Chapter Text
It was no surprise that Bobby loved his girls.
He’d liked them from the moment he’d met them, before he’d even signed on to be their manager. He’d been in the Idol industry for a long time. He’d been an Idol himself once, talented, but never quite talented enough. Certainly never talented enough to meet the Sunlight Sisters in their prime.
But even though he’d never gotten his “big break”, he learned valuable skills over the years. He learned how to talk to Idols, how to manage them. How to keep them calm when everything was falling down around him. He wasn't a star, but he was a rock.
Firm, supportive, caring.
That’s what Bobby was best at.
Sure he had only a small list of clients, but he cared for them all the same. Gave them their favorite foods, hiding it so other managers wouldn’t yell at them- because they needed their strength with how hard they worked and everything was good in moderation. He hugged them tight when the pressure became just a little too much, kept a stash of tissues and the right color of concealer, carefully labeled so he didn’t mix them up. He stood between them and their sometimes too ravenous fans- because he wouldn’t let them get hurt by the people supposed to love them.
Their fans were important, but so were they.
He couldn’t change the whole industry, not for everyone, but he would do what he could for his clients.
It hadn’t always been enough, but it had been his best.
It didn’t always earn him the best reputation or references, but Bobby had learned to care less as the years went on.
So he’d been surprised when he’d been offered the chance to join the team for a new Idol group, run by a former Sunlight Sister no less.
Celine was Idol royalty by all accounts, famous enough to ask for whoever she wanted. A potential dream job- a gold mine- if played right. Bobby hadn’t been entirely sure why, out of all the far more successful managers she could’ve picked, she had reached out to him.
That was until he’d met his girls.
It really took only one meeting to realize how different they were from any other Idol group he’d ever seen.
Most aspiring Idols were motivated, driven to obsession. They had to be to survive the training, auditions, fans, and the industry itself.
But often- too often in Bobby’s opinion they were young, too young to realize the depth of what they were getting into. He hated how even the most mature, level-headed of them slowly lost their real smiles, the warmth of being bright, new, and excited.
But his girls, they’d been different from the moment he’d first met them.
Sure they’d looked like any other new Idol group. They were well-polished, each outfit carefully crafted to match their chosen style, complimenting each other without looking costumy. Boddy would have expected nothing less of an Idol group mentored by a former Sunlight Sister.
But beyond the polished exterior, Bobby noticed quite a lot.
There was the way each of them held themselves, with a careful ease that made them seem too still for their age. They lounged together on the couch, knees and arms easily brushing against each other that spoke of history, of a camaraderie that even the most elite of Idol training couldn’t replicate.
And their eyes.
They had each followed him as he’d walked in, a careful precision that looked too knowing, almost too guarded for their age. Even the youngest one, clearly the maknae of the group, had a grin that felt a touch too sharp for her age, like she was used to the underestimation- and thrived in it.
She had only melted into an excited shriek when Bobby had pulled out his phone and spotted an otter stick he’d picked up from an aquarium one afternoon while hunting for a top for one of his former clients.
“Oh- Oh- Oh!- I've been there before, it’s so pretty there! Have you seen the turtles yet? They’re the cutest! I’ve been trying to get Rumi and Mira to go there for ages, but they always say no,” The girl had said in a bubbly and bright voice, her eyes turning wide with excitement.
“Only because we know once you’re in there you won’t leave for hours,” The girl next to her had said dryly, flipping her long rosy hair over the edge of the couch. It was the only thing on her that looked soft. Every other piece of clothing, from her accessories to her skirt to her boots, was sharp and angled.
“Days really,” The last girl at the end of the sofa had pipped in, a half smile on her face, the light pink of her gloss glittering in the bright room. She had been dressed plain compared to the other girls, no patterns and only solid colors, but it blended so well with her oval face and golden jewelry. Bobby had felt a slight sting of familiarity at the tilt of her head, but he could fully analyze it, he’d been brought back to the girl in between them. Her nose had scrunched up, a perfect picture of exaggerated betrayal. “Mira- Rumi- how could you even say something like that- and in front of our new manager!”
“Girls.” The older woman’s voice had been soft, but it had startled Bobby all the same. He hadn’t even heard Celine move, but suddenly she had been there, standing just above him, a distant look on her face.
The three immediately paused, all joking wiped from their faces. At first Bobby had expected to find annoyance, but instead as they’d mumbled their apologies, the had looked bashful and- almost reverential.
Even the sharp rose-haired girl had dipped her head in apology, though the stoic look had remained.
“Well,” Bobby had said before the room had lapsed into discomfort, “I’m not your manager yet- at least not until I know your names.”
Predictably, the shorter girl had started, reaching out her hand in a way only someone born in the States had been hardwired to do. “I’m Zoey, I’m the lyricist.”
“Mira, I do the choreography,” the rose-haired girl had said, tilting her head as Bobby shook Zoey’s outstretched hand.
He’d already half turned to the other girl when Celine spoke. “And this- is Rumi.”
Understanding popped into his brain like the first kernel of popcorn in a pan, followed by a thousand related facts popping around, filling his mind to the brim.
Yes, he’d heard that name before, with Celine, and he realized why could look at her face and recognize some of its softer features.
Everyone knew of the tragedy of Mi-yeong Ryu, taken far too soon, leaving her only daughter in the care of her closest friend, her former bandmate. The child had been kept away from the spotlight, as far as Bobby had known, in some compound in the south that the Sunlight Sisters and other idol groups had reportedly used in the past.
As Bobby had stared at her, he fixed her with the warmest smile he could- because how many times had others must have looked at her like a ghost, especially in this industry, when the Sunlight Sisters had been so well known- and he could only imagine how she must have been feeling, about to step into the world of a mother she’d never known.
“Our fearless leader, and the best singer,” Zoey had informed him, and Rumi had looked down for the first time, smiling a bashful smile.
“You are both great too-” She had said, and even her voice had sounded like a soft melody.
“Don’t be modest,” Mira had murmured, her voice deeper than the others, but Bobby could immediately tell how well it would compliment their range. “You’ve been training way longer than we have. But don’t worry, I’ll beat you soon enough.”
Rumi had snickered, and Mira’s grin had sharpened, and a quick inside look had passed between them while Zoey had rolled her eyes, leaning toward Bobby and fake-whispered, “Ignore them, they can’t stop making anything a competition. They’re a nightmare at rehearsals.”
“-Hey!”
“I am not-”
“Girls.” Celine’s voice had cut in again, and they had both settled again, though this time no apologies were had.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you all. I hope we’ll have a great time working together.” Bobby hadn’t been sure what else to say. Celine hadn’t said anything about him getting the job, although he had been the only one in the office when he’d arrived.
But when he’d looked back at Celine, she’d only shaken her head once.
“This is Rumi’s decision.”
At the time, Bobby had been impressed that a woman of such stature and respect had chosen to defer such an important decision to such a young woman. But as he had turned back to Rumi, he couldn’t help but notice a tremor in her hand as she had patted her skirt down carefully, her long violet braid swinging down her back and she had taken a deep breath.
But then she had looked at him with warm eyes and said the words that had changed his life.
“I think we’ll work well together. Please take care of us Bobby.”
And though the other girls had echoed in a soft chorus of voices, before Bobby had turned back to the others, his new girls, he couldn't help but notice that Rumi’s sharp nails, covered in a dark purple, had gripped her hand tight before letting go.
Bobby hadn't said anything as he'd smiled and started chatting with his new girls.
But he'd watched.
And he kept watching.
He watched when Huntr/x finally got big enough to get dressing rooms, real furnished dressing rooms, instead of coming to each event already dressed. His eyes knitted in surprise when the request came down for two dressing rooms, one for Mira and Zoey, and one for Rumi.
When he brought it up to the girls, they smiled, waving their hands.
“Yeah, that's Rumi,” Mira murmured, straightening her jacket with a sharp snap.
“She's so modest- been like that for years, haven't you?” Bobby watched as Zoey turned back to her friend, flashing a white smile. Rumi smiled back, but there was something beneath her eyes. A longing that had her clutching at her arms again, her hands gripped so tight for a moment, they turned white before she slowly relaxed her grip.
So Bobby put on a big grin, goofy and beaming.
“Are you sure- I might be able to convince them to put a screen in there if you'd like to be together-”
“Rumi’s fine with the second dressing room,” Celine materialized, as if out of the shadows, behind Mira, and Bobby watched Rumi's shoulders curl ever-so-slightly, the metal of her outfit rustling softly.
“Yeah,” Rumi echoed after a moment, “perfectly fine. Thanks for checking in Bobby.”
“Of course. Anything for my girls,” Bobby said.
And he watched Celine share a long gaze with Rumi before she sat back down on the couch flicking through her phone disinterestedly. Meanwhile Rumi stood in the middle of the room, watching her bandmates giggle as they experimented with some glitter across their eyelids.
When they noticed Rumi, they turned back to her with smiles, beckoning with their brushes.
Bobby didn't really breathe easily until Rumi's covered shoulders seemed to loosen, and walked over with a real smile on her face.
Bobby watched them, his girls, enjoying their success, and chalked the request up to the excuse they'd given.
But he kept watching.
He watched Celine, so close with them at the start of their career, slowly fade out of the picture. Come by less and less, watch less performances. At first, Bobby honestly felt relieved.
It wasn't that he didn't like Celine, he could be nothing but grateful for the chance she'd taken on him. She’d given him his girls, entrusted them to his care, and Bobby took that honor very seriously. But as he watched them, he could see the toll it took on Rumi to have Celine there.
The quiet conversations in the back rooms, down the halls when no one was looking.
The look on Rumi’s face when she returned from one of those many talks, so carefully smooth it seemed like brittle glass.
But the look that concerned Bobby the most was when Celine was staring at Rumi. It wasn't often, Celine was usually a careful picture, not a seam or hair out of place. Sometimes though, when the light shone just right on Rumi, or when she sang, belting at the top of her range, he saw a flash of something dark, ugly spread across her face.
So when Celine came less often, and didn't move into the new penthouse with them, Bobby thought he could breathe a sigh of relief.
He watched his girls get closer, and Rumi’s shoulders start to relax a little more, her smile start to brighten, even when she wasn't performing.
She still wanted her own dressing room, but Bobby made sure she always had her favorite snacks, spicy chips and lychee drinks, before and after a show. He always checked in on her right before, and ushered her into Zoey and Mira’s dressing room so they could finish their pre-show warm ups together.
He loved to listen to them burst out laughing in-between their practicing, even as he was frantically texting and calling, making sure everything was just right for his girls.
He thought everything was going well, that they were all finally comfortable, safe, strong.
And then Rumi started asking for longer sleeves.
At first, Bobby shrugged, not taking much time other than to approve the right sketches and ensure they had the best designers.
But then the requests went from her forearms to her wrists.
Then from her chest to her collarbone, and her collarbone to her neck.
Jackets became bigger, bulkier, even beyond some of the more cutting edge fashion options he showed them on the regular.
At first everyone seemed to take in good stride, laughing about the shoulder pads and bulky sleeves, taking turns flicking them.
“Rumi,” Zoey whined, “It's too early to bring back the eighties. A few more years at least.”
“If you all make me wear leg warmers, I'm quitting,” Mira remarked dryly, though Bobby saw a look in her eyes that he recognized. A distant concern that matched his own, but Mira covered it better, shoving her shoulder against Rumi’s, making the other girl stumble a little and glare at her friend.
“Ow,” Rumi said, and she looked annoyed, but the faint worried look faded, “that hurt.”
“That's for changing up the styles last minute, again.” Mira managed her cool demeanor for a long moment before her lip twitched, the only softness he'd really ever seen for her fellow bandmates. “If you want to keep the sleeves longer, that's fine. We can make it a new style, switch it up a bit.”
“Oh yes,” Zoey piped up, her eyes going wide, which Bobby knew was a sign he would be getting no less than 30 emails and texts later with new ideas to share with the team. “I can see it now. We can sell Huntr/x letter jackets!”
Mira and Rumi turned to stare at Zoey in confusion.
“What's a- letter jacket?”
“You know- like in high school athletes will have like these big jackets with their name and their High school logo and initials. It's totally a thing- like class rings!”
When no one answered her again, Zoey paused, looking around. “Do they not- do that here?”
There was a long pause, and then Mira and Rumi burst out laughing, bending over as Zoey started yelling at them. “I can't believe you made me think that wasn't a thing- you two are so mean!”
Mira snorted, wiping away her tears. “I can't believe you didn't think Gwajams were a thing here.”
“Really had you going there for a second there,” Rumi agreed, then took another look at each other and started laughing again.
Zoey pouted, running over to Bobby. “Bobbbyyyy, they're being so mean to me.”
Bobby smiled, happy he could see humor still glittering in Zoey's eyes.
“I think letter jackets are a great idea Zoey,” he said emphatically, and Zoey beamed, turning back to her bandmates.
“See, Bobby thinks it a good idea.”
“Never said it wasn't, I just wanted to see you squirm a little,” Mira replied, and when Zoey started to pout again, Mira reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, like she'd done it a thousand times before.
“It's a great idea. But if we don't get first dibs, I'm quitting.”
“Oh you always say that,” Zoey grumbled, but she leaned into Mira’s hand, humming happily.
They were so caught in their own world, they missed the look in Rumi’s eyes.
But Bobby saw.
He saw the blink, her hands twitching, like she wanted to reach out, but was stuck behind a wall he couldn’t see.
It faded, like it always did, and when they looked back at Rumi, her smile was back, the rest of it carefully hidden. Like it had never been there in the first place, like there was nothing wrong in the world between them as they walked out of the changing area, Mira and Zoey carefully swinging their arms around Rumi so they barely touched her back.
Bobby loved his girls, but he didn’t know what to do about this.
Every time he tried, every gentle suggestion was carefully avoided with a smile that didn’t quite reach Rumi’s eyes.
He tried not to be concerned when there were more requests for medical kits and bandages, because it came from all three of them. After all, they had a not insignificant gym set up, full of equipment and sparing materials they Bobby had all purchased without question.
After all, their choreography was second-to-none. Mira outdid herself every time, putting together a show that made them move as one, as if they had done so all their lives. He didn’t question their training methods, not when there was never a spare bandage or a wound that looked unusual or out of place.
And he never saw any other signs.
No blood where it shouldn’t be, no sudden wraps they couldn’t explain.
Only Rumi’s sleeves, and her long shirts, slowly creeping their way up her neck and down her stomach, and the look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching.
But Bobby was watching, even if it only grew the tiny pit of worry in his stomach.
He went to Celine once with his concerns.
Only once.
When he finally spoke his carefully worded concerns, the older woman had only stared at him with her dark eyes, hardly a flicker of expression across her face.
She’d watch him for a while, long enough to make him uncomfortable, and when she finally spoke, it was with a calm, detached voice.
“Is her performance suffering? Are they losing their fans?”
Bobby blinked, feeling a bit like he had just been slapped. He’d just said he was worried about Rumi, Celine’s adopted daughter, and all she had asked him was whether or not their performance had been affected?!
Bobby realized then, as he found his voice and mind enough to get himself out of Celine’s office, that he had been wrong about Celine. So very, very wrong.
Whatever her relationship with his girls, whatever she wanted from them, she wouldn’t protect them, not like they needed to be.
She didn’t care enough to protect them, didn’t care enough to protect Rumi.
She didn’t care if Rumi was struggling under the weight of her success, if she was becoming more withdrawn, more lonely than a young girl like her should be.
Not as long as Celine got what she wanted.
He didn’t want to think what they meant for Rumi. Strong, graceful, talented Rumi Ryu, so often a mirror image of her mother.
He remembered the scant stories of Rumi’s childhood, growing up on that compound alone- with only Celine’s ambitions to guide her and he felt the tiny pit of worry grow into a chasm of concern.
He wanted to ask, wanted to know desperately if he was right, but he knew his girls too well.
Too much of a push and he would lose their trust. Too much interest and they might stop telling him things, and then he would never know what he needed exactly to protect them from. But one thing was for certain, he would protect his girls, even from the ones who had raised them. The ones who were supposed to love them the most.
So when Celine continued to pull away, Bobby let her go without a fuss, even when it made his job harder. He kept his reports to her short, factual. Nothing mentioned that didn’t need to be, no questions more than he absolutely had to ask her.
As his staff grew, he sent others to do the work for him, with strict instructions.
He made sure that everything he told Celine was the truth, that there would be no reason to question his skills or intention.
He didn’t know the whole truth, but he knew enough to know his purpose.
To be a wall for them if they needed it, something to hold them up, to keep them safe when they finally decided to trust him.
Even though it didn’t feel like enough, like every day Bobby was fighting a losing battle, his girls kept getting better. Fans grew in droves every day, drawn by their songs, and his girls grew with them. Every day was a challenge, but one each of them seemed to relish it in their own ways, and as Bobby supported them, he felt the chasm start to close, just a little.
That was, until the World Tour was announced.
It had been inevitable, when their newest single had finally broken international records, taking the music streaming industry by storm. Venues were scrambling to host them, cities preparing for the onslaught of thousands of fans.
Bobby had tried his best, prepped his shiny new team with as many hires as possible to help with everything from the schedule to the songs and promo. Though his girls were creative geniuses, having the extra brainpower had been a fun challenge, and Bobby had enjoyed watching them bicker good-naturedly over lyrics, humming new tunes and twisting words into new creations.
Eventually though, their temporary help had to end, and it fell on their shoulders to finish their new album in preparation for their upcoming tour. They all worked long, hard hours, and even when Bobby wasn't there, he could tell how late they were up by the bursts of texts they would receive as inspiration hit them.
What concerned Bobby most was the sheer number he got from Rumi. At first, he'd enjoyed it, knowing where her head was at. But slowly, the texts and emails had turned from bright ideas to questions, concerns.
Then from concern to desperate worries.
Had the promo gone out? Had all the costumes been ordered? What were their pre-sales like? Did they need to add another show? Was the label satisfied with their numbers? Did they need to meet with them again?
Questions grew and grew, until there was hardly time for Bobby to answer one question before another one popped into place. He tried to lessen her worries, share more information, and spend more time at the tower with the girls.
But that only seemed to make Rumi even more nervous. No matter what Bobby said, every time he saw her, the bags under Rumi’s eyes seemed to grow, and expression was more and more desperate.
Even Zoey and Mira seemed worried for Rumi, shooting her worried looks as she poured over the documents Bobby brought, looking for something almost frantically. But they seemed to have less of an idea than Bobby did about why she was so desperately concerned.
“She's just shut up in the tower, all day,” Mira muttered as she walked Bobby out after another long report, “we've tried to get her to take a break, but she won't budge.”
“I'll order a relaxation basket,” Bobby decided, already on his phone to one of his assistants.
Mira nodded, but Bobby could see her chewing on the inside of her mouth, something she only did when she was really, really nervous.
“I know this is important but-” she paused, looking down at her hands, “I'm worried she's not going to even make it to the tour with how hard she's working.”
Bobby blinked in surprise. It was the first time he'd ever heard Mira talk like this, expressing her worries so frankly to him. Bobby should have been happy, grateful that his girls were finally trusting him.
But the look in Mira’s eyes chilled Bobby in a way he didn't understand, not yet.
Bobby put on a brave smile though, patting Mira on the back, trying his best to be the manager she needed, that they all needed.
“We'll find a way to get through to her. She's in good hands.”
Mira smiled, a rare expression for her. “We're in the best hands, thanks to you Bobby.”
Bobby smiled back. He'd meant Mira and Zoey, but it warmed his heart to hear. He was going to say something else, when Zoey popped her head behind the wall.
Her face brightened, as it always did when she saw him, but there was a twist in her expression that was different. A determined air that he'd only ever seen a few times on his girls’ faces.
“Hi Bobby!” Zoey said brightly, before turning back to Mira. “We've got that training, we need to start. You ready?”
Mira nodded, her expression returning back to her normal, stony and cool.
“I'll be right over. Why don't you go grab Rumi?”
Zoey beamed. “Will do. Bye Bobby!”
Bobby waved at Zoey, smiling as he heard her running off, calling out Rumi's name.
He hummed the rest of the way back to his office and throughout the day, checking over the basket one more time before sending it over the tower, even stuffing in more spicy chips and a few extra Ramen flavors with her name on it.
The next few days were hectic, Bobby felt like he was meeting with a new person every five minutes to stop one thing or another from falling through the cracks.
He missed his girls though, so when Zoey’s number popped up on his screen, Bobby was already smiling as he answered the call.
“How’s my favorite fellow turtle lover?” Bobby said as his way of greeting.
On the other end, he heard Zoey squeal a little, “Oh goodness Bobby you would not believe it- I found the cutest video last week about a bunch of baby turtles and-”
There was a small shuffle on the other end and then Zoey was back, “-right I’ll share it with you later. I’ve got a favor to ask- if that’s cool.”
“Anything for my girls,” Bobby replied, and he was already shutting his laptop closed and absently reaching for his bag. If one of his girls were calling, it probably meant a special errand. Bobby needed to get out of the office anyway, or else he might start sleeping there, and his office couch wasn’t that comfortable.
“Great!” Zoey said brightly on the other end, “Listen- Rumi came down with a little cold. It’s nothing serious, but we were wondering if you could go check in on her? Make sure she’s all good?”
“Of course!” Bobby kept his voice pleasant, but he was already panicking a little inside. Not because of his girls, but for his girls. He knew Rumi too well. If he couldn’t keep her down, she’d run herself ragged trying to be ready for the World Tour, and then she’d make herself even worse, and then she’d beat herself up about it.
Bobby needed to nip this in the bud, quick. Get Rumi to rest one way or another, let Bobby take some of this burden, imagined or not.
“What about the two of you?” Bobby didn’t want to assume his other girls might not need help too. Sure, they were calling him, but if they were too worried about Rumi- perhaps he could get all of them a break for a few days.
“We’re at the bathhouse,” Zoey replied, her voice bright and happy, “so we’re taking care of ourselves. We tried to see if Rumi wanted to come but-”
Zoey’s voice trailed off at the end, and Bobby could feel the silence and worry unspoken between them.
“I’ve got her, Zoey, you two go enjoy yourselves,” Bobby said gently.
A breath went out on the other end, like a deep sigh of relief someone hadn’t realized they’d been holding.
“Thanks Bobby, we appreciate it.” Bobby heard ringing and faint noises and then Zoey was back, half shouting, “Gotta go, thanks again!”
She hung up before Bobby could say goodbye, but he didn’t mind. It was good that they could trust him with this, that when they needed something they called him.
At first when Bobby walked out of the office into the rainy afternoon, he thought about just going to pick up Rumi’s favorite foods- some Mandu from that local shop just down the way from the office, some soup and stew from that stall on the corner by the Huntr/x tower. He still wasn’t sure how that old woman seemed to know just where to set up every time the girls had moved in the past few months, but he was sure at some point his girls would just buy her a shop so they didn’t have to worry anymore.
Hell, he’d be surprised if the old woman couldn’t pay it already with how much money they ‘forgot’ at her stall all the time.
And of course, he couldn't forget Rumi’s favorite: CU Kimbap.
But he hadn’t asked exactly what was wrong with Rumi. Maybe she wasn’t hungry, or already had more than enough food. Perhaps she could use some medicine or tea to soothe a sore throat or upset stomach.
It would be better, Bobby decided as he slipped into a company car and directed them to the Tower, to see what Rumi needed first.
It was only a couple of minutes drive, barely enough time for Bobby to finish a message to one of his employees, letting them know he was out of the office for a bit. Normally he’d like the walk, but with the rain today it was better to let them drive.
The ride up the elevator to the penthouse was smooth, a pleasant ding heralding his arrival.
His first step into the penthouse was familiar, he’d helped find it for them after all. He knew their preferences, and had taken time to furnish it exactly how he knew they would like. Warm, comfortable, a perfect place to hide from the world and relax.
“Rumi?” He called out, looking around the common space.
Considering Zoey’s call, he half expected Rumi to be drowning in blankets on the couch, her knees tucked up under her.
But the giant living area was dark, clouds roiling outside, and the shadows seemed too dark for the normally cheery atmosphere.
Bobby walked, a little more carefully now, toward the hall that led to their rooms. He passed by Mira’s closed door and Zoey’s open one, until he was at Rumi’s. He paused for a second.
Should he knock? She could be sleeping, and if she wasn’t feeling well, Bobby didn’t want her to think she had to put on a brave face for him. His girls had asked him to check in on her though.
He should check, just to be sure.
Bobby knocked firmly.
“Rumi?” He called again through the door. No answer, but Bobby thought he could hear something. Bobby knocked again, and called out her name, trying to keep his voice pleasant and warm.
He tried not to let the worry fester, but as he stood in front of the door and no one came to see him, it became harder and harder to ignore.
Eventually- he couldn’t tell if it was minutes or seconds later- Bobby carefully tested the handle. The door opened easily, and Bobby stepped into the dark room. The door stayed open behind him, light spilling from the hall into the otherwise dim room.
Looking around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The bed was unmade, and there were some pillows on the floor, but the room seemed clean otherwise. As Bobby looked around, he spotted more light coming from the bathroom.
He walked slowly around the bed toward the door.
It felt like there was a pounding in his head like he had pressed a speaker to his ear, and his tongue felt a bit dry as he stepped into the small pool of light and swung open the door.
He almost didn’t spot her at first.
Bobby hadn’t expected Rumi, poised, carefully, something slightly germaphobe Rumi, to be half laying on the tiles, her head resting against the toilet, her lavender hair escaping from her long braid in wild strands.
But what stopped him cold was her arms and shoulders.
She was covered in- marks, tattoos- Bobby wasn’t sure what to call them, but the were a dark purple, almost black against her pale skin. Jagged lines swirling over her arms and down her back. He could see them on her stomach too as she breathed heavily. The top she was wearing had no sleeves, just thin straps, and it looked damp and sticky against her skin. There was a hoodie thrown off to her side, half on her legs like she hadn’t had enough energy to throw it far.
Beyond the purple marks on her skin, Rumi looked pale, a sheen of sweat clear all over her. Her eyes were wide, dilated and nearly black as she breathed harshly. She blinked slowly, staring at the wall beyond Bobby.
It was like she didn’t even know he was here.
Until his work bag slipped from his fingers and landed on the tiled floor with a loud crash.
The sound reverberated through Rumi, and her eyes were suddenly locked with Bobby’s.
He expected a lot of things. Anger maybe at invading her space so thoroughly, or embarrassment at being found like this on the floor.
He didn’t expect the terror.
Rumi scrambled off the side of the toilet with a sharp scream, pushing herself against another wall, her eyes darting around widely as if she was seeing danger all around, clutching at her arms.
Bobby was at her side in a second, trying to find a hand to grab onto. But Rumi's grip was like iron, and no matter how Bobby pulled he couldn’t get her to move at all.
“Hey, hey Rumi it’s okay,” Bobby tried, only for a painful whine to echo from her throat. It felt like pain straight through his chest. Like she was in pain- like he was hurting her.
Bobby immediately released his grip, but he didn’t move away, watching her carefully as he spoke, “Rumi, it’s okay, you’re safe. Mira and Zoey asked me to-”
“No!” Rumi’s voice was loud, reverberating around the bathroom and ringing in Bobby’s ears, “No- they can’t- they can’t see!”
“They can’t see what?” Bobby asked, and then Rumi looked down at herself and started sobbing, the fear draining away in an instant.
“The- tattoos?” Bobby kept his voice soft, soothing, but it didn’t matter, just the mention of them and Rumi started sobbing harder, clenching her forearms so hard Bobby knew she’d have bruises.
“Patterns- mistake,” Rumi whispered, and her eyes started to glaze over again, “I’m a mistake- monster-”
Bobby felt a chill run down his spine as she looked right at him. “-demon.”
Oh.
Oh.
It had been too much, hadn’t it?
Bobby hadn’t realized how much she was suffering, he hadn’t realized how close she was to breaking from it all- from reality.
And now here she was, screaming and sobbing on the floor, calling herself a monster.
How was he going to tell the others- how was he going to tell Celine?
How hadn’t he noticed? How hadn’t he realized? How-
But as he looked down at his girl- his girl, who was in so much pain and didn’t tell anyone- Bobby watched as the dark lines cut their way through her pale skin, leaving violet marks behind where before there had only been pale skin.
Rumi half-sobbed, half-screamed, and a fiery magenta flashed across his vision, like for a moment the dark patterns had been lit on fire.
They were spreading across her skin like someone was dragging a knife across it.
That wasn’t right, he must be seeing things.
It wasn’t possible.
It wasn’t right.
For a single, horrible moment, a part of him wanted to run, to scramble out of there and out of the apartment. To not stop running until he was soaked in the rain outside, until he could wash away the sight of Rumi in pain, almost writhing against the wall as purple covered her skin.
Then he saw her expression, and the fear blew out of him in an instant.
She looked vulnerable. Her expression was so wide open he could read every thought that flickered across her face as she stared at something beyond him.
He didn’t even flinch when one of her eyes started to glow a strange amber color, pupil turning to slit that continued to stare blankly ahead.
Instead he spoke softly, as gentle as he could without his voice shaking. “It’s okay, it’s alright, you’re going to be okay.”
Rumi shook her head, more hair spilling from her braid. He could see the dark patterns on the edges of her scalp now. “No- no I’m a mistake, it should have never chosen me- I’m a monster- a bad Hunter.”
Bobby tried to speak, but she was sitting up then, and her hands were wrapped around his in an iron grip. “Celine made a mistake- she should have never let me live-”
Bobby had stepped into something he didn’t understand, and he felt so out of his depth it was like he was drowning. Nothing made sense, and if he couldn’t see the proof of the marks- she’d called them patterns- on her skin, he wouldn’t believe it at all.
But the moment he heard those words, something inside of him snapped. He couldn’t break her hold, but he had enough room to slip a hand out and grasp her shoulder as hard as he could.
“Rumi don’t say that,” Bobby begged, trying to keep his own horror in check because Rumi was here- she was talking like she wanted to die- and he couldn’t let that happen, not again-
But Rumi, she only shook her head wildly, mouthing words too soft for Bobby to hear, but the shapes alone sent terror running through him.
He was so far out of his depth, he had no idea what was going on, no idea how to stop the terrible terrible things that were running through Rumi’s head.
He needed help.
Bobby turned away, only for a moment, reaching for his phone.
He must have said something, though his mind was too steeped in horror, both old and new to remember, because he never made it to his bag. Hands gripped his shoulders and dragged him back, and it felt like his very bones creaked under the pressure.
But he looked at Rumi and she immediately cowered back, whimpering and crying as the patterns flared a bright red. Her sweats bunched up, and Bobby could see the dark lines growing even more-
“You can’t tell them- you can’t- they’ll hate me, they’ll kill me.” The girl in front of him looked so haunted and brokenhearted it nearly broke his own heart. “They have to- they have to-”
Bobby didn’t want to connect the dots, didn’t want his mind to move fast enough to realize what names he’d spoken.
The only names he knew he could trust with Rumi.
“Honey, they’d never,” Bobby tried to say, but Rumi only cried harder.
“They have to,” she sobbed, and she slowly slumped forward on the ground, only a few inches from Bobby’s knees, hands gripping the floor close to him like she was begging him.
Begging him for her life.
“Why?” The question burst from him before he could stop it.
“It’s- what we do. What we have to do- Kill- kill everything with patterns. They’re evil- monsters- demons. I’m evil-”
Hunters.
The word stuck in his head, and Bobby couldn’t shake it loose. There were a thousand more questions he wanted to ask, a thousand more worries now banging against his skull. But Rumi was curled on the floor, shuddering and sobbing and Bobby couldn’t take advantage. He just- couldn’t.
So he buried them deep, as deep as he could, and tried to find that well of strength that he had built.
“It’s okay,” he murmured softly, getting his hands around her arm- trying to ignore the way she flinched at his touch, and lifted her up slowly. “I won’t tell them. We’ll keep this between us, okay? Your- patterns, they’re safe with me.”
It took another few minutes, Bobby murmuring softly over her before her body stopped shuddering. Other things happened too. The strange color in her eye faded, though her eyes were still wide and dilated. The patterns seemed to stop growing, at least where Bobby could see, and they lightened, just a little, to a light violet that seemed less painful.
But he could feel the heat on her skin under her fingertips, and she started to shiver in his grasp the longer they sat there.
She was still ill, Bobby could tell.
From what though-
He could figure that out later.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” Bobby said softly, and they took a good long minute to stand up together. Rumi’s legs looked like they were shaking with the effort of keeping herself upright, but when Bobby tried to get her to lean against him, she flinched so bad she stumbled into the vanity. It looked hard enough to bruise, but Bobby didn’t dare try to check, not when there was still a wild look in her eye.
So he tried to lead her out the door, but her legs had locked up again, and she stumbled back with a sob.
“-can’t,” she half sobbed, clutching at her arms again, “‘m not covered. Have to cover up- have to- until it’s sealed- faults and fears- can't be seen-”
“Okay Rumi,” Bobby agreed softly, trying to calm her down again, “Okay, hold on.”
He leaned down and grabbed her discarded hoodie. A part of him didn’t want to give it to her- he could still see the sheen on her skin, could feel the heat on her body and could guess it wasn’t healthy- but he knew, looking at her terrified face, she’d never rest without it on.
How long has she been hiding like this? Bobby's heart screamed as Rumi managed, somehow, to jerkily slide it on, violently pulling down the sleeves until they covered the dark marks on her skin.
The ones on her face, however, peaking through her hair, were starkly visible.
Bobby looked around quickly, nervous about what might happen if she spotted those, but as he half spun around he realized.
The bathroom had no mirrors.
The place where the mirror should have been- where it had been when Bobby had first toured this place- was gone. The only evidence it had ever been there was the blank wall, staring at him with accusations he couldn’t yet name.
Bobby recovered as quickly as he could, slowly guiding the dazed woman out into her bedroom. She crawled into bed without much prompting, laying down on her side, blinking slowly in the low light of her bedroom.
“You rest, alright?" Bobby said, willing Rumi to hear his voice. “We’ll talk later when- when you’re feeling better.”
If she was feeling better.
Later, Bobby could worry about that later.
Rumi blinked at him, and seemed to be staring right through him again. Bobby wanted to stay, didn’t want her to wake up alone, but he was having trouble controlling his emotions- he was having trouble just trying to figure out his emotions- and he didn’t want to hurt Rumi. Not when she was curled up in her bed, looking so small and alone.
So Bobby awkwardly stood up, taking a moment to grab a few of the discarded pillows from the floor and placed them on her bed, so she could find them easier in her current state.
When he walked out of her room, he closed the door behind him with a soft snap.
The walk back to the common area felt glacial, like he was trudging through a foot of snow up a mountain. It felt like an effort just to reach the couch and sit on the edge without falling over, or giving into the urge to start hyperventilating.
Bobby instead leaned forward on his knees, clenching his fingers together so tight they ached in pain, trying to find a thread in his thoughts that would unravel the mass of confusion and terror he was feeling. It felt like he was trying to catch the wind, stake it down and make it stay until he could put a name to it, find the right words that would explain it all.
He started with the undeniable truth.
Rumi wasn’t- entirely human.
There, simple. He'd seen the patterns on her skin, watched them grow and flash like nothing on earth could do- had seen her eye change color and shape. He couldn’t deny what he’d seen with his own eyes.
But Rumi had also been afraid. She’d been afraid of him, afraid of being seen-
Afraid of them.
Bobby shook his head once, going back to the miniscule facts at hand.
Celine- this had something to do with her.
She knew something, and just the thought of that sent Bobby panicking all over again.
If Celine knew, should he call her?
Did he have another choice?
Something was wrong with Rumi, beyond these patterns, but Bobby didn’t know enough, not to help her.
But Bobby also knew there was something wrong with Celine. How she acted toward Rumi, how she controlled her. How Rumi had always cowed to her like she wasn’t worthy of Celine’s affection.
And how little Celine truly cared for Rumi beyond her performance as an Idol.
No, no, it wasn’t safe to call Celine, not with what Rumi had just whimpered in her altered state.
He tried to stay objective, to hear what Rumi had been saying, to ignore the broken plea in her voice that made Bobby want to start crying big ugly sobs that would surely wake the other woman up-
Hunters.
There was that word again, familiar yet foreign. Spoken from Rumi’s lips like it was a prayer and a curse.
And then there was Mira and Zoey-
There were thoughts, horrible flashes in his head of his girls, and he felt fear start to bubble up in his throat. Bile and vomit were ready to come out at just the thought of what Rumi was suggesting.
That Mira and Zoey would- that his girls would-
No, no.
Bobby didn’t know what was going on, but he couldn’t- wouldn’t doubt his girls.
He’d seen them together, watched them grow together.
He’d seen the looks on Mira and Zoey’s faces when Rumi had pulled away. He had watched them take care of each other as best they could.
There were simple truths Bobby couldn’t deny, but everything else-
Something was wrong with Rumi, and Bobby needed help, to parse through the fear and the truth.
He would have to trust his girls, trust that he’d watched them all these years and knew their hearts, their souls, even if they had secrets so terrifying it was rocking Bobby to his very core. That no matter what happened, they would keep each other safe.
That they loved each other just as much as he loved them.
So Bobby sat, taking one breath at time, elbows resting against his knees and waited.
The dim light of the day was just beginning to fade around him when he registered the soft chime of the elevator.
The lights came on around him, and Bobby blinked to clear the white spots in his eyes.
Soft chatter filled his ears, laughing that he knew oh so well. For a moment Bobby basked in the sound. It was normal, happy, and it touched his heart, made him feel like for a moment everything was just fine.
But Bobby couldn’t keep the feeling on his face, so when his girls turned the corner and saw him still sitting there, leaning over his knees, he must have been a sight.
Zoey’s mouth looked surprised, but her smile was still bright. “Hi Bobby- we didn’t think you’d still be here. What are you doing just sitting here in the dark? You know we’ve got a streaming account just for you on everything-”
Mira seemed to catch on that something was wrong first, and she placed a hand on Zoey's shoulder, who paused her normal cheerful ramble and looked at Mira in confusion.
“What’s going on Bobby?” Mira asked, her voice deceptively calm. He could see her tensing though, shoulders ready, eyes searching for a clue.
He’d had a good long while to come up with a perfect plan. Had Bobby been less scared, less confused, he might have done it more gently. He would have had their favorite foods ready, sat and held their hands as he spoke.
But after what happened with Rumi-
The assurances would have to wait, until Bobby had the cold, hard truth in his hands.
So he looked them right in the eye and asked, “What’s a Hunter?”