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In her defense, Rumi hadn't meant to be nosy.
She only wanted to help organize the pile of delivered packages blocking half the entrance to their home.
It's not an uncommon sight by any means, not with three young adults living rather frivolously on an idol’s salary, but Zoey once tripped on an unsealed box of fresh kimchi and would've broken her jaw had Mira not catch her by the collar, so sue her if she wants to be careful and prevent her girls from getting hurt.
“Zoey bought another She-Ra DVD?” Rumi asks incredulously, though can’t quite hold back a fond chuckle. “Good to know my birthday present for her this year will be of plenty use.”
Come the actual date, Rumi will regret getting Zoey a life-size replica of the Sword of Protection for the way she keeps insisting on bringing it to fight actual demons, but that is a problem for future Rumi.
Once the path is cleared, Rumi straightens up and is about to leave, when something else catches her eye.
HANGUK UNIVERSITY’s TRANSCRIPT
RECIPIENT: KANG MIRA
Oh. Mail from school. Rumi should keep it safe until Mira gets home.
As the leader, the main vocalist, co-producer and lead choreographer of the group, the fans have always made Rumi the designated workaholic of the group.
Rumi herself thinks it's an unfair comparison, especially to Mira, who juggles being in med school full-time while training to become an idol, then debuting and promoting as HUNTR/X, plus moonlighting as a hunter, and somehow manages to stay on top of everything like the effortless badass she is.
Now that they’ve gone from best friends to best friends and girlfriends, Rumi has no qualms about letting her admiration and affection for Mira fill her heart to the brim, feeling absolutely grateful that they found their way to each other after the mess that was the Idol Awards.
Six months ago, Rumi’s secret was exposed and the world as she knew it came to a near end.
Six months ago, Rumi found her way back to Mira and Zoey.
Six months ago, they created a new Honmoon, Rumi had the second most important conversation with Celine, and somehow she didn't come out of it an orphan again.
Six months ago, Rumi came home to a spread of all her favorite food, a cheekily smiling Zoey, and a beautiful, beautiful Mira who tried to hide her blush after Rumi kissed her on the cheek in thanks.
Three months ago, Rumi kissed Mira for the very first time in the blue refrigerator light and the warmth of an amber sunrise.
Rumi has been living her best life for the past three months, and even now, the sight of Mira walking through the door, toned arms laden with grocery bags, takes her breath away.
Her heart only swells further with joy once Zoey comes skipping in, lifting the meager plastic bag she is holding with only two fingers and rolling her eyes at Rumi.
It takes everything in Rumi to shrug and not grin, honey in her mouth and love in her eyes.
They have dinner together, like they always do.
They chat as they do the dishes; Rumi washes the dishes, Zoey wipes down the table, and Mira stares blankly at their pantry thinking about what she can make tomorrow.
They move to the couch and talk about work; Rumi shares a recording of her going ham on the guitar, Zoey tests the lyrics that come spontaneously to her brain, and Mira watches them with an intense gaze that means she is happy with what she's hearing.
They interchange cuddle positions as they talk some more; Rumi has one arm around Zoey’s shoulders as she moans about that one disastrous picture of her currently going viral on Naver, Zoey is lying on Mira’s back as she rants about finding out a new video game she really likes is made with Generative AI, and Mira has a lapful of Rumi as she shows them this new boba place that apparently sells matcha and blueberries.
One appointment to visit Hongdae on the weekend and a farewell to a yawning Zoey later, Rumi finally remembers the pile of boxes that were almost her undoing.
“Hey, Mira?”
“Yeah?”
“You…” Momentarily distracted by Mira letting her hair down for the night, Rumi buffers for a few seconds before she recovers. “You got mail today.”
Slender hips showing thanks to her sleep shirt riding up as she stretches, Mira gives Rumi a smirk so wicked she can feel it down her toes.
“Working adults tend to get those, I believe.”
“Don’t tease.” Rumi pouts, hugging Mira’s giant body pillow to her chest.
“Aw, is my princess sulking?”
Rumi is not sulking, merely expressing her dismay in a rather petulant manner.
Okay maybe she is sulking just a bit.
“Meanie,” Rumi whines, burying her face into the pillow and avoiding Mira’s insufferably attractive smirks like the plague. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again.”
Mira laughs, the sound hitting hard in the best and way below Rumi’s belt.
The bed squeaks with presumably Mira’s weight, though Rumi wouldn't see her just yet, not until fingers tilt her head and a pair of soft, well-moisturized lips kiss her to the point of paralysis.
Rumi doesn't even get a chance to reciprocate before Mira is pulling away, something soft and heart-curling tugging at her lips, that reminds Rumi once again just how lucky she is to be here.
“Thank you, Rumi,” Mira says, sounding not as unaffected as she likes to pretend she is. “May I have my mail?”
“Drawer,” Rumi croaks, very frog-like, and thanks whoever upstairs blesses her so hard she gets to watch Mira’s fine, firm ass in those adorable flannel pants. “It's from your school.”
It's a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, a darkened expression that Mira quickly hides behind her hair.
Rumi would’ve thought she hallucinated it, had she not known every face of the person who is a third of her soul.
“Mira?” Rumi calls, tentative but stern.
Mira isn’t the type to flee before conflicts, unlike Rumi who plays it as a sport and Zoey who practices it with a passion she has for everything else, but for a moment, she looks almost tempted.
But Rumi knows her girlfriend, and at the mere sight of Rumi’s hand extended towards her, calling for her, needing her, Mira stays.
Sometimes the truth is simple.
The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Mira loves her too much to leave.
It hurts Rumi to know as much as it soothes her.
“Rumi,” Mira says her name like a plea, and Rumi prepares herself for the worst. “I dropped out.”
Lightning strikes her through one ear and comes out the other, Rumi’s next words coming out like a puff of smoke.
“What?” As a matter of fact, “When?”
“A few months ago,” Mira replies, incapable of meeting Rumi’s eyes. Her hand trembles in Rumi’s hold. “It’s not a big deal.”
Rumi damn near explodes. “Not a big— how is it not a big deal? This is your dream we’re talking about.”
Surely Rumi hadn’t dreamed it up, all those nights they sat together under the stars.
All those stories Mira told of her time volunteering at the clinic twelve blocks away from home at first out of rebellion towards her parents, then out of love for children who have stars in their eyes and galaxies in their palms.
“I felt needed,” Mira had said, the features of her face have yet to sharpen into adulthood but wears an exhaustion that feels four-hundred-years-old. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the world needs its hunters too. But these kids… they need me. They see me for who I am. Call me selfish if you want, but I don’t want to let them go.”
Why did she let them go?
What could have possibly made her—
“Wait. When you said a few months ago…” Rumi’s blood turns to ice. “I took over the creative process. I pushed up the last leg of our world tour, and we officially started recording for Golden.”
She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t concerned about anything but the Golden Honmoon and the grotesque patterns marring her skin like a mark.
She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t going to allow herself to feel the guilt of being the reason why Zoey’s family couldn’t attend their concert due to the new dates being so last minute.
She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t willing to be concerned by the frequency of Mira pinching her temples with a computer in her lap and a bunch of textbooks at her side.
Something hard and painful drops to the pit of Rumi’s stomach, putting bile in her mouth and forcing her to taste the bitterness in the crevices of her teeth.
“You quit med school… because of me.”
“I didn’t—” Mira says immediately, like she’s just been waiting for an opportunity. “It’s not because of you. Not entirely.”
“Explain,” Rumi demands.
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Rumi’s insides rotten. Just how much more is she going to take from the girl who is willing to give her everything?
—
“You know Rumi will find out eventually, right?”
Mira sighs, the glare of her laptop screen burning into her retinas. Zoey, who sits on the edge of her bed, peers up at Mira with eyes too knowing.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Mira answers, closing the laptop lid with a soft thud. “At least I got this over with.”
Zoey claps, as enthused as a dead seal. “Who knew dropping out of med school was harder than trying to get in?”
Slumping against the headboard, Mira lets out a wry chuckle. She doesn’t say anything, there’s never any need when she’s with Zoey, who fills the room with sunshine chatters even when her eyes are filled with the cloudiest of storms.
Tonight, like every other night, Mira only wants the moon for company.
Tonight, like every other night, Mira doesn’t get what she wants.
“What does it feel like?”
“Like we have one less thing to worry about.”
“Hmm. And not like you just made the biggest mistake of your life?”
“Zoey,” Mira growls. “You promised you’d have my back on this.”
“I am.” Zoey cocks an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean I won’t say what you’re thinking. Otherwise you’ll never listen.”
Mira has nothing to say to that. Not when everything Zoey says is the truth.
She stays quiet for a long time, so long that Zoey crawls into her lap and almost falls asleep with her head pillowed on Mira’s thigh.
There she is, a third of Mira’s soul, attempting to heal where the other third has hurt.
Mira doesn't deserve her. Them. Either of them.
Never has, and never will.
“I’ll always have your back,” Zoey affirms, like she hears the things Mira tells herself and can't bear the injustice. That's Zoey in a nutshell. “I just wish I can do the same for your heart, because God knows you won’t ever try to keep it safe.”
Mira laughs again, the sound humorless but amused all the same.
“What is my existence in this world if not to protect the two of you?”
Zoey says nothing, and Mira does the same. They look out the window to find the moon, and fall asleep aching.
Fast forward a few months, Mira thinks her secret is as good as buried.
Good riddance, honestly.
They defeated the big bad Gwima. They restored the Honmoon with something even better, something theirs. They came home safe, alive, in one piece.
And Mira…
Mira got the girl.
Trust her when she says she can't believe it either.
The idea of Rumi returning her feelings, Mira would sooner believe if Celine said she was in a secret lesbian relationship with Rumi’s mom.
Actually, no. That particular rumor might have some merits.
Whatever.
The point Mira is trying to make is that with Rumi finally confiding in her and Zoey about her biggest secret aka her patterns, there’s no stopping them from finally clearing the air and living the rest of their lives together in harmony.
Mira should’ve known better.
“You quit med school because of me.”
“I didn’t—” Mira says immediately, just waiting for an opportunity. “It’s not because of you. Not entirely.”
“Explain,” Rumi demands, and Mira gives her what she wants.
She wants to stop every two words, for each one contorts Rumi’s face in a pain so visceral Mira can feel it too.
By the end, there are tears running down Rumi’s cheeks.
Mira is moving before her brain can catch up, taking Rumi in her arms and holding her to her chest.
“Why…” Rumi gets out in between sobs. “Why would you do this…”
Mira should’ve given Rumi more credit, should’ve known that Rumi would understand the gravity of her decision.
Once you drop out of med school, that’s it.
There’s almost zero chance of reapplying, and even if you somehow manage to convince the admission council that the reason for your withdrawal was legit, there’s a permanent mark on your records proving you weren’t capable of shouldering the pressure and thus no one will ever take you seriously.
Mira knew better than to have chased the impossible, and her heart hasn’t been in it.
But Rumi doesn’t know that.
But Rumi also doesn’t know this.
“I would’ve given up so much more, for the chance of being here with you.” Mira’s confession rings like the truth. “Call me selfish if you want, but I never want to let you go.”
Sometimes the truth is simple.
The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Mira loves Rumi to the point of sacrifice.
If Rumi is the moon, Mira is the stars, and she’ll die a hundred— thousands times, to ensure Rumi is never alone in the otherwise barren sky.