Slow shallow breaths is all Rumi can manage.
Her last attempt at taking a full breath had her almost keeling over in pain, a betraying wail fighting to escape and alert her girls.
While both her demonic powers and the Hoonmoon combined had always been merciful enough to accelerate the healing process beyond belief, they had never spared her any of the pain.
Now that Zoey and Mira knew about her patterns, the reason to hide all of her injuries was gone. They knew the ugly truth and still they stayed, they showed their unconditional support.
No matter what happens, Rumi knows that they will catch her. However, she isn’t quite sure if she will be able to reach out for their hand.
It’s not out of fear of seeming weak or incapable, instead she is paralyzed by the guilt of being a burden, of making them waste their love and kindness on her.
Something she still can’t feel worthy of.
Specially, since all they ask in return is to let them be there for her.
How can she be so selfish as to deny such a simple request?
Rumi's jaw locks at trying to form the words. A quick escape to her room is still the most tempting option. But for them she will try. For them she will rip the knot off her throat, before she can listen to the thought that they would be better off.
“Can you help me check my ribs? I-.. I think I cracked something.”
They’d just made it through the front door of the penthouse, Zoey is caught mid laugh through her excited retelling of the fight. At her side, Mira immediately goes crisis-mode, face steeled as she quickly scans Rumi.
“Take her to the couch, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” Mira says before she disappears down the hallway.
“Rumi?” Zoey extends a hand, and leads her gently through the stillness of the room. Perhaps afraid she will bolt, given the chance.
Faced with Zoey’s hesitant expression, hands behind her back likely twisting into knots, Rumi quickly relents “Zo, could you?” and motions towards her own sweatshirt.
“Of course! Let me just-”
Zoey’s hands join hers in removing the garment.
A rough groan escapes Rumi’s lips as she raises her arms in the process, startling Zoey.
“Ah! I’m so sorry!” Panic stains Zoey’s usually joyous voice.
“No, it’s okay. You’re good.”
Left in her sports bra she moves to sit cross-legged facing the back of the couch. The sharp inhale of breath from Zoey tells her all that she needs to know about how bad it looks.
“How did this happen?” Zoey settles behind her, warm fingers ghost over the left side of her back, tracing skin surely bruised.
“When you two were holding off the horde.. I tried to get to you sooner, but I was caught off guard.” The moment she saw them in danger, nothing else had mattered.
“Fuck.. Rumi.” Mira sighs heavily at the sight, and Rumi’s dread sinks further down.
For once, she’s glad that she is facing away from them; seeing their concern etched so painfully would crumble whatever is left of her composure.
“Take these for the pain.” Mira hands her two pills and a glass of water which she downs dutifully. “I’m going to cut your sports bra off, okay? I don’t want to hurt you if we try to remove it.”
Zoey wordlessly hands her sweatshirt back, which Rumi hugs tight to her chest together with one of the pillows from the couch, as Mira gets to work.
“I’m going to feel along your ribs, I’ll try to be gentle but tell me if there is any pain.” Mira remains calm and clinical, stating her every move.
“Mira” Rumi warns softly as Mira touches a very tender spot. Another touch on the rib below has her groaning.
“Sorry.” A small caress graces her side, before Mira continues her inspection.
Rumi releases a slow breath, as the weight of their care makes her curl down tighter against the pillow in her arms.
Zoey must mistake her distress for pain, because she places a hand on her shoulder and tries to comfort her.
“You’re doing great, Rumi. Just a little bit longer now.”
Not wanting to disappoint, Rumi focuses on taking small breaths to not disturb her injuries too much; focuses on Zoey’s quiet humming, a melody she does not recognize but is growing fond of; focuses on Mira’s careful fingers as they map the expanse of her back.
“I think you have at least 2 cracked ribs. I’ll apply some cream to help with the bruising but you should stay off your back while the Honmoon does it’s thing.”
Zoey stops the comforting rhythm and instead warm lips place a lingering kiss on her cheek, a burnt imprint even as she moves away to speak. “Thank you for letting us help.”
Rumi is blindsided by those words. A wrecking ball against her broken rib cage, taking down with it the last remnants of a rotten foundation.
She is helpless to stop the sobs as tears fall unbidden at the guilt of a thousand hidden injuries.
“I don’t want to hide from you.” Rumi pushes the words past the leftover rubble.
“Oh Rumi, come here.” Without waiting, Zoey pulls her by the shoulders, settling Rumi against her chest.
She cries harder as Zoey tucks Rumi under her chin and traces the patterns along her arm, while Mira scoots closer to embrace them both and whisper her own reassurances. “It’s okay, we got you. Always.”
Rumi stays in their arms, anchored by their support and failing not to melt at the given affection.
Why did she have to be so hard to love? It’s so unfair to them, demanding so much for no reward.
But to dismiss their kindness would be an even bigger insult.
Instead, she makes a decision. Even if she is not worthy of it, Rumi will take it all and treasure it as her greatest achievement: Being loved by Mira and Zoey.
“I love you both, so much.” Despite the tears, Rumi utters the words with a sobering clarity.
Their embrace tightens in response, and yet, the painful strain on her ribs is muted by their encompassing warmth and matching I love you’s.
