Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zoey had never been popular growing up. Never expected to be, either.

She was that weird, excitable, mildly foreign kid with headphones on in class, her nose constantly buried in a notebook, and strong-smelling food in her lunch. Whenever she tried to start conversations, they were about music theory or ocean ecosystems or something else only she cared about. She talked too much and too loudly, or else not at all.

No one particularly liked her. At least, not for long. Occasionally, someone found her charming or funny for a little while, but it never took much time for them to decide they'd had enough. They didn't have enough common interests, or her ramblings were getting old, or she wasn't enthusiastic enough about the things they wanted to do. Eventually, they all drifted away.

As for everyone else, they either found her entirely forgettable or remarkably easy to pick on with her trusting nature and desperate need to be liked.

Joining Huntr/x gave her a second chance. Taught her how to use her bubbly personality and particular interests to endear herself to masses that didn't already know her as the kid they shouldn't try to talk to lest she never shut up. Allowed her to create a new identity, carefully crafted by her own hands and not lunchroom gossip about how she cried in the bathroom after tests and was closer to her music teacher than any of the other kids and stayed late after school because her parents were finalizing their divorce.

As the maknae of Korea's most beloved girl group, all the things that had once made her weird and unlikeable could be cutesy, loveable qualities, provided she learned how to properly apply them. Her interview side tangents were endearing. Letting her bandmates baby her in public was adorable. Her unique blend of cultural norms was just Zoey being her silly half-American self.

But most of all, her lyrics were inspiring. Her voice was respected. Even when they thought of her as the childish one, when she was on stage, people sat down and listened. No teasing, no ridicule. Just admiration.

It made her feel powerful. Like she mattered. Like she didn't have to choose between her authentic self and a likeable mask. Like all those people from high school just hadn't been able to see her potential.

And then the strangest thing happened. About a year post-debut, after Huntr/x had gained some international popularity, she stumbled across a post from the American side of the fandom. A video of two people dancing to one of their newest songs. They had both gone to high school with her. Called her slurs in the hallway all throughout senior year. And they were dancing and singing along to her lyrics.

Did they... not know who she was? It hadn't been that long. Her face still looked the same.

She knew in that moment it was probably a bad idea, but she checked out the account anyway.

God, there were so many Huntr/x posts. So many Zoey posts. Bragging about having known her before she got big. Calling her their favorite.

Their fucking favorite, as if they hadn't shoved her around until she had bruises and spread rumors that she was sleeping with the music teacher because he was one of the only adults she trusted at the time. As if they hadn't hated her until knowing Zoey from Huntr/x could be used for clout.

She tried not to let it get to her, but over the next few years, she found more accounts like it. People who had once stolen her notebooks and publicly ridiculed her lyrics now boasting that they'd gotten to hear some of her most popular songs years early, which wasn't even true, as all of Huntr/x's discography had been written after her permanent move to South Korea. People who had found her obsession with turtles weird and annoying and destroyed her keychains just to see how it made her cry now sporting all the turtle merchandise they could get because it was finally cool to share in her interests. People who had told her to go back to her own country talking about how proud they were that she was representing good old Burbank.

For a while, it made her blood boil, but she managed to talk herself down eventually. Of course they had changed. All that unpleasantness had been years ago, when they were all still kids. Zoey was the weird one, really, for still being hung up on it.

What did she have to be upset about, after all? She had everything she could ever want. A successful music career, the adoration of millions, the satisfaction of a greater purpose through her maintenance of the Honmoon, and two amazing women who loved every inch of her to share it all with. So what if some people had been mean to her a while ago? Clearly, they liked her now. She should be grateful.

That line of reasoning worked for her all the way up until one of them showed up to a signing.

Zoey didn't even recognize her at first, with her sharper features, shorter hair, and more mature style of dress. In a sea of people, the face simply didn't stand out to her. Nor did the voice, though she would realize after the fact that it hadn't changed at all.

For a few seconds, it was just another fan coming up to Huntr/x's table for an autograph. One of hundreds she would meet today. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

"Zoey!" the young woman squealed in much the same manner as the several fans before her. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!"

Zoey blinked at her, hand frozen above the poster she'd been given to sign. This happened from time to time, but she always felt terrible about it. Fans would speak to her briefly during events and then come back later expecting her to remember, even though it would be impossible for her to recognize every face she saw at these things. It generally took a particularly notable interaction or frequent repeated encounters for her to actually start remembering people.

Still, she would hate to disappoint anyone.

"You too!" she said brightly. Her marker glided over the bottom of the poster, leaving behind her name and the little cartoon turtle that had become a part of her idol signature.

The woman must have seen something in her face. A lack of recognition or an insufficiently excited response.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me." She took on a playful pout.

Zoey stared at her, caught out and on the spot. Should she remember this person?

"Zoey..." she went on with a good-natured whine. "Come on, it's Ava!"

Zoey dropped her marker. Only years of training and experience allowed her to play off the jolt that shot through her as a burst of excitement.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, sweet and happy even as several things hit her at once. The echo of jeering voices. The phantom sensation of hands gripping her shoulders. The faint memory of alcohol burning her tongue.

Ava didn't seem to notice. She smiled, big and bright like she had that day in junior year when she'd approached Zoey in the library and kindly asked what she was writing. Like she would at lunch, for those sweet few months Zoey had thought she'd found a friend.

"I've been trying to get out here to see you for forever." Ava leaned in close over the table. "I caught your show the other day. Hearing you live was crazy!"

"Did you... come all this way just to see me?" Zoey asked in a small voice. The very idea made her skin crawl.

"Of course!" Ava beamed at her, oblivious to the way she squirmed. "I was your first fan, girl. Just wish you'd gotten famous back in the States so I wouldn't have to come so far."

First fan.

Did she not fucking remember?

"It was so sweet of you to make the trip," Zoey said instead of any of the more pointed things running through her mind. "I'm glad you liked the show."

"Oh, it was great. Would've been cool if there was a meet and greet then, but now's good too." Ava reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. "Do you think I could get a quick selfie? Everyone back home would lose their minds."

Zoey had to try very hard to resist the urge to start yanking her own hair out. She should have seen that one coming, really. It had always been about what the others thought with Ava. That was the only reason she'd ever cared about Zoey's lyrics. To bring them back to her real friends and simply roll with what was cool at the moment. They were all the rage now, but back then, the trend had skewed toward making stupid parodies that mocked every bit of emotion poured out onto the pages of those notebooks Zoey had been stupid enough to share.

It didn't matter the topic. Something light and fun, made purely for the joy of creation? An outlet for her feelings toward her crumbling home life? An attempt to make sense of suddenly having two homes and feeling like an outcast in both? All prime teasing material.

"I'm sorry..." She put on her best apologetic face. "There's still the line, and if I give one person a selfie, I have to give everyone a selfie, and well... y'know."

Rather than disappointed, Ava just looked surprised. Like she couldn't believe Zoey would tell her no.

"No exceptions for your friends?" she asked.

Please go away, Zoey thought desperately.

"I'm really sorry."

"Zoey-"

But the line was beginning to push now, and the fan that had lingered several minutes too long had drawn Bobby's attention. He motioned to another member of the staff, who started forward. Ava finally seemed to take the hint.

Expression thoroughly soured, she stepped away from the table and made way for the next fan in line, leaving Zoey with sweat on her brow and a foul taste in her mouth that reminded her of sitting on the floor of stranger's bathroom, fumbling for her phone.

She didn't have much time to linger on it. The fans behind Ava had already been waiting too long. She had to shelve however she felt about that interaction for later, plaster on her sweet smile, and keep going. After all, she would hate to disappoint anyone.

But she couldn't get it out of her head. The kind eyes that had turned sharp and cruel without warning. The encouragement, the praise that had made her think she'd found a place, only to be met with the reality that she was a joke to everyone. Bile crept slowly up her throat.

Despite her best efforts to welcome each fan with warmth and enthusiasm, part of her wasn't here anymore. She was 17 again, curled up on tiles that weren't hers while her head spun, her only friend laughed at her humiliation, and her father made his way over to add "cries to daddy and ruins parties" to the list of hits her reputation had taken over the years.

When she looked up to hand over the poster she'd just signed, she didn't see the adoring, awestruck faces of her fans. She saw the attendees of a party she hadn't even want to go to watching gleefully as she made a fool of herself, egged on by alcohol she hadn't wanted to drink and a friend who had promised to look after her.

She stood up suddenly, her chair screeching loudly against the floor. If anyone looked, she didn't notice. Didn't care. She just needed to get out of this room.

Faster than she could process, she was running. Down a side hall, toward the room that had been supplied for Huntr/x to prep and rest before the event.

Distantly, she heard Rumi's voice.

"Just a few minutes, everyone! We're just taking a short break."

Her ears rang. Her head throbbed. By the time she'd stumbled her way into the room, it was all she could do to reach a nearby plush chair and flop down, dead weight and nauseous. Moments later, the door opened again, followed by two sets of footsteps.

"Zoey?" Mira asked, her voice low and urgent.

"What's going on?" Rumi approached quickly and dropped to her knees in front of the chair, eyes frantically searching Zoey's face. "Are you okay?"

Fuck. What was she supposed to say?

Yeah, I'm good, just freaking out because I'm not over someone being a bitch to me five years ago.

Why couldn't she just get over it? It didn't matter anymore.

"Zo?" Mira prompted with a gentle hand on Zoey's shoulder. "Baby, talk to us."

With what little air she could get, Zoey swallowed and said, "I'm just... I feel really sick..."

Not a total lie.

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance.

"Sick how?" Mira pressed. "Are you hot? Were you drinking enough?"

Rumi pressed the back of her hand to Zoey's forehead.

"It's my stomach," Zoey murmured. "I kinda thought I was about to throw up. Didn't want to do it in front of the fans, y'know?"

Rumi made a soft, sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. "You're clammy. Maybe we should end the signing early."

Zoey shook her head. "I don't want to disappoint the fans."

"I don't want you collapsing out there. You don't look right." Mira's brow furrowed slightly, and she leaned in as if trying to catch Zoey's attention. "You're not focusing on me."

Zoey realized belatedly that she'd been sort of staring past both of them at a nondescript spot on the wall, part of her mind still elsewhere. Her eyes snapped to Mira's face.

"Sorry," she said. "You guys can go back out. I'll just wait here."

"It's okay, Zoey," Rumi replied. "We can take you home."

"I don't want to move right now," Zoey insisted, a bit firmer. "I just need a few minutes. Go finish the signing."

"Bobby can sit with you," Mira decided.

"Don't bother him."

"You're not a bother." Both of Rumi's hands cupped her face. "We're your girlfriends and he's our manager. Making sure you're okay is literally our job."

Zoey looked away, her chest tight. "I just want to take a nap."

"And Bobby can sit with you while you do," Rumi said.

"It won't be much longer," Mira promised. "Just another thirty minutes. We won't extend it at all."

Rumi pressed a light kiss to Zoey's damp forehead. "Call us if you need us."

The moment they left the room, Zoey curled up and laid down as best she could, back to the door so she would be facing away from Bobby when he arrived. Not that she wouldn't appreciate him being there for her, but she just didn't want anyone talking to her right now. 

When the door opened again, she pretended to already be asleep. Bobby made no attempt to wake her, instead walking quietly over to another chair in the corner. Once he sat down, his quiet presence easily faded into the background. Arms over her head, face hidden against the back of the chair, Zoey hardly noticed him. Couldn't really notice him, when everything else was so loud. 

A soft, sweet voice inviting her to share what she wrote. Singing along with her at times as she tried to find beats and melodies to match her words. Inviting her out on Friday night even though she would really rather just stay in, because there were some people dying to hear that new song she'd just finished. Yes, there would be alcohol, but that was okay. She didn't have to drink. 

Then when she got there, that same voice insisting she try some anyway. It wasn't very strong. She could even mix it with soda and make it sweeter if she wanted. It was just liquid courage, preparing her to impress everyone who wanted to hear her sing. 

Multiple voices now, coaxing more drinks into her, until finally she began to flip through her notebook for the song she'd been invited to share. 

She slurred her way through about half of it before she realized everyone was singing along. But... that couldn't be right. No one else knew the song. No one but Ava. Had she shared it early?

But the lyrics were wrong. Full of jabs and insults she had never written. It took a nasty, violent slur replacing one of her favorite lines for reality to catch up. 

They had planned this. Ava had shared her song, and they had changed it, and they were mocking her. 

They had changed her lyrics. 

They had ruined her song. 

They had invited her here just for this. 

She burst into tears, and the crowd burst into laughter. Someone ripped the notebook out of her hand, demanding that she keep going, prompting her to start again with those awful, changed, wrong lyrics. Her stomach began to churn with distress and too much alcohol. 

The howls of amusement only got louder when she vomited onto the notebook shoved beneath her nose, ruining it and everything she'd written in it over the past several weeks. No one helped her when she rolled off the couch, clutching her middle. She looked around desperately for her friend. For the person who had promised to stay close to her tonight. 

Ava was off to the side, doubled over laughing. 

Zoey crawled to the bathroom alone. She spent half an hour emptying her stomach, tears pouring down her face, until she managed to call her dad to come get her. For once, she was actually grateful that her mother was back in Korea these days. That woman would have never tolerated underage drinking, or a party for that matter. Her father, at least, would unground her sometime this decade. 

Still, part of her wished she hadn't called. The party was ruined the moment an adult knocked on the door, and none of the other kids would let her forget it anytime soon. She received the scolding of a lifetime on the way home. Her phone was taken away for two weeks, given back only for minutes at a time when she had scheduled calls with her mother. She couldn't go out to the store and buy a new notebook to replace the one she'd lost at the party. She couldn't go anywhere but school for the rest of the month. 

No skateboarding. No trips to the park. No turtle videos. No notebooks to write in other than the ones she needed for school, which her father made clear he would also not let her replace if she filled them up "just to spite her punishment". 

It was a miserable grounding, and in the face of her parents' disappointment, she never worked up the nerve to tell them what had been done to her. That she'd felt forced to drink. That she'd been humiliated by more than just her own irresponsibility. That the kids her father said she could get her notebook back from at school if she wanted it so badly were shoving her down flights of stairs and into lockers every chance they got. 

She came away from the experience beaten. No longer willing to try her luck with new friends. Quiet and alone most of the time. Thinking that maybe Korea wasn't so bad after all, because maybe not knowing anyone was a blessing. Maybe she would just stay there with her mother after graduation. 

Had she not eventually felt the deep, spiritual tug of the Honmoon and followed it to Celine and her girls, she wasn't sure she would have ever made another meaningful connection. 

In the present, Zoey bit down on her lip, wishing it could just cease to matter. She was sure no one but her cared about that night anymore. Possibly, no one else even remembered. She was making such a huge deal out of it, disappointing her fans and leaving her girls hanging over it, and it was all just high school bullshit she should have left in the past ages ago. 

Why was she like this? 

When the door finally opened again, she remained still, continuing to feign sleep.  

"How is she?" Mira asked in a whisper. 

"She really conked out," Bobby replied. "Hasn't moved the whole time."

A soft touch ghosted across Zoey's back. She twisted to find Rumi beside her once more, eyes gentle and loving. 

"Hi, darling," she murmured. "Any better?"

"Sleepy," Zoey said thickly, partially to get out of talking and partially because the ordeal had genuinely exhausted her. 

"Let's get you home, then." Mira walked over, turned her back, and crouched. "Hop on, Zo."

Too much, Zoey thought even as she climbed on automatically. You can walk. You're taking too much. You're being too much. 

Mira stood easily as if Zoey didn't weigh a thing. Zoey clung to her like a needy koala, her face pressed firmly against her lover's neck. Rumi kept a hand on Zoey's spine as if she meant to add support, though Mira clearly didn't need it. 

They carried her through the back halls of the building and out to the car waiting for them. Mira lowered Zoey into Rumi's arms, and Rumi gently situated her into an upright enough position to get her seatbelt on. Zoey didn't know why she let them do everything for her, handling her mostly limp body like a doll, but she did, even as her brain screamed at her that she was making unnecessary work for them. 

Mira walked around the other side of the car so they could get in on either side of her. Bobby sat up front with the driver. 

Zoey rested on Rumi's shoulder as they began the drive home, Mira's hand gently rubbing the back of her neck. She hated herself for taking when she didn't need to, but she felt so safe anyway that she couldn't get herself to reject their care. She was so comfortable and warm. They were so soft and loving. 

She was asleep before they hit the first intersection. 

Chapter Text

Zoey wasn't sure she liked fan events much anymore.

Maybe that was an exaggeration. She still liked getting to meet her fans, make them happy, and strengthen the Honmoon. The praise and adoration for her work still did something for her sense of self-wroth that her younger self would have killed for. She managed to have fun at many of them, but after seeing Ava a few months ago, a deep uneasiness had settled into her bones.

For some reason, until that day, it hadn't really occurred to her that her childhood bullies could just show up and try to talk to her like they hadn't ruined her formative years. Ask for her autograph, for special treatment over all the other fans who had never done a thing wrong to her like beating her self-esteem into nothing qualified as an old friendship worthy of honoring. Without even trying to apologize first.

Knowing now that it was possible, that some of them really did have the audacity, Zoey looked for them everywhere. In the crowds at her shows, in line at signings, on the street when she got recognized. She was perpetually braced for impact, determined not to be caught off guard again.

So far, she hadn't seen any more of her former tormentors, but there were days filled with double takes when she wasn't quite sure if she'd just caught a glimpse of the girl who used to brutally pick apart her appearance in the bathroom or the guy who had once shoved her off the bleachers at a pep rally and sprained her writing wrist.

She hoped it wasn't obvious that it was getting to her, but perhaps that was too much to ask. Rumi and Mira could hardly be expected not to notice when she suddenly went pale in the middle of a fan event or missed nearly missed a cue on stage because she thought she'd seen an unwelcome face in the crowd. In all honesty, it was starting to become their business, the way it was slowly creeping into their work.

Still, Zoey didn't tell them. She didn't even know where to begin. It was all in her head, anyway. Better to just let them believe that the lights had gotten in her eyes and caused a misstep. That she'd started to feel faint in a hot, overcrowded room. Those were reasonable excuses. Far more reasonable than staying hung up on teenage drama that should have no effect on her adult life.

It was easier this way, even when it worried them. Even when it made them dote on her and give her more attention than she felt she deserved. Even when she hated herself for accepting Mira's water bottle and letting the two of them fuss over her all the way home because the color had drained from her face at the end of a meet and greet over someone who looked a little too much like the host of that horrible house party.

"You've been overheating a lot lately," Rumi observed in the elevator when they'd made it back to the lofty tower they called home. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

"I mean, yeah," Zoey replied flippantly, fidgeting with the water bottle Mira had given her. "It's been pretty hot. I don't know what else it would be."

"Are you eating enough?" Mira asked. When Zoey opened her mouth to respond, she added, "enough real food? Not just shrimp crackers and ramyeon?"

"You leave my snacking habits out of this," Zoey grumbled, more as a deflection than anything else.

"I'm serious. You could have an iron deficiency or something." Mira looked her up and down, seemed to notice the tightness in her shoulders, and let out a sigh. "You know I only ask because I'm worried about you."

"I know." Zoey let herself soften. "Maybe I've had choco pies for dinner a few too many times, but you know how I get when I'm in the zone."

"Wait, that's what you're eating when you say you're too busy writing to have dinner with us?!" Mira demanded incredulously. "You do that like, twice a week! No wonder you feel like shit!"

"Okay." Rumi laid a calming hand on Mira's shoulder as the elevator dinged and opened to reveal their penthouse. "How about you two go relax, and I'll make us something nice for dinner? It's been while since any of us have had something homemade."

Zoey gave a minute nod and stepped out into the living room, sheepishly avoiding Mira's eyes. As much as she sometimes leaned into being considered the baby of the group, especially in public where it suited her maknae role, she was still a grown woman and preferred to be seen as such. She didn't like letting her girlfriends believe she couldn't be trusted to feed herself more than snacks and sugar.

But what was more childish, bad eating habits or still being afraid of the mean kids from school?

Perhaps the secret third thing; turning to run and hide in her room when the conversation became uncomfortable.

The only thing that stopped her was Rumi's phone ringing with the specific tune they all had set for calls from Bobby.

"Hi, Bobby!" she cooed reflexively as Rumi took the call, she and Mira both settling themselves over one of Rumi's shoulders.

"Hi, girls!" Bobby smiled up at them from the phone screen. "I've got some big plans to run by you."

"Let's hear it," Rumi said.

"So, we all know our international audiences are dying to hear Golden and What It Sounds Like live," Bobby began, "and with our plans to release that new album this year, I was thinking..."

He paused, beaming, waiting for one of them to finish his thought.

"International tour?" Mira guessed.

"International tour!" Bobby cheered. "We're just looking at North America right now, U.S. and Canada, but we could branch out. Maybe another full-blown world tour. But starting small, we definitely want to start with Los Angeles and eventually make our way to New York. You girls with me so far?"

Admittedly, Zoey's brain, a bit fried from the meet and greet, took a moment to catch up with him. Rumi caught it before she did.

"Wait, Los Angeles?" she echoed. "That's right near Burbank, isn't it? Zoey, you could visit home!"

Zoey's heart skipped several beats. Back home, where all of her worst memories were. That school and those people that she shouldn't still care about but did so, so much. She wondered how many of them still lived there. How many of them she would see.

She wanted to scream. Instead, she smiled and leaned in.

"Yay! I haven't been to L.A. in forever!"

"We'll make sure to let you squeeze in some time in Burbank," Bobby promised. "So, international tour is a go?"

Rumi glanced at Mira and Zoey in turn, checking for signs of approval before she gave the final say. Logically, Zoey thought she could probably take this opportunity to say something. Anything. Be honest for once and admit that the very idea made her want to peel her skin off.

But what kind of well-adjusted adult asked for a tour to be reorganized around their childhood bullying, skipping an obvious prime location? And really, she didn't want to let this get the better of her. Burbank was still home, and if she refused to see it again because of this, it would be admitting these people really did still have power over her all these years later.

So, while Mira simply nodded, Zoey pumped a fist in the air and shouted, "let's do it!"

"Sounds like it's a go, then," Rumi said with a chuckle. "Why don't you swing by tomorrow so we can discuss the details?"

"Sure thing! Goodnight, girls!"

"Goodnight, Bobby!" they all cooed in unison.

The moment the call ended, Zoey was ready to shut herself in her room and never come out.

"Well, I think that's it for me tonight," she said in the most casual manner she could manage.

"It better not be," Mira said flatly, her arms crossed. "What about dinner?"

Goddammit.

"Right. Forgot." Zoey flashed a sheepish grin that she hoped came across as simply tired and forgetful. "Then, I guess I'll take a shower while Rumi cooks."

"Sounds good," Rumi agreed. "It won't take long. Half an hour, maybe."

"Thank you, Ru-Ru," Zoey purred, her voice high and cloying. As expected, Rumi rolled her eyes and waved her off, grinning despite herself.

"Go shower."

Zoey skipped off down the hall toward her room, slowing to a walk as soon as she'd rounded the corner. She locked the door as she stepped inside and closed it, pressing her back to it with a sigh.

She was visiting Burbank, then. Might as well let her dad know tonight and get that over with.

She didn't talk to either of her parents much anymore. Not because anything particular had happened, but because she was... her. Always too much and not enough. A starry-eyed musician with no friends and no real plan for the future. An autistic teenager constantly melting down over divorce proceedings and custody arrangements. They did love her, and they were proud of her now, but she often struggled to forget the looks they used to give her, back when they didn't have to say a word to let her know they feared she wouldn't amount to much.

Regardless, just as she couldn't visit Anyang without seeing her mother, she couldn't get this close to Burbank without seeing her father. She reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out her phone, opting to send a text rather than call.

Hey dad. I'll be in L.A. for a show later this year. Is my old room open for a visit?

She didn't wait for a response. Crossing the room, she set her phone down on the nightstand and figured she might as well take that shower while she was waiting for dinner. Maybe she'd feel better.

Probably not.

She headed to the bathroom anyway, for the normalcy if nothing else. Maybe to prove to herself that this wasn't going to get to her so badly that it could stop her from doing something so simple.

It wouldn't be that big a deal, anyway. Even if she did run into everyone who had made her life hell, they liked her now. They would be nice to her. She could hide behind her fame and emerge from the encounter completely unscathed. It didn't matter that they probably wouldn't think to apologize. That they might even still remember her as the meek little girl that was always fun to pick on had she not gotten lucky and been chosen by the Honmoon. 

It didn't matter what had happened to her before. All the mattered was what she would do next.

She would go to Burbank, prove that all that foolishness had no place in her adult life, then go to L.A. and put on an amazing show. She wouldn't run away. Her skin wouldn't crawl. She would get through it, and when it was over, she would see how silly it had been to worry. 

Chapter Text

Zoey was familiar with airports. Had to be, with all the flights she'd been forced onto as a teenager.

As per her parents' custody agreement, she'd began every major school break save for alternating Christmases by boarding a flight to South Korea alone, then ended it by returning to the U.S. in much the same fashion. Every year, several times a year, ages 15 to 18.

So no, she was no stranger to air travel. Not even to the VIP sections of the airport or the small rented plane just for her, her girls, Bobby, and a few other crucial crew members. That was all routine by now. All part of the job.

The new part was this odd blending of her worlds. Sitting in the airport waiting to board a plane to go home to Burbank, only she wasn't alone. She had people who sat on either side of her, softly chatting, asking if she wanted an obscenely overpriced pretzel because they weren't already pinching pennies to make this trip happen. People who let her sit closest to the window and offered to make some room for her to stretch out and nap.

It was so much like any other tour, but she was going home. Except it felt more like she was leaving home. Or, at least, she would be the moment she separated from Rumi and Mira to spend her first day in the U.S. with her dad, as discussed.

Her girls had never met her dad before. Honestly, it didn't even feel like they belonged in the same room. Her bright, shining partners who were always concerned with whether she looked after herself and the middle-aged pencil pusher who, after the divorce, had developed a habit of coming home, cracking open a beer, and going to bed without asking if she'd had dinner.

They were all excited to meet each other. Zoey, for some reason, had never imagined that they would.

Her father had offered to pick her up directly from the airport, just like old times, but her girls had offered to have the rental car drop her off, and she wanted a little more time with them before they split up for the next twenty-four hours.

That resulted in her sitting in the back, watching Burbank roll by out the window, and answering a plethora of questions with half-truths.

"Is that the park where baby Zoey used to play?" Rumi squealed, her face close to the glass.

It was, in fact, the park where baby Zoey had played. And run away to at 8 because her parents had been fighting badly all week. And stopped visiting at 12 because some boys from school had made it their regular hangout spot and would give her no peace.

"You should see the place where I learned to skate," was all she said in response.

"Where's your favorite place to eat here?" Mira asked.

"Too many to pick just one," Zoey replied. "But you'll see my favorite diner when we meet up tomorrow. You're both trying baby Zoey's favorite American breakfast."

Rumi smiled softly at her. "Can't wait."

The car slowly rolled through Zoey's old neighborhood, bombarding her with memories. The tree she'd fallen out of at 10, breaking her arm. The garden she'd raided for tomatoes at 7, earning a stern lecture from her mother about stealing and a mandatory month of helping her poor elderly neighbor with yardwork to make up for it. The yard that, for most of her childhood, had contained a very aggressive dog that barked and growled at her whenever she walked by.

The house of her elementary school best friend, who had loved to draw and sing and run wild with her before moving away at the end of fifth grade. The corner where she had waited for the bus in middle school, several feet away from all the other kids because no one really wanted to talk to her. The house of one of her high school bullies, who had forced Zoey to cut her hair short by sticking gum in it when she wasn't looking.

Her childhood home, where she'd been raised, lived her first 18 years, experienced all of her first joys, and learned to be the mediator for people far too old to rely on a child for emotional stability.

Her dad was waiting for her in the driveway, short dark hair thinner than she remembered, smiling brightly like he always did on his good days.

"Hey, kiddo!" he cheered as she climbed out of the car. Despite all her worst memories of silence and screaming and days without check-ins or a real dinner or any help with her homework, she rushed to hug him. It was easier to love him when she didn't need him. When a smile and a hug on a good day was enough and months of silence meant nothing to her anymore because she didn't live here anyway.

He squeezed her with the intensity of a father who hadn't seen his daughter in person in two years. Even when he saw Rumi and Mira, he hesitated to let her go.

"So, you're the girlfriends," he said, beaming. "Zoey's told me a lot. I hear you're good to her."

"I sure hope we are," Mira replied, her English accented but otherwise flawless.

Much more stilted by comparison, Rumi cheerfully said, "it's great to meet you!" and stuck out her hand.

Zoey's father shook it readily. "You too. Would you like to come inside?"

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance. Zoey could tell they wanted to, but they had a schedule keep today, and only she had been let off the hook.

"We can't stay long," Mira said regretfully. "We just wanted to say hi and see for ourselves where Zoey came from."

"I hope my aggressively normal suburban neighborhood doesn't shock you too much, rich girls," Zoey teased.

"Haha," Rumi nudged her gently. "I hope it's not too hard to go back to staying here after you've been spoiled by our penthouse all this time."

"I am nothing if not humble," Zoey replied, her voice light and a bit overly enunciated.

"Okay, liar." Mira chuckled and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "We'll meet you tomorrow morning, okay? Text us. You know we're clingy."

"Will do." Zoey said and presented her other cheek to get a kiss from Rumi too.

"Bye, sweetie," Rumi said softly. "See you tomorrow."

Zoey waved energetically as her girls got back in the car to head to the hotel where they would get settled and discuss the upcoming show with Bobby. They pulled away, leaving her alone with her dad for the first time in years. She turned to him, seeing him at his best, looking like the man who had tied her shoes and made her hot chocolate in the middle of summer because she was never too hot for a sugary drink. 

"You hungry?" he asked. "Someone hasn't had good street tacos in a while."

It was true. Korea did not have good street tacos.

"Sure."

Their day together was so, so normal. A father and daughter getting tacos. Walking around town. Buying a t-shirt. Ordering pizza for dinner and having a movie night like they had done when he was starting to crawl out of his post-divorce depression and felt bad for not spending enough time with her.

Zoey would have been quite satisfied with it, had she not spent it looking over her shoulder. Bracing for the moment she would run into someone who had made her life miserable, and they would be so nice and pleasant in front of her dad just like they always had been. They would recognize her through her disguise of a giant hoodie, loose hair down to her midback, and oversized bucket hat because of who she was with, and they would ask things of her as if they deserved special attention for making her cry every day.

Ultimately, she saw none of them, and was rewarded for her vigilance by returning home exhausted by anxiety. She stayed up late with her dad anyway, because she didn't think she would see him again for a while after she left California, and he wasn't going to her show. He had to work, he said, and k-pop wasn't really his thing anyway.

She went to bed after midnight and texted her girls while half asleep.

She missed them already. She wished they were here in this bed with her, even though the image of them in her childhood bedroom with her Sunlight Sisters posters still on the wall felt so surreal it made her head spin.

It took her hours to fall asleep, staring at one of the images of Celine and Ryu Mi-yeong and that third Hunter who had only ever publicly gone by Song and was never discussed by Celine.

Her father drove her to the diner in the morning, clearly wanting to go in with her but choosing to respect the time she'd asked to have with her girlfriends before they were officially on tour duty.

She was the first one there. She asked for a table in the back, a glass of water, and a few minutes so she could wait for the rest of her group.

She kept the menu up, hiding her face, even though she already knew what she wanted. Pancakes with runny eggs and a side of French fries because she liked to dip them in the yolks and chunky potatoes just didn't hit the same. Maybe a shake too, since it had been way too long since her last diner milkshake. But she wouldn't order until Rumi and Mira got here.

Until then, she would just silently scan the restaurant and hope nobody recognized the parts of her that were visible.

Her hopes were dashed when someone got up from a booth that was largely out of her sight, took a few steps toward the bathroom, and suddenly locked eyes with her. Zoey recognized her instantly.

Katie Fairway, ninth grade English, tenth grade biology and gym, eleventh grade math, and twelfth grade hallway jeerer. Favorite hobbies: dance, running, being crazy racist about k-pop, and making Zoey feel small.

Motherfucker.

Don't come over, don't come over.

She came over, her eyes wide, waving for her the rest of her friends to join her.

Oh, God fucking damn it, Zoey knew all of them. Most of them had been friends with Ava.

"Is that Zoey?"

Zoey really wanted to say no, but it was too late. They recognized her. They knew she saw them. There was nowhere to escape to.

"Hi!" Zoey put down the menu and plastered on her best public smile. She leaned forward, hunching her shoulders and lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Don't make a big deal, okay? I'm off duty right now. Just getting breakfast."

She glanced around like she was worried about the other patrons recognizing her, but really, she was just trying to drop a hint that she didn't want to talk to them.

"Got it, got it. Our secret." Katie began to whisper and playfully put a finger to her lips. "Gosh, it's so amazing to see you here! We have tickets to your show!"

"Oh, that's so great!" Zoey replied brightly. Truly, wonderful.

"I didn't bother with the meet and greet, though." A young woman toward the back of the group, Bianca or Brianna or something like that, said. "Ava told us about how you totally snubbed her at that show in Korea."

Ohhhhhh, yeah. Bianca. Zoey's replacement after Ava had moved on from her. Still a bitch.

"Oh, come on," Katie hushed her gently. "Zoey was probably super busy."

"She went all the way to Korea for you!" Bianca went on pointedly. "You couldn't even let her get a picture? I mean, shit, it's not like you're better than the rest of us just because a bunch of Koreans like it when you rap and act like a child."

Zoey hated that she had nothing to say to that. Not even something that she wanted to say and couldn't because these were still technically her fans. She just didn't have a response.

It was kind of weird that she had to play up a babyish persona in interviews and variety show appearances. It was weird for the host of a live stream to make her wear a heart-shaped hood and puff up her cheeks so the chat would coo over her. It was weird that it leaked into her personal life and people often treated her like she was younger than she was.

As an autistic woman, she was used to varying levels of infantilization from certain people, but she'd never really expected it to become such a big part of her job.

"Bianca, Zoey's a famous musician!" Katie hissed. "She can't give anyone special treatment in front of other fans."

"But there are no other fans right now," another woman said. Zoey recognized her face, but couldn't remember her name. She reached into her purse and began fishing around for something. "It would be okay to do autographs now, right?"

Zoey bit down on the inside of her cheek. She could do it just to get them out of her face, but she didn't want to encourage this behavior. For most regular fans, she probably wouldn't make a huge deal out of having to give an autograph off-duty every now and again, provided they were respectful, but these people had never been respectful. Even now, they only smiled and silenced their jeering friend because they wanted something.

They weren't sorry. They didn't care how she felt. They hadn't changed at all.

"Excuse me," came a clear, only mildly patient voice from the back of the group. English, with a distinct Korean accent. The women all whipped around, then parted slightly to reveal Mira and Rumi, hidden underneath hoodies and hats but recognizable enough from up close.

Mira's arms were crossed, her face not unkind but not overly welcoming either. Out of all of them, she tended to have the least patience for being swamped by fans while they were trying to relax, though she usually at least smiled. 

Katie gasped, and even Bianca looked a lot more interested now.

"This is our table," Mira said. "Can we get by, please?"

The women let them through immediately, and as the two of them sat down, Rumi leaned over to whisper in Korean.

"Zoey, do you know them?"

In cheerful English, Zoey replied, "we went to high school together. They were just saying hi."

"Zoey, ask her if we can have an autograph!" Katie whispered excitedly. She would be the one to assume Rumi didn't know any English because she'd chosen to speak Korean for two seconds.

Admittedly, hers wasn't as good as Zoey's or Mira's, but she knew enough to ask Zoey, "do you want to give them autographs?"

"I mean... we could."

Sensing her hesitation, Mira took it upon herself to shut the whole thing down. She turned in her seat and smiled as nicely as she could.

"I'm sorry, we're not giving any autographs right now," she said. "We need to hurry up and eat before we go back to work. If you'll be at our show this week, we'll be happy to do it then."

The group deflated, more genuinely disappointed than angry or disbelieving like Ava had been. Even Bianca was far more willing to take the no from Mira than Zoey. Though they lingered, as if hoping someone might have a chance of heart, they eventually dispersed.

"You have to learn to how to say no people," Mira said to Zoey once they'd gone.

"They weren't just any people," Zoey protested, gently picking at a loose thread in her pants. "I knew them. It's different."

"Were they your friends?" Mira asked.

"I mean... not really, but-"

"Then who cares?" Mira insisted. "You don't owe them extra just because they happened to go to the same school. They can wait for the meet and greet like everyone else."

Zoey clenched her fists in her lap. Bianca wouldn't be going to the meet and greet, but the rest of them...

Who would she have to see again? To entertain? Would Ava be there?

"You're pale again." Rumi furrowed her brow, leaning closer.

"I need to eat," Zoey said quickly. "A server will check on us in a minute. I told them I was waiting for you."

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance.

"I think we should get you a blood test soon," Rumi suggested. "Mira may be right about you being deficient in something."

Mira stayed quiet, though her eyes seemed to pierce right through to Zoey's soul. Like she knew she wasn't being given the whole truth. Noticing this, Zoey immediately launched into the easiest diversion.

"Alright, we'll deal with that later. You guys have to try the baby Zoey special," she declared brightly. "We're all getting two pancakes, two runny eggs, a side of fries, and whatever flavor shake you like."

"That... does not all go together," Mira said.

"Sure it does!" Zoey chirped. "You put the egg on top of the pancakes and let the yolk get all over them, and then the yolk runoff and the shake are for dipping the fries. It's perfect!"

It seemed to sound more appetizing to Rumi than Mira, but there were no further complaints. Just discussions about which milkshake flavor would go best with the saltiness of the fries. Zoey, personally, was quite fond of a classic vanilla, but Rumi wanted to try strawberry.

What had just happened faded into the background, hopefully never to be brought up again. It wouldn't matter by next week anyway.

Zoey just had to get through one show and a few fan events, and then it would be over. Huntr/x would move on to their next city. Her chances of running into anyone she knew would decrease significantly. Just one bad week, and then she'd be fine. Nothing to get her girls worried about.

She would endure it, just as she always had.

Chapter Text

Zoey didn't think she'd been so nervous for a show since her debut with Huntr/x.

The were usually so much fun. The dressing room shenanigans, the excuse to eat as much as she could as fast as she could, the electrifying energy of adoring fans all coming together with the power of her music. It was her favorite thing in the world.

But not tonight. Tonight, she was short with her makeup artist. She was sweating through her costume. She had no appetite. And she certainly wasn't excited to go out on that stage where everyone who had called her terrible names and hurt her in every way they could were waiting for her to entertain them.

Fucking entertain them. Like even after all these years, she was still just here for their amusement. Everything she did was for them to watch, to judge.

Her fingers tightened around her ramyeon cup. She didn't want it. She didn't want to be here. God, why had she agreed to this stupid tour? She just wanted to go home.

"Zoey, what's wrong? You've barely touched anything." Rumi's gentle voice pulled her back out of her head. She looked up, finding two pairs of eyes on her. Situated on the other side of a round table they'd be given for all their snacking needs, Rumi and Mira had a clear view of her staring disinterestedly at her food.

"Not hungry, I guess," Zoey replied, placing the noodles back down on the table.

"You're always hungry." Mira's brow furrowed deeply. She knew something was off, and it made Zoey wish she had a shell to retreat into.

"You don't even want choco pies?" Rumi reached for a package in front of her and dangled it from her fingers as if to entice Zoey. "We got them for you."

"My stomach hurts," Zoey lied softly. When had lying to them become so easy?

"Why didn't you just say that?" Mira demanded, but there was no bite to her tone. Just concern, and a little bit of frustration. "Did you take your reflux meds?"

Zoey nodded and tried for a grin. "I think I'm just not used to American food anymore. Three In-n-Out burgers in one sitting may not have been entirely worth it."

"Are you going to be okay out there?" Rumi wasn't distracted by her cheerful facade. Neither was Mira, stone-faced and serious like their precious maknae having a tummy ache was the end of the world.

I'm a grown fucking woman, she wanted to say. I can take care of myself.

I don't want to perform, she wanted to say even more. I want you to take me home and wrap me up in a blanket and keep everyone else away.

"I'll be fine," she actually said, rather flippantly.  "I just probably need to lay off the junk."

"We can get some rice in here if you want," Rumi offered. "Just so you have something in your stomach."

"Nah. Kimbap's fine." Zoey reached for a piece, full of carrots and spinach and pickled radish, and popped it into her mouth. She kept her eyes focused on her meal, keeping her mouth full so that she had an excuse not to talk.

"She's pale again," Mira murmured to Rumi, perhaps thinking Zoey couldn't hear over her own munching, perhaps not caring if she did. "Something's wrong."

Rumi shrugged, but her wide eyes betrayed her concern.

"You guys better hurry if you want some of this." Zoey plucked up another piece of kimbap and shoved it into her mouth. Best she pretended not to hear. Fewer questions directed at her that way.

"All yours, Zo," Mira said. "Eat what you can."

But Zoey could only eat a few more. Her stomach genuinely was beginning to churn with anxiety.

The show she thought she could handle if she didn't search the crowd for faces. Most likely, even if she did, she wouldn't recognize anyone in the chaos. But the meet-and-greet was going to be her undoing. Having to smile and wave and sign and pose for people she never wanted to see again, completely unable to say what was really on her mind.

You used to say my lyrics were so bad I should kill myself, but so glad you liked How It's Done!

You used to do a racist Chinese accent at me, but it's cool that you know what Koreans and k-pop are now!

You laughed when those girls hit me, but sure, you can have an autograph.

I flinched around people I love for years because of you, but good to see you.

I probably needed medical attention at that party, and you didn't even check on me, but let's get you that selfie.

God, she was going to throw up.

But there was no time for that. They had a show to put on.

Once they'd all eaten, Zoey rose from her seat, gave her body a few more good stretches, and followed her girls out of the green room to give everyone what they were waiting for.

------

The show sucked. Badly.

Not through any fault of Mira or Rumi, who sang beautifully and hit all their cues perfectly and made the Honmoon shimmer with every note. Zoey, on the other hand, looked like a trainee by comparison. She stumbled multiple times and had to hope no one noticed. Her voice shook on a few of the higher notes. She, for some goddamn reason, got so in her head at one point that she started singing Rumi's line instead of her own for a second or two.

No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her head on straight. Her eyes wandered the crowd without her consent, scanning for faces she wouldn't be able to make out anyway. Her mind was fixated on what would come after this.

The lights blurred her vision. The music became nonsense to her ears.

By the end of the last song, she could barely hold her finishing pose long enough for the lights to go out. The second they did, she was gone. No amount of applause or cries for an encore could've kept her on that stage any longer.

She ran back to the green room, panting and repeating don't throw up, don't throw up in her head so frantically she was starting to mix up the words. Two sets of footsteps followed close behind.

"Zoey!" Rumi called, slightly out of breath. "Zoey, where are you going?!"

Zoey didn't know why, but when she made it to the green room, she slammed the door behind her as if that would stop anyone, let alone two concerned girlfriends, from following her. In the time between the door closing and opening again, she had managed to wedge herself into a corner, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She trembled violently and hated herself for it. No matter how many times her head said it didn't matter and she was going to be fine, her body remembered pushes and sneers and the burn of alcohol and humiliation. She couldn't go out there. She couldn't be around those people. She couldn't breathe.

"Zoey. Zoey!" Mira was saying, hands hovering unsure over Zoey's cowering form. Zoey shied away from her touch. She didn't want to be pushed again. Or hit or yanked around or anything else.

"Zoey, look at me," Rumi's voice came softer but no less panicked. "It's okay, it's just us."

She knew, and her insides twisted and constricted all the same. How could she let them see her like this. How could she freak out on them and scare them so badly for something so stupid?

"I-I'm okay..." she tried to choke out, but her voice was strangled by her tightening throat. Rumi and Mira glanced at each other, then back at her.

"You're having a panic attack," Mira murmured.

Zoey tried to shake her head, though she didn't really know why. It wasn't like she could believably deny it.

"Come on." Mira very, very gently placed a hand on Zoey's shoulder and urged her forward. "Let's go sit down."

For lack of a better option, Zoey followed her over to a small loveseat that had been provided for their comfort and sat down. Rumi disappeared from her view for a few seconds, then returned pushing a cup of water into her hands.

"Sip," she said softly. "It'll help."

Zoey took a long, slow sip. Then another, because as long as her mouth was full, she wouldn't be expected to say anything. But the cup didn't last forever, and Rumi and Mira weren't going to let her get away this time.

They both stood in front of her, Mira crouched for better eye contact, giving her the couch to herself. Her hands shook around the cup. She was acutely aware of how they should be getting ready for the meet and greet, and instead they were wasting their time on this.

Once it seemed she had gone from completely losing it to just jittery, Mira asked, "are you okay?"

Feeling heavy and fighting the urge to say no, Zoey nodded.

"Alright, then what the hell was that?"

"Mira," Rumi hissed at her.

"I'm sorry. I can't dance around it anymore." Mira's expression hardened, but her eyes were still wide with concern and love that made Zoey want to crawl away from her pity. "Something's been off for months, and it's getting worse. I know you're not sick. You don't get like this when you're sick. You get like this when you're upset."

"Is there something going on with your dad?" Rumi guessed, her voice low and sympathetic. "You seemed worse after you got back."

Honestly, there was always something going on with her dad, but that was something Zoey could handle. Just like she should be able to handle the other ghosts of her past.

"No," she squeaked out pathetically, wincing at the sound of herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out like that."

"Don't apologize," Mira said. "Just let us in. You have to know by now that hiding things doesn't get us anywhere."

"I just don't want to go out there." It took significant effort to admit it. Even more to keep meeting Mira's eyes afterward.

"Why?" Rumi asked. Where some part of Zoey had feared she might hear judgement, there was only concern. "I don't understand. Are you burning out? Should we have taken another break?"

"Honey, if you weren't ready to start touring again-" Mira began, but Zoey didn't let her get any further.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "You know I love performing."

"Don't lie to me, Zoey," Mira said sternly. "Don't tell me you're fine when you're having panic attacks and haven't been yourself for weeks. You can't just shut down every time we check in with you."

Zoey's face burned. This was turning into such a massive deal over nothing. They were going to think it was so stupid when she told them. They were going to be mad that she'd worried them so badly.

"Sweetheart." Rumi gently cupped her chin and guided her face up to make eye contact. "This didn't work for me. It won't work for you. No matter what it is, no matter what you think we're going to say, we love you. We want to help you. But you have to let us."

Eyes stinging, Zoey murmured, "it's really dumb. There are just some people here that I don't want to see."

"Those people from the diner?" Mira's voice hardened.

Zoey nodded. "We went to school together like I said. They just... they were really mean to me when we knew each other, and I don't like that they want to cozy up to me now that I'm somebody."

"You were always somebody," Rumi said softly. "It's not your fault they couldn't see it." She was quiet for a few seconds, her eyes steadily darkening before she asked, "what did they do to you?"

"Nothing, really." Zoey wiped at her eyes. "Just stupid kid stuff. Gum in my hair. Teasing. Pushing me around. Off of stuff."

She looked up when her girls didn't reply immediately, finding that they had gone pale, eyes wide with horror.

"Off of stuff?" Rumi echoed, almost reluctantly. Like she was afraid of the answer.

"Yeah. Like, stairs or bleachers," Zoey said with a shrug. Rumi never broke her gaze, and eventually she felt the need to throw in, "nothing crazy. It wasn't like, off a building or anything."

"Zoey, that's not kid stuff." Zoey recognized a barely contained fury in Mira's tone that was typically reserved for actual, literal demons. "That's assault. They assaulted you."

Something inside of Zoey seemed to stir at that.

Assault. Not bullying or teasing or picking on or being a bitch. Assault. She'd never called it that before.

That word made it serious. Made it real. Made it more than the typical high school drama she was sure it was outside of her own dramatic, sensitive head.

"We were in high school," she insisted. "They were just being teenage girls. Kids are cruel and all that. It was just Katie from ninth grade being an asshole, and I'm being stupid about it."

"Ninth grade is old enough to know better," Rumi growled, a deep, unsettling purple rippling through her patterns. "And they had the audacity to ask for your autograph?"

"That wasn't even the bad stuff!" Zoey protested. Why weren't they telling her it was in her head? They were supposed to look at her with pity and tell her it was okay and move on.

She began to ramble, not even really sure what she was trying to say. Only that she needed to sound lighthearted and chuckle like it was just another childhood story. Maybe then she could force it to be.

"This other girl did way worse. I mean, she pretended to be my friend for months and then got me drunk at some party and let a bunch of people make fun of me until I cried and got sick and had to crawl to the bathroom. That was fucked up. Like, at least be upfront that you hate me, right?"

Rumi and Mira weren't laughing. Why weren't they laughing? That was exactly the kind of teenage bullshit that made people laugh as adults, wasn't it?

Instead, Mira clenched her jaw, face reddening just slightly.

"They're here tonight?" she snarled, low and dangerous. "Because I will fucking kill them."

Zoey jolted forward, as if to stop Mira from leaving the room even though she hadn't moved. As if she actually wanted to stop her.

"That wasn't any of the girls you saw. I mean, I guess technically you saw her a few months ago, but-"

"I fucking knew it!" Mira snapped. "You've been acting weird this whole time and- fuck, Zoey why didn't you say anything?"

Oh, no. She was mad. Mira was mad and Zoey was in trouble and she shouldn't have said anything and why couldn't she have just acted normal and-

"Zoey?!"

Tears were pouring down her face again, coming hot and fast. Zoey gasped softly, trying to stop them, but there was nothing she could do.

"No, no, no baby, no..." Mira put both hands on the sides of Zoey's face, Rumi moving aside to allow her to do so. "Don't cry, honey, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you."

"We're mad at them, sweetie," Rumi cooed. "For treating you like that. Not at you, okay? Never at you."

"I'm sorry," Zoey managed with a hiccup. Such a fuss, for so little.

Mira held her anyway. "It's not your fault."

But of course it was. It always had been. Because she was too weird or too stupid or too sensitive. Not American enough or normal enough. That was how it always went.

"Why are you guys-" Zoey hiccuped, blubbering softly. "You're not supposed to- it's in my head. It's not a big deal and it is my fault and I'm ruining everything and you're being too nice to me!"

Rumi leaned forward, her eyes heavy and sad.

"Listen to me. It's no more your fault than it was Mira's that her parents are the way they are," she said. "Or my fault that Celine raised me the way she did. We are not responsible for the things other people do to us. It was cruel and unfair, and it was not your fault."

Zoey sniffled quietly, half of her figuring that that made sense and the other half still fighting for a reason to blame herself, because she didn't like the idea that it had been so far out of her control.

"I don't want to feel this way," she murmured. "Why do I still feel this way?"

"I don't think you've given yourself a chance to heal." Mira gently played with a few strands of Zoey's hair, the way they both liked. "You never really processed any of it, did you? You just pushed it down."

"I-"

"I don't want to hear another sorry." Mira caressed her face. "I get it. But you need to talk to someone about this. I want it to be us, but it doesn't have to be. Bobby will listen too. Or, if you want, we'll find you the best therapist money can buy."

"You," Zoey said urgently, because it had to be them. Bobby was an okay option too, but a therapist sounded... no. That made it too serious. Too real. "Always you."

Mira smiled with something like relief. Like she hadn't liked the idea of Zoey trusting someone else over her and Rumi. Zoey didn't like it either.

"I wasn't trying to keep secrets from you," she said. "I just thought... if I didn't treat it like it was real..."

"I know the feeling," Rumi replied, her voice soft with sympathy, "but it just makes it feel worse."

"Yeah, but you had, like... an actual problem." Zoey looked down, her face warm. Mira rose slowly to her feet, her body still angled downward and her hand firmly on Zoey's arm.

"So do you. They hurt you, Zoey. That's real."

"But they can't anymore," Zoey protested. Honestly, she'd like to see one of them try to come at her now, with all her training and experience. She could put them on the ground through reflexes alone and not break a sweat. It would bring her joy too, if it wouldn't damage Huntr/x's reputation so much.

"No, they can't." Rumi turned and crossed the room, going for the locked drawer where they'd stowed their phones for the show. She had it open in seconds. "They won't even get near you."

"What are you doing?" Zoey asked.

"Texting Bobby," Rumi replied. "The meet and greet is cancelled."

"Rumi, you can't!" Zoey sprang to her feet, but Mira quickly caught her by the shoulders. "That's not fair to everyone else. There are so many fans-"

"Fuck the fans," Mira growled.

"What?" Zoey turned back to her, aghast.

"Fuck. The. Fans." Mira repeated slowly, with an absolute certainty Zoey could tell that logic and reason didn't stand a chance against. "They don't matter right now. You matter. We're not making you go out there when you're having panic attacks just thinking about it."

"We'll reimburse everyone who paid for it," Rumi went on, her fingers flying across her phone screen as if no one had spoken. "We'll say something came up and it couldn't be helped."

"Rumi, I appreciate it, but... can't you and Mira still go?"

"And leave you alone?" Rumi looked almost offended. "Not again. Not when you need us. Besides, I don't want to go out there and smile at people who hurt my Zoey. Do you, Mira?"

"Not a fucking chance." Mira released Zoey to begin slowly cracking her knuckles. "If I see them, I'm getting arrested, and I'm not joking."

"Mira!" Zoey protested.

"Done," Rumi announced, setting her phone back down. "No meet and greet."

Zoey bit at her lip. No meet and greet because of her. All those people had gotten their hopes up, and now they were going to be disappointed because she couldn't handle it.

"You didn't have to..."

"Your well-being comes first," Rumi said firmly. "This is just like when we banned that guy who grabbed Mira last year from our events. People who hurt you don't deserve access to you."

"Speaking of, when you're up to it, I want names," Mira added.

For a solid few seconds, Zoey thought she meant she was going to personally track down everyone Zoey had a problem with. Then Rumi said,

"Agreed. Every first and last name you can remember. They're all banned."

"You can't do that," Zoey protested.

"Yes, we can," Rumi said flatly. Then, more gently, "do you really not want us to?"

"I mean, I don't want to see them, but..." Zoey fidgeted aggressively with her fingers. "They don't get it. They'll think we banned them for no reason. It could hurt our reputation."

"That's a risk I'm more than willing to take," Rumi declared.

"Me too," Mira added. "They don't need to understand what they did. It may have been another Tuesday for them, but it was abuse for you. You're allowed to want them gone."

"Abuse is a strong word..."

"What do you call them physically harassing you?" Mira demanded. "Hurting you? Getting you drunk and leaving you sick on the floor?"

Zoey swallowed numbly. There really wasn't another word for it.

Rumi walked back over and put a hand on the small of Zoey's back.

"You don't owe them anything," she murmured. "Not forgiveness. Not sugarcoating what happened. We'll leave what happens next up to you, but whatever decision you make, please make it for yourself."

Zoey sat with it for a minute. They were giving her an out. A way to make sure she never saw her tormentors again without giving up doing what she loved. It felt like too much to ask, and yet they weren't making her ask. They were offering. They wanted it too. All she had to do was say yes.

"Ban them," she forced herself to say.

"Gladly." With an arm around Zoey's shoulders, Mira pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. Zoey leaned into her, and in turn Rumi leaned into the both of them.

"How about we get out of here?" Rumi suggested. "We can go back to the hotel and order some dinner. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

Zoey just stood there, feeling so light she thought her legs were shaking.

It was over. She didn't have to go out there. She didn't have to see any of their cruel faces again. Tomorrow, she could get her old yearbook from her dad for all of the names she couldn't remember, and everyone who had ever told her she would never amount to anything or physically punished her for her personality would be barred from purchasing Huntr/x tickets or entering their venues.

And yet, something in her chest still had her in a vice grip.

"I still feel so bad," she whispered.

"Yeah," Mira replied softly, full of sympathy and understanding. "I know how it feels. But I promise it gets better."

"My stomach hurts." Zoey didn't know why that hit her all of a sudden, but it didn't seem to surprise Mira or Rumi.

"All that anxiety will do that," Rumi said. "And you haven't eaten much. We should go get you something, yeah?"

That sounded good. Leaving this building full of fans who were probably going feral with disappointment by now. Filling her empty stomach after burning so many calories she didn't have. Finding a warm spot to curl up afterward. 

"Can we get Mexican?" Zoey asked, not a fan of how small and childish she sounded, but all she wanted right now was a dozen tacos, a good tres leches, and as much distance between her and Katie from ninth grade as possible.

"Anything you want." The way Mira said it, so sweet and loving, made Zoey tear up again. 

Mira and Rumi both; all they ever wanted was to take care of her. To see her safe and happy. They were so perfect and kind and wonderful and-

"You guys are my favorite people ever," she sobbed, startling them and herself with her volume. 

"Aw, don't make me cry, Zo," Mira keened at the same time Rumi said, "you're ours too."

They held her like that for a few more minutes until, without saying anything, they each settled one hand on Zoey's back and began to guide her out of the room. She walked between them, shielded from the eyes of any lingering crew members. Her small frame huddled in the space they provided her, shoulders hunched as if she had done something wrong. 

"It's okay," Rumi murmured softly to her. "We've got you."

They always did, didn't they? Honestly, Zoey felt a little stupid for expecting them to agree with her about the nature of her concerns. No matter how trivial, when something bothered her, they always cared. No matter how much she thought they shouldn't, they did. She just mattered that much to them. 

They just loved her that much. Enough to rearrange their tour to help her avoid her childhood bullies without even telling her she wasn't being reasonable. Enough to hold a grudge for her when she wouldn't allow herself the right. 

God, they were so good to her. Maybe too good sometimes, but she was theirs nonetheless. 

Still feeling shaky and raw, rapidly increasing the distance between herself and the past she didn't want to think about, Zoey closed her eyes and let her girls to lead her to wherever they were going next. 

"Thank you."