.
“Oh,” Rumi breathes out, sounding hollow. Her eyes search Mira's face, but Mira,’s expression is blank. Her brain, too. “Okay,” Rumi smiles, shoulders relaxing and leaning back. She closes her eyes without a second thought. Mira stills for just a second, the sight of the patterns fresh in the back of her eye.
Rumi is not looking, and her head is tilted up at Mira, throat exposed and vulnerable. Mira could end this right now. Could end Rumi, right here.
Rumi, who is at least half demon. Rumi, who has been lying to them. Rumi, who sets herself apart and maybe hates them, is maybe playing with them.
Rumi who she wouldn't want to live without, simply and plainly.
Mira grabs her chin with a gentle hand, and carefully wipes her makeup off, dries her face, and reapplies it.
“You are much better at this than me,” Rumi laughs.
“You don't know that. Maybe I'm scribbling in your face without a care in the world.” Maybe I'm thinking of killing you.
“You wouldn't do that.”
Mira paused, thumb caressing the side of Rumi's face for a single second before stepping back, work done.
No. No, I wouldn't.
“Alright showgirl, let's go.”
God, she hopes Rumi is not trying to kill them, because Mira—Mira would let her.