Chapter Text
Bodies. Fingers skimming over shoulders and along the boundaries of shirts, participants exhilarated and breathing hard. Pupils dilate in the dark room, the soft shine of lights on a string reflecting onto soft, sweat-coated skin.
Her partner runs a hand along her spine, finding tight purchase on her hip as Rumi spins into the darkness. Pulling back and letting gravity sink her weight down into the floor, she lets him draw her back in, slowing her approach with a strong hand placed squarely on a tight, muscled chest.
Gliding across the dance floor, she ducks her head under the firm invitation from the back of his hand, all thoughts muted and hazy as she keys into the firm ask of his body against her own. With a final chord, the song ends, and her partner gives a polite bow in thanks, eyes kind from behind a clean surgical mask.
"감사합니다"
There's a tap on her shoulder, and she's pulled right into the next track without so much as a moment's rest. The ajushi leading her across the floor is another regular here; his own dancing a little stilled and robotic, but his leading is kind and sure as he guides her from turn to spin and back again. Letting her body soften to his feather-light touches, she loses herself to the rhythm of the song- diving into the electric feel of a muted baseline as her body rolls and glides across the darkened room.
Somewhere in the darkness Hajoon calls for last song, and she scans the crowd of survivors from tonight's meeting. Catching the gaze of a tall, older woman, Rumi deftly slips over to the edge of the dance floor with a small smile, which Seo-ah returns warmly in recognition. Rumi slides a confident hand around her waist, rocking in time as she keys into the weight of the woman leaning back in her arms. It's different, dancing with another girl. Softer, somehow. The men - even the more gentle ones - have more of an edge to their bodies; a command of the partnership that can feel more like a wall than a bond. Women tend to... listen. Excitement thrumming off their soft bodies, their desire to connect is palpable; each movement making space in the partnership to mesh more tightly together. Radiant under the muted pressures of polite society here in South Korea, they offer shy smiles and gentle hands among the swaying bodies in their underground hiding place.
With a final flick of her wrist, feeling the end of the song drawing near, Rumi spins Seo-ah close, dropping her into a half dip as they pause at the final note; bodies tangled and spent. With a polite farewell, someone hits the lights, illuminating a room full of sunken eyes and sticky faces blinking wearily in the wee hours before dawn. Dancers slowly make their way to the entrance to lovingly return their dance shoes to their wrappings, giving the organizers a brief farewell before they depart in twos and threes. Wrapping herself in the warmth of her pale-blue puffer, Rumi offers her own thanks before ducking into the darkness of the stairwell; the long journey back to her apartment sitting at the back of her mind like a stone. She could get a taxi, the trains having stopped several hours ago. But the salary of a city Fire Fighter - especially a female one - is pretty limited when it comes to luxuries like that, and it's not like she has work today.
With a resigned sigh, she slides a pair of noise-cancelling headphones over her beanie and walks back towards the river, forty five minutes away from the twin rewards of a hot shower and bed. Opening up her phone for a distraction, the bright orange of a dating app catches her eye. Clicking in, she's unsurprised to find no new messages.
It's unusual to find a public servant out of the closet in South Korea, and she can thank her lucky stars that she has colleagues and a family who support her in every arena of life. Opening up her profile, she does a quick review of her display images. Shirtless in a sports-bra as she services an appliance, check. Looking semi-adult as she reads a bedtime story to her best friend's kid sister (face covered, of course,) check. Sitting in the well-lit window seat of a popular brunch spot, dressed in a trendy off-the-shoulder sweater as she shares a smile with the person behind the camera. Check. She looks professional. Hot. Mature. Definitely girlfriend material.
But things can't ever be that easy. Unwilling to roll the dice on another foreigner looking for a tokenistic trophy wife or the total cesspool that is dating Korean men (thank you, 4B,) she's left with the increasingly shallow pool of queer Korean women scattered across the supercity. Lacking proper profile pictures and usually under slightly strange pseudonyms, she's met with a barrage of 
ONS and FRIENDS ONLY as she swipes half-heartedly through tonight's offerings. Flicking an exploratory right to a girl mostly hidden under a garish snapchat filter, it's left city from there on out. Clicking into a new profile, she snorts as she reads their caption. Under the picture of a talking mirror that she's fairly certain is from one of those old 2000's kids films, the name MIRROR leaves little to the imagination. Swipe for a good time. Serious enquiries only. I'm a loaded pistol who likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. No rescuing required. Rolling her eyes she grazes her thumb to the right before stowing her phone back in her pocket. Nothing ever comes from those profiles. Time wasters.
As she makes her way across the Han River bridge she feels a distant movement from that same pocket. Swiping into her phone she sees a notification. Huh. You have matched with MIRROR. Click for ice breakers, and send a message! A notification banner appears at the top of her screen.
MIRROR
Damn. Maybe I do need rescuing, firefighter-nim. Can you fit me into your busy schedule?
RUMI
hmm, I'll check with the OIC. I'd say I could make an exception for such a hottie, but your profile leaves everything up to the imagination. Can you guarantee I'm playing with fire?
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Well look at that. Kitten has claws. Or at least, I hope she does 
Rumi snorts at that last one. So it's one of those, is it?
RUMI
Only if you're into that. I'm versatile... 
MIRROR
Aww, cute. You think I share?
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Only if you beg for it...
Rumi passes over the final abutment as the sidewalk merges into the hilly neighbourhood of Hannam-dong, largely alone in the night except for the occasional taxi racing past. She's been down this road before. Closeted girls who like the attention, the chase, the games. She's yet to meet anyone who actually puts their money where their mouth is. Maybe this will be the first time. Or, maybe, like so many other nights before, this will be just a waste. At least it makes the long walk home a little more interesting. Her breathing even as she starts to climb a nearby set of stairs, she taps out a brief reply.
RUMI
Cute. You think I beg?
RUMI
Working full time on a truck with stinky boys you think I don't just take what I want?
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Uh huh. And what is it you want, baby?
Ohhhh. She thinks they're at pet names already? Rumi will show her pet names.
RUMI
Oh, pretty girl. You're going to have to work much harder than that. I'll have you dripping by the time I'm done with you.
Radio silence. Maybe she's scared her off. Good riddance. Changing to a new song before she puts her phone away, she's interrupted by a vibration. New message.
MIRROR
Big words, little girl. I'll show you how to play with fire.
Little... girl!?! First of all, how dare she. Second of all...
RUMI
I'm 5"9 I'll have you know. Bet I could put you in my pocket.
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Aww, I don't think so. 6"0 - I'll have to put you in mine
MIRROR
with your consent, of course.
Damn. Okay. It isn't often Rumi meets a girl taller than she is. Especially a Korean one.
RUMI
Uh huh. Mirror, mirror on the wall... I'll believe it when I see it.
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Fair enough.
MIRROR
What are you doing tomorrow night? Let's say... eight PM.
Rumi's eyebrows disappear into her hairline. There's no way this is legit. She can't wait to tell Jinu. Is it... a cult? A scammer? Black market organs? She definitely intends to find out, at the very least it'll make a good story.
RUMI
...
RUMI
...is it too cheeky if I say you?
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
Not even a little bit, princess.
MIRROR
서울 마포구 서교동 330-46
MIRROR
Be there. On time. Alone.
MIRROR
Wear something I'll enjoy taking off you.
RUMI
Only if you do the same. You're gonna look so pretty spread on my bedroom floor.
MIRROR
...
MIRROR
As if you'll be the one on top. See you tomorrow, fire girl. It's a date.
There are no further replies. Rumi ducks though a series of narrow alleyways up the steep hillside before reaching her apart-danji, and while she's tempted by the elevator, she didn't get this many bars by taking short cuts. Sprinting up the stairs with quick, light steps, she rounds a final corner into her hallway and checks her heart rate on her watch. Satisfied, she punches in a key code and rips off her outdoor clothing, releasing a soft groan as her feet make contact with the heated floor in her living room. Discarding the rest of her clothes as she makes her way into the bathroom, she fires Jinu a message before stepping into the intense heat of her waterfall shower.
Rrrrumi
Ya, asshole. We still on for coffee today? Might be getting my kidneys removed tonight, you free to fill in as my second?
Surrendering to the intense pressure of the showerhead, Rumi braces her arms on the tiled wall and sighs, letting the water beat down on the scars and knots that are ingrained into the tight muscles of her back. Her shoulder-length, lilac hair is quickly saturated; hanging around her face in wet sheets as she gives herself over to the sensation; letting the water cascade down her collarbone and run between the supple tissue of her soft, rounded breasts. Reaching for the shower gel Jinu brought back from his last trip to Jeju, she runs her hands carefully over her body, fastidiously washing every nook and cranny as she lets the long night bleed down the drain with a flurry of bubbles. Running a finger up her inner thigh, she thinks back to the conversation with the elusive woman on the dating app. She can't deny that it gives her a little thrill when she replays their conversation in her mind, sparks gathering in her lower belly as she imagines soft fingers and long limbs; a faceless beauty ready to pin her to the ground and ravage her until she shakes. But that's for later, and maybe as much a fantasy to get her through the night as anything else.
Padding across her stylish but sparse living room, she collects her scattered outer clothes to place neatly into a hidden laundry basket. Inside her bedroom a pair of soft, golden lights illuminate a generously sized bed with pale, cream sheets contrasted by the dark hardwood of the headboard. Her sheets are turned town with military precision, and she exhales as she slips between them, thankful for the timer set on her electric blanket to battle the lingering cold of the long March nights. Feeling the silken sheets on her bare skin she claps twice to turn off the lights, letting the exhaustion of her body carry her away into a dreamless sleep.
The crisp, bright sunshine feels like an affront as she ventures out into the arms of the city later that afternoon - navigating a series of bus-changes and crazy blue-line drivers as she makes her way over to their favourite coffee shop in Hongdae. Predictably, Jinu has beat her there; and he's claimed their favourite corner seating with an iced americano and a matcha-white-chocolate-cookie waiting slighty warmed on a plate for her as she slides into her seat.
"Aaah, my hero. Enjoying days off? Are you sleeping, or drinking this time?"
Rolling his eyes fondly as she reaches over to grab her drink and take a deep, appreciative sip, Jinu take a swig of his own drink (a strawberry latte, disgusting,) before replying.
"Ya Rum-ssi, I'm getting old. I went to bed at seven last night."
She has to raise an eyebrow at that. "진짜!? Was Ji-woo staying with you?"
Stretching his arms behind him, he shakes his head as he yawns, his perfect locks bouncing lightly with the movement.
"아니, just tired. Not all of us are psychopaths who go party with half the retirement village first thing in the morning."
"Ya! They're not that old. There's that foreign girl and her husband - they're our age."
He does have a point. An unfairly gifted dancer, he's been to open nights with her a few times at the club. And while he definitely had fun, she can't deny it's an older crowd who enjoy swing dancing here - with many in their forties or fifties, even the pros. But she loves it, and it loves her back; it's nice to have a hobby where there's no expectation of being the best. Something intensely intimate where you have to communicate flawlessly with your partners - yet no words are spoken.
He raises a questioning eyebrow. "Aish. So, you mentioned an organ donation... who's the girl? Should I be worried?"
It's a fair question. Back in the academy they reached a mutual agreement about dating strangers - always have a plan. Especially somewhere as volatile as Korea when it comes to being anything but straight and cis-gendered. You never know if it's a trap. If someone will snap. Or, for Jinu, if someone will find a way to get incriminating materials into the hands of their boss. Sure, the guys don't care if Rumi 'bangs a few hot chicks.' To them, it feels harmless. A little play before she 'grows up' and quits her job to marry some middle-manager and pop out kids. A gay man is... something else. Sometimes, in their safe little bubble, they forget that the world can be a scary place. Then they lose a friend. Someone comes a little close, with a little too much aggression. A foreigner gets too invested in their asian "prize."
She grins sheepishly. "Okay, so I don't have a name."
Jinu raises one eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
Rumi shrugs. "But I do have a location, and a time, and she'll be coming home with me. Guardian app?"
Jinu sighs as he leans back in his chair, pressing both hands to his face. "Shibal. You're gonna give me grey hairs. Yes, okay, fine. But I want to walk you to the subway before you go."
She gives him a firm nod in response, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh. "Of course. Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Aish." Sitting up, he suddenly shoots her a filthy grin. "So, no photos? At all? She must have had some helluvah dirty talk to get you out of the house."
Rolling her eyes, Rumi feels her cheeks heat as she kicks Jinu findly under the table. "Ugh, I mean... okay, yeah. It's a little weird. But she's six foot. And, at least online, big top energy. I haven't been topped in forever, maybe... maybe it'll be fun?"
Snorting with laughter, Jinu's shoulders shake as he buries his face back in his hands, ecstatic little giggles escaping as he takes it in.
"Aigo! You really are thirsty. I wish I could say I the same... but I can't. Boo hoo, poor Rumi can't get plowed. But wait! A stranger on the internet! Who's tall!? Betcha ten thousand won they're lying."
Feeling the tempting snap of a challenge roll off her friend, Rumi glares at him across the table.
"Jinu! Aish! Well, I do bet you. I bet she's a super model. No, an idol."
Looking up with a predatory grin, Jinu offers her a hand. "Deal. No take backs. No idol, pay up."
Taking his hand, she groans in fond exasperation "You're such an idiot. 진짜"
The afternoon collapses in on itself like a deflating football. Holding some form, but strangely warped out of shape. Finishing their coffee, Jinu drags her to a shopping arcade for new jewellery, and then skin care. By the time they make it back to Rumi's apartment to get ready the sun has long since set. Picking out a sleek new outfit from her closet (Black jeans, a low cut crop and a leather jacket. With boots - of course,) she lets Jinu convince her to wear her hair down. Finishing the look with some sharp-looking silver earrings, they find themselves racing out the door at half seven to make it back to Hongik U subway station.
Stopping so Jinu can get a photo with a visual from the latest Huntri/x album (really? Aren't they all the same?) they emerge from the exit five minutes to eight for their farewell.
Stepping back, Jinu gives her a proud, exasperated once over. "Shibal. You look great. For what it's worth, I hope tomorrow I'm giving you that ten thousand."
Blushing softly, she shoots him a small smile; allowing the butterflies that have been building in her stomach all day some air.
"Thanks. Really, Jinu. I'll let you know as soon as I can, okay?"
Bringing her in for a firm embrace, he places a kiss on her head. "Aigo. You'd better, princess."
With a wave, she heads off into the tourist district, Naver suddenly leading her into the maze of back alleyways behind the restaurants and bars on the main drag. Following the little blue line on the map, she suddenly stops at a tiny cocktail bar hidden on the side of an ugly apartment building. If she hadn't been looking she would have missed it. As she approaches the side door, she notices there's a bouncer standing there, motionless; blending in with the shadows in an expensive looking suit and tie.
"ID please."
She hands him her drivers license, and with a sharp nod, he holds open the door. "Head on in."
Just then, her phone goes. It's the girl.
MIRROR
Down the back corner. There's no one else here, so I should be easy to spot.
Steeling herself, Rumi heads into the warm, intimate bar. A tall counter in front of a wall of drinks sits on one side of the room; the darkened wood giving it an instantly classy feel as the light reflects off what must be hundreds of different bottles. Tables for two are scattered across the small space, lit candles flickering in the dark between plush looking seats sitting just close enough together to facilitate intimacy. Looking across the room, she spies a woman sitting in the far corner. As she gets closer, she can easily tell that, wow, they are tall. Long, elegant limbs sit folded on the edge of a seat, tight, black jeans licking up muscular legs above a scary-looking pair of thigh highs. Allowing her gaze to drift higher, she sees that her companion has also opted to show a fair bit of skin; a sloppily cut tee shirt has become a racy black crop top, one red bra strap peeking out from an exposed shoulder. Long, pink hair that's been tied back with a single braid frames an elegant, sharp face. A familiar face.
Rumi freezes. It's a face she's seen on a million posters - splashed all over the city. Periodically shows up on her spotify. A face that is stamped on both sides of Jinu's bus card.
Jaw dropping, she meets the gaze of the coral-haired idol in front of her.
"Well, shit."
---
To be continued...