Chapter Text
It didn’t make sense.
At surface level, Zoey seemed like the unreachable type. The sort of person who had to rediscover the fact that they owned a phone in order to respond to a message.
But that wasn’t Zoey at all. Zoey didn’t neglect phone calls or texts. That just… wasn’t how she was. She answered.
So… why?
“Why the hell hasn’t she answered yet?” Mira yelled, slamming her phone against the mattress. The sound of the voicemail fell muffled beneath the blankets. It didn’t help—muffled or not, they knew that goddamned recording by heart.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Zoey.” Mira muttered for the fifteenth time in the last hour.
Rumi reached down, hanging up before the message beep could play. Does it count as ‘hanging up’ if the other person didn’t answer?
It felt more like giving up.
“We’ve called her like forty times.” Mira hissed, robotically calling again. “She’s not gonna answer.”
“She might.” Rumi murmured hopelessly. She knew Zoey wouldn’t. She just… wanted to believe that maybe she would this time.
The phone rang once.
“She won’t.”
Another ring. And then another, and another. The quiet was suffocating, stifled only by the voicemail again before Rumi cut it off.
Zoey always answers. That’s just… that’s just how she is.
Maybe she lost her phone?
Maybe it died and she lost her charger?
Maybe she’s just having fun with her family and she’s distracted.
She wanted to believe any of those, but… no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Because it was all right there in that notebook: writings that shouldn’t have had to be written, on pages that were never supposed to be seen.
She couldn’t help but dissect every moment she’d ever had with Zoey. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was scared she’d only have memories left. It was irrational, but the fear was real.
Her fingers skimmed across the floor, the Honmoon lazily reacting.
You’d tell us if she wasn’t safe, right?
The Honmoon can’t tell you things, Rumi.
Oh, but how she wished it could.
But it couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And now, her mind worked overtime crafting doomsday scenarios. They’d almost lost Zoey once before—when her father nearly chose to keep her in Burbank.
What if… what if this time, Zoey doesn’t want to come home?
What if I wrecked everything?
I should’ve told her how sorry I am. I should’ve…
I should’ve made sure she knew how much she mattered.
She shook her head, trying to reassure herself that maybe it was all okay.
That won’t happen. Her dad agreed to have her stay. Zoey’s kept her grades good, she does everything she’s supposed to. Even though…
She doesn’t have to.
Rumi leaned back, still stuck in thought.
She doesn’t have to do any of this.
She really didn’t. Zoey had parents who cared. She could live in Korea or Burbank and have nothing to do with Rumi or Mira. And Zoey was smart—she could have any life she wanted, and she could choose almost any home to achieve it in.
Rumi glanced at Mira, who was furiously typing into her phone, fingers flying at the speed of light across the screen.
Mira wasn’t like Zoey. Where Zoey could live with her mom or dad and live a relatively happy life… what could Mira do?
Rumi felt her fist tighten thinking about Mira’s life. About so-called ‘parents’ who stared right through their miracle of a daughter. The only times they ever bothered to notice her was to ridicule. She’d never forget the way the light bled from Mira’s eyes when her parents arrived. The more she thought about it, the more sure Rumi was.
Mira and Zoey weren’t the same at all.
Mira abandoned everything to come here. She chose to walk away from her life because she hated it. She didn’t talk much about it, but Rumi remembered all too well how her parents looked at her. It was a gaze worse than anything Celine had ever given to Rumi.
At least Celine cared enough to invest time in Rumi’s training. Mira’s family was all too willing to take a payoff not to have to raise their kid. No wonder Mira left.
But Zoey? Zoey’s father flew to Korea to make sure she was safe—make sure she was still in school… the sort of things Rumi guessed any parents should care about. She didn’t understand English, but she didn’t need to understand what he was saying to know that he loved his daughter.
Zoey had a home, and she was still trying to hold onto those bonds. Rumi didn’t know anything about her mom, but Zoey seemed to love her, too. In a way… Zoey had three places she could call home. She had any number of futures, too. She was smart, and she didn’t have to be here. Logically speaking? She could’ve done anything else.
So… why this?
Why choose us?
She’s destined for this, was it even a choice?
Does destiny take away the choice?
What if she hadn’t chosen this? Can the Honmoon choose someone else?
Or does the trio just fall apart?
Rumi blinked. It was still this way. Zoey still had those homes she could go to. She could still leave.
She didn’t have to choose us.
She doesn’t have to keep choosing us…
“Huh…” The sound fell from her lips as a byproduct of thoughts she’d only ever half-considered. Fleeting moments were now stitching together into a thesis that terrified her.
“What?” Mira glanced up at her.
“If we can’t make this right…” Rumi murmured. “What if Zoey doesn’t want to come back?”
Mira slid her arm around Rumi’s shoulder, tugging her close. Mira always did that—it was like her trademark way of giving comfort. “Rumi, of course she still wants to come back.” She assured. “Look. We just… We didn’t know, but we know now.” She nodded, and Rumi wondered for a moment if she was convincing herself too.
Nevertheless, Mira continued: “And we’re gonna go there, and we’ll fix it. Then, we’ll all come home… and Celine will kill us.” She snickered. “But we’ll die together.”
“Yayyy…” Rumi droned, but the heaviness in her chest was levied just enough to make breathing easier. “Wait.”
“What?”
“How the hell are we gonna go to Burbank? We don’t have passports. And we aren’t American. We can’t just fly there.”
Mira squinted, deep in thought, for what felt like an eternity.
“I… didn’t think that far ahead… How does Zoey do it?”
“Well… Zoey’s American. Some… unaccompanied—I don’t know. Something.”
“Why can’t we just do that?” Mira asked, already typing into her phone. A moment later, her shoulders slumped. “Unaccompanied minor? Is that it?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Rumi replied. Mira returned her attention to her phone, scrolling and typing. A moment later, she grumbled something under her breath, tossing her phone to the side as though it deliberately insulted her. “Shit! Someone has to sign off on it.”
“So… Celine.”
They both sat in silence—they knew Celine would never sign off on letting the next generation of hunters go to America. Not alone. Rumi knew especially she wouldn’t be able to go. Celine was always overly concerned with publicity.
Sure, she was thankful that she didn’t have to stare down the lens of a camera all that often… but now, it was a double-edged sword that was keeping them from Zoey.
“Dammit!” Mira grumbled. “Okay. Fine. Let’s just convince Celine to either let us go or to come with us. We could use her private jet! It’d barely cost her a fraction of her money.”
“How are we gonna convince her to do that?” Rumi asked. “‘Hey, Celine? We need to go to Burbank, leaving the Honmoon completely defenseless! Oh, and we can’t tell you why—’”
“Alright, I got it, you smartass… God, why do you have to keep asking questions that kill all my plans?” Mira pouted, leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest. Rumi looked at the floor, guilt pooling in her stomach.
Why did I say that? Mira’s just trying…
Why are you being such a prick, Rumi?
This all your fault anyway.
Where’d you get the nerve to be such a disrespectful jerk?
“Sorry… I shouldn’t—I’m sorry.” Rumi mumbled.
Mira sighed, her expression softening. “No—I’m sorry… I’m not mad… I just—Zoey would’ve answered her phone if everything was okay.”
Rumi nodded. “We can try to convince Celine… maybe she can at least get a hold of Zoey’s dad or something, so we know she’s alright.” She offered. Mira shrugged hopefully.
“Worth a shot.”
They smelled food as they walked out of Zoey’s room. Rumi was surprised. Celine didn’t really cook a whole lot anymore.
There was a memory in the back of her mind—way back, before her patterns had even started to spread. It baffled her now to realize that there was a time when they were just a couple little marks. The kind of thing that could’ve been mistaken for a childhood scar that simply never turned white.
In the memory from another world—when she was little enough to coax a smile out of Celine on a good day—they were eating dinner.
“It’s so good, M—” Rumi stopped herself before finishing the word. “—Celine.”
“This is called yukgaejang.” Celine said, voice laced with something reverent. “I used to make it for the other Hunters… before…”
“Before what?” Rumi asked.
Celine stared at the table, stilled for a moment. Had she been older, maybe she would have understood the magnitude of pain in Celine’s eyes. “Before we… got distracted with other things.”
“Distracted?”
Celine picked up her tea, taking a long sip. “Yeah… distracted.”
Rumi winced now at the memory. Because now, she knew the real answer—the one Celine never gave her.
It was before her. Before her birth tore everything apart. Because after her, Celine couldn’t bear to cook a dish without getting lost in tainted memories. Without feeling the pain of nostalgia poisoned by the death Rumi knew she’d caused.
“Hey, what smells so good in here?” Mira murmured. Rumi wondered if Mira felt the weight of what was happening. She probably didn’t—it’s not like Mira knew Celine the way Rumi did.
“Yukgaejang.” Celine answered, her back turned to them. “I figured you two would be too busy grieving Zoey’s trip to cook yourselves a proper dinner.”
“We would’ve mana—” Mira started, but Rumi waved her off.
“Don’t lie, Mira.” Rumi said with a sad chuckle. “We haven’t cooked food in three days.”
“We’ve…” Mira stalled, glancing at the floor. “Never mind.”
Celine let out a humored exhale—For Celine, it was probably the equivalent of collapsing to the floor and laughing until tears came.
“Funny you should mention Zoey…” Rumi murmured.
“What do you want?” Celine groaned.
Rumi opened her mouth to start explaining—Celine got annoyed when people took too long to get to the point. Maybe they could salvage this if they were efficient enough.
“How did you even know we wanted something?” Mira chimed in.
Goddammit, Mira… Rumi groaned internally.
Celine’s gaze narrowed—She’s getting annoyed.
“Because I looked at you—kids can’t hide when they want something. What is it?”
Mira was about to say something.
Mira, now is not the time!
Rumi leaned forward, blurting it out before anyone else could waste any more time:
“We have reason to believe that Zoey is extremely upset right now, and she won’t answer her phone. She always answers. So we want to go to Burbank. Please? It would only be for a couple days—we could take your plane, which would mini—”
Celine held up her hand, and Rumi shut her mouth.
Did I do it right? I did it the way Celine always taught me…
‘Explain your basis, your course of action, and why it’s the best path forward.’
That’s what I did…
“What makes you think that Zoey is so upset?”
“We found—”
“Rumi—” Mira warned.
Rumi turned, leaning in and whispering, “We have to tell Celine the truth. Otherwise, we have no way of getting there!”
Her jaw tightened. “…Fine. But we aren’t showing her it—I’m not wrecking Zoey’s trust anymore.”
Rumi nodded, turning back around. “We found her notebook… she wrote a lot of stuff in it.”
“Zoey’s very private about those.” Celine stated. “You violated her privacy so brazenly?”
Rumi dropped her head. “I know we shouldn’t have.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have. That’s a dangerous precedent to set, Rumi.”
Rumi felt Celine’s gaze burning into her. The ‘dangerous precedent’ was solely dangerous for her, and she knew it. If they’d snooped through her life… Rumi didn’t think she’d ever be able to face them again.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Mira glanced between them, an eyebrow raising with confusion.
“Look—we won’t ever do it again. But… Zoey needs us right now. I know that it’s irresponsible, but… it’s Zoey! We can’t just leave her alone out there. Don’t Hunters stick together? Don’t they have each other’s backs?”
“Enough.” Celine ordered. The woman sighed, her gaze shifting over to the pot of yukgaejang. Something softened ever so slightly in her eyes. Something sad and longing. Mira didn’t seem to notice it, but Rumi knew Celine’s microscopic tells like the back of her hand.
She was thinking about it.
“Eat your food, I have to make a call.” Celine muttered. She stood up, disappearing down the hall to her office.
After a minute, Mira began to stir, “C’mon, let’s go lis—“
“No!” Rumi scolded. “No… We should do what she says.” She grabbed two bowls and filled each one. “Trust me, okay?”
Mira eyed the bowl cautiously before accepting it, submitting herself to the chair “Fine. I trust you.”
They ate in silence, occasionally Rumi’s ear would catch the sound of a voice, though at no point could she hear any of it.
After twenty minutes had passed, and the bowls were nearly empty, Celine’s door opened. Every footstep against the wood was a countdown. Rumi didn’t know what would happen when the clock struck zero.
She emerged, and Mira’s gaze locked onto Celine. Rumi twisted in her chair, doing the same. The anticipation gnawed at her like a dog chewing up a carcass.
“First off. Zoey is fine. She made a stupid decision, and got herself grounded.”
Grounded? How? What did sh—
“Second of all… You two are lucky that her father is sympathetic, and the weekend begins tomorrow…” She continued. “No more than four days.”
No way… We can go???
“You’ll be home by the 2nd at the latest. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about jet-lag. Do you understand me?”
Rumi nodded as though she were seizing. “Yes, Celine!”
. . . . . . . . . .
Zoey sat at the table, nudging a piece of broccoli around with her fork. Right as she’d started getting the hang of chopsticks, none were to be found.
“Zo, don’t play with your food.”
Right. No fun while grounded.
She stabbed the broccoli through the stalk before setting her fork down. The memory still lingered in her mind, though now she was just frustrated that she couldn’t call Rumi or Mira and tell them about it.
I hope they’re not worried.
I should’ve texted them and told them I was grounded.
She sighed. No changing the past now.
“Jack, can you help me with this?” Evie called softly from the next room. Zoey looked back at her food with a poor appetite as her dad stood up and walked toward Evie. She caught the utterings of voices too hushed to be something simple. She shifted her head, craning her ear toward the voices.
“Absolutely not.”
She couldn’t make out what Evie was saying.
“…needs to learn…reckless actions…just let—”
She could hear Evie this time: “Just talk to her, will you?”
Who’s the ‘her’ here?
The whispers dipped lower, and she gave up on eavesdropping, taking a bite of the food on her plate.
It was fine…
Okay… it was pretty good.
Mira makes it better though. Zoey thought. Not that Mira ever actually made burgers with broccoli… but if she did, it would definitely taste way better.
After a while, her dad’s feet thudded against the floor. He rounded the corner, settling back down at his plate.
“What was that about?” Zoey asked.
“Hmm? Oh. Nothing important.” Her dad waved his fork dismissively. Zoey sighed, spearing another stalk of broccoli.
I hate being grounded.