Chapter Text
Deafening beats, blinding lights, and thousands of fans screaming are all Rumi picks up after finishing her last song. Her body aches, and she’s sweating from the elaborate dance moves she performed. As the stage below her starts moving, a hidden defending platform she originally entered on takes her away from the overstimulation and into a quieter atmosphere. As soon as she makes it to the bottom, she’s already being surrounded and pampered by the backstage crew. Some compliment her work, others giving her towels so she can clean up and be a bit more comfortable. It keeps going until Bobby, her kind manager, comes up and shoos them away and leads Rumi to her private dressing room.
“Fantastic work, Rumi!” Says Bobby with his usual 10/10 smile. “Everyone online is talking about the concert!” Bobby says ecstatically and pushes his phone screen to face Rumi.
“Best concert yet! Dokka’s voice was heavenly!!!!!”
“Those effects were awesome. Fire and lasers really add to Dokka’s demon theme!”
“Dokka looked at me!!!! I think I can die happy! ❤️❤️”
Rumi’s heart fluttered at the comments, her face is red, and she feels like she just ran a marathon. She’s never taken compliments well. If it weren’t for the mask, she’d never keep her anxiety under control. Rumi could not explain it.
To the rest of the world, she was Dokka. The confident and dominant K-pop idol that makes men and women beg to lick her boots. Whose songs and voice brought even the strongest to tears.
But in reality, she was Rumi, daughter of a famous singer but who’s never been revealed to the public. Who now can’t talk to people her age without a mask without getting hit with anxiety.
Hell, she’s never been to an actual school. Raised by her aunt, Celine, she was homeschooled. It wasn’t bad, just… lonely.
With her tour over, Rumi is back to going to her penthouse, alone, where she will do nothing but write songs and rewatch movies she’s seen multiple times.
Getting undressed, Rumi puts on a plain hoodie and a plain black mask. A stark contrast to the intricate design of her showtime mask, a demons mouth with pointy teeth and an evil grin. Walking to her car, she drives home in the middle of Seoul. A large penthouse far too big for her.
Parking her car and going up the elevator was quiet. Her apartment, not much different. Kicking off her shoes and heading for her shower, she cleans up before getting into comfortable pajamas to relax on her couch.
It was all so big, so quiet. And Rumi hates it. She hates that she hates it. This was the dream, the thing everyone wants. Money, power, and wanting nothing. This is the dream, right?
But to Rumi, it was hell. Looking down at her tattoos, things people salivate about online too, and she doesn’t even know herself anymore. Her body, face, and voice feel like they belong to someone else. Like “Dokka” is all she’ll ever be.
That’s when Rumi turns on the tv and sees a commercial. A local collage.
For Rumi, it was like a light was turned on. She was young. Only 21, she started her idol life when she was barely 18. She can experience the school she never got while growing up: parties, assignments, friends. She could finally be more than a mask.
But then it dawned on her. It couldn’t work. She’s famous, rich, a prize to anyone who could get their hands on her. She already had hundreds of people wanting to date her, each time she politely declines. Too many people know Dokka.
But nobody knew Rumi. Not even she did. With her face exposed, arms covered. You’d never tell she was Dokka. Even Bobby, her only support other than Celine, sometimes didn’t recognize her out of her K-pop outfit.
Yes, this could work. She’s played the big idol for years now, how bad can being a college student be?
Picking up her phone, Rumi calls Bobby. She explains her plan. Bobby, understandably, was taken aback when Rumi explained it but was supportive once he understood.
“Are you sure about this?” Bobby asks. “I’m all for it, but this isn’t going to be easy. You’ll need to keep up with your grades during your tours, not to mention balancing that with writing new songs.”
Rumi cuts off Bobby before her spirals. “I’ve thought about that. Yeah, it’ll be harder, but I’d rather take on extra work than do nothing, alone, for the rest of my life.”
“OK,” Bobby says. “I’ll check out the best schools and get you in.”
“No!” Rumi shouts, louder than she meant to. “Sorry, but I don’t want to go to a big-shot school. I want to get the full experience, not hang out with a bunch of rich people. Something small where I can build something myself with no expectations.”
“Hmmm, oh, I could get you into my college.” Bobby says. “It’s a small place, cozy. It’s what my family could afford for the time. I think you’d like it there.”
“That sounds perfect!” Rumi shouts. This is it, this is what she’s been needing. No big names, no flashing lights, just her. Just Rumi.
“So,” Bobby’s voice breaks her out of her joy, “what are you going to major in?”
Crap.
Rumi was so focused on the social aspects that she forgot the whole learning aspect. Rumi had never thought about it, never had to. She went straight from Celine’s house to idol work once.
“Hey, can I call you back?” Rumi says.
“Uh, okay?” Bobby says before hanging up the phone, leaving Rumi with her thoughts.
Grabbing her laptop, she looks up “easy college courses”. She’s not dumb; she knows it has to be something manageable, easy. Something that won’t interfere with her job.
Looking at the list, she sees the basics: Math, English, history, science, things she’s familiar with.
Celine was a surprisingly good teacher, and classes are easy when you’re the only student. Her GED scores were more than exemplary.
But looking back on it, Celine only ever taught her the basics. Celine wanted her to follow in her mother’s footsteps, so she was only ever focused on dancing, singing, and songwriting.
Maybe a music path could work. She’s been doing it for years now.
Then Rumi’s mind races. What if they recognize my lyrics? What if they think my beats match? What if I need to perform in front of the class? No, she can’t take that chance.
Looking back to the list, one major catches her eye: History. Rumi remembers enjoying history when Celine taught her. As dark parts are, it gave her less of a headache than STEM classes, and it’s much easier than writing 20-page essays all day.
Yeah, history it is. One quick text to Bobby, and Rumi’s never been more excited.
———
It took only a few weeks for Rumi to be accepted and placed in the history program. With all of her books and supplies bought, Rumi was more than prepared.
Now for the first step. Rumi’s standing in front of the school; other students have already gone inside for orientation. And so far, no one has recognized her. Not even a glance.
Rumi’s heart was pounding as she entered the building; she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t overwhelmed. She’s never been so close to so many people without being on a stage or behind a barrier.
As she walked, Rumi made sure that all of her tattoos were well covered. Looking down for only a second, she bumped into another person.
Years of training and walking in heels made her balance incredible, so lucky she didn’t tumble to the floor, but that didn’t make her any less horrified.
“Omg, I’m so sorry!” She says to the guy in front of her.
“Whoa, hey, no problem. I shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the walkway.” Looking up, finally able to look at the dude she rudely knocked into, he’s a black-haired guy, can’t be that much older than herself. “The name’s Jinu, and you are?”
Rumi stumbles. This is her chance to make a friend, focus. Just say your name and smile, Rumi thinks.
“Uhh… Rumi, my name is Rumi,” she blurts out, cringing at the nervousness in her tone.
“Well, Rumi, if you’re here for the orientation, I can show you the way. Follow me!” Jinu said.
“Great, yeah!” Rumi says.
That wasn’t too bad, Rumi thinks. He didn’t seem to recognize who she was and is even helping her.
But Rumi is more focused, one big question on her mind. Is talking to people really this hard? Sure, she’s never actually talked to a person that wasn’t Bobby or Celine, but surely meeting new people isn’t always like this. Rumi was so focused on trying to make a good first impression that she thinks she forgot to breathe that whole time.
“Huh?” Rumi said, vaguely hearing words through the fog in her head.
“I asked what you’re majoring in?” Jinu repeated.
My major? Rumi thinks. Small talk! Rumi knows this. Well, she doesn’t really know, only ever saw it done in movies, but it didn’t seem hard.
“Uhm… h-history, yeah… umm a-and you.” Rumi stutters out, wanting to physically hide forever.
Jinu doesn’t seem to notice her sad attempt at a normal human conversation. “Well, I got in with my baseball skills, but I’m majoring in psychology. I want to take over the world one day.” Jinu says with this big, smug face.
Was that a joke? Rumi content knows what to say. Should she laugh, smile, she does nothing, just stares.
“Hehe, that wasn’t my best joke but I thought it would’ve at least gotten a chuckle.” Jinu says, looking like a kicked puppy.
“Oh, no no, it’s was great, ha ha yeah..” Rumi attempts to save.
“It’s ok, anyways here we are, just head inside and find a seat, they’re about to start presenting soon.” Jinu says.
Rumi gives Jinu a silent thanks and finds a seat as far from anyone as she can. Rumi feels like she just failed some kind of test and she just got here.
Rumi stayed in her thoughts until she saw that they’ve started the orientation presentations. At least it’s something to keep her mind off of her failure.
——-
The presentation lasted almost two hours, and it was… honestly boring. Some parts were good. Clubs, lunches, and hangout spots really interest Rumi. But then they got to the technical stuff which Rumi had zero interest in knowing.
Afterwards they gave everyone a tour in smaller groups, which was nice. The classrooms were smaller than she thought and the place definitely shows its age but theirs something charming in it. A stark contrast to the perfect and expensive life she’s used to.
When the tour ended Rumi was mentally beat and started heading straight to her car. That was until she heard a familiar voice call out from behind that immediately made her panic.
Him.
“Hey! Hey wait up!” Jinu screams as if Rumi didn’t immediately stop moving the second she heard his voice. “Hey I know this is sudden but do you have a place you’re staying at?”
“What?” Rumi said. Out of everything he could’ve said, that, was not one Rumi thought of.
“Do you have a place to stay? Cause I have a friend who’s looking for someone to stay with them and their girlfriend due to rent costs.” Jinu says, now catching his breath after he ran across the court yard to get to her.
“Oh umm” Rumi thought of the idea of roommates, it’s like the main focus of college movies, but she didn’t like the idea of living with some baseball dude and his girlfriend. “Look I don’t know, I don’t think I’d fit with this guy an-.”
“Girl.” Jinu interrupts. “It’s a girl, sorry should’ve made that clear. Is that fine?”
Rumi just stands there. That certainly makes it better, not that she had anything against men but she’d feel better in a same sex dorm. But now she’d just feel like a third wheel.
“Look I-“
“Here!” Jinu interrupts again. “Here’s her number and mine. Just think about it first and text her if you’re interested. And I put my number in case you ever need anything, it’s my second year so I can help you out!”
Jinu all but shoved the piece of paper in her hand before running off. Looking at the note she sees two numbers and two names.
Jinu
xxx-xxx-xxxx
Zoey
xxx-xxx-xxxx
She puts the note in her pocket before getting to her car and driving home.