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sunnypopoki · 3 months ago

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— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.2

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.1 / Р.3

The bed was cold whenever you woke up. Your fingers slid across the crisp sheets, feeling for Kieran's warmth even though you already knew he wasn't there. A headache pounded against your temples. Your cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The air was cold and you already wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep, hating the chill in the room.

You didn't feel as distraught as last night. Maybe it was the solid eight hours of sleep, but your brain was fuzzy and lacking. A groan tore through your lips as you stumbled out of bed and wiped at your eyes.

The floorboards were cold and you wondered if Kieran accidentally turned off the heat. You shivered and ran your hands down your arms.

The house was still. Even the dust in the air seemed to move in slow motion, barely drifting through the rays of sunlight that poured through the open windows. You shuffled down the hallway and glanced at the living room. Undisturbed, neat, stale. You almost forgot that you sat there with Kieran last night before he got his phone call. A nasty taste formed under your tongue, lips pursing into a thin line.

If only there was a switch you were able to turn off in your brain. It was the morning and you were already regretting waking up to get breakfast. You rubbed at your eyes and paused at the kitchen doorway and the cold tiled flooring bit at your bare feet.

The clock ticked, telling you it was 4:00 PM. You woke up late again.

A single message was laid on the counter on a pink posted note. You picked it up and noticed Kieran's handwriting that was scribbled down in a rush. Next to it was a small doodle of him holding a heart. It read;

Good morning my кошечка! I'm writing this before leaving for work, but I made you some breakfast and put it in the fridge. Strawberry pancakes and the syrup, if you want any, are in the pantry on the top shelf. I will be back around 5 this evening, remember to eat lunch. I will eat dinner with you tonight. I love you.

You were grateful for any food that he made you. Hell, you were grateful that he even thought of you in the first place to make you food whenever he didn't have to... But you'd rather have his presence instead of some warmed-up pancakes. You crumpled up the posted note and tossed it away. You were hungry but you didn't want to eat, you didn't have the energy or motivation to chew and swallow, much less sit down at the table.

Leaning against the counter, you ran your hands down your face. There were so many things you didn't want to do. You didn't want to brush your teeth, take a shower, or put on a fresh pair of clothes. You didn't want to sleep and you didn't want to be awake either.

The only thing you could think of was Kieran, yet you couldn't shake him off.

The pancakes were left untouched. It was just another meal in the fridge that was waiting to go bad. You couldn't promise that you were going to eat them later whenever you didn't even want to look at them. Kieran would ask later, 'What's wrong? you didn't eat the pancakes I left for you' and you would have to say another lie. It was just your stomach, or you didn't see the note until after you ate something else, or you weren't in the mood for pancakes.

It took everything in your power just to force yourself to go to the bathroom. Even then, he stayed on your mind as you splashed your face with cold water. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned at the dark circles and reluctantly brushed your teeth. A pimple was right above your right brow. God, you didn't want to catch glimpses of yourself either, much less stare into the mirror.

What can I do to make the rest of this day productive?

You hadn't a clue. This only left you waltzing around the house, dabbling in some things, but getting up again whenever you got bored. You couldn't keep still no matter what you tried to do. By six, your mood was bitter, annoyed at your lack of interest in anything and annoyed at why you were feeling so depressed.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, your eyes snapped to the closed door on the right. That was Kieren's at-home office. He rarely ever used it and it was mostly used as a place for him to store things from his rented out big office or important documents. You were aware that all your birth certificates and SSN cards were locked up in a safe in there. But what else? The last time you went in there was like two months ago, but he usually went in there weekly, even if it was just to grab something.

What if he is hiding something?

Reaching out to the handle, you hesitated. However, that lasted only a short time because curiosity got the best of you. You turned the handle and peeked inside.

His home office was small and cramped, which was why he rented out a room in a small building in the city to have his own office for editing and focusing on work. The walls were lined with books and files, and a small desk was cluttered with papers of all kinds. He needed to clean it out. However, you felt grateful that he hadn't already.

A small look around wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Guilt was already threatening to turn you around and march you back to your room, to put yourself in time-out, but you needed to know if something was going on with him. Your hands fiddled with the handle of the door before you stepped into the room and closed it behind you. A small peak. That's all you wanted. It wasn't like you were going to turn the room upside down to look for things against him.

The inside wasn't dusty and you noticed recent documents on his desk. It was good that he didn't desert the small room entirely for his bigger office. You shuffled to sit on the chair and drummed your fingers against the wood.

Where to start?

You didn't know what you were looking for. Something to give you peace of mind that didn't include talking to Kieran about it. If he was cheating, he wasn't going to outright tell you about it. You weren't sure where he'd hide things if he didn't want them to be found. He had his phone on him and that wasn't something you felt comfortable snooping in, but his laptop had everything about his work.

You hesitantly pulled his laptop closer and opened it. A small peak. It wouldn't do anything. It wasn't like you were going to shame if you found anything raunchy. Sure... it was something he probably should talk to you about, but you didn't blame him, since you weren't exactly someone who was giving him fun nights even if the two of you were married.

Maybe he has gotten bored of me because I haven't had sex with him yet, you thought. It's not that I don't find him attractive it's just...

The idea of intimacy like that scared you. All the possibilities of what could go wrong, what would hurt, and what would be uncomfortable.

Kieran always said he understood and that it didn't bother him that the tow is you weren't intimate in bed. But maybe that was a lie. Maybe he found pleasure in stuff on the internet or some woman he kept seeing. You'd be fine living a life with him even if it meant no intimate pleasures at all, but maybe he didn't think the same way you did. He probably had a lot of pent-up stress and desires, so was it your fault for not doing it with him? Right?

Was he going to leave you for someone else because of that?

Your hands were shaking as the screen turned on. His password was his old childhood cat's name: Sonya. At least he didn't bother to change the password into something you didn't know, that was a good sign, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat and tapped at the keyboard. Ding. You were in.

There were a lot of random things on his desktop. You noticed the editor and graphic design apps, such as Microsoft and Blender, and a few games that you haven't played before in your life. You tapped at the desk absentmindedly and debated with yourself, wondering if you should just go and watch TV, but an app caught your eye.

You noticed the icon at the bottom of the screen with the letter M. It wasn't a familiar-looking app, nothing you've downloaded onto your laptop before, and it was suspicious. The design wasn't good at all. You chewed on your bottom lip and dragged the cursor over to open it. This app would be the only thing you'd look at. Not his search history or anything—no. You'd have to give him some privacy.

That didn't change the fact that it was hard giving him privacy—not whenever his privacy was the whole reason you were suspicious of him in the first place.

The one thing you wanted to know was where he was going with his business trips. As an editor, you knew that he could have a business trip. Sometimes he met up with clients, however, lately, it's been very frequent. You were jealous of it. If it was someone he was meeting, even for work, why were they more important than his wife? he didn't need to go to work that often, right?

The app opened up and you blinked at the messages that were waiting there. All empty chats with numbers as names, except one. It was named 'Sam' and you noticed a couple of messages within the chat. Maybe a client? Or was it someone he was cheating on you with? Your mouth ran dry.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't be looking at his stuff. Just because you were suspicious, shouldn't you wait until you see him in the act of cheating instead of snooping? This wasn't right. It was a shady app, but maybe this was a client that he wasn't supposed to tell you about. As an editor, he wasn't allowed to share the works he was helping writers with, which went against his agreement.

"I shouldn't be looking at this..."

Yes, you shouldn't, but you needed to know. Why was he always leaving late at night and going on long business trips? Why was he always late whenever the two of you went on dates? Why was he always getting calls? Why did he never stay long enough to sleep in your shared bed? It didn't even feel like his bed anymore...

"Just one peek and that's it," you whispered, "please, don't let me find anything."

You opened the chat and gnawed on your bottom lip. There were only a couple of messages, all of them sporadic at what time they were sent. You paused, freezing when your eyes were glued to a specific set of messages.

Sam -- 3:25 AM

Come see me.

Kieran -- 3:27 AM

Make it quick.

Your hands froze above the keyboard. If you had to be honest, you weren't sure what you were looking at. That was about two weeks ago. What was he doing two weeks ago? Your brain wracked to remember what he did that week and how many times he left the house, but it was a blur. Every week was the same in the long run. You glanced down at the most recent message. It was from Sam.

Sam -- 10:00 AM

Where the hell are you at? Respond to this when you see it. You told me you'd see me today.

Your muscles collapsed. Falling back into the seat, you stared at the screen dumbly, lungs gathering in as much air as they could before you stopped breathing entirely. Everything was cold; your bones, muscles, and blood.

Sam was a unisex name. For all you knew, this was the woman he could be cheating on you with. The messages were distrustful enough. The one from two weeks ago was at three in the morning and this Sam person was asking to meet him? He agreed, so even if you didn't remember that week perfectly, it wouldn't have surprised you to know he went somewhere at three in the morning. Just last night, he left at an odd time and has yet to come back.

Is he with her now?

The thought was crushing. You could imagine it at the forefront of your mind; you saw him panting, grinding his hips into some woman you didn't know, moaning her name like some sort of mantra. His hands would be all over her body and her palms would graze down his inked skin, tracing the very same lines that you have. He would hold her hands, he would kiss her lips, and move his hips like a starved beast.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

No.

No, no, no.

None of this was real. You were just jumping to conclusions again, you didn't know that this person was a woman, and even if it was—him going to meet her at 3 in the morning wasn't cheating, right? That didn't guarantee that he was having sex with her, dating her, kissing her.

Your nails carved crescents into your palms.

You were angry. You didn't quite get it, but all the hurt you felt manifested like a hot steel rod through your heart. Short breaths escaped your lips and a choking sob followed. You didn't want to cry, you were tired of crying, but that didn't stop your heart from collapsing and burning all over again. So you punched, you punched at your knees and thighs until you knew bruises would form later, and you didn't stop.

"Damn it!" you wheezed, fist slamming down on his desk so hard that a pile of papers slipped to the floor. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He didn't.

He wouldn't.

The chair tipped back whenever you got up. You were dizzy and you blamed it on how fast you were breathing, aggressively wiping at your tears until your eyes turned red and raw. The office door slammed shut behind you as you fumbled to throw on some new clothes and shoes, tossing on a hat to hide your hair. You needed out of the house. Anywhere, yes anywhere! You'd go anywhere that was better than this place.

He wouldn't have done it, right? No, he wouldn't have! You didn't know anything for certain. Yes, you just had to stop jumping to conclusions. In fact, it would be better if you just stopped thinking entirely. Shut your brain off and stop questioning your husband's loyalty, because no way he would cheat on you—

But what if he is? you thought, Sam could be better than me in everything. She could be prettier, smarter, sexier. What if she gives him what he wants with sex? What if he is happy and satisfied with her?

Wouldn't that make you selfish for wanting to keep hanging onto him?

You kicked the pot outside. It shattered when it fell off the porch and you cursed, stomping past it, and going down the street. Your eyes were puffy and red, cheeks blotchy from your stupid waterworks, and you looked messy. You didn't care. You couldn't gather the energy to care. So you walked down to the store that was a couple blocks away at the bottom of the hill, gripping your wallet tightly.

You needed a long walk to calm you down. So you did just that—you walked to the store as slowly as possible, sucking in the cold air, wishing all your foul emotions would melt away like that sloshy snow on the side of the road.

It didn't take long to reach the store. Unluckily for you, you didn't notice the slightly dimming sky. It always got dark early in winter.

The store was welcoming. There was no one inside except two workers who were minding their own business. They flashed you a smile before you scurried to the back of the store, grabbing a pack of your favorite chips and a soda from one of the fridges. You exhaled and glanced at the tempting chocolates near the front. You didn't need them, plus you had a feeling you'd eat them all in one go and make yourself sick, so you refrained from buying them.

Sighing, you walked up to the front and placed your items on the counter. An older lady walked up to the register, the pretty red ribbons styling in her hair catching your eye. They matched the red eyeshadow around her eyes and the red mascara she was wearing.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" the cashier raised a worried eyebrow when she noticed your appearance, glanced around, and then lowered her voice, "Do you need me to call someone for you? Are you in trouble?"

You managed a weak smile. "I'm good, just a rough day."

It took everything in your power to not spill your guts to this lady. Oh, how you wanted to tell someone about what you were going through, what you were thinking, but who would you tell? All your friends were in happy relationships, they wouldn't understand, and couldn't speak to the one man you usually told everything to because it was about him.

The cashier smiled softly, saying, "Oh, I apologize. I heard there have been a lot of kidnappings around here recently, so I wanted to make sure there was no bad person in the store with you. Women need to look out for other women!"

Your chest warmed up at her smile. "Yes, we do. Thank you. I love how your charms and makeup match, it's very pretty."

The cashier bashfully waved her hand and laughed. "Aww thank you! You look like you have a kind heart, so I things get better for you, sweetie. Hopefully, these snacks will make you feel better."

She handed you the bag and you nodded, muttering a 'thank you' and a simple 'I hope you have a good evening' before you turned on your heel and bolted for the exit.

The doors slid open and that warm feeling in your chest faded, pausing to stop and stare at the sky. It got dark quickly. It wasn't fully dark, the sun was just over the horizon, painting orange and pink streaks into the clouds. A bird flew down and perched on a lamppost.

If only you were a bird. They were able to fly anywhere they wanted to go, they didn't have a care in the world, and they didn't have to struggle with whatever mess you were struggling with. You didn't know how you should label what you were going through. You didn't know if your spouse was a cheater, you didn't know if you deserved to be cheated on, and you didn't know why you were dragging it with you.

Just like that, the nice interaction you had was in the back of your mind, and you felt like shit again.

Why can't I just be the type of wife who trusts him?

You always compared yourself to the images of wives you saw on TV and the internet. Smiling, happy, and who had great communication with their spouses—yet here you were, afraid to ask your husband just because you didn't want to face the fact that it might be real. To face the fact you could potentially lose him. You were angry at him too, you didn't want to hear excuses, and you didn't want to look at him.

Yeah, maybe you did deserve to get cheated on, but you were still pissed at him for discarding you if he did. For tossing you out like you were nothing as if he forgot all the years the two of you have been together.

If he cared, you were starting to no longer feel it. That gnawing thought that each time he kissed you, he imagined it was another girl. His touches felt distant at times and you wondered what else he had on his mind to make him so ghostly.

You glanced down at the chips and soda in your bag. So much for trying to eat the pancakes he made later. You didn't have the desire to eat anything he made, you'd end up crying again if you did. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you glanced down, moving the heavy bag around as you struggled to get your phone out.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive.

Kieran ❤︎ -- 9:48 PM

Where are you?

Your lip twitched into a frown. From what you saw earlier, you didn't want to talk to him at all. Your mind was still reeling with what message you saw on his laptop, wondering just who Sam was, and why everything was so suspicious. Your face was stiff from the bitter cold and all the dried-up tears you sobbed earlier.

It wasn't fair. He was asking where you were but each time you asked him, he either was vague or said some sort of response that didn't make sense! Your teeth gritted together and you felt tears welling back up. Angry. You were absolutely livid at him. You were livid at yourself. Hell, you wanted to scream at something but you didn't know who deserved to be screamed at.

Was it you because you weren't a good enough wife for him to stay around? Or was it him for not staying around in the first place?

You managed to type back. Even so, no matter how angry you were, or how sad, you always found yourself responding the longer you stared at his name on the top of the screen.

You — 9:49 PM

Store. Walking home now.

You watched the bubble appear. Within seconds, before you had the chance to put your phone away and pretend you never saw his message, he replied.

Kieran ❤︎ — 9:50 PM

Stay put and don't leave the store. I'm coming to pick you up. It's not safe for you to be walking out when it is getting dark ❤

You wanted to throw your phone. You stomped your foot and shoved your phone into your pocket, glaring holes into the cement as you stood out on the sidewalk outside the story.

It wasn't terribly dark yet but it was dark enough that it wasn't safe. That was your fault, you were the idiot for giving into your compulsions and going to the store whenever you wanted to go out of the house. Yes, you should wait for Kieran, no matter how angry you were because it was the responsible thing to do.

But you didn't want to wait. The house was only two blocks away and you knew everyone in the neighborhood. It wasn't like you hadn't walked out to the store before in the dark, so what would happen this time? You had your keys and the can of soda in the bag would be a good weapon to swing at someone.

He never tells me where he's going, you cussed inwardly, so he can just suck it up and wait for me to walk home.

Yes, you were being petty.

But who wouldn't be? You just found a very suspicious message on your husband's laptop from someone named 'Sam', and now he wanted you to wait for him to come and pick you up. You were hurt. You were angry. You were confused. You didn't want to see his face but at the same time, all you wanted to do was to snap at him for him to explain everything.

It had to be your fault, right? Why else wouldn't he want to spend time with you if it wasn't your fault?

You let your emotions get the best of you, storming down the side of the street as you ventured farther and farther away from the sanctuary of the store. Street lamps flickered as you walked up the hill with your shoes clicking against the sidewalk. There was no sign of the car he was in.

The thought of sitting down on the concrete and letting your heart out was tempting. There was no one around and you were getting tired of the same bleak, lonely expanse of your home. The sidewalk looked more welcoming than the bed at home you could cry on. You stopped dead in your tracks and sighed, tears welling up.

You didn't even realize you were sinking to your knees before you were already sitting on the sidewalk. You weren't sobbing, no wailing, but single tears that rolled quietly down.

So many people would say so many things if they saw you like this. Maybe they'd call you dramatic, maybe they were right, but everything felt so suffocating. You felt trapped. You didn't want to go home but you wanted to be home, you wanted Kieran to hold you but you also didn't want to see him. It was all so complex.

Maybe everyone would call you cowardly and pathetic. God, you already knew that. You were crying on the sidewalk instead of going up to him and asking him—but what if he said an answer you didn't want to hear? What if he admitted to cheating? What if he said he didn't love you anymore? The fear of rejection was the one reason you kept your mouth shut... the fear of losing him.

If you lost him, you didn't think you could fall in love again.

You don't think you would want to.

All you wanted was to have the love of your life back; his smiles, his hugs, him holding you to sleep. You wanted the man you saw at your wedding—when he looked at you as if you were the only person to exist. But now maybe that wasn't true. Maybe you were just a woman he didn't want to be around anymore. Maybe you were dragging him down and he was just waiting for the perfect time to tell you.

God, I'm so scared, you thought. What if I'm right? What if it isn't all in my head?

Your phone buzzed. No. You wanted to ignore him, you wanted to stay here, you wanted to cry until all that was left was a numb destroyed path.

The last time you had a good unashamed cry, you couldn't remember. It was always muffled because Kieran was around or you were in your car, but now no one was around, but now you were too tired to sob like you wanted to. Crying made you feel like a crybaby, like some bitch who couldn't keep it together, even though you had every reason to shed a couple tears.

You were angry at yourself for going behind his back to snoop through his laptop because you were too scared to have an adult conversation with him, you were angry at him for always leaving you alone and confused, and you were angry that this situation was even happening.

God, you felt so repetitive. Yeah, you were angry and sad, maybe you should just stop whining and dwelling on it. How easy everything would be if you could.

"Hey girly, you okay?"

You froze. For a split second, you thought it was Kieran, but it was two men when you looked up. Two white men, one with a buzz cut and the other had a short perm, tattoos covering their arms. Cigarettes hung from their fingertips. Maybe it was because you were used to how Kieran looked, but you didn't immediately assume they were 'bad guys' because of how they looked.

You wiped your tears away and sniffled, "Uhm, shit, yes I'm okay."

The man with the buzz cut raised an eyebrow. A shiver shot down your spine whenever he smiled. Okay, maybe he was a bad guy because something about this felt wrong.

"Why is a cute thing like you cryin' in a place like this?" he asked, then glanced at his friend, "a poor girly like this shouldn't be cryin' out on the street, don'cha agree?"

The other man nodded, "Yeah. Where are ya' going?"

Sweat trickled down your back. You stumbled up from the ground, backing away from them, gripping your bag just in case you had to swing it. You cleared your throat and did your best to sound firm, "I'm heading home, so if you'll excuse me..."

The men smiled like preying hyenas. "Oh, we can walk you home--"

"(Y/N), thank god!"

Your head snapped to the side when Kieran shouted. There he was, rushing towards you in a jog, stopping to catch his breath. Why wasn't he in the car? He looked distraught. His hair was a wild mess, sweat on his brow, panic in his eyes that fell into relief whenever he saw you. He didn't give you a chance to speak before he grabbed your shoulders, yanked you into him, and crushed you in a hug.

"Why the hell did you not answer any of my calls? You didn't text me back either, fuck, I thought something happened to you! I told you I was going to pick you up!"

You were stunned. He pulled back and cupped your face, noticing your tear-stained cheeks. He looked like he just got sucker punched in the gut.

"Why are you crying, Котик? Did something happen?"

Oh, how it looked in his eyes. He probably assumed the worst happened to you whenever you weren't at the store and all his calls and messages were ignored. You couldn't blame him for being panicked. Guilt stabbed you through the heart; you just scared him to death just because you were angry and sad over a questionable situation. It was an immature reaction based on an assumption and now he was the one dealing with the aftermath.

Suddenly, you felt like the worst piece of shit in the world.

However, anything you wanted to say was stolen from your lips whenever Kieran looked up. The two men who tried talking to you stared back with unimpressed, raised eyebrows. Kieran's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The man with the buzz cut grinned. "Oh, well we saw this girly sitting on the sidewalk so—"

"I asked who you are?" Kieran deadpanned, "that means your name."

Both the men shuffled on their feet. The man with the shaggy hair spoke, glaring, "What do you want our names for? It doesn't matter."

Kieran pursed his lips. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn't read it, and you could tell they couldn't either by the way they started to glance at each other. He sighed and his fingers fumbled with the edge of your shirt. He glanced down at you, giving you whiplash with how soft he looked at you.

"Did these men hurt you? What happened?"

"Hey! We already said--"

Kieran's voice dropped and he glanced at them, his glare cold enough to send a chill through hell, "I didn't fucking ask you, so keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open."

You didn't try to speak, you just shook your head and gripped his arm tighter. Kieran snapped his head back up to glare at them and they squirmed. He analyzed them for a bit, letting them get increasingly nervous by the second.

"Now that I look at you, you seem familiar. Elliot? Elliot Smith?"

The man with the buzz cut, Elliot, froze.

"I heard about you. I have a friend who works in the police, he told me about you. Weren't you charged with sexual harassment three months ago?" Kieran stared, his expression cold, "There have been some rumors recently that you've been trying to get into gang activity as well."

Elliot's face turned red as if all the air supply was cut off to his face. He looked like a plum when his cheeks grew from red to purple, his eyes shifting through different emotions to gauge what to say next. You blinked. He was charged with sexual harassment? How did Kieran know about something like that? When did he get a friend who was a cop?

Is the cop Sam?

Kieran wasn't a man who watched the news that often, so you doubted he was lying about where he got the information. You shuffled on your feet and his hand held you tighter. Damn it. You really threw "stranger danger" out the window just because you were pissed and wanted to spite your husband by walking home instead of waiting for him.

Elliot stumbled forward and started to stammer out his words. Kieran didn't step back, but you didn't miss the way his muscles tensed up like a wild cat about to lunge forward. He started to drum his fingers against your arm—you weren't sure if he was trying to comfort you or distract you.

"I am not in the mafia, Russian bastard!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow. He ignored the obvious attack on his ethnicity, not caring that he was called a Russian bastard. He tilted his head, "the mafia?"

"Yeah! You're accusing me of working with the mafia just because of some still rumors you heard from a cop. Those rumors aren't--"

"Ah, no," he smiled humorlessly, "I imagine they aren't interested in уличные дворняги. Plus I said gang activity, as in little boys running around with baseball bats and pockets filled with drugs."

Elliot's buddy jumped forward to save his friend's skin. His glare didn't match Kieran's, it was weak and anxious. His hand was shaking and he pointed a hand at you. You feared what bullshit he was going to come up with and you didn't get a chance to interrupt before he spouted it.

"You should give us to her, man. If you go around accusing people of crimes, you probably do shit yourself, like abusing her. I bet you're the one who made her cry. Her eyes are puffy, she looked fuckin' defeated when we saw her. So hand her over before we call the cops."

Time stopped.

Kieran sucked in a breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying that you probably abuse her or something! If you don't leave her with us, man, we will call the cops on you!"

Kieran's face shifted into something darker. Much darker. That sweet and worried expression he had for you molded into something malicious. The last time you saw a look like that was whenever some kid in your freshman year of high school insulted you. That same kid got two of his teeth knocked out that same day. Kieran never told you he did it, he acted like he didn't know, but you remembered vividly how he tried to hide the blood caked under his nails back then.

You never thought something like this would happen. Sure, they haven't harrassed you, but accusing Kieran of abuse whenever he hasn't done anything wrong made your chest bubble up. You were the one who screwed up and got all of you in this situation, not him.

"Hey, he's not—"

Kieran squeezed your shoulder. You saw the way he glanced down at you, subtly shaking his head, telling you to leave it to him. You weren't sure what he was thinking anymore or what he was doing—all you wanted was to go home. It was you who put everything in this situation because of an emotional mistake, so you should be the one to suck up your responsibility and leave the situation.

"leave her with you?"

Elliot spoke up. "The poor girly was crying and now some tattooed, large bastard like you comes up! You think the police would believe—"

"And they'll believe someone who was recently released from prison for sexual harassment?"

Elliot clamped his mouth shut. His eyes snapped to you, narrowing into daggers, and sweat built on your brow. He pointed an angry finger at you.

"Well isn't it her fucking fault for walking out whenever it's dark? She doesn't have brains if she thinks that someone looking like her would be able to go home without getting hit on! It's normal for good-looking women."

Oh, if looks could kill, you were sure that those two men would have dropped dead. Elliot paled when he noticed how Kieran was glaring at him. He was on the edge, two seconds away from grabbing that hand and seeing how many times he could bend his finger until it snapped off.

It was scary. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't scared of an expression like that, because you had a feeling that the only reason he wasn't violent was because you were there.

Just like when the two of you were younger.

"...Kieran, why—why don't we go home? Okay?" you stammered, "We don't need to waste our time here. We wanted to have dinner together, remember?"

Kieran's lip twitched and his green eyes shifted down to you. They were sharp and calculating, his arm wrapped around you like a coiled spring.

"Let's just go home," you whispered. Please.

By the look of Elliot's face, he was hoping the two of you would leave too, scurrying back closer to his friend who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. You didn't blame him. He looked just as grey and sickly as the cement beneath their feet.

Kieran's jaw was clenched. He stared at you as if he was debating all the options he had. You knew him, he didn't like being violent in front of you and always lied in the past about where he was. You weren't naive. You were very much aware that he was violent and you knew that he hated that you knew. To him, he just wanted you to view him as a dazzling husband.

Which he was—just dangerous too.

The two men didn't dare act cocky whenever he finally turned to leave with you. His hand grasped yours and he dragged you back down to the store, not looking back, as if he feared he might actually break their fingers off if he looked at their faces again.

You had a hard time keeping up with his long strides. His head was in the clouds so he didn't bother to slow down, gritting his teeth as he barely managed to make it to the parking lot without turning back.

Kieran sometimes had to use self-restraint when it came down to hurting others. Sometimes, you said, because it wasn't every day that he listened to it. You stumbled behind him.

"Slow down a bit! My legs—my legs aren't as long as yours!"

It was a miracle he actually heard you. Like a dog hearing a special command, he stopped dead in his tracks and you almost rammed your nose into his back. You inhaled sharply and let the burning of your legs rest a bit. He was basically jogging! You barely had enough courage to meet his eye whenever you noticed the familiar sensation of his gaze boring into your head.

His green eyes were dark.

Oh.

He was angry at you.

The silence was loud even though there was the distant sound of cars honking, the wind between houses, and some cat in an alleyway. You didn't know what to say. You wanted to apologize to him, for making him worry and putting yourself in a dangerous situation because of an emotional decision, but nothing would leave your lips. You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. You must have looked like a gaping fish out of water.

He had every right to be angry at you. You were aware that you tended to blame yourself in situations where you weren't involved, but you knew that you messed up.

Guilt twisted your gut up into one big knot. You didn't know what to do or say to untangle it, much less make it to where Kieran wasn't staring at you in the way that he was. Angry, confused, questioning why the hell you didn't just wait for him—and you felt guilty because you knew you couldn't just tell him why.

"I..."

He wasn't speaking. Was he waiting for you to give him something to work with? Even if it was some shitty lie or bad excuse? Your hand let go of his and started to fuddle at the hem of your shirt.

"...I'm sorry, I know I—I messed up. I, uhm, I made a bad decision—"

Kieran took a deep breath. How odd that such a small action caused every word you planned to speak to collapse, cutting your apology short. You couldn't look him in the eye. Dangerous thoughts started to swirl around in your head like poison; was he disappointed in you? Was dumb mistakes like this the reason he never stayed around you? Maybe he viewed you as a child who couldn't make reasonable decisions? Were you being emotional? Maybe he wasn't mad at you and you were assuming things?

You wished you had the courage to ask him all those questions. You wished you had the bravery to listen to the answers without crying. But you didn't, so you kept your mouth shut.

Kieran shuffled on his feet and placed a hand under your chin, lifting your head.

"Look at me."

His green eyes weren't as dark as before. He wasn't happy, yeah, but he looked as if he was trying to be gentle and understanding. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Thank you for apologizing," he murmured sincerely and he took a deep breath, hanging his head, "I'm also sorry that men like that decided to target you. You were probably so scared and me acting like... me probably wasn't helping, was it?"

"Well, you—you were with me so I wasn't scared. I was more just... nervous I guess. I don't know, I went off on my own because I was emotional, I'm sorry—"

His eyebrows creased and his hands cupped your face. He was so tender with how his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and he leaned in close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He melted at the touch of your skin, fluidly stepping forward and leaning in as close as possible. He drank in your presence, your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the rising and falling off your shoulders.

"Let's... let's talk about this at home, okay? I'm not mad, I just..." he trailed off and his eyes darkened, "I was scared something happened to you. When I couldn't find you at the store, when you weren't responding to my calls or texts, and when I saw those fucking свиньи with you—"

He cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths.

"We're going home. Come on."

You yelped whenever his hands curved under your knees and he picked you up, carrying you like you were some damsel in distress. Any questions, excuses, or complaints you wanted to say dissipated when you saw that distant look on his face. Just like you've seen before, he looked ghostly, like he saw something you couldn't see. Just where was his head at?

You looked away. Anger buzzed in your bones, guilt was drowning your heart, and you too had a fuzzy feeling inside your head that made you feel distant.

I shouldn't have left the house.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LINKS :

— 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳

— 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

— 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘷

[ P.3 ]

897 notes · View notes

sunnypopoki · 2 months ago

Text

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.5

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺. 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘏𝘢! 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?

Р.4 / Р.6

A bell chimed the moment you walked through the doors of the restaurant. Warmth rolled down your back and you shivered, rubbing the cold out of your arms. Kieran followed suit behind you and whispered into your ear.

"Do you want my jacket from the back of the car?"

"I'm okay," you smiled up at him, "Inside is warmer than I expected it to be. I'll be fine."

The inside was just as grand as the outside. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and soft music played over the speakers that were built into the building. You glanced around at the customers, chattering softly in low voices, reminding you of the mumbles your mother always made with her friends every time you got home from school.

A waitress walked up to you and smiled. Her lips were painted red, her skin smooth, and her brown hair pulled into a tight bun. She looked far more elegant than whatever you were wearing. You crossed your arms and smiled back.

"Welcome to Papillon. Seats for two? Romantic seating?"

"Oh no, uh, we are meeting someone here. His last name is Evergrown?"

The waitress perked when his name was mentioned. Her nails clacked against the clipboard she was holding. Something was unsettling about the gleam in her eye, almost greedy, as if she was viewing you and Kieran like bags of cash. "Oh yes, you must be Mr. Evergrown's guests. Follow me and I will take you to him now."

You blinked rapidly. He had to be a regular if she acted like that at the mention of his name. Glancing at Kieran from the corner of your eye, he slid his hand behind you to the small of your back, walking with you. He didn't seem that curious. He kept glancing at the people in the restaurant and the doors.

His head was obviously stuck somewhere else.

The hostess led you to a more private part of the restaurant where there were less people and fewer windows. The warm lighting cast shadows against the walls, showing off the numerous expensive paintings. The whole place gave off the vibe that they were trying to be cozy, but only ended up being more uncomfortable. One of those paintings had to cost more than your entire house.

Turning your head, you whispered to Kieran. "I thought this restaurant wasn't this fancy... Do you think we have enough money?"

His green eyes melted into liquid emerald. His cheeks dimpled ever so slightly when he grinned. "Yes, Котик. We have enough."

"Are you sure? What if we don't and—"

He drummed his fingers against your back, making you jump slightly. He chuckled, mumbling. "I assure you, we do. Pinky promise."

You bit your lip. Before you had a chance to make sure for a third time, a familiar face caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You almost stopped dead in your tracks.

You barely recognized Danny. The slicked-back kid you knew in high school was gone and replaced with a charming, handsome man with a dazzling smile. His brown hair was neatly cut, his face clean-shaven, and his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. He wore a suit. A fancy suit that reminded you of your father; maybe because of the blue tie. His shoes peeked out from under the table and you noticed how glossy they were. He stood up when he noticed the two of you, jutting out his hand with a grin. He was a couple of inches shorter than Kieran.

The hostess stood by with a plastic smile. You didn't like how she was treating him like her boss. You didn't think he owned the building, after all.

"(Y/N), it's so nice to see you again," he took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it, glancing at Kieran when he leaned back up, "and you too, Kieran. I see you're still following her like a dog."

"Well, she is my wife so it's expected."

So much for being on good behavior. You didn't miss the small snark to Kieran's tone or the way his hand curled around your waist and pulled you ever so slightly closer to him. He smiled back at Danny cheerfully. Oh, how could you forget? He was joking with Danny again. The two of them were like that in high school (only Kieran was a lot more rude back then).

Danny's eyes widened in shock at the new information. "You two got married?"

"Did you think I would follow her around like this if I wasn't?"

He looked confused. Glancing between the two of you, his lips quirked up into a smile, albeit a little forced, and he motioned towards the table for you two to sit. "Oh my, well, apologies. You always followed her around like this in school when you were dating so I thought it was the same. Congratulations on your marriage."

This wasn't Danny. Well, it was him, but it wasn't the young man you thought you knew. Time changed everyone but you never expected him to change this much. This version of him was far too charismatic, charming, and snooty. His gaze felt daring and judging towards everyone in his line of sight—and in that moment, it was Kieran and you.

You said nothing and sat down.

"Thank you. We've only been married six months so it hasn't been long."

Danny took the menus from the hostess before speaking. He watched her scurry away. With a clear throat, he asked, "And you're happy?"

Your eye twitched. Who was he to ask that? Maybe the years whittled down his polite nature because you were too shocked to respond right away. Irritation flooded your senses and Danny glanced up. The words finally found your lips.

"Of course we are. I didn't know that you lost your manners over the years," you deadpanned. It sounded a little harsh, but you didn't care all that much. "Unless it's now polite to ask that to newlyweds?"

Danny blinked and he chuckled embarrassingly. "Oh, I—I'm sorry. I wanted to ask since we've been friends for so long... I meant no offense. I just want the two of you to be happy together."

Kieran shifted through the menu and said nothing, however, you noticed him glancing up at Danny with an unreadable expression every now and again. Well, great, now you felt like the bad guy. Your lips zipped shut. You blamed it on the restaurant, it was leaving you on edge. The fancy decor reminded you of your childhood home and the table you were sitting at was uncomfortable.

You opened your mouth to find something to say in response to that. "Oh, I see—uhm..."

"Thank you for the concern, but I don't believe our marriage is any of your business," Kieran butted in. "Friends or not, some things aren't meant to be asked in a public setting, much less over a meetup like this. We haven't seen you in a while and we have no obligations to share our marriage details with you."

Danny's cheeks reddened. You could only silently agree with Kieran, watching as your old friend sunk back in his seat and bounced his leg up and down. "Ah. You're correct, I apologize. It seems I stepped over a line."

Kieran was always better at words compared to you. Even if you were going to study psychology in school, you weren't the greatest at controlling your own life, much less your words. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat and said nothing when a waitress came over to take your orders.

"Red wine and baked spaghetti for me," Danny said.

"I'd like water, no food, and my wife wants..."

"Uh, I'll just take a black coffee."

You didn't think you could stomach anything else other than that. Your nerves were rattling your bones like drums. Plus if Keiran wasn't getting food, you didn't want food. You didn't want to think about how much a full meal would cost anyway. The waitress said nothing after she wrote down her orders and walked away. When her heels were out of hearing range, Danny cleared his throat.

"So, how has life been treating you two?"

You straightened up. "It's been well. I'm going to school and Kieran is working full time. There isn't much excitement going on in our lives as of right now."

Danny looked at Kieran. "Full time? You? You always hated working when we were in high school, always running off to skip class or break some type of rule. What are you doing now? How do you do it when you've always been so wild?"

Kieran shuffled to get comfortable, laughing softly at the jabs towards his younger self. "Ah, well, you could say I am no longer a fifteen-year-old boy, that's how. But to answer your question, I'm an editor and freelance writer."

You nudged Kieran's side softly. Just because Danny missed the way he was mocking him, didn't mean you did. The mocking went right over Danny's head and he beamed, turning to look at you now.

"Oh, that's amazing! What about you, (Y/N)?"

"I'm going into schooling for psychology," you scratched at your neck sheepishly. "Not as creative as what Kieran is doing, but I try. I've always enjoyed the thought of helping people."

Danny's eyes sparkled and he leaned forward at the table. His hazel eyes softened and a glimmer of the old Danny shone through for a second. "Yeah, you've always been like that. Empathy has always been one of your strong suits. I remember thinking you had too much of it at times, especially when you started placing yourself in the shoes of people who didn't deserve it."

You tilted your head. He was rubbing you the wrong way. "People who didn't deserve it?”

"Yeah, like scumbags."

"Everyone deserves to be understood, Danny. We are all human. I would be a shitty therapist if I played Judge every session and decided which people deserved help or not."

Maybe you were just being sensitive? Or taking things too personally without reason? Ever since you saw Danny, your irritation kept bubbling up and up. It wasn't like he was doing anything specific to irk you, but he just was, and you couldn't place it. Maybe it was the way he was smiling, the way he kept looking at you, or how he barely glanced at Kieran at all.

Danny raised an eyebrow. He didn't pick up on your uncomfortable tone, so he carried on. "So if you met a serial killer, you think they'd deserve someone stepping in their shoes to understand them?"

"Of course! Yes."

"Even after they killed three people?"

"What type of question is that? Yes—"

Your jaw clamped shut when the waitress came back with the food and drinks. Your coffee was placed in front of you and Danny thanked her before taking his spaghetti. You didn't even notice when Kieran took a sip of your coffee, grimaced, and then gulped his water.

Danny had to be doing this on purpose to annoy you! What type of medical professional studying the human brain, to help people, would turn away someone acting on homicidal thoughts? Of course, you'd turn them over to the police, but if they required therapy and you were assigned, you wouldn't turn them away.

They did monstrous acts, but those monstrous acts were most likely developed through mental or sometimes physical trauma. It was up to psychologists and therapists to figure those things out! The more a professional learns, the more they can prevent things like that from happening in the future. Damn, all of this was making you think of the conversation you had with Kieran earlier in the car.

You watched as Danny took a bite of his food and hummed in delight. Your jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Danny, how have you been?" Kieran asked for you, deciding to move the conversation on for you. "You look happy and put together. Did you take up your family's line of being a surgeon?"

"Oh no, no! I could never. I started working for a bigger business and it pays well. I actually had the idea to reach out because something happened."

Kieran learned further and placed his elbows on the table. "Hm?"

"Yeah. (Y/N), your father called me recently. It made me think about high school and then out of the blue, I saw your social media. I knew I had to reach out and say hello."

The saliva in your mouth dried up within seconds. The world shifted and specks of color swirled in your peripherals, the edge of your toes running numb while itchiness spread across your body in rolling waves. Your nails bit into your palms. Maybe you heard him wrong. No way he just said your father, because no way would your father reach out to Danny. He knew very well you and Danny used to be friends, so he wouldn't have any reason to do so.

Kieran's hand slid over and squeezed your thigh. Unlike you, his face was unreadable, while the reflection inside your coffee mug stared back in apprehension.

"I—what? My father?"

Danny nodded. "Yes! It was a surprising call if I have to be honest. I didn't know how he got my number, he must have found it online somewhere. I doubt any of my coworkers gave it to him."

You were stunned. "...Well, uhm, I apologize that you had to deal with him."

"Ah no, it actually wasn't that bad. He was polite and started asking about what I was doing, and how my life was, and then started talking about you when the call ended. When I first got the call, I was expecting him to ask about my parents. I know that he enjoyed them when we were younger, but it turned out he didn't want to talk about them at all."

You were going to vomit. The world spun around and around, and suddenly, you were even more grateful that you didn't order any food. Kieran tenderly massaged your thigh. He didn't mind your shaking hands or the ways your nails raked over his skin, scraping at the scabs on his hands already. His soothing touch felt worlds apart from your experience.

You didn't get it. Why was your father calling Danny? Why did he mention you? Why was he even interested in Danny? Your family cut contact with you after your marriage and when you were friends with Danny in high school, they never talked to him then, so there was no reason to talk to him now. There was no reason for your father to be interested in your life when he made it pretty clear that he didn't want to be a part of it.

Fuck, you didn't want him to.

"And what was he saying?" Kieran asked the questions you couldn't.

Danny took a sip of his wine and glanced between Kieran and you. He said nothing on the matter, saying, "Something about the (L/N) business and (Y/N) as the successor. At one point he did start asking about your life. Though he never informed me that you were married, he said something about an arranged marriage, so I assumed you and Kieran broke up. That's why I was shocked to see Kieran here."

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You preoccupied yourself with a greedy gulp of coffee, watching Danny waving his fork around.

"He didn't mention anything more about the arranged marriage when I asked. Instead, he kept blabbering about one of your cousins. Dominic? Or something? A fancy name, someone I've never met."

Dominic.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be here. You wanted to be home, in your bed, on your phone scrolling through social media to distract you from whatever was going on here. Kieran twisted his fingers into yours and pulled your hand away from your thigh; you were scratching at your leg without even realizing it, causing the skin to go red underneath.

"He said Dominic? Are you sure you heard him correctly?" you asked.

Danny tilted his head. "Yes, he said it plain as day."

What could you say in response to all that? Dominic, your older cousin's nickname, was someone who always helped your father around the house. When you were little, your main memory was your father shouting from his office and the following comes from Dominic calming him down. You viewed your father as the mad villain; Dominic was the sidekick, the butler, the one who pulled the strings. If they were talking about successors and mentioned your name, that meant they wanted you back in the family.

You? In the family again? The (L/N) family again?

You could recall how grand the house you grew up in was, and just how many patterns you could count on the ceiling every night. Muffled arguments, shady deals, and the constant flow of guests in and out of the house who leered at you like vultures. Your father never had normal "friends" and he made it quite clear that he did business with anyone who could meet his pay and requirements. Sometimes he threatened to sell you to them when you misbehaved. Even now, you couldn't tell if it was a real threat or not.

If he wanted you as his successor to his business, he'd do anything to get it. He wasn't the type of man who listened to the word "no". Denying him was something he always took extremely personally. Your mother knew that very well.

She didn't want children, but it wasn't like he listened. It made sense why she hated your guts. Each time she looked at you, she saw a little girl whom she was forced to birth to because her husband wasn't considerate enough of her feelings and autonomy. You supposed you couldn't blame her, but it didn't make it hurt less.

But if all of this was true, why hasn't he called you yet?

Sure, you blocked him a while ago, but that never stopped him in the past. He'd change his phone number, get other people to call, or find some other way around being ignored. He always found a way.

Danny sipped on his wine and watched you with a perplexed expression. He knew about your relationship with your family, but he didn't know they disowned you the day you got married to Kieran. He had no idea that mentioning them caused extreme anxiety, enough anxiety to make your skin itch all over your vision blur. Fight or flight was telling you to run for the hills.

Kieran leaned close to you and whispered, covering his mouth with his hand so Danny couldn't make out what he was saying. "Do you want to go home, Котик?"

Yes, you did. But leaving so abruptly in the middle of a meal with an old friend was rude and it wasn't like Danny purposely wanted to freak you out. You sucked in a sharp breath and tried to regain your senses. Kieran took your response as a no and frowned, but said nothing and leaned back. When you wanted to go home, you'd tell him, he trusted you.

"I see... thank you for telling me, Danny."

Danny grinned ear to ear. Whether or not he was disturbed by your obvious discomfort, he said nothing and took a bite of his food before swallowing. "Talking to your father gave me an idea, (Y/N). Of course, you don't have to agree with me or anything, but I wanted to share what I thought with you."

You didn't have to be a genius to understand what you were feeling was dissociation. The more correct term, if you had to pull it from your medical textbooks, would be derealization. It felt as if your brain was outside your body and you were watching him blabber to someone who wasn't you. Like a fucked up fever dream.

You knew you weren't outside your body from a second point of view, but it felt like it. You rapidly blinked and took deep breaths to ground yourself. It wasn't helping that much.

"I've been looking for someone to fill in a missing spot on my team. Where I work is a very important place, so it is not something I can just let random people apply for. But you're not a random nobody! I trust you more than anyone I've interviewed, and we have been searching for more empathetic and ambitious workers."

Wait, wait, wait.

One moment he was talking about how your father tried to get information out of him, but now he was saying something about a job opportunity. You refrained from rubbing your temples. Danny didn't notice your mood and kept chattering, his smile switching to that familiar 'business' smile that your father always had. He wasn't giving you any time to think.

"I wanted to—"

"Daniel," Kieran hummed, his voice heavier than normal. It sounded foreign to your ears. "Be considerate and stop talking so fast."

Danny flinched when he heard his real name. In a mere second, droplets of sweat built on his brow and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Kieran stared at him with an unreadable expression. He couldn't tell if it was threatening or not, friendly or not. His bones lurched back in his seat when Kieran shifted.

When they were younger, Danny always felt inferior compared to Kieran. Grades and smarts didn't mean everything and when he lost you to him, that was the biggest blow he ever felt. Because yes, it was true that Danny had a crush on you back then, you were just too oblivious and dumb to see it. One of the many reasons he felt inferior was because Kieran never hesitated to throw a punch when need be—and that was terrifying.

He had a feeling that if he said the wrong thing at this table, he might become black and blue just like those kids used to be back in high school. His teeth gnawed on his bottom lip and he took a sip of his wine.

"Ah. Sorry."

Kieran just raised an eyebrow and nodded in return. He was scarier now than he was back then, especially with the width of his shoulders and the framing of his arms. He looked like he could crack his head open against the table.

You ran your hands over your hair and pushed it all back from your face, not paying attention enough to hear or see what was going on between them. Gather your thoughts, take a breath, and pull yourself together.

Even if your family was planning to drag you into the business, it wasn't like they could do anything. You were married to Kieran and you were a grown-ass adult. You had people to back you up if something wrong happened. Plus, it wasn't like your family was in the restaurant with you. You'd know if they were!

Danny cleared his throat and dragged you from your thoughts. "(Y/N)?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I was just a little shocked," which was a plain lie but you said it with your chest, so that was all that mattered. "Uhm—go ahead. What were you saying about work? You mentioned a team of some sort?"

He was glad to move on as well. A grin fixed its way up on his face and you shivered slightly.

"What I was saying was that your father gave me an idea for work. I need someone to fill in a spot and when he mentioned you, I realized I trust you a whole lot more than any person I have interviewed. You'd be paid, of course, and the business I work for might even be willing to help with school payments if your work is impressive enough."

This definitely felt like a fever dream. The depth of the table felt so far away and the coloring of the lighting felt dim and soulless. The conversation being held was being jumped through hoops and hoops of new information without any lead-up or warning.

You rubbed your brow. Wasn't he just using you? At this point, you were aware that this was just a business proposition, not a meeting with an old friend. If you had to sum up this whole meeting, you've talked more about his work than anything else. Your anxiety fizzled into anger and your teeth clenched together.

"Did my father put you up to this?"

You had to ask it. You didn't put it below or above your father to ask Danny to do something for him, and if you had to be honest, you didn't trust Danny enough to turn down your father. Not when he wasn't his old self anymore. If this was the old Danny, you would have trusted him. Not this one.

Danny's mouth formed an 'o' shape and he shook his head. "No, no! This was totally my idea. Back when we were in school together, I knew how bad your family treated you. I wouldn't listen to anything he said anyway. He sparked an idea, it wasn't his own though."

Kieran was saying nothing. He was staring at you from the corner of his eye. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't voicing it. You were glad that he wasn't arguing or saying anything. You were already dissociating enough as it was, so you were grateful for his quietness and soothing thumb that kept rubbing fingers on your hand. It was his way of trying to ground you.

"So you're saying my father didn't give you this idea or plan this in your head? Or tried to persuade you of anything?"

"No! I promise!"

You weren't sure you believed him. There was this sneaking suspicion that he worked for your father. Maybe he didn't, but you were paranoid now. Especially since Danny mentioned Dominic and the next possible successor of the (Y/N) business, which so happened to be you.

"Okay, okay..."

Kieran cleared his throat. "And what business do you work for? You haven't told us yet, and believe it or not, I find that rather important when being offered a job deal."

He blinked and his eyes lit up with stars. He sat up in his seat and took his elbows off the table, his legs bouncing up and down under the table. It was as if his personality changed. One moment he was anxious, the next moment he was levitating off his seat in pure pride.

"Leovana. I work with Leovana Co."

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