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Honmoon had been cast. The demons had been sealed away. Humanity was finally protected. No more hiding. No more secrets. Everything was supposed to be fixed.
Yet Rumi didn’t feel like everything was okay.
Her markings hadn’t faded, they’d spread. The patterns that had once only covered her chest now reached her hands, legs, and face. There was no way to hide them. And Rumi still tried.
She was in her room, pulling on her pajamas and getting ready for movie night. She slipped into her favorite pants, the ones with teddy bears and toy trains. The hoodie wasn’t necessary anymore, Zoey and Mira had already seen her patterns. They accepted her.
“Do they?” A voice eerily like her own echoed in her ear. But broken. Darker. Corrupted.
“They’re hiding what you are. They don’t think about it. They avoid it. Just like Celine. They just love some part of you. They will never know the whole. They will never love the whole.”
The voice that had arrived the day of the concert hadn’t left.
“Shut up,” Rumi whispered in response. Still, she pulled on the hoodie and adjusted her braid.
Then, someone knocked on her door. Rumi must have missed the first few taps, because Mira slowly pushed it open and peeked in.
“You ready? Zoey’s already back from getting us snacks,” Mira asked, not fully stepping inside. Rumi turned to smile. The bear ears on Mira’s pajama peeked out beside her.
“Yeah… yeah. I’m coming, sorry,” Rumi assured her. “Did you guys already pick what we’re watching?” She needed to get out of her own head.
“Zoey’s turn. Guess,” Mira huffed.
“Turtle documentary,” they said in unison, mimicking Zoey’s excited voice. Both laughed.
“Come on,” Mira said then, holding out her hand. Rumi took it and let herself be led to the couch, never letting go.
“Look what I found!” Zoey burst through the door unexpectedly, wearing her purple turtle-print pajamas. Rumi smiled at the sight. Mira hadn’t yet settled into her spot on the couch, the one permanently molded to her shape. Rumi took her usual seat without thinking. Zoey set the snacks on the table in front of the massive couch and greeted Mira with a kiss on the cheek. Rumi smiled at the affection but quickly looked away. Under different circumstances, she might’ve gotten one too.
Mira sat beside Rumi. Even with all the space in the world, the three always ended up pressed together.
“I got popcorn, Pocky, candy, Takis, chips that taste like… no idea, sodas. Here, Mira, watermelon. Oh! And grape for you, Rumi.” Zoey rambled non stop as she passed out the snacks and plopped onto the couch, leaving Rumi sandwiched between them.
Rumi hadn’t meant to end up in the middle, in fact, she would’ve preferred to avoid it. But this was how they always sat. Each had their assigned spot, the place they naturally fell into. Mira on the right, Zoey on the left. It was normal.
And yet, Rumi felt like everything was strange. Like she didn’t deserve her two girlfriends.
“So… turtle documentary?” Rumi broke what she felt was an awkward silence. She needed to talk about something.
“Yes!” Zoey answered immediately. “Wait, what? No!” She corrected herself, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I picked Space Sweepers. I’ll watch the turtles later, it’s a two-parter, and you guys haven’t seen the first one.” It was just an excuse, and all three knew it. Though Rumi and Mira enjoyed Zoey’s picks, a turtle documentary wasn’t exactly the best choice for distracting from everything that had been happening lately.
“Well? Should we start?” Mira prompted. The other two nodded, and Zoey queued up the movie in seconds before snuggling into Rumi’s side.
“They’re faking,” the voice whispered in her ear.
“Wait, what’s the movie about again?” Rumi interrupted, drowning out the voice only she could hear.
“Technically? Space junk collectors in 2092,” Zoey began. “But it’s more like a dysfunctional found family in space while some rich guy tries to seize power. Blah, blah.”
“Hope there’s fighting,” Mira added.
“There is!”
Rumi was struggling to focus. Between the hoodie and the closeness of the other two, she was overheating. She was hyperaware of her breathing, her movements, her patterns, every word she said or didn’t say. Twenty minutes in, she still hadn’t grasped the plot.
“How do they understand each other if they all speak different languages?” Rumi immediately felt stupid for asking.
“Oh, they explain it later,” Zoey said excitedly. At least it wasn’t a dumb question after all. “But basically, they have earpieces that translate everything in real time. It’s really cool.” Rumi didn’t respond, pretending to watch the movie.
Normally, Rumi would’ve cracked jokes by now, mocked the fake-looking fight choreographies, joked about how fun zero-gravity brawling would be (not that different from fighting midair, really). But she stayed quiet. Afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“They don’t want you here.” The voice was back. Rumi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, Mira was holding her hand. She hadn’t even noticed. Her palms were sweaty, but Mira didn’t seem to care.
“Just leave. Hide.”
Rumi jerked her hand away. Mira gave her a puzzled, worried look. Had she crossed a line without meaning to? Rumi immediately regretted it and yanked off her hoodie. “It’s hot,” she answered Mira’s silent question. If she wanted to silence the voice, she had to prove it wrong. She tossed the hoodie aside, leaving just the shoulderless t-shirt underneath, her arms fully exposed now. No turning back. She took Mira’s hand again and offered a timid smile. Mira returned her attention to the screen but began stroking Rumi’s hand with her thumb. She always knew how to calm her.
“I know where I recognize her from!” Mira interrupted much later. “Kim Tae-ri, right?”
“Yes!” Zoey sat up, grinning at the other two.
“Wait, who?” Rumi felt just as lost as she was with the movie.
“The actress,” both answered at the same time.
“Kim Tae-ri,” Zoey continued. “We met her last year at the Seoul concert.”
“Bobby introduced us,” Mira cut in.
The movie played in the background, but Rumi was more interested in watching the other two, her head swiveling between them.
“Yeah! Kim told him she was a fan and wanted to meet us.”
“Happy fan…” Mira murmured. Zoey didn’t seem to notice.
“She came backstage before the concert while we were still eating. How do you not remember, Rumi? You were the one who blushed the hardest when she said her name.”
“Something about The Handmaiden?” Mira added.
“She’s the same actress?!” Rumi’s cheeks flushed again as it came back to her. The other two laughed in unison.
“I barely managed to talk to her, ugh, so embarrassing,” Rumi admitted.
“Not your fault. She and Zoey started geeking out over her filmography.”
“Sorry for wanting to chat up a pretty girl,” Zoey defended herself. Rumi giggled. “Besides, happy fan, happy Honmoon.”
“Pretty sure you saved us from looking like total idiots,” Rumi laughed.
“Is that why you picked this movie?” Mira accused.
“Maybe… yes…”
Just as easily as they’d started talking, they fell back into watching. Zoey returned to her spot, this time leaning into Rumi, head on her shoulder, arm draped over her lap. Rumi didn’t push her away. She smiled and leaned closer.
Despite her fears, she felt right letting them in.
At some point during the movie, without realizing it, Rumi fell asleep.
The next thing she knew, she was waking up in bed. The only light came from the city and the moon outside. Mira was curled against her back, an arm around her waist, her braid messy but still tied. She seemed asleep, except for the faint strokes she traced over Rumi’s stomach.
“Sleep,” was all Mira murmured, but she didn’t stop.
“Mhm.” Rumi didn’t want to talk. She was comfortable sharing the bed with her girlfriend, like they’d done so many times before. Zoey was missing, but from the sliver of light under the nearly closed door, she was probably still watching something in the living room.
“You’re shining,” Mira whispered.
And she was. Rumi didn’t know when, but her patterns had begun glowing a soft purple.
“Sorry,” was all she could say.
“Don’t,” Mira replied instantly. “It’s cute. You’re cute. Don’t hide.” She kissed Rumi’s back, right over a pattern. Rumi felt it.
Don’t hide. Rumi repeated to herself. Mira always knew what to say to make her feel better. And just like when she’d woken up, she closed her eyes again, nestling closer as Mira tightened her hold.
The next time Rumi woke up, it was daytime. Light seeped through the curtains. Someone must’ve drawn them. Mira was no longer beside her, though the bed was still rumpled. Rumi missed her warmth the second she noticed it. She groaned and forced herself up, her hair a mess, but she didn’t care enough to fix it. Not around them.
When she stepped out, she found Mira leaning against the kitchen counter, listening as Zoey talked, her back still to Rumi.
“Mediterranean turtles can drop their body temperature to 5°C to hibernate for months.” Mira listened, but when she saw Rumi, she smiled. Zoey turned to greet her too.
“Good morning!” Zoey looked bright-eyed, energetic. Though the bags under her eyes betrayed how inhuman that energy was. When Rumi got close enough, Zoey kissed her cheek. “Oh!” She turned back to Mira. “Did you know incubation temperature determines the hatchlings’ sex?”
“Oh wow,” Mira said. “That’s crazy.”
“Did you sleep okay?” Zoey asked then.
“Yeah. I think so. Thanks.” Rumi didn’t pull away. “Did you?”
“I stayed up late watching turtle videos with Derpy, but I still got plenty of sleep.” Zoey had a habit of late nights and early mornings.
“Wait, what time is it? How much did I sleep?” Rumi sounded worried, even though they were on hiatus with no pending work.
“Noon. Don’t worry. We just ordered food,” Mira said.
“We were gonna wake you when it got here,” Zoey finished.
“Thanks, guys, but seriously… you didn’t have to-” She hated sleeping in.
“You haven’t slept well in weeks. Of course we had to.” Of course they’d noticed. Rumi had been having nightmares almost every night since everything happened. She often snuck out to walk alone or with Derpy and Sussie. They were worried.
“Thanks…” Rumi replied shyly. They had a way of seeing past the walls she’d spent her whole life building. And it was okay.
It felt right letting them in.