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The heart is made up of two main parts: the atria and the ventricles.
The atria are the top chambers that receive blood through the heart.
The ventricles are the bottom chambers that pump blood out of the heart.
What happens when the two stop working together?
***
Zoey has always been split, and none of the parts of her were ever her own.
When Zoey was much younger, long before HUNTR/X, Zoey wanted to be a doctor. A cardiologist.
Her parents insisted, and they always had this dreamy look on their faces whenever they spoke of their only daughter becoming a doctor.
“Zoey, just think about it, okay?”
“You want to make us proud, don’t you?”
“Do you know just how much more everyone will love you if you do this?”
Zoey didn’t know more was an option when it came to love. She believed you either loved something, or you didn’t.
The first time she was asked what do you love more, Zoey cried.
It was between two plushies, small, but bigger than her five-year-old hands.
A pink turtle and a purple turtle. Both equally as magnificent.
How was Zoey supposed to choose? How was she supposed to love one more than the other when they were both so amazing?
But Zoey didn’t know how to voice this, not then. (Not now, either.)
So she cried her lungs out, her father lost his patience, and they walked out the gift shop empty handed.
There were many more instances, but the second most notable one was her parents divorce.
They stared her down and forced her to make a choice.
Zoey was fourteen.
***
When Zoey’s parents began arguing, and then shouting, and then sleeping in separate rooms, Zoey started to pay more attention during eight-grade biology. She began to force herself into reading books, watching documentaries, and begging her friends’ older brother to take her to his classes at UCLA just so she could learn more.
Zoey would have done anything to keep her family from tearing apart, and if suffering through boring lectures and through fifteen years of schooling and training was the way to go, she would suffer through it all.
Ultimately (and obviously), it didn’t work out. Zoey had a mental breakdown freshman year during AP Anatomy & Physiology because she just did not get why bones function like that and practically flunked out of the class.
It didn’t matter, either.
Zoey had pushed off the choice they pushed down on her until the absolute last second. Until the choice no longer mattered.
Her mother left for Korea (left Zoey).
Zoey learned one thing from those classes and that’s only because she lives through it.
A half of her heart is gone.
***
Atrioventricular dyssynchrony.
When the two parts no longer work together, no longer in sync,the rhythm falters.
***
The heart is made up of four chambers.
Surprisingly, and completely unexpectedly (yet somehow still inevitable), Celine made up the first chamber.
Celine found Zoey on her fifteenth birthday.
Her mother hadn’t called her due to the timezone differences, her father was too busy at work, and her “friends” already made plans to go watch some movie. Without her.
“Uh, yeah, sorry Zo! We just thought you would wanna spend your…er…birthday with your family.”
What family? Is what Zoey wanted to respond with. She wanted to cry, and scream, and shout THIS ISN’T FAIR! Instead, rather than complain and be too much, Zoey forced out a smile and told them that it was all good and that they should enjoy it.
Zoey remained home for the majority of the day, finishing up work for AP Music Theory and working on the notes a boy from her Algebra 2 class asked her to write for her.
“Come onnnn! Do me a solid. I thought we were friends?”
It was fine. The subject came easy to her. So what if she spent more time on math than she cared for? She was being useful and she still had a friend.
Zoey had everything she needed. Aesthetic LEDs, a Sunlight Sisters soundtrack playing it back, and she DoorDashed sushi, taro boba, and a slice of red velvet from the more expensive restaurant with the money her dad left for her.
Overall, it wasn’t that bad of a birthday.
Zoey was about to cue up a Disney Channel (yes, Channel. She likes cringey “teen” shows. Sue her.) movie marathon as background noise while she read the new chapter of the Celine x Mi-yeong fanfic she was currently obsessed with when she heard a knock at the door.
Zoey jumped from her spot on the couch and turned off the music that was still playing (unfortunate. It was her favorite song. Mostly because Celine raps, being one of the first girl groups to incorporate that into their music. God, Zoey loved her.)
There’s another knock. “Coming!” Zoey shouted. It was probably her dad coming home drunk. He always forgets that he has keys whenever he does that.
(He’s been doing that a bit too much lately. She just thought he wouldn’t do this on her birthday. She wanted too much.)
Zoey swung open the door. “Hey daaaaa–” Zoey’s eyes bulged as her mouth hung open.
“Happy birthday, Zoey.” Celine—the Celine, the Celine that Zoey has made a thousand edits of, read countless fanfiction of, some (most) smutty—smiles.
Her brain must be fried from all the homework she just did. She must be hallucinating. So Zoey does the only logical thing there is when one is hallucinating tall (so tall. Celine had a good foot on her. That’s definitely fantasy fuel.), sexy, retired K-pop Idols.
Zoey slaps herself across the face.
Hard.
Celine winced. “You probably shouldn’t—”
Zoey goes to slap herself again, because the hallucination talked and Zoey has watched Avatar: The Last Airbender enough to know that hallucinating is never good so—
The hallucination caught her by her wrist. Zoey gaped at the hand touching her. The hallucination was touching her.
“Am I dead,” Zoey blurted out. “Because I read somewhere that the Grim Reaper or whatever can take the form of people you’re familiar with or of to keep them at ease, so, like I’m not totally surprised you manifested as, well, you so if I just died on my birthday, which is totally chill ‘cuz look at you, so—-
Celine's grip tightened, just enough to get Zoey to shut up. “Enough,” she said gently, comfortingly, before setting Zoey’s hand back to her side. “Shall we go inside? While I would generally ask for your parent, he doesn’t appear to be home and we are, unfortunately, short on time.”
Zoey’s brain went straight to sexy British accent and OMG THE Celine wants to be in my home.
Zoey nodded her head dumbly. “Excellent,” Celine smiled that stupidly charming smile once more.
(If Zoey looked just a bit harder, had been less distracted, she would have noticed the heavy bags under Celine’s eyes, the haunted look in them, the way her smile was so obviously unnatural. Just the sheer exhaustion radiating off of. Zoey never noticed. Zoey never notices.)
And the rest was history.
Her father didn’t have any objections towards sending Zoey to Korea, and in fact seemed to be relieved at having her out of the house.
So why make her choose at all? Why not push her towards her mother in the beginning rather than ask her to rip herself apart?
And it is then she realized that neither of them truly wanted her. They might care for her, love her even, but they would rather just not have her.
Celine wanted her.
Celine became the first chamber, the left atrium, and the place where the blood came home before it could be sent anywhere else.
***
It was Mira, not Rumi, that became the second chamber.
Training was hard.
Zoey’s body was soft and weak, not at all used to any form of exercise, much less the insanely rough training that Celine puts them through.
Rumi did it with ease, despite having a much more intense regimen.
Mira struggled, though not as much as Zoey, due to the insane Russian ballet she did for over a decade.
Zoey took back everything she ever said about Celine being the most attractive person she had ever seen. Rumi and Mira, they were more magnificent than Heaven itself. The Honmoon agreed, humming faintly.
Rumi said that she would be able to feel it more when she improved.
She couldn’t wait.
Mira and Rumi were equally amazing, but it was Mira that joined her to the bathhouse for the first time, while Rumi grimaced and waved them off.
“Maybe next time!” Rumi said.
Zoey pretended that the rejection didn’t sting and that she didn’t notice how much of a lie those words sounded.
Mira patted her on the back. “She’s weird. Let’s go.” She had said it like an insult at the time, not at all the way she would affectionately say it in the present, with a fond expression and easy smile.
They clashed more than they got along. Mira was blunt and brash, but she was purposeful with her words, and it didn’t take much for Zoey to break down her walls and find the mushy center she so openly shares with the two of them now.
Rumi was blunt, but more in the way she didn’t know that what she said could be interpreted as hurtful. She alternated between overtly apologetic and polite and warm to icier than the arctic.
Mira hated that Rumi was the way she was and Rumi just didn’t understand.
Zoey had felt herself in between two people she loved once more.
Love. Zoey had only known these two for a short three months, but Zoey had known she would love them the moment her eyes met theirs.
Zoey forced out a giggle, not wanting to cause another fight by telling Mira not to be mean to Rumi. “Yeah, let’s go.”
It was then she learned much of Mira’s past. The warm water and steam relaxed both of them, turned both of them open and vulnerable. Mira’s pain, her past, her hopes for the future, all exposed.
Zoey shared how much she didn’t have in Burbank. How strange living in Korea felt, how she worried how she wouldn’t be enough, both as an Idol and a demon hunter. How she would be too much and annoying for Rumi and Mira to like her.
Mira scoffed. “I can’t speak for Rumi because she’s fucking strange and cold and has never been open a day in her life, but you could never be anything but perfect.” Mira said the words bluntly,with conviction, with a certainty that made Zoey believe.
Zoey spent so long feeling inferior to both of them, to the girls that have always had so much more than her. Older, stronger, better.
Zoey, for the first time, truly believed she could be an equal.
Mira became the second chamber, the right ventricle, the muscle that pushed her forward when she didn’t think she could move, the force that sent her blood rushing into the rest of her life.
***
It took six months, but Rumi eventually, inevitably, became the third chamber.
Celine let them go alone to seal a rift in the Honmoon, without supervision from her, for the first time.
Zoey and Mira were ecstatic. After months of hard work and dedication, learning to use their weapons to the best of their ability, it was time.
Zoey knew that they were nowhere near perfect, they being Zoey and Mira. Rumi had been training before she even knew how to walk.
The rift was small, roughly five demons had come out before they sang and sealed it.
One for Zoey, one for Mira, and three for Rumi.
It took Zoey and Mira the same amount of time it took for them to take care of their respective demons as Rumi’s three.
Mira scoffed and brushed past Rumi, purposefully pushing her with her shoulder.
Rumi sharply turned around, grabbing Mira’s shoulder. “What is your problem! We need to work together–”
“Why?” Mira shouted back. “You’re clearly so much better—”
Zoey tuned out the rest. If she wanted to hear people pettily arguing with each other she’d just spend time alone with her parents in a small room.
None of them saw it coming.
Zoey felt it before all else.
A sharp, deep pain flared through her back, shredding her hoodie and piercing her skin. “FUCK!” Zoey cries out, her vision spotting.
It hurt so much that it quickly turned to not feeling like anything at all.
Zoey can’t remember much of that night. She remembers Mira shouting and the glint of Rumi’s sword and the sickening squelch of a demon being stabbed but she doesn’t have any real memories of that night.
What she does remember is what happened the week after.
The doctors, ones that were being paid three times their usual rates by Celine to keep their mouths shut, had said that her back would heal with minimal to no scarring as the claws hadn’t gotten nearly as deep as they felt.
Zoey woke up at five in the morning the day after she was cleared to move around on her own. She tossed and turned but ultimately was too restless with the thought of finally being able to move on her own for days.
So she got up and went to go do the self-care routine those doctors recommended.
She takes out the scar cream and various other products and leaves her room for the bathroom when her soul nearly jumps out of body.
There she was, Rumi in all her purple, braided glory with water bottles, a med-kit, and snacks surrounding her.
Pop Tarts. Specifically Frosted Cookies & Crème Pop-Tarts.
That was her favorite when lived in Burbank. Zoey was devastated when she couldn’t find any in Korea anywhere.
Did Rumi get them for her?
She was with her back against the wall, facing Zoey’s door, kneeling at attention.
Rumi looked up at Zoey, and she noticed right away that her eyes were bloodshot.
“Rumi?” Zoey gasped. “Were you awake all night?”
Rumi stood up and rubbed at her eyes. “I wanted to make sure I would hear if you needed anything.”
Zoey gaped at that. “W-why would you do that?”
Rumi’s gaze flickered, just for a second, to the bandages peeking from beneath Zoey’s hoodie.
“I wasn’t there fast enough,” she said, voice low, almost swallowed by the hallway’s silence. “If I had been—”
Zoey cut her off. “It’s not your–”
“Yes, it is!” Rumi’s voice rose, raw and unpolished, like she’d been holding it in for days. “If I hadn’t- if my temper hadn’t gotten the better of me you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
Rumi fell to her knees before Zoey could react, her head hung low in shame. “I’m supposed to be the leader. I should have been focused, instead of behaving like a child. It’s my fault you’re hurt.” She bent into a deep bow. “Please, forgive me.”
Zoey just stared at her. The sight of Rumi — the one who never faltered, never cracked — folded in half on the hallway floor made her stomach twist.
“Rumi, get up,” she said, sharper than she intended.
Rumi didn’t move.
“I mean it. This isn’t—” Zoey stopped, because she didn’t even know what this was. An apology? A confession? A punishment?
Rumi’s voice was muffled against the floor. “If I can’t protect you, I don’t deserve to lead you.”
Zoey crouched down, close enough to see the faint tremor in Rumi’s hands. “You did protect me. I’m standing here, aren’t I?”
“That’s not enough,” Rumi said, finally lifting her head. Her eyes were rimmed red, but her gaze was steady now, almost defiant. “Next time, I won’t let it get that far.”
Zoey wanted to tell her there might not be a next time, that she didn’t need a bodyguard outside her door, that the Pop-Tarts alone were enough to make her forgive anything. But the words caught in her throat.
Instead, she reached out and tapped the box of Pop-Tarts with two fingers. “These… you found them?”
Rumi’s mouth twitched–not quite a smile, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “I asked Celine to have them shipped.”
Zoey swallowed hard. “Then you’re already doing more than enough.”
She stood, stepping past her toward the bathroom. “But if you’re going to keep watch, at least sit in a chair. You’re making my knees hurt just looking at you.”
When she glanced back before closing the door, Rumi was still kneeling—but her head was a little higher.
And just like that, the third chamber was found. The left ventricle. The strongest muscle, the one that sends blood surging into the body with enough force to reach the furthest edges. Rumi was strong, disciplined. Could be completely focused at a door all night without falter just to protect what’s behind it.
Zoey had never been anyone’s priority before. Not like this. Not in a way that was quiet and constant, without expectation of thanks.
The left ventricle, the force that kept her alive not by starting the beat, but by making sure it reached every part of her.
Rumi didn’t push her forward like Mira did. She made sure Zoey could keep going once she was already in motion.
***
The fourth chamber is filled with what is left of her parents.
Zoey still talks to them, gives them updates about her life, how she is, if she’s doing well. The calls are scarce, but close enough to maintain the illusion that they are a family. That Zoey is cared for by them.
The right atrium. The place where blood is supposed to return after its long journey, carrying everything it has gathered along the way.
Is that not what her parents are supposed to be? Somewhere that Zoey should be allowed to return to no matter where she is and where she will be?
But the right atrium can only return what it’s given.
And Zoey’s parents gave her just enough to keep the illusion alive—a pulse, faint but steady.
A few minutes on the phone. A laugh at the right moment. A we’re proud of you that sounded almost real if she didn’t think too hard about it.
She told herself it was enough. That she didn’t need more than this trickle of warmth to keep that chamber open.
Because if she admitted it wasn’t enough, she’d have to face the truth: that the place she was supposed to return to had never really been hers.
Four chambers now.
The heart was whole.
***
Atrioventricular dyssynchrony.
When the chambers no longer work together, no longer in sync,the rhythm falters. The signal still fires, the muscle still moves, but the beat is wrong.
***
Rumi was a demon.
Mira didn’t want Zoey.
And Celine is a liar.
And Zoey has no place to return to with all this that she is carrying.
***
Atrioventricular dyssynchrony.
When the chambers no longer work together, no longer in sync, the rhythm falters. The signal still fires, the muscle still moves, but the beat is wrong. Blood pools where it should flow, starves where it should nourish.
***
They break.
They were together, and then they weren’t.
Mira pointed her gok-do and Zoey…Zoey raised her shin-kal in warning.
Zoey watched as Rumi begged. Watched as her form hunched into herself, watched as she looked feral and terrified.
Her…her patterns glowed a sickly purple. This wasn’t Rumi. Who–whatever it was, it’s not Rumi. Rumi doesn’t have patterns.
Rumi wouldn’t make a deal with Gwi-ma. She wouldn’t. Rumi was good and kind and brave and would import snacks Zoey was craving the second she off-handedly mentions it.
This thing wasn’t Rumi.
Zoey raised her shin-kal.
She was a Demon Hunter and she would hunt and kill any demon, even if it has the face of one of the most precious people in her life.
Zoey doesn’t kill her it.
Zoey let her go despite her precise aim and strength. Just one blade, and this imposter would be gone.
Zoey doesn’t kill her.
***
Atrioventricular dyssynchrony.
When the chambers no longer work together, no longer in sync,the rhythm falters. The signal still fires, the muscle still moves, but the beat is wrong. Blood pools where it should flow, starves where it should nourish.
The body learns to live on less, until one day it can’t.
***
But the heart is strong. It will try to adapt. It will twist itself into new rhythms, force the blood through crooked pathways, teach the body to pretend the beat is normal. It will keep going, even when every pulse feels wrong.
Until it feels right.
Because the heart can relearn.
Because even after the rhythm shatters, the chambers can find each other again.
Signals can realign.
Beats can steady.
The body remembers what it is to be whole, and it reaches for it—stubbornly, instinctively—until the flow returns.
Until strength floods the furthest edges again.
And when it does, it’s not the same as before.
It’s stronger.
Because it has known the falter, and still found its way back to the beat.
This is myocardial recovery.
***
Rumi lives.
She’s alive, and she’s real, and she has patterns. She’s alive and she’s perfect.
Mira hurts, but Zoey and Rumi don’t let her drown in her own guilt.
Zoey hurts too, but she doesn’t allow herself to be bitter.
She’s alive, too.
Celine is…complicated. But she is also alive and she is well and her heart will not be stopping any time soon. They have time to work on that.
Zoey stops trying to fill all the chambers, and accepts that Mira and Rumi are more than enough to be the right and left sides of her. The two parts of her heart work together, are in sync. Her rhythm is strong and steady, and the beat has never been more right. She understands that loving something more is real. She loves Rumi and Mira more than she has ever loved anything. She loves them more each day and her body learns to hold it, stretch for it, make room for it—until one day, it won’t.
Zoey will love them more and more until it kills her.
She will die with a heart full.