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Rumi had just begun to wind down on their hiatus. Letting herself be open to feeling, and expressing herself openly. But she felt raw, like all of her layers had been stripped and put on display. For all to see.
Zoey and Mira were amazing, more than that, even. But they handled her like a delicate piece of glass, even if they didn’t mean to. Carefully avoiding certain words they assumed may be triggering for the eldest. Like Jinu, Celine, the Honmoon.
They’ve given her space. Too much space, even. Her skin ached for the presence of touch, but they didn’t feel okay enough to give it to her. Or they just didn’t want to touch her at all. She could understand the latter. She was still a demon. The very thing they fought tooth and nail against.
It was a twisted mockery.
Why was she even here? Why did she have to be here?
She didn’t ask to be born.
Not with these scars.
She knew little from the stories Celine told her about her mother, her father. Something inside Rumi told her that she reminded her old mentor of him. The distrust in her eyes, the constant nagging, like Rumi was going to lose it and start attacking. It followed her throughout her childhood, waning down on her skull, threatening to break it over its metaphorical knee.
She sat still in the living room of the Penthouse, her legs planted firmly on the floor. Her form was tense, straight up. Proper.
Her hands clutched the fabric on her thighs, the thickness of the material did little to calm her storming thoughts. Thoughts of ending it all right on the spot, no time for the other two to convince her otherwise.
Because she knows they will succeed.
Mira, her strength was immeasurable. A consistency and loyalty to the trio she called her family that never waned.
Well..
Mostly.
Zoey, her constant desire to appease those around her. A natural calm that made Rumi’s shoulders relax. Like she never held her weapons at her.
Almost.
Rumi knows the others mean no harm, but it hurt to be treated like something fragile. Breakable. Because they were right to do so.
She would break down so easily. It would’ve been child’s play for them.
She leaned her body back against the couch, letting the cushions force her shoulders to lower, and her body to slump into it. Her eyes looked out at the city of Seoul, the lights flickered in her eyes. Bright neons of green, blue..
Red.
Her hands loosened on the fabric, and she let them fall to either side of her. They had no purpose to serve her at the moment. Only to be puppeteered to help maintain her mask of okayness.
The smile wouldn’t reach her eyes. Her hands waved around when she spoke. Her words were light, airy, but riddled with undertones of an unconscious need. To be touched. Seen. Handled humanly. Not like a fragile mosaic.
Hell, she’d even dive into Zoey or Mira’s room, the second they left the house. Just to nestle into those sheets. Trying to feel their touch on her skin. The touch they had so naturally with each other. The same touch she desired so much to be hers to share. Not an outsider looking in.
She wasn’t stupid, she noticed the way the two had been acting. Consistently touching, whispering inside jokes she’d must’ve missed. Or not having been included on. The affection in their eyes that made her heart twist so. But she had no right to be jealous of that feeling, she’d experienced it. With Jinu. But it didn’t feel the same. She helped him be free, but what went with him was that feeling. That closeness. And it left her emptier than before.
It was her fault, of course. Having distanced herself so much over the length of time she’d spent with Zoey and Mira. They’d never had to make room for her before, why would they now? What was the point?
They’d never look at her with that same look they’d had carefully woven for one another. The gentle nuzzles, the held hands. The loving gazes they’d glance at one another across the practice room. Mira would smile, and compliment Zoey for getting the dances down. Zoey would squeal at the notes she’d picked out for Mira to sing, and when she hit them, it looked like her heart would beat out of her chest.
They don’t need to tell her, she already knew.
As much as it pained her.
Noises of the bustling city sounded outside her window. She’d glance over to it. But she wasn’t focused on the lights or the vehicles, rather her own reflection.
Her patterns illuminated on the glassy surface, lighting up her body with soft cyan and pink tones. Though they’d seem to have shifted to greyer, darker ones. The color wrapped around her being, like a protective blanket that kept her from breaking down and finishing it there.
It was supposed to be a new beginning for her, but there were still so many things that plagued her thoughts. Thoughts she’d never dare to put into words.
Mira and Zoey would look at her with understanding gazes.
Rumi would rather they look at her with disgust.
She craved their touch, and also desired them to slice her skin open. To pick at her flesh and rip her apart until she couldn’t put herself back together. Until there was nothing left to use to start picking up the pieces. Her eyes fell to her arms, imagining claws digging into them, forcing her flesh to the light. Zoey would grin, her eyes narrowed with a sadistic gleam. Mira would utter words in her ear, disgusting ones, that made Rumi’s skin crawl with an sickenly sweet pleasure that filled her.
Celine should’ve killed you when she had the chance.
Zoey would let her claws dance around Rumi’s throat. Threatening to pierce the skin, to let blood leak out and make her choke on its thick liquid. To drown her in the sick fantasy she’d carved with her own perverted mind.
Rumi felt disgusted with herself, her eyes tore itself away from her forearm, and stared back out the window.
She should’ve ended it herself. Got it all over and done with the second Celine couldn’t do it.
But here she was, limp on the couch. Imagining the only two who have shown her kindness to be the ones to hurt her. How selfish was she?
How disgusting was she?
A breath escaped her lips, reminding her that she still breathed. Even when she didn’t want to.
She wanted the air choked out of her until her vision blurred into the sweet release of death.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
As much as she desired it.
Her patterns shifted to black, as if the switch in her body was flicked off. Leaving a shade deeper than shadow.
Rumi took in a breath, and then let it out. Too empty to feign okayness, too empty to cry.
Her eyes felt dry.
Her thoughts wandered. She didn’t know why she did it.
She brought her hand over to her opposite arm, and her hand cracked. The sickening crack that sounded like her bones were reshaping. Her claw traced the patterns on her arm, lightly at first. Then it dug into it. Pain flared in her arm, she bit her lip. Rumi would feel her cheeks warm with a disgusting heat that turned her red.
It would burrow deeper into her skin, tracing the marks like a painter with a brush. Her arm flexed but remained unmoving. Rumi was its master, the one who held the strings. And the strings wouldn’t budge.
The wound started to bleed, leaking down her arm, settling in the woven fabric of the couch. It pooled there, similarly, heat pooled between her thighs. She shifted them uncomfortably. Her teeth bit into her lip, harsh, and sharp. Canine-like. The sharp points made her lip break, and bleed.
Rumi’s claw faltered on her arm for a moment, licking the blood off her lip. Her lips parted for a moment, and imagined them sinking into skin. The warmth would drip down the smooth surface, she’d lick it up with a hungry intent. Her patterns swirled and crawled up her body. Flicking on, and into a deep, red color that followed the heat that flowed from her core to her face. She let out a breath, it was heavy, misty. Her body felt hot, almost too hot.
It filled her with a twisted pleasure. A burning feeling that threatened to drown her in it, enveloping her completely. A noise escaped her lips, deep, and guttural. How disgusting was that?
It was the mix of sadistic and masochistic pleasure wound together and planted itself in her body. Her mind. Her hands.
She loved it.
A shaky breath left Rumi’s throat, the heat between her legs only heightened. She would feel sweat drip down her forehead, her cheek, her neck. Her patterns flickered with pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
She wanted to sink her teeth into Zoey’s neck, hearing the younger whine and writhe in her grasp. She wanted to rake her claws on the delicate, smooth skin of her back.
Rumi wanted Mira to wrap her carefully manicured hand around her throat. She wanted her nails to dig into the skin of her neck. Forcing her head back to look at those lustful eyes glistening with sadistic desire.
She wanted them to hurt her.
Even worse.
She wanted to hurt them.
How disgusting was that?
Rumi’s head suddenly felt light, and her eyes fell down to her arm. Her patterns were outlined with deep gashes, penetrating into her flesh like sin.
She was horrible.
Her head couldn’t focus on anything anymore, the world around her was fading into black. Rumi’s sharpened teeth would grit in her mouth, pain seeped into her like vines, pressing, probing her open. Her arm was covered in blood, smeared around its surface like a psychotic painting.
A sudden array of words hit her ears, but they were muffled, just out of reach. Hands cupped her face, Rumi leaned into it unconsciously, her eyes stared down at a familiar face. Zoey was in front of her, panic in her eyes. A low rumble sounded in her chest, her eyes then fell to the raven’s shoulder. Even now she wanted nothing more than to taste that blood in her mouth, the sweetness coating her tongue. She wanted to dig her teeth into the smooth curve of her skin. She hated how perverted she was.
Zoey’s lips moved, but Rumi couldn’t make out what she was saying. She only purred in the grasp, and leaned forward, nearly falling on the maknae.
The raven caught her, and Zoey turned her head to the left. Calling for something. Someone. But she wasn’t listening. Instead Rumi leaned in a bit closer, and pushed her head into the open area, smelling her. Taking the scent to memory. Her eyes continued to darken, until they finally closed. Her body would slump into Zoey’s arms. Her teeth pierced her skin. Dripping down the raven’s shoulder.