Rumi had never felt a connection like this before, not with anyone. You were luminous beyond stage lights, beyond fans or whispers. Every meeting was a private rebellion against a world that refused to understand girls loving girls openly. Your rooms became sanctuaries, small worlds where no one else’s rules applied. People assumed it was nothing, just closeness between bandmates, but Rumi knew better. She remembered the night she had offered you a heart-shaped silver necklace, “Rumi + Mira” carved inside, a token for words she couldn’t speak. You had responded with a golden one, a promise without a sound. That night, she had loved you, fingers brushing in secret, hearts hammering, your shared pulse anchoring a love that could not be spoken, your skin warm against hers. In those stolen moments, Rumi imagined a world where love had no rules, where girls could be with girls freely, even in your industry. For a little while, in your presence, that impossible world existed.

Months passed, and the fragile world she’d built with you began to crack. She was forced into a relationship with Jinu, the golden-boy singer from a rival band, a contract-bound illusion to preserve HUNTR/X’s popularity. She didn’t love him, never had, but the world demanded appearances, and the world had no room for a love like yours. You and her argued, resentment replacing affection. She said she was doing what she could for the group, that not everything was about your insecurities. You answered you should have guessed a demon like herself wouldn’t hold on to promises. Both of you hurt, distance tearing you apart. The end was predictable, but you had still cried when you broke apart, tears rolling down your cheeks in silence. The purple-haired idol sobbed alone, imagining your presence in mundane moments, imagining your lips when Jinu’s brushed hers on stage. Rumi often thought of the necklaces, and the pain of seeing you wear yours still cut as sharply as the first night. Sleepless nights where she had ran her fingers over the carved letters, her stomack knotting painfully. When she woke, tears streaked her cheeks, wondering how she’d given up the best dream for a reputation that meant nothing without you. You had loved each other in secret, yet the world forced you apart. Every staged smile, every applause reminded her she was trapped between desire and impossibility.

Now, Rumi stands on stage with you and Zoey, the arena alive, golden spotlights washing over her. Everything polished, rehearsed, but tonight, she adds something just for you. She grips the golden necklace, twisting it, the metallic heart as cold as her empty one, grounding her in memory. The music begins. A song she wrote outside the band, outside contracts, a confession for no one but you. She begins to sing, eyes scanning for yours, voice trembling with longing.

I was thinking about space and not the one between us, Where we can take our doubts and worries and leave ‘em there. Nothing falls, nothing fades, nothing withers away, I was thinking about space and not the one between us…

Every note, word, pause, a quiet plea for you to feel what she cannot say aloud. The crowd thinks it’s about someone else, about Jinu, but it never has been. Rumi closes her eyes, twisting the necklace, a silent bridge between broken hearts. Maybe in another world, she could be yours, and you could be hers. Maybe in another world, two girls could love. Maybe in another world, “Rumira” would replace “Rujinu.”

Maybe in another world Where I own that I'm jealous and I did some damage to us Maybe we will never know 'Cause the truth is on silent, but our egos are talking loud You hit where it hurts 'cause I gave you the bullets Maybe in another world… Maybe in another world...

Rumi lowers her mic under cheers. When she opens her watery eyes, allowing a single tear to fall, it’s not Jinu she’s looking at. It’s you.