Chapter Text
Everything Rumi has worked so hard to build is crumbling all around her. Mira and Zoey want nothing to do with her, the Honmoon is beginning to fall apart under her feet, and now Jinu stands before her, face impassive, claiming none of it was real.
Rumi’s fists shake— she’s never been so angry, nor so desperate. Despite all her efforts, she hasn’t fixed anything. It’s breaking faster than she can handle and Rumi knows much of it is her fault for lying, for thinking she could actually be more than she is, but she was honest with Jinu. And she knows he was honest with her too.
Jinu claims it was all a lie but she knows it wasn’t. He was too open, too vulnerable with her for it to be anything else. The Honmoon lit up at the sound of his voice, so either she’s been just as doomed as he is her entire life, or they can both be saved. And Rumi wants to believe she can at least save him, if nothing else.
Something happened. Between now and their duet, something caused Jinu to go back on their agreement. And Rumi wants to shake him and demand what but he’s not reacting. He’s barely even looking at her— his eyes are so vacant.
Not sharp and cunning like the time they fought. Not soft and warm like how he looked at her during their duet. Just blank.
“The things I said?” Jinu intones, already beginning to turn away. “I just needed you to trust me, that’s all.”
He’s turning to leave. He wants to just— walk away. Like none of it mattered when Rumi knows that isn’t true.
She catches his wrist, refusing to let it end just like that. Everything is falling apart and Rumi knows it’s her fault, but not this. Mira and Zoey have every right to hate her for what she’s done but Jinu— she was going to free him. She doesn’t understand what happened and she’s not leaving until she does.
“No.” Rumi pours every ounce of determination into one word, eyes blazing. “No, don’t you dare walk away from me. We’re not done here.”
“We are. I got what I wanted. I’m done with you.” Jinu doesn’t look at her but he’s not moving away either. His wrist remains curled in her grip, limp and lifeless, like the rest of him. Not even his tone changes.
“No, you didn’t.” Rumi doesn’t back down, trying to give him a tug to face her but he refuses to move, as still as a statue. “You wanted to be free, Jinu. More than just from your voices— from Gwi-Ma.”
“I would’ve told you anything if it meant you’d trust me.” He says. Rumi grits her teeth— just talk to me. What happened? Did I do something wrong? I won’t know unless you talk to me.
“You’re really claiming all of that was a lie?” Rumi presses harder. Her anger grows with every minute he remains silent and barely responsive. She doesn’t understand— she wants to understand. She wants to help— doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he know how much she would do to make sure he gets his own happy ending too?
“Yes.” Is all Jinu says.
“Our song? You telling me you’d make sure we won? The—” Rumi searches for something damning, something she knows was real, then remembers. “You told me,” she finally lets go of his wrist, but only to move in front of him, forcing him to look at her, “You didn’t think of me as a mistake. Was that a lie too?”
Jinu gazes at her, inscrutable and unmoving. There’s nothing in his eyes, no emotion to be found. Never once has Rumi seen him so hollow. He’s always been confident, or cheeky, or flustered, or uncertain, or solemn, or soft, or a dozen other things that she’s witnessed over their time together. Even in just two weeks, Rumi knows she’s seen some sides of Jinu that he wouldn’t show the public. She might not know everything about him but she knows enough to know that this isn’t natural.
He’s too still. He’s not reacting to anything she says or does. For a moment, Rumi can’t help but be freaked out by it.
But then Jinu slowly tells her, “Yes, it was.” And the fury returns, because he’s still lying to her.
Her fists clench. “Stop bullshitting me.” Rumi grits out.
“I’m not.” He says. “Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
The fire inside of her flares, reaching new heights. If he were really so disinterested in her, why hasn’t he teleported away yet? He’s faster, they both know she couldn’t stop him if he did, but he’s still here, slack and unmoving, and Rumi— she doesn't get it.
She wants a response. A real response. She wants to smack some sense into him until he starts talking to her honestly. With every lack of a reaction she gets, the flames are fanned higher. The tension builds in her chest.
Rumi has lost almost everything today. But this? The one thing she can still hang onto? She doesn’t want to let go of this.
Jinu begins to turn slightly, taking a step forward as if to move past her, like that’s it. Like he’s going to walk out of her life forever and she’s just going to let him.
He doesn’t get to take another step. What’s left of the Honmoon still responds to her, despite the shameful display of her patterns, and her sword materializes in her hand. Rumi takes it and, without another word, points it at Jinu.
Everything around them goes completely silent, as if the universe now holds its breath. Rumi narrows her eyes at Jinu, watching his face, waiting for a reaction. For a second, she sees it: surprise, first. Then a flash of something else before it lands on the same dull look in his eyes as before. Although it almost seems… Heavier.
At last, Jinu moves, but not in any of the ways she was expecting.
Carefully, as if telegraphing his movements, Jinu tilts his head up and bares his throat.
Rumi doesn’t move an inch, her mind spinning. She doesn’t— what? Why would he— but before, he always—
“Well?” Jinu says when she takes too long to react, staring unblinkingly at her. “Are you going to do your job, Hunter?”
“What?” Rumi manages to say, somewhat out of breath. This is— she doesn’t— what?
“Your job.” Jinu repeats, firmer. “There’s a demon in front of you. He destroyed everything you've worked towards and soon enough, he’s going to a concert that’s going to bring the demon king into your world, plunging it into terror. But if he’s not at that concert, it won’t be so successful. So are you going to do what you do best, or are you going to let it happen?”
Her grip tightens on her sword but more to have something to hold onto than anything. Rumi doesn’t understand— Jinu has always been so desperate to survive at every turn. His deal with Gwi-Ma, all the things he told her about, his uncanny dodging ability, their deal— all of it pointed towards efforts of self-preservation.
But nothing about this screams self-preservation. It suggests the opposite.
“Jinu, snap out of it.” Rumi hisses through her teeth, heart pounding. All of this is too much— does Jinu actually think she’ll kill him?
“This is what I am, Rumi.” Jinu murmurs, almost soft. Almost gentle. “If you thought you saw anything else, then you were just seeing things in me that you wanted to see. I’m a demon. I trick, I deceive, and I do everything I can to benefit myself and only myself. That’s all there is.”
“But that’s not true! You— you just wanted to help your family, Jinu.” Rumi tries but Jinu’s eyes flicker.
“I lied.” He says, and Rumi recognizes it as the first honest thing he’s said to her all night. “I left them behind, Rumi.”
“You— what?”
“At the gates.” His fingers curl into fists and this time, he cannot stop the emotion from shining through the cracks of his facade. Pain flashes across his face. His lip trembles. “The guards wouldn’t let them in, so I left them behind. I slept soundly on silk sheets with a full belly while they remained on the streets, in winter, to slowly freeze to death. They never came with me. I left them.”
“You…” Rumi’s eyebrows knit together. “You brought them with you to the gates, you couldn’t have known—!”
“I left them.” Jinu repeats and this time, his voice crackles with demonic power. A tear slips down one of his cheeks, his whole body starting to tremble. “And I will leave you too! Leave you behind to rot, just as they did. So unless that’s what you want, I’m giving you an option they never had: take your revenge in your own hands, Rumi. I won’t move this time. I won’t even look at you if you don’t want me to. One swing, Rumi. No blood, no body. It’ll be over in seconds.”
Her insides begin to freeze over at what he’s suggesting. At the way he’s suggesting it— like it would be easy to kill him and wipe the blood off her hands. Like she could just forget every time they talked so easily— like she could just forget him and never feel any guilt for what she’s done.
Jinu’s eyes slide shut, tilting his bare throat up even higher. “Do it, Rumi.” He whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “Save the world. Kill one more demon in your way.”
Her sword disappears from her grip. Rumi surges forward, throwing her arms around him and gripping him tightly. Jinu does a full-body flinch when she does, eyes flinging open, wild and unfocused. He doesn’t try to pry her off, hands hovering just over her as he looks down at her in shock. He’s completely frozen, more of his patterns beginning to light up. Rumi’s arms tighten just looking at him.
“What…” Jinu’s voice wavers. He trembles under her touch. “What are you..?”
“I’m not going to kill you, Jinu. You’re not some demon in my way.” Rumi tells him decisively, leaving little room for argument. “You haven’t been in a very long time and I don’t want that to change now, so please, talk to me. What happened to you?”
“I…” Jinu’s breath hitches. It’s like she’s finally pushed the right button and now he’s crumbling, beginning to slip like sand through her fingertips, though she holds on as tightly as she can despite it. “I don’t…”
“Please.” Rumi says again, this time softer. “Just talk to me. I’m worried about you.”
She hits the final nail in the coffin, Jinu's knees buckling, unable to hold him upright any longer, as tears slip down his cheeks, faster than before. “I— I’m sorry.” He chokes out, eyes shutting and head bowing. Rumi never lets go, lowering them to the ground as Jinu begins to frantically repeat, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry— Rumi, I’m so sorry, I— I didn’t— You’re not a—!” His whole body shudders. “Fuck... I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for everything—!”
“You’re okay.” Rumi whispers to him. “I know, I’m sorry for pulling my weapon on you, I wasn’t thinking—”
“Don’t.” Jinu tells her sharply. “Don’t— don’t apologize to me for anything. I don’t deserve that, not after everything—”
“Too bad.” Rumi tells him. “Because I’m sorry regardless. And I reserve my right to apologize for it.”
Jinu lets out a breath. It might be a laugh, or something more exhausted— she can’t tell. When he says nothing for a time, taking shuddering breaths, Rumi takes the chance to ask, “Jinu, talk to me. What happened?”
Silence stretches on for long enough that Rumi thinks she’s lost him, or he’s not going to respond. But then he finally utters a name. “Gwi-Ma.”
Rumi’s breath hitches, too many possibilities floating through her mind, none of them good. “Gwi-Ma.” She repeats.
“He… He saw, Rumi. The voices came back and I… I wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry.” He repeats, voice raw. “I folded. I betrayed you. I did everything he asked. I doomed the world because I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Jinu.” Rumi feels her fury build in her throat again, but not directed at him. “Did he hurt you?”
Jinu doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to, the silence does for him.
“I’m sorry, Rumi.” He whispers again. “I ruined everything for you.”
“No.” Rumi’s grip on him tightens. “No, not you. Him.”
“I should’ve—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence— you were tortured, Jinu.” Rumi pulls away but only to look him in the eye. She cups his face with one hand and steadies his shoulder with the other. Even as the world crumbles under their feet, Rumi manages to stay strong for this one thing. “It’s not a willing betrayal if you were tortured into it.”
“But it’s still a betrayal.” Jinu murmurs softly. The guilt on his face is lit up by his patterns, angry and magenta. “I gave him the ammo. All the right things to say to break you.”
“Jinu,” Rumi keeps her voice level, “How did he know what you said at our meeting?”
“He…” Jinu swallows. “He can see through my eyes. See into my memories.”
“Did he need you to tell him what to say to me,” she asks slowly, “Or did he already know and just wanted to torment you by making you say it?”
Jinu doesn’t respond to that either, but they both know the answer. He looks away from her, still just as guilty as before.
“Can you hear him now?” Rumi asks. Jinu hesitates.
“I… Don’t think I can. It’s a little hard to tell but if he’s not pulling me back now, maybe…” Jinu trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s temporary, Rumi. It was before too. One way or another, I’ll be back in his grasp and none of this will matter.”
Rumi squeezes his shoulder. “No. I’m not killing you but I’m not letting him take you back either. I need you, okay? I—” her voice breaks as the night’s events come crashing down on her once more. Zoey and Mira, the Honmoon… “I really need you on my side right now, okay?”
“…I can try. It’s the least I can do.” Jinu says slowly, unsure of his words but offering them nonetheless. Rumi will take them. She needs everything she can get right now. “It’s quieter when you’re around. Maybe if I stay by you, they’ll stay away for longer?”
“That part’s easy.” Rumi finds his hand and squeezes it tightly. If it hurts, he doesn’t show it. “I don’t want you leaving my side for even a second.”
“Okay.” Jinu whispers to her. “Then I’ll stay with you for as long as I am able.”
“If I have anything to say about it, that’ll be forever.” Rumi replies. At last, she gets a tiny smile out of him.
“You are impossibly forgiving.”
“As I said,” Rumi gives him a firm look, “I don’t consider it a betrayal if you had to be tortured into it.”
“I’ve been through worse, I should’ve—…” Jinu begins, then trails off. At Rumi’s raised eyebrow, a huff escapes him. “Yeah, I heard it that time.”
“I can’t stop you from blaming yourself, no matter how much I want to.” Rumi gives his hand another squeeze. “But if you’re looking for a way to repent, stay with me. Fight beside me. Okay?”
“Okay.” He nods back. “Whatever you need from me, I'll do it. I'll give it everything I have left in me.”
Slowly, the pair of them clumsily push themselves to their feet, all without letting go. Rumi doesn’t know if physically holding onto him truly helps or not but she thinks she might just need something to hold onto when everything else has fallen apart.
Her steps are shakier than she wants them to be but Jinu helps steady her wordlessly. Everything bubbles to the surface again as a few tears escape her. Jinu gently wipes them away, murmuring more apologies like it’s all he knows how to say. Rumi leans against him heavily as they make their way out of the building.
The winding halls backstage are seemingly endless and completely empty, as if all the dozens of staff members have suddenly vanished. Jinu never lets go of her, the sound of their footsteps filling the halls, and Rumi tries to tell herself it’ll all be okay.
The Honmoon is being destroyed but… Maybe they can fix it, or create a new one. Maybe they can still drive Gwi-Ma back and banish him from Jinu’s head forever. Maybe Mira and Zoey will learn to forgive her, or maybe they won’t. So long as they’re okay and free from their burdens, Rumi thinks she could live with that, however painful it would be.
As if sensing her unkind thoughts, Jinu hugs her closer to him. She realizes belatedly that her patterns are glowing, giving her away.
“We’ll fix this, Rumi.” Jinu tells her softly. “I owe you that much.”
Rumi swallows thickly. “They hate me.” She hates how her voice wobbles.
“They’re just confused.” He insists. “We’ll fix it and you can explain yourself after. It was just the circumstances— once you have time to explain, they’ll understand. You were born into this, Rumi. It was never your fault.”
“You were tricked, Jinu.” Rumi whispers back. “That wasn’t your fault either. He preyed on your desperation. Some part of you has to know that.”
“…It’s not that simple.” He murmurs.
“And if it is?”
Jinu shakes his head. “Let’s fix what I broke first. We’ll handle the rest after.”
Begrudgingly, Rumi has to agree. She’ll need a clear head for that conversation anyways.