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daengtokki · 27 days ago

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part seven // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 13.6k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: seungmin's worst memory. death & murder. domestic/child abuse. medical settings, medication usage, hallucinations, & shared delusions. more murder. fluff...& sex.

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: I reached 600 followers a few days ago, so thank you guys for liking my stuff enough to deal with me ♡

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST ]

TAGLIST: @kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The rain stopped sometime during the night, but it pelted against the roof and windows, and it kept him awake for hours. Usually, the steady sound lulls him to sleep, but last night was different—there was nothing relaxing about that downpour. He does remember waking after his first time dozing off, though, and it was eerily silent with the sound of the rain suddenly gone. But he knows he heard something...it, right outside his window, walking around on the wet, muddy ground.

The first thing he does in the morning is run to his window to open the curtains and let the sun in. The second thing he does is look at the ground in front of the bushes. Deer tracks, he thinks. He’s not good with the local fauna, but he knows they aren’t human footprints. Seungmin doesn't know what lives in those woods, and he doesn’t go in anymore to find out.

Seungmin-ah!

“I’m up, I’m coming!” He quickly rifles through his drawer and pulls out a change of clothes. “I’m coming!” Just as he starts toward the door, he turns and heads back to his bed to throw the covers back up, fluff up his pillow, and grab Daengmo.

“Come get some breakfast”

The door creaks as he pulls it halfway shut, and he bolts down the long hallway toward the kitchen, slipping a little in his socks. Seungmin stops abruptly when he hears the door to his left swing open, and his stomach drops.

“Slow down”

He doesn’t want to look up at him, but he has to, so he gets it over with quickly. “I’m sorry…a—“ he stops himself. Even after so much time has passed, calling him appa is still a reflex. He’s the only father Seungmin can remember. “I’m sorry.” But stepfather doesn’t like it coming from Seungmin’s mouth anymore.

“Breakfast isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your mother.” He passes by him, but not before ripping Daengmo from under his arm, “aren’t you too old for this yet?” Daengmo stares blankly at him, and he stares back with a grimace. Seungmin heart starts to race just as the dog is dropped at his feet. “Should have left this stupid thing out there instead.”

Because he would have never found his way home.

“There you are, my sleepy puppy”

“The rain kept me up, umma”

She sets a bowl of seaweed soup in front of Seungmin, and then another bowl full of rice. “I scrambled some eggs, too, if you’re hungry enough.” Her hand runs down the side of his head to try and flatten out his bed hair.

“Yes, please,” he smiles at her when she returns with a plate.

“And some of the strawberries we picked up yesterday.”

“Did you already eat?”

“I did. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go replant some more flowers.”

The greenhouse is hot and humid, but he likes it. He loves the warm months when the plants and flowers come to life, and he loves fall, when the chrysanthemums bloom, and the asters and the marigolds hang on a little longer. It’s always bright and pretty in here, at least until winter creeps in and scares almost everything away.

“Come here, love…hold this for me”

Seungmin drops to his knees and holds the big mound of dirt in his hands. “What are these?”

“Japanese iris”

“And those?”

“Camellia”

A crash from outside grabs his attention, and he almost drops his iris bud before the pot is ready.

“Hey puppy, look at me…don’t worry about him”

“I’m not”

She looks at him, a smile on her face, but eyes full of worry. Seungmin worries all the time, and she knows that. He worries more than any nine year old ever should, and all she wishes for is a chance to take him somewhere far away and never look back. No more worry, and no more fear. “It’s just us, okay? Me and you.”

“Yeah, just us”

The rain starts again, first a slow drop here and there, and gradually, it turns into a downpour. Again, he hears a crash, and even over the deafening sound of rain, he hears his stepfather screaming at nothing in his shed.

“The rain will ruin his day, but not ours”

“Are we planting more of those?” He points to the bright purple flowers in the corner.

“Do you like those? They’re my favorite.”

“They smell nice”

“They do, but they don’t like this weather. Heliotrope needs lots of sun and a little less rain.”

Seungmin pouts.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t try”

The ultrasound room is freezing, and the blanket they put over you is pulled all the way up to your chin. It’s not helping, though. Seungmin slides his jacket off and sets it on top, and his warmth still trapped inside finally helps you stop shivering.

“What’s taking them so long?” He grumbles.

You shrug—this is only your second time in a Korean hospital, but you’re kind of used to waiting when you go to an emergency room, or a doctor’s appointment. The two of you decided the drive back home the next morning instead of revisiting the hospital in Daegu, mostly because Seungmin was eager to get you back to the bed you’ve gotten used to, and back to where he could access the contents of his bank account. Uljin can wait another week or two, he said. Time to resettle and clean up any messes left behind. And you know he also wanted to find a doctor close to home as soon as possible.

“It hasn’t been that long, it’s okay”

“Long enough. And it’s too cold in here. Maybe we can look for another doctor.”

“Let’s at least meet her first. It seems nice here."

The apartment looked fine, but it was easy to tell things were moved around. Everything was just slightly off.

“I can’t believe the missing piece of rug wasn’t suspicious.” You look hard at the spot where the kill from that night bled out. There’s no reason to think this was cut because of anything more than a bad spill.

“Yeah, and the spot where the girl fell.” Seungmin stands there and looks at the bare floor. “I’m really glad you didn’t pull that knife out.”

“I used to watch a lot of crime dramas. I still do, just Korean ones."

“That’s how you knew how to stab?”

“I also watched a lot of Dateline”

He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“True crime”

“Oh, that’s me…true crime. Well, that’s us now.”

“Us? That’s romantic.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and an older woman, the ultrasound tech, walks in and greets both of you.

“Mother speaks only English? I can speak English.”

“Thank you.” You slide Seungmin’s jacket off and hand it back to him.

“It should be warmer soon, we turned the heat up”

You’re nervous, but you know that Seungmin is even more nervous. From the corner of your eye, you see him hugging his jacket tight as the woman guides your legs up and open, carefully drapes another blankets across your knees, and adjusts the machine on your right.

“I thought you got the little wand on your stomach,” he says, and his eyes move back and forth between you and your wide open legs.

The woman answers first. “Not this one. This gives us a better look, because it’s still early.”

“Oh”. Seungmin watches her every move as she preps, but eventually finds your hands and squeezes it. “Are you warmer?”

You nod, but now all of your attention is on her and the wand in her hand. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you ready? Take a nice deep breath, and relax."

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

More rain, Seungmin thinks as he pushes himself deeper under his blanket. The slow pings start against his window, and he watches as it beats against the glass, harder and harder. The rain never bothered him much before, and it’s not really the rain that’s making sleep so difficult. The problem is what seems to be right outside of his window when the rain comes. Seungmin can’t see it, he doesn’t think…he feels it. Sometimes he thinks he sees the outline of something moving just beyond the bushes, and sometimes he thinks he sees the reflection of glowing eyes.

If he mentioned it to umma, and he might, she would probably tell him it’s just a deer. She would say pull the curtains closed, puppy…if it eases your mind. And that’s just what he does. After a few seconds of working up the courage, he jumps from under his cover and runs to the window, pulls the curtains closed, and then runs and jumps back into his warm bed.

“Better,” he whispers to himself, and just as he closes his eyes, the shatter of glass sends him back up. He sits and stares at his door and waits for another sound.

“You don’t listen!”

Stepfather is screaming, and that’s nothing new. The soft voice of his mother trickles in as she tells him to please keep his voice down, please don’t wake Seungmin.

“He doesn’t listen, either. He can hear this, too. I thought I got rid of these!”

Got rid of what? Seungmin thinks.

“He picked them out at the bookstore yesterday. He’s doing so well…he’s so smart.”

“Is he? I don’t see it.”

“He’s a good boy”

“Give them to me, all of them. And whatever else you spent my money on.”

Seungmin feels tears welling in his eyes, and he tries with everything he has to hold them back. He tries with everything he has to stay put and not run out there and stop him.

“We only bought groceries, and the books…nothing else”

“Don’t lie to me”

He hears a slap, and his mother makes another quiet sound…and his tears start to fall. “Umma, we’ll leave soon…you and me.”

It’s not as bad as you anticipated, but you still grip the hand he gave you. A few seconds of nothing, and then something appears on the screen. You don’t know what you’re looking at, though, because ultrasound images always confused you. It’s nothing but static, and a big black blob that you at least know is where something is supposed to be.

“Can you see?” She asks, and looks at you, and then she looks at Seungmin. “There…on the bottom left. I would say seven weeks, almost eight.” She moves the wand again, and you squeeze his hand a little harder. “Oh…just a moment. I’m sorry, dear.”

“What is it?” Seungmin moves closer, pushes his glasses up, and squints. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, either.

The woman pushes a button on the machine, and you hear the strange, whooshing sound come through. You know what it is, just not from personal experience—a wild heartbeat. And the sound of an actual heart beating makes everything feel very real, very quickly.

She smiles at you with a little hesitancy, and then points at a new spot on the right side of the screen. “Number two is right here. And the first one is…here.”

“Two?"

“Dul?”

“Yes,” she nods, “ye…dul. You have twins, illanseong ssangdung-i.”

“Identical?” Seungmin stares, and he starts to crush your fingers until you shake him loose. “Sorry.”

“How do you know they’re identical? Are you sure there are two?”

“I’m sure, I have seen many many twins on here. We can check again at your next visit, and also let you know sex…if you want to know, in another four or five weeks.”

After hearing the second round of unexpected news, you get into bed and sleep for hours. It's the first time in a while you can remember having a completely dreamless sleep, but it doesn't seem the time for that. Right now, your head should be too full to stop.

The sun is mostly set when you finally make yourself get up, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen pulls you back out. You know

“Are you making dinner?”

“Hi, yes…did you sleep well?”

“I did. It smells so good in here.”

He lights up and grabs three bowls from the cupboard, “does it, really? I haven’t tried making kimchi jjigae in a very long time.” Seungmin fills two bowls with stew, and the third he piles high with rice. “I hope it tastes okay.”

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟗-𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The familiar smell of his favorite stew wafts into his bedroom, and he’s on his way down the hall before his mother even calls for him.

“Come here, give me a hug,” she holds her arms open, and Seungmin hugs her tight around the waist. “You’re getting so tall, you’re not gonna be a little puppy much longer.”

“I can be a tall one,” he looks up and sees the bruise he left on her cheek.

“You’re right, you can…go sit, I’ll bring us both a bowl.”

“Where is he?”

It’s as if Seungmin summons him with his words. A moment later, he’s coming in through the side door, pulling off his wet raincoat, and getting out of his shoes. The worst sound in the world for Seungmin is hearing his stepfather return home. But tonight he doesn’t say a word. He walks through the kitchen and looks around blankly, makes himself a bowl of dinner, and disappears into another room. It’s not unusual for him.

“Good,” she sits down next to him, “just the two of us.”

The rain finally lets up tonight, and he can fall asleep easily—no sounds outside, no footsteps or strange feelings. Silence. And Seungmin sleeps perfectly until he opens his eyes to the clock by his bed…12:10 am. He stares at it until it turns to 12:11, and then 12:12. There are footsteps outside. Loud, muddy, and heavy. But not in front of his window—these are somewhere in the distance, maybe on the far side of the house. At 12:15, he finds enough courage to get up and peek through the slit in his curtain, but all he can see from here is darkness and the reflection of his pale face; the tops of pine trees against a blue-black sky, finally clear. He thinks he sees a shadow run by in the distance, but it’s just his imagination starting to run. It’s in my head, umma said it’s in my head…there’s nothing in the woods.

“Umma?”

He thinks he hears her calling him, but as soon as it’s quiet again, he’s convinced that was also in his mind. Still, he heads for the door and pulls it open just a crack to listen. Nobody is ever up this late except for him when he can’t sleep. A mumble, barely, reaching him through the thick, humid air.

“…you made me do this…”

Seungmin recognizes that voice, even from this far away.

“…I’ll have to do it again…that brat”

It’s impossible to get back into bed now. He needs to know what’s going on. The first thing he does after tiptoeing down the hallway is open their bedroom door, but it’s too dark to see anything. A few more steps in, and he can now tell that the bed is empty, the blankets are a mess.

“Umma…where are you?”

Seungmin heads toward the kitchen and looks around, knocks on the bathroom door. He reaches for his coat…he can hear the rain starting again, and pulls on his boots. The few lights on outside help his eyes just enough, and he catches movement in the shed a few yards away. Why is he in the shed so late at night? Umma wouldn’t be out here with him, Seungmin knows that…where are you? he thinks. He thinks it so loudly, and is body trembles with his unknown fear. Why aren’t you in bed? Why are you outside so late in the rain?

The muddy grass gives way to his boots, and he sinks in as he tries to walk...he slips, and a few times, stops to gather himself before moving again. The ground is more solid as he approaches the shed, and he can tell now that the one light shining out is the oil lamp that lives on the windowsill. It’s so bright coming out through the cracks, and the view looking in is clear. Seungmin’s eye finds the perfect spot to peer in and see what his stepfather is doing…

“Are you in here?” He whispers, unsure, but his voice shakes.

His stepfather looks back, and Seungmin freezes, but his breath comes out shallow and ragged and loud. “Out of bed? Of course you are.” The door swings open, and the hand that grabs his shirt collar is wet with mud, and something else.

“Umma!”

Seungmin is thrown hard against the wall, face first, and hits the floor with so much force, he feels a tooth chip. He sees blood on him, and he tastes what pours from his nose and lip, but he doesn’t care.

“Seungmin…run away from him”

He crawls to her, and stepfathers presence looms just like the creature in the woods, ready to snatch him back at any moment.

“We have to go,” Seungmin whispers and touches her hair, “please we have to go.”

“I love you so much, Seungmin…you have to run, you have to get away from him”

“I can’t leave you here”

“Please run…my sweet boy…”

“Umma I can’t leave you here”

“He’ll kill you, too.”

“We have to go”

“Please remember how much I love you.”

Everything goes black and quiet, and the last thing he sees is her pleading eyes.

But then, the sound of dirt. A shovel, hacking and digging. Seungmin squeezes his fingers just to see if he can, and he fills his fist with dirt and rock. The back of his head throbs, and the warm, itchy sting of blood in his hair and on his neck reminds him of where he is. A gasp for air, a cough, and he almost chokes on it as he turns to his side. Everything is a blur, but he blinks it away and finds something to focus on—a bright blue bucket, and next to it is a small plank of wood, maybe the thing that knocked him out.

The irritated grumbles of his stepfather mix with the shk shk of the shovel as he digs. How could he possibly turn and look at what’s happening behind him? Seungmin can figure out whats going on, and why he’s digging a hole. He can’t come face to face with it. He looks around again, and his eyes land on the assorted tools that have ended up in here over the years: pruners, old rusty garden shears his mother tried to throw out, rolls of chicken wire and razor wire, bags of grass seed and weed killer—things he and umma have no use for in the greenhouse. The hand tiller, though, that he recognizes, and he remembers holding this very tool in his hands several times before.

Sharp and straight on one end, three pointed claws on the other—it’s as long as his arm and it’s not very heavy, but…it’s heavy enough. As quietly and slowly as possible, he crawls the six or seven feet to where it hangs on a protruding nail, and as he wraps his fingers around the wooden handle, he peeks over his shoulder. His stepfathers back is to him, thankfully, hunched over and pushing dirt with his shovel, so Seungmin grips it and rolls himself to face him. Now, if he can stand without falling—without passing out…

You smile and wait for him to open his eyes again. He has his hands clasped tight in front of him, as if he’s praying. Maybe he is praying. A smile grows as he sits there silently, and he laughs at himself when his eyes pop open.

“I’m sorry, should I have joined in?”

“Oh, I was just…talking to myself for a moment. Sending something out.”

“Were you praying?”

“Sort of…no, not exactly”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain”

“This was the last thing she made for me, the last meal we had together.“

The stew looks very different when you look at it now. Seungmin looks different, because the wave of memories washing over him paralyze him for a moment. “Is this her recipe?”

“Yes. I have a few of her recipe cards in the drawer, but I can never make anything quite right.”

“Well, it’s very good, even if it’s not perfect. What was her name?”

“Soo-ji. Suji…or Susie. Her English name was Susie.”

“English name? Oh right, she lived in the states. Did she choose that? Do you have an English name?”

“Yes, she chose Susie. I have one, but I’ve never used it. I’ve never had to.”

“What is it?”

He smiles and drops his gaze to his food. “Sky. I’m not sure why I chose that, but…Sky.”

“I do”

Seungmin looks at you again, eyes wide, “yeah?” And his eyes grow even more as he waits. “Do I look like a sky?”

“You look like a sky. And everything in it.”

“Everything?”

“The sun, and the moon…the clouds, all the stars”

“Are you trying to make me blush?”

“The butterflies…the bees”

He cups his cheeks in his hands and laughs.

“Can’t grow the flowers without you”

A hitch in his breath makes your heart thump, and his hands cover the rest of his face. You can’t tell if it was another laugh, or something else.

“Seungmin?” He doesn’t answer, but you hear a sniffle, and you stand and move to his side of the table. “Hey…what’s the matter?” You’re more confident in your actions now, so grabbing his shoulders and pulling him against you happens without a second thought. “Did I say something?”

“No, sorry…I don’t know what happened”

“Was that too much? I’m too much sometimes.”

“No, please don’t think that”

He squeezes and pushes his face into you, and you feel his tears coming through the fabric of your shirt. Something triggered them, but he’s also long overdue for a lot of good cries. You don’t mind getting some out of him.

“Umma always told me that when we worked together in the greenhouse…I can’t grow the flowers without you, puppy.”

“She was right. My moonflowers seem pretty happy in the window. And...Puppy?”

Seungmin pulls away and sniffs, but he doesn’t look at you yet. He looks at the hanging basket in the kitchen window. It’s still small, but it grew even while it was left here on its own. “She loved giving me nicknames, but I was always puppy."

“Look at me,” you pinch his chin and guide his eyes up to yours. “Yeah, I saw that photo of you when you were seven, I think. You looked like a puppy then, and you still do.”

“What photo?”

“From the boxes in your closet. I found them when I was packing our stuff. I saw some baby photos.”

“Babies…” he whispers to himself. You spoke about it on the way home, and a little before you fell asleep, mostly his concern about you now carrying two instead of one. “What exactly makes them identical?”

The tech didn’t go into detail, and you can’t meet your doctor until Monday, so Seungmin has been left hanging on the finer points of the pregnancy so far.

“Identical twins are one fertilized egg, split in two. Always the same sex, or usually. They share one placenta…that’s why they weren’t separated in there, that's how she knew.”

“So two boys…or two girls. Our fertilized egg split in half? Like yin and yang…sort of. Yin is the moon, and Yang is the sun. Still opposite, not identical, I guess.”

“Like us. You’re the sun…just like what your flowers need, and you seem to have made me the moon.”

“Yeah..." He looks at your flowers again. "Tokki.”

“Sky”

His legs hold him up, and despite his throbbing, blood soaked head, he moves slowly toward the lamp light, the whole in the ground, and the hunched over shape of his stepfather. This is his only chance, and if he misses, or doesn’t do it well enough, that’s it…but it doesn’t matter. Seungmin doesn’t care if he dies, because she’s gone, and there’s nothing left for him. He’d be better off in the ground.

The hesitation as he grips the handle evaporates when he raises the tiller high above his head. One chance. He puts everything he has, every bit of anger and sadness and despair behind the single blow that finds the nape of his stepfathers neck. The sharp straight edge is even sharper than Seungmin thought, and it sinks in deep. The spatter of blood gets everywhere—in his eyes, his mouth, and he somehow yanks it right back out. Some supernatural strength moves through him, because he has to do this. Another swing, this time to his chest as he turns and falls to the ground.

“Y-you…” he sputters and coughs more blood. “…you ba…bast…”

Seungmin wonders if it's the shock, or if he cut something in his neck that finally shut him up. He can’t seem to get his words out. “Bastard?”

The tiller goes up, and then down one more time. And he doesn’t say another word. The shed is silent now, except for the rain, and the drip drip coming through the cracks in the roof. It takes everything he has in him to shift his eyes to the right—to the half filled hole right next to him, and when he finally does, the emptiness that washes over him brings him to his knees. What could possibly describe this? He doesn’t know. Seungmin doesn’t know the words, not in Korean or English. He can’t even cry. What he can do is gently step into the shallow grave and place his hands on her again, and he’s relieved to feel her warmth still, and the softness of her pale skin and hair.

“Umma, can you still hear me?” Seungmin knows she can’t. His mother is gone, and her last words come right back to him. “He’s gone now…he’s gone. He won’t hurt us anymore.”

And she can’t be here, in this shed, in this disgusting hole he made for her. He won’t let her rest here forever—not for another minute. Fortunately he didn’t get far covering her. Seungmin pushes the dirt away as best as he can, but he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough for this. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and hugs her against his chest, pulls again, and rests her limp body against the side as he climbs back out.

Carefully, very carefully, he holds her around the waist, rests her back against him, and lifts until all but her legs are up and out of her would-be grave. No shoes on her feet, and wearing nothing but her nightgown…his stepfather dragged her outside straight from the bed they shared and did this. What filled him with so much rage tonight? Seungmin wonders if it was something he did. But he doesn’t stop to wonder long. The empty grave can only be good for one thing now, so Seungmin pushes, and pushes, and it takes so much more strength than it did to lift her out. One more push, and he falls with a thud, and the tiller goes in with him.

He dug this shallow hole, so he can put it to use.

Now he finally stops to catch his breath, but the humid air is hard to suck into his lungs. He slows down, breaths through his nose, holds it in…lets it go the way his mother taught him when he started to feel overwhelmed and anxious. It doesn’t calm a single nerve in his body tonight, but he at least feels the oxygen move through his blood and into his muscles, and more importantly, into his brain. He finishes this first; shoves the dirt on him, and it feels like hours later when he’s satisfied with the job he’s done. It's not the best, but it's far more than he deserves.

“Now what, umma? I don’t know what to do.”

✦　 ˚ 　 ˖ ✶ ˚　　　✦　　　.　

The greenhouse? he thinks to himself. Did he think it, or did he hear it?

“I can take you to the greenhouse. Would that be alright?”

Yes. Where else but the greenhouse, with the flowers the two of them spent all spring and summer planting and watering and growing? Seungmin reaches for her, and he watches as his hand starts to tremble. It moves up his arm and his shoulders; his chest tightens, and his whole body shivers; his stomach spins, and he turns and crawls away to vomit, but nothing comes out. He dry heaves until his stomach finally settles, but now his head feels like it might explode.

Her nightgown is already covered in dirt, but he refuses to drag her through the mud, so he grabs a blanket from the house to help his trip down the yard. The view almost makes him sick again—the gentle sway of her feet as he pulls. But the wet ground makes it easier, and faster than he expected.

Everything he needs to dig a grave is right here. There’s a plot of loosened dirt right by the heliotrope, because that was tomorrow’s job, and Seungmin looks at it and wonders again…wonders if this is where umma is supposed to rest right now. He starts the long process of shoveling away at the dirt, and he has a feeling this will take him the rest of the night.

“What are you thinking about, Min?”

He jumps when he hears his name, and looks around like he’s forgotten where he is. “Thinking about? Oh, nothing…I just had to shut off for a second.”

“I know something is going on in there. You don’t have to, but you can tell me.”

Seungmin’s face speaks louder than he ever can. He’s still no good at hiding it.

“Just remembering things. I wish my head would listen to me when I ask it to forget.”

“That would be nice, yeah. Maybe I can help take your mind off of it.”

A month flew by while you adjusted, both of you, to the news that two babies, not one, will be brought into this strange home. You spent a great deal of it in bed—tired, nauseated, and a mood that didn’t know whether to go up or down. Usually up and down multiple times in one day, which Seungmin had a difficult time with. He was used to the balance you brought him, and now it’s been taken away by this pregnancy.

But still, he handled it well by the end of the first week or so, and he eventually turned into what you were for him. He cooked, or he ordered the closest he could find to homemade Korean food. Seungmin made sure you took all of your vitamins, and he let you see him take his medication every day again. The four weeks on his haldol is the longest he’s managed to keep up with it, and he thinks he’s finally gotten used to it. Whether or not it’s helping is still up in the air.

“Take my mind off of it? You must be feeling better.”

“I am…but you’re not getting that. My appointments tomorrow, remember?”

“Right. We get to see them again.”

“We get to see if there are actually two in there”

“And if they’re boys or girls”

“Do you wanna know already, if they can tell?”

Seungmin assumed you wanted to know as much as he did, and as soon as possible, “you don’t?” But maybe not. “I guess I do, yeah.”

“It feels so early. So much can still go wrong.”

His eyes drop to your stomach, and he resists the urge to reach out and set his hand there. “Nothing will go wrong, everything will be okay. The first twelve weeks are the hardest, right?”

“You’ve been doing your research”

“There’s a bookstore right by the market I went to this morning. I bought one,” he grabs one of the bags from the counter and digs around inside. “I bought a couple, actually.” He hands you the first one…

“Taegyo.” You flip through it, but it’s small, and in Korean.

“I’ll read that one to you—to the three of you.”

The next one looks like a regular book on pregnancy, the kind you’ve seen a million times before on bookstore and library shelves.

“I read some of that one already.” The last one he pulls out is the biggest.

“Baby names…”

“And their meanings. Am I getting ahead of myself? I am, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. I know you’ve been holding it in, Minnie. You don’t have to keep hiding it.”

“Hiding what?”

“Your excitement. Your joy. If you’re tiptoeing around it because I told you I didn’t want to be pregnant before, I want you to stop.”

Seungmin takes the baby name book and holds it to his chest, and he seems a little lost for words. “Okay…”

“I kind of knew you wanted this from the moment you found out about the first test. And I’ve already read up a little on Taegyo, so don’t hold back…let them know, too.”

He nods, and a smile creeps across his face. The hesitation is still there as he reaches his hand out to you, but he does. Nothing is happening in there yet, but his smile grows even wider as his fingers spread out, and his palm slides up, and then back down across your belly button.

“We’ll find out tomorrow, if they can see on the ultrasound”

“I should start cleaning out the spare bedroom”

“We have a spare bedroom?”

***

Seungmin can’t hide his nerves this time. He paces back and forth in the tiny room, stopping every few laps to look at you and sigh. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s barely been fifteen. Are you alright, did you get any sleep last night?”

He shakes his head and sits, finally. “Not much. My dreams always feel real, but last night was…scary. I couldn’t get out. I think I had, uhm, I couldn’t move...”

“Sleep paralysis?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had that in a while…at least not that bad. I was stuck, but I could open my eyes, so I saw you sleeping next to me. That helped.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Maybe you should take something tonight.”

A knock on the door interrupts, and it’s the same woman from your first ultrasound. “Good morning,” she smiles sweetly at you, and then to Seungmin, who has kept up the husband act since Daegu.

He took the little silver ring from his music box, the one you can only assume belonged to his mother, and tried it out on you while you were still half asleep. It fit nicely, and even though you told him it seemed too special for you to wear, he said it was just for today, for fun—just to play the part.

So now you spin it absently as you watch her set up her equipment. And Seungmin is nervous again as your shirt is lifted, and the blanket covering your hips is pulled down.

“Are you ready to see your twins?”

The image appears quickly, but takes a moment to look like anything recognizable to either of you. But then it starts making sense…

“There they are, very cozy together”

“Oh, I can see them, they look like…like babies.” Seungmin leans closer and squints, because he forgot his glasses this morning.

“They are giving us a good view,” you say, “it’s doesn’t look creepy like ultrasounds usually do.”

“And I can take a good guess at sex if you’re ready for that”

“Uh, yes but…” Seungmin looks at you, and you shake your head. “Just me. Can you tell just me?”

“Mom isn’t ready? No problem, I’ll write it down for you, and we’ll keep it between us for now.”

She pulls a notepad out and scribbles onto it, rips it out, folds it, and hands it to him. You wait to see if he’ll look now, or later, but he truly can’t wait. He unfolds it, still careful not to let you see her messy hangul, and his face lights up as he stares at it. Seungmin hasn’t mentioned preferring a son or a daughter—sons or daughters—but you imagine his face looking the same regardless of what’s written on that paper. This is something he needed for it to feel real.

The sun hasn’t started rising yet, but somehow, he did what he needed to do. He finished.

The ground here is soft, and it’s fertile—this dirt has overheard some of the most important talks he had with umma, and it’s heard them both sing. This greenhouse, and the flowers inside have known only love and warmth and happiness.

Seungmin stares into her grave, and then to her.

The second blanket he brought with him is set neatly inside, and with what little strength remains in him, he moves her closer. Gently...a little clumsily, he lays her on top of it.

“Sorry umma, I’m so tired,” he sighs, and feels tears running down his dirt covered cheeks.

Now Seungmin takes his time picking a little bit of everything in bloom. An iris that finally opened. Japanese Kerria, goldenbell, mugunghwa, zinnia. The last flower he places with her is two loose bundles of heliotrope. The blanket corners are pulled across her, tucking the flowers in and keeping them safe as he kneels at the edge and thinks.

“The sun will start rising soon, and I don’t know what I’ll do,” he says to her. “What can I do?”

Seungmin waits for an answer, but nothing comes.

“I think I made things worse. Did I?”

“huh...is that you?”

you had to save yourself

“I should have been able to save you”

you couldn’t…you weren’t supposed to…but you’re alive so I am too

“I can’t finish”

this will be the hardest thing you have to do, I promise…just one step at a time

Seungmin stands on shaky legs and grabs the shovel again. One step at a time, he thinks. “Hana…” he starts, and grabs a pile of soft dirt and drops it carefully. “Dul…set…”

aheunnes…aheundaseos

He drops to his knees and pushes the rest with his hands, pats it down, smoothes it out. But he leaves a few spots loose, and the freshly potted heliotrope is pulled out and placed there.

“Please don’t leave me”

I won’t puppy…I’ll always be next to you

The quarter moon still shines on him over the treetops as he makes his way further down the yard. He keeps going—beyond the makeshift trail and into the pine trees, and he walks until his legs can’t carry him any longer. The clearing he comes to looks familiar, but it’s not the same one he was left in—that would take him until sunrise to reach. This one should be fine, though. He finds a spot in the center and sits, and he waits.

“I’ve lived here for almost four months…why didn’t I know you had a second bedroom?”

“I guess you weren’t looking for it.” Seungmin grabs either side of the emptied bookshelf and lifts. “And I closed it up after I moved in to keep myself out.”

“You banned yourself from your spare bedroom?”

He’s quiet as he turns and sets it against the wall, and again, he pulls out a key. Seungmin has at least a dozen different keys for even more locks, but he doesn’t seem to have them organized or marked—he just knows what goes where. This one is the only skeleton key, though. He slides it in, and opens the door with some caution…and it’s not at all what you expect. The room is filled with light coming in through the sheer curtains, and it’s not a mess of unwanted things. It’s a neatly organized room of maybe unwanted things.

“Yes. More memories. Things I took from the old house and couldn’t get rid of. Things that were left to me, things that were already here when I moved in.”

“So you locked them away…”

“I finally have a reason to clean it out, I just don’t know how easy it’ll be”

Boxes and boxes lined up against one wall. A small bed, a desk with a few things scattered on top. There are more books in here, too, and records and cassettes and cds. You think back to the drive home when you opened the center console of the Supra, and it was lined end to end with cassettes. All of these must have belonged to his dad, too.

“Both of them are in here?”

“Mostly dad’s stuff…but yeah, they’re both in here”

“Maybe we can go through it, and you can decide what you want to hold onto. Unless you’d rather do it alone…”

“No, we can do it together”

The first box you go for, the very top one closest to the window, gives off a subtly sweet aroma when you lift the lid. This is very obviously more of his mother’s belongings, and even though he wants you to do this with him, it still feels like an intrusion. But Seungmin probably knows where everything is in here, and when you stop to look at him, he just smiles.

“I can smell it...there’s perfume in there, half of a bottle,” he says.

“It smells nice.” There’s also a wooden comb and a brush, a hand mirror, and a few silk-looking scarves. All very personal, and all create a very close connection to her…but none of it compares to her scent, and you don’t think that’s something he should part with. “You should keep this. The perfume, at least.”

“I should, but I don’t know where I would keep it”

“I can clean up the living room closet, there’s so much space in there. We can make a spot for what you decide to keep.”

“I’ll have to put the suitcases and the plastic somewhere…the other disposal stuff”

“Uhm, we seem to have a lot of things and not many places to put them even though the apartment is big…oh, you have empty apartments!” At least you think he does. He mentioned how many were occupied before, but not how many were actually in the building.

“I do. I have thirteen empty apartments.”

It’s now occurring to you how rarely you see the comings and goings of his tenants, but you don’t leave often, and since coming back home, you’ve gone out even less. You’ve been sleeping any chance you can get. “Any on this floor?”

“Yeah, we’re alone up here. And directly below us is vacant, too.”

You have more space than you could ever need. “That explains why you’re so loud sometimes.”

He gives you his usual nervous laugh and opens another box. Seungmin still gets shy, and you’re starting to think he’ll be that way forever, but he has opened up a little more for the twins. The Taegyo book he gave you came in handy for him, and he’s been doing his best to stay on track with his medication, and to keep his mind somewhere safe. Every night in bed, he lies awake with you and talks to them. He doesn’t say much, because you don’t think he knows what to say.

But you don’t expect him to be perfect, and you don’t want him to be. You never had any intention of changing him, but if he does it on his own, you won’t stop him.

“Not lately,” he laughs again.

“It’s nice knowing we’re alone up here, though.” You walk over to the box he’s digging in, and this one is full of baseball cards, a glove, and a handful of ticket stubs.

“It is. Maybe I should lower the rent and fill those other apartments up. Dad probably never had vacancies.”

“Were you born here? I mean, did you live in this apartment when you were a baby?”

“Yeah, but we were on the third floor until her and I moved away with…him”

It seems like a complicated series of events, but you still don’t want to pry too much. You don’t want to ask why she remarried and moved away, and why they didn’t stay here. But Seungmin tells you anyway.

“She got the property, but he came along, and I assume he charmed and manipulated her, and they got married. She wanted to remarry, I know that much…I guess for my sake. It just happened to be to the worst person imaginable.”

“He moved you away?”

“Yeah, and hoarded all of the money she made from the building. When she died, it became mine, but I was too young. I got everything when I turned eighteen—the hoarded money, the property, and all of my dad’s things that got locked away in that third floor apartment.”

“And you’ve been here ever since”

Seungmin closes his eyes and nods, and when he opens them again, you can feel more trying to claw its way out; more secrets, more burdens, more things he hasn’t had a chance to say out loud. “Yeah, just going through the motions. Trying to get through the days and put them behind me.”

“I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t run into you that morning”

“Somewhere safe and happy, I hope”

“Or if you hadn’t come back to find me, because I had no intention of testing you again even though I really wanted to see you.”

He searches your face as he moves closer to your spot on the floor. “Testing me?”

You’ve made yourself comfortable under the window, knees tucked up and arms pulled into your sweater. This room is much cooler, and the air is probably coming in right above you. “Trying to get you back…and being pushed away again."

“You scared me”

“Me? I scared you?”

“Yes. Everything about you…from the moment you looked up at me and said yes, thank you.”

“Why?”

He sits, rests his head on your shoulder and thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. I knew I had a job to follow through with…” It’s been a while since either of you have reflected on your first meeting, and his intention to kill you. “And I kept thinking about that the whole time you let me keep you company.”

“When you left, I was a little upset because I thought you were gonna try something…but you were good. And then, naturally, I got nervous and ran from our date. Guess it’s a good thing nothing happened either time."

“I’m not sure I ever had any desire to kill you. I kept telling myself I did, but I didn’t do a single thing I typically would to get myself there.“ His hold on you tightens, and you start to feel warm again. “I pushed you away because I was afraid of feeling the way I do now.”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Sometimes. I don’t get to keep things I love for very long.”

“Okay…no foreshadowing, I promise. We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to have three people to love, and to love you back. And you’ll have enough for all of us.”

Seungmin waits, and waits. The moon starts to disappear from the cracks in the trees, and the little bit of light it seemed to scatter through the clouds disappears. It’s truly dark now, because there’s no sunrise coming for Seungmin yet. He hopes it never comes. If the sun stays asleep and the moon remains, he’ll never have to face a single day without her—he’ll never have the face the consequences of his actions. But he suspects he’s not that lucky, so he waits, and he lets out a long, monotone whistle.

A deep breath in, and another long whistle, and then he’s quiet again. A few moments pass, but eventually, he starts to hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor that managed to stay dry under the trees. Slow, heavy footsteps. Deep, shaking breaths. He can’t look, but he knows it’s there…Seungmin has felt it before, and he’s smelled it from his open bedroom window.

A snort makes him jump, and he mistakenly raises his head to look. All that’s visible is shadow, but it moves easily through trees.

“I’m here,” Seungmin says loudly, but his voice trembles. “You remember me.” A glimpse of eyes, just an amber colored streak moving and ducking behind a tree. “I’m ready to go…please.”

It answers with another snort, another crunch of slow footsteps, but it doesn’t show itself.

“Please!”

Something else is here—behind him, beside him. It’s steps lightly and quickly, and he sees it, a black cloud bouncing and moving like air. And then he sees another…a white whisp of a cloud, and this one is more visible as it darts past the trees. The white one gets closer as it circles him, and the black one follows far behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. His head swims, and his stomach turns, and before he hits the ground, Seungmin sees a set of blue eyes staring him down.

* * *

The bed shakes, and you’re out of your sleep immediately. The sour feeling in your stomach hits fast, but you hold it down when you see Seungmin’s face—his forehead drips with sweat, his jaw and fists are clenched tight enough to break.

“Minnie?” You touch his forehead, and he’s cold. “Minnie, can you hear me?”

He groans, his face relaxes, and he starts to cry.

“Seungmin, please…wake up”

Please take me…I’m alone…I’m all alone now

“You’re not alone”

I have nothing left here

“Minnie, I know you’ll hear me soon. You’ll hear me over whatever is going on in there.”

I’m too scared to do it myself

You don’t remember him ever speaking so clearly in his sleep before, and you don’t like what he seems to be saying. “Seungmin, wake up.”

Finally, he’s out of it, but now he looks like he’s heading straight into a panic attack. He bolts up and struggles to catch his breath, looks around frantically in the dark room. Before you say another word, you’re up and around the bed, clicking the light on, digging in his drawer for his bottle of Xanax.

“Minnie, hey it’s okay…take this.” You hand him his glass of water and hold the pill in front of him. “Look at me.”

He listens. You see his eyes move up and connect with yours, but he’s frozen and shivering as he parts his lips for you.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe”

Seungmin is silent as he sips his water and slowly catches his breath, and he doesn’t move when you climb across him and crawl back under the covers. He pulls his sweat-damp shirt over his head and throws it to the floor. “Can I sleep over there?” He asks as he works his way over. “God, I sweat through everything.”

“Come here. You’re so cold, get back under the covers.”

“Those dogs”

“Dogs?”

“They weren’t there, in the woods. I’ve never seen them before.”

“In your dreams?”

Seungmin has had many dreams since you’ve been here next to him, and they’ve been bad. Most have been manageable, some have been terrifying, but none have made him wake up like this before. “It felt so real. I’m afraid I’ll go back if I fall asleep again.” He sits up and rubs his face. The medicine will relax him soon, and hopefully help him fall into a dreamless sleep for a few more hours.

“Does that usually happen?”

Everything about his dream, except for the very end, was a memory—the thing he’s afraid to tell you. Now doesn’t seem the time or the place, but as he lies here and thinks, he wonders if a time and a place for that story will ever exist. “No, but I don’t usually dream about that part…and it wasn’t off, like the dreams usually are. Everything seemed accurate, right down to the things we said to each other.”

“You and…your mom?”

“Yeah. And the dogs, I don’t know where they came from, or if they were helping or coming after me.”

“Was there a big white one?”

“A white one, and a black one. I’ve seen the black one before, just not in my dream.”

“Recently?”

“No, it was the day I found out about your negative test. It lead me to where the box was…ah, how did I forget about that?” He looks at you, expecting the same moment of clarity that he’s having, but you just stare back, a little lost. “I saw the dog in living room, and I followed it to the cabinet where the trash was.”

“You think your hallucination lead you to the test?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s possible, I guess. It’s not much weirder than us sharing dreams.”

“What are they, though?” He says it out loud, but he seems to be asking only himself. “Where did they come from?”

“Dreams can be so strange.” You can feel yourself dozing off, but you don’t want to sleep until he’s comfortable and his eyes are closed.

“Our dreams are very strange”

The body that was tucked up against you is gone. No more arms wrapped tight around your waist, no more warm breath against your chest. You woke up twice to Seungmin sleeping soundly with you, but now, the third time, he’s gone. He hasn’t returned to his side of the bed, and the curtain is still pulled halfway closed, just like it was last night. It’s quiet…no sounds of him in the shower, or in the kitchen, and there’s no smell of coffee brewing.

This isn’t a great way to wake up.

“Seungmin?” You call out as loudly as your morning voice will allow you, but your head pounds when you do, and the pain makes you nauseous. Still, you manage to get on two feet and head for the door. “Seungmin?”

The kitchen is empty, but the bathroom door is cracked. You decide to give it another minute before calling out for him again, because he’s in there. His keys are on the table, jacket is hanging by the door, and his two regular pairs of shoes are right next to yours.

You start making him coffee, but by the time it’s mostly finished brewing, you start to hate the quiet.

“Minnie, are you in there?” Your fingertips set against the door, but your push is hesitant. The strong herbal smell of his bath salts hit you from here. “I’m gonna come in.”

A soft okay reaches your ears as you push the door open, and you sigh when you see him there, submersed in the tub. The water is all the way up to his chin, and his eyes stay closed as you approach him.

“You’ve been in here for a while,” you kneel down and rest your arms on the bathtub. “You okay?”

“I think so”

You take his word for it, but his blank stare tells you he’s probably not completely okay. The nightmare might still be in his mind, or maybe the nightmare pushed even more to the surface—something his medication can’t keep down. “We’ll have some breakfast, and if you wanna talk about anything…” maybe it’s something else entirely.

“I’m not very hungry”

“Okay,” you start to reach out for him, but stop yourself. If he reaches back, the pain in your chest might let up…you don’t want to go back to his silence right now, but you might have to. You’ll wait for him to push through it. “Coffee? I’ll get you towel.”

“I was okay, I’m sorry”

“And you’ll be okay again, we just have to get through it”

“It stayed away for a while. We really kept our minds occupied…that was nice,” he forces a smile.

“But it can’t stay away forever.” Seungmin looks at you, almost questioningly, as you finally reach out and run a hand across his forehead. “And I want you to feel better. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

Seungmin holds his pill in the palm of his hand and stares at it. He’s been so good—so consistent. Every single morning since finding out the twins were still there and still okay, he’s been even more adamant about doing what he can to be okay for them. Up until today, it’s worked. Last nights dream might be partially to blame, but he knows he’s overdue, and he feels like he’s doing something wrong.

He watches you head toward the bedroom, wrapped up and shivering in two towels. “Do you think I can be fixed?”

“Fixed?” You poke your head back out and study him. “Do you feel like you need fixed?”

“I’m not sure. But I wonder sometimes if they’re doomed to be like me, no matter what.”

The fear you had swirling inside of you before, the feeling that still comes back sometimes, seems to have crept into his thoughts. You were never afraid of having a child that ended up with an illness like him, though, that never once crossed your mind…but now that his need to kill has returned, he’s stuck in that part of his head. And though he hasn’t actually said anything about their sex, you're beginning to have a feeling in your gut.

“Seungmin, are we…?” You start, but you still don't think you want to know for sure.

“What?” His eyes soften as he searches yours.

“Nothing, never mind.” It’s been two weeks since that doctor’s visit, and he hasn’t said a word about it. He hasn’t dropped any sort of hint, or let anything slip. During a few talkative nights, you wondered if he would mumble something in his sleep. But he hasn’t yet. “They’re gonna be as sweet, and as caring, and as thoughtful as you are to me.”

Seungmin slowly shakes his head. “I hope so. Right now, I really…really need to—” his eyes drop to your stomach, “I need to clear my head again.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, I want you to stay. If you want.”

“Are you coming back with them, if you find someone?” You think about how messy it was the first time you were here, and how out of control everything was. But you do want to stay, because your mind is also on the last time…his knife in your hand, the way he looked at you and touched you after the girl hit the floor. “I’d rather stay, but I can’t listen—“

Seungmin takes your face in his hands, and his smile is uncertain. “No, I don’t want you to hear that. I want you to help me, if you want…uhm…”

“Help?”

“But I understand if you don’t want to”

Your heart pounds. The look he’s giving you is a strange mix of shy, and a little bit of that Seungmin who made you a drink and carried you into his bedroom. “Help you kill?”

“Or just watch. I don't need the sex.”

“Minnie”

“It’s too much, I know…I don’t know why I’m asking. You shouldn’t be seeing that…after what I just…after just telling you I’m worried about how they’ll end up. Fuck, no…I’ll go.”

“Minnie, wait”

“You can stay if you’re comfortable. Maybe in the bathroom, or the nursery.” The nursery that’s still just a gutted room with a twin bed. Going through things and cleaning took much longer than anticipated. “Taegyo seems a little pointless now, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not, they still need to hear you talk to them every night. They need you to feel better.”

There’s still a look of reluctance and confusion on him, and instead of heading for the door, he paces back and forth and thinks. But he stops suddenly and stares off toward the open door of the nursery.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a few slow steps in the direction he’s looking, and then shuts his eyes tight. “It’s there…it came out of the room. The black one.” He starts walking toward whatever he’s seeing and ends up back in the bedroom, and you follow. “It went under the bed.”

You watch him drop to his knees and look, but if there’s something black under there, he won’t see much of it. Your curiosity gets the better of you, so you do the same on your side of the bed—drop to your hands and knees and look. “I don’t…”

“What?”

Something glimmers despite the lack of light…something silvery blue. You push yourself under and reach toward it, but it moves. “What the hell?” It disappears, and then reappears, and you hear it. That growl. The same deep growl from your nightmare. It lunges forward and all you see is a streak of white fur and teeth as you pull yourself back and crawl away. You hold back a cry, but as soon as Seungmin sees your face, he’s on his knees in front of you.

“What happened?” His voice shakes. “You saw it?”

“I dunno,” you pant and try not to catch sight of anymore shining eyes, so you look at him instead. “Seungmin, I think I’m seeing things.”

Seeing things, hearing them, feeling their strange presence.

Whatever was under there is gone when Seungmin shines a flashlight into the darkness. It’s empty. No lost clothes or forgotten boxes, nothing that could have picked up and reflected the little bit of light in the room.

“Are you gonna tell me what you saw under there.” Seungmin stands in front of two cups and watches the almond blossoms bloom in the hot water.

“It was a dog, a white one, and it growled and snapped at me”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Only in a dream, but in the dream I thought the dog was you…trying to kill me”

That dream, he thinks to himself—the one you couldn’t explain to him that morning, and it’s been forgotten ever since. “The white dog was me?” The white dog that tried to kill you, that stood over him in his dream last night. The one that tried to bite. But where did the black one disappear to?

“Yes, in the woods. And then in the shed, but I woke up in the middle of it attacking me. You woke me up.”

“It’s a big dog, right? Obviously we’re seeing the same one, and I saw them both together, but maybe it’s just one.”

“Big, but skinny and tall…like a greyhound, but not.” You get up and head back to the bedroom, and carefully walk by the bed, making sure to give the edge of it a wide berth. Nothing makes a sound or shows itself, and you return to him, phone in hand. “Long-haired greyhound? I dunno what I’m searching for, I’m sure Google can figure it out.” You scroll and click a few times, and then show him the image pulled up on your phone. “Is this your black dog?”

Seungmin’s eyes grow as he looks at it, “yes that’s exactly what he looks like…and they both look exactly the same.”

“They look so sweet in these photos, but my white one isn’t sweet at all.” My? The white one does seem to be yours, because you haven’t seen his black dog. At least not yet. “But dwelling on it isn’t gonna help.”

“No, and I’m sure I’ll see them again”

“We should get back to our earlier conversation”

He forgot about his request. Seungmin isn’t sure why he thinks you’d want to have anything to do with this, but you did intentionally put yourself front and center for his last kill. “Can we forget about it? I didn’t know I was gonna ask you that until it came out of my mouth.”

“No, we don’t have to forget. At least let me answer.”

He’s expecting an explanation for your no, because you’re good at putting your thoughts into words for him. At least he knows you’ll be gentle. Seungmin has found out, thanks to you, how terrible he is at accepting criticism and being told what he doesn’t want to hear. You’ve been honest with him when it was necessary, and it’s been difficult, but he’s getting better…he thinks.

“I would love to watch you”

Seungmin heads out, and you stay home. He said he would keep you updated on his timeline if he could, but you decide to just expect him at any moment. And the plan is pretty scarce, but probably enough for him, and this time you’ll just have to trust he’s truly back on his game.

“Phone…I won’t forget the phone this time. Or the cameras. I’ll text you when I’m turning them back on so you know I’m in the building.”

But you’re terrified. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he left. He could be an hour, or he could be five hours, so how do you wait and pass the time? How do you prep? You’ve been avoiding going into the bedroom while you’re alone here, but you have to at least go in there and clean up. The sheets are still a mess, and there’s a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. There’s a pile of clean laundry in another corner—neither of you ever let it get this messy, but you’ve been focused on making space for two babies, and now, standing here thinking of that…maybe it’s too soon. You’re fourteenweeks in. Almost four months. Okay, maybe it’s not too soon. You were expecting this to drag, but since finding out, time has passed by far more quickly than it ever has.

Okay…just fix the damn sheets, there’s nothing under there. You walk quietly and start to pull at the spots where it’s the messiest…listen carefully as you tuck, fluff the pillows, set Daengmo right on top. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a flash of white, but there’s nothing there when you scan the room.

Daengmo gives you a look, or he seems to, so you change your mind and take him back to the kitchen with you.

This place is too quiet without him, you think, but Seungmin himself is quiet. It isn’t just the sound…it feels quiet without him, because his presence alone can be overwhelming. He’s still so intense and serious sometimes, but he turns it off when he needs to—when he keeps you awake a little longer talking to you and the twins, or when he wakes you up with the sounds of his guitar. He finally sang for you a few mornings ago.

When you open your eyes to see him, he's turned away, and he avoids looking at you until he finishes his song.

“What song was that? Was it yours?

Seungmin spins in his chair and carefully returns the guitar to its stand. “Not mine, no. It’s called ‘through the night’.

“Through the night,” you say under your breath, making sure to remember the title. “Thank you.”

“For singing?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice from me all this time”

He starts toward you and smiles, and you can still see some diffidence behind it as he slides back under the covers. “Sorry,” he gets close, and he closes his eyes as if he plans on going right back to bed. So you do, too.

Until this moment, you forgot about the name of the song. “Through the night,” you say out loud and head for your laptop. But he never said the original artist—it doesn’t matter, you’ll know it when you hear it. Before you get a chance to type it in the search bar, your phone buzzes. “Minnie…that was fast.” At first you assume it’s something else, not him, because it’s barely been two hours, but it is him…

in the elevator

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you wonder if you can really do this. The want is there, and the need, there’s no question about that. And this will be easier than last time, you think. Right? Just watching him.

“Just watching,” you reaffirm yourself and shut the laptop, hide anything that looks like someone else lives here, and shut yourself in the nursery. The door on this room is much older, and very lucky for you, there’s a keyhole to peek out of. You kneel down and focus right as the lock clicks, and in walks Seungmin. “Who did you find?” you whisper against the door as she finally walks in behind him. “Oh.”

He speaks, she speaks—your Korean comprehension is still bad, despite the classes, and despite Seungmin patiently helping every way he can. He only speaks directly to the twins in Korean, but he translates everything for you, so they always get both. Seungmin speaks again, and you can’t help but notice him looking around the room. If your presence makes him nervous, he could slip up somehow. But this was your idea, Minnie…you’ll be fine.

She touches him, and your stomach starts to turn sour. A hand runs up his side and pulls at his shirt, and that peak of his skin already has you seeing red, but you breath deep and remember that you’re his other half in this. Seungmin belongs to you, and this is the last thing this girl will ever do.

But what happens next? He told you there would be no sex, but he still has to set things up the way he’s accustomed to, or at least close to it. How far will he have to go to get her where he wants her?

Her hand cups his dick, and her face falls. When she speaks again, you know what she says without understanding a word—not hard for me? No. No cock growing in his jeans for her. Seungmin is still soft, and he’ll probably stay that way. And he plays it off well, feigning shyness, smiling and hiding his face. It still makes you jealous, act or no act, because he's so good at this. She takes Seungmin by the hand and looks around, but she starts toward your door first, and you move your eye from the keyhole until you hear her being redirected. As soon as you look again, you catch his gaze lingering right where you are.

The bedroom door opens, and then shuts, but you hear the doorknob turn lightly and the latch click free. Now you can easily slide in without making a sound, lock the door, and watch.

The girl is too distracted by Seungmin's shirt being pulled over his head; slipping into the bedroom and carefully closing the door goes completely unheard, and the slide of the key does, too. Had she been facing you, things might be hectic right now, but you trusted him to keep her where you both needed her. The room is perfectly dark, lit up only by the string lights you put around the bookcase. It's just enough, and when your eyes start to adjust, you can see much more of him outlined by it, and you see his eyes move to you and smile sweetly. Somehow, she doesn't notice him looking at something other than her.

Her hands go for the button of his jeans, but he stops her. You can see the gears turning in his head as he wonders what his next move is going to be. She speaks, and you can see that he's annoyed.

"Turn around..." Seungmin grabs her wrists and holds them tight as she spins to face you.

"Huh...quit messing arou—"

The air catches in your throat when she sees you, but you do everything in your power to keep your composure. Looking nervous will do nothing to help him right now.

"What's going on, what is this? I didn't come here for a threesome."

"Shut up." Seungmin switches to English, and to your surprise, she does, too.

"Let go of me, I'm over this...get your hands off of me you psycho"

You assumed you'd be out of her view the entire time or at least most of it, but that's not the case. And then his hands start to loosen, she pulls away from him and heads for the door...now you wonder what exactly he has planned. Just as you open your mouth to get his attention, she pulls on the doorknob and screams...

"Open this fucking door!"

Seungmin walks toward her, and she runs to the far side of the room, away from him and away from you, and when she backs herself against the bookcase, everything starts moving in slow motion—her hands grope along the shelf for something...anything. The first thing she grabs is the glass vase of withered heliotrope, and she smashes it hard against the floor. The sound is unbelievably loud, but there's still a piece of glass large enough for her to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Let me out of this room," she holds it nervously, and her free hand goes back to the shelf. "Unlock the door."

Despite the drama, your mind goes back to you. Your night here with him, and how you ran to the door and fell to your knees in defeat, but you come back quickly when her hand finds the music box.

"Stop," Seungmin throws his hands up, "enough."

This is not going well, but he can still turn things around. Not soon enough, though. She drops the shard of glass, takes the music box in both hands, and uses all of her strength to smash it against the wet floor. You can't see anything from where you stand, but you hear it—the painful splinter of wood, and the sweet, lonely melody of it's insides filling the room.

Seungmin lunges for her so quickly and so quietly. He's terrifying. His hands close around her throat and drag her back toward the bed with little effort, and when he throws her on it, she stays there.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, please"

He straddles her hips, and she's frozen in terror as his hands close around her throat again, and then he looks at you. A few steps toward the bed bring a smile to his face, so you take a few more, and the desire to touch him makes your whole body tremble. The muscles of his back move as he breathes, and veins start to pop in his arms as his grip tightens. You hardly notice her, even as she gasps for air and scratches at his arms, because Seungmin is all you ever see.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you can see sadness behind his smile. Maybe a lament for his music box.

"Only if you are." You walk behind him and give in to your urges. One hands runs across the small of his back and up his spine, and you hear him groan as he squeezes tighter.

"I am"

From here you have the perfect view of both of them, so you watch quietly and keep your hands off as he continues...as he squeezes, and you hear her last desperate gasps...as he finishes. There's no more movement from her, and you can see it in her eyes, just like the one you took the life from—emptiness. His hands loosen, fingers flex, and he straightens his back as he starts to rise. You're silent as he watches the body for a few more moments, and then he turns to you.

Seungmin is looking through you again, inside of you and outside of you; reading your mind, and looking for an answer to the same question he asked before.

“I’m good”

The state of the room—the broken glass, the splintered music box, the dead body—it’s all pushed away with his soft touch and the scent of his adrenaline filled sweat. His arms slide around your shoulders and pull you tight against his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, that was a mess”

“No,” you push back and look at him. “Some things didn’t go how we wanted them to," you look to the body, and then toward the mess on the floor, "but…no, baby.” Seungmin lets you pull him to the door, and he doesn’t say a word as you unlock it and put the dead girl out of sight.

“I was never this clumsy before, I really wasn’t. I fucked up sometimes, but this…”

The sun is just starting to set outside, and the light hits just right on the couch where you’re leading him. Even as you set him down and look at him, he looks up at you with so much defeat in his eyes. Seungmin is supposed to feel better after a kill, and maybe he will soon, but right now he’s nowhere near okay.

“This was also your first time with someone watching you. Please, be a little easier on yourself.”

He sighs and falls back against the couch. “No, I don’t—" he looks to his right and sees Daengmo slumped against the pillow, “I can’t.“

This might take him a little longer to get through. You kneel in front of him and place a kiss on his knee. “You’ll get there, but in the meantime, I’ll do it for you.”

Even as your hand moves up his thigh, Seungmin’s face remains the same, but he lets you touch him. He lets you unbutton and pull gently until you can see his bare thighs, and now when you look at him, a smile is trying its best to break through. It doesn’t quite make it, but as you climb up and straddle him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift your dress and pull your panties down and out of his way.

“You did so well”

He shakes his head as you take his slowly growing cock in your hand.

“Don’t shake your head. Look at me, right now.”

There’s a bit of surprise in his hm?, but still no smile. He does, however, look at you.

“It was fast, and clean…not a drop of blood”

“Just flowers, and glass, and—”

You shush and kiss him, and the soft stroke of your fingertips get him there quickly . “We’ll clean it, we’ll fix everything.”

Something relaxes in him. Seungmin’s head falls back, and the movement in his neck is hypnotizing. “How can we fix it?” His mouth falls open as you slide down and fill yourself with him, and his hands jump to your hips. A stuttery how gets caught in his chest, but you can’t tell what he’s feeling because he’s no longer looking at you. His face is hidden, and his breathing starts to become shallow.

“Minnie?” His shoulders tense up until you hold him tight against you, and your thighs shake as you lower yourself completely on his lap. “Look at me so I can tell you properly.”

It takes a few more seconds and a few more sniffles before he peeks up at you.

“What are these tears for? Just upset about how everything went, or is it the music box?”

“I can’t do anything right. And it’s a miracle I haven’t been caught yet.” Seungmin’s hands squeeze as if he’s trying to get you to move on him, but you’re still as you rub his shoulders.

“Well, I disagree. I was the one watching, and I hope this isn't the last time we do that.” Another squeeze of his fingers makes your thigh jump, but you don’t move. “You did a very good job.”

“I’ll be better for you”

“I love you just like this”

He shakes his head as you kiss him again, but stops when your hands move up. The look on his face changes—he relaxes again as you comb your fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

The shake turns to a nod, and he squeezes again as you start to move slowly, up and down, and the sound of his moans match your pace.

#kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fanfic #skz x reader #kim seungmin x you #stray kids seungmin #kim seungmin au #kim seungmin angst #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids serial killer #stray kids series

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photmath · 4 months ago

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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Gala Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him. Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: very rusty writing, some angst, brief out-of-character kylian Note: Yeahhh, so this was long overdue.

Aurie had forgotten what it felt to be engrossed with a man. The tightness of her chest and the feel of her throat closing up when things were at unease between them. It had been a while since her last relationship, and although she and Kylian hadn’t defined their terms yet, things were getting serious between them. The constant worry that would creep in after not hearing from him for a couple of hours was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time. She despised it.

It felt childish to feel like this. Aurie was too grown up to be feeling like a preteen girl with a crush. Plus, she had too many jobs to do.

“Aurie,” Camille repeats, snatching Aurie’s attention.

“What?” Aurie spins around, her fingers smudged in hot glue.

“Are you seriously still fussing with the sign? The dance starts in a couple of hours, at this point you are going to ruin it if you continue,” Camille says as she puts the final pieces together for the centerpieces. “Simi! Help me place the centerpieces on the tables please.”

The three of them, alongside Raphael, had spent the last three days setting up the gala and it was finally all coming together. The colors of summer, all splattered around the ballroom. Flowers wrapped around chairs and tables—Simi even had a flower crown. The glass centerpieces that were lanterns were filled with yellow chrysanthemums and twinkling lights inside. The pillars of the ballroom had been neatly wrapped in green leaves, colored flowers pinched into them seamlessly.

It was beautiful.

Aurie distracted herself from Kylian’s silence decorating the pillars the other night, having never left the nursing home until the next morning. Maria and Estrella had come into the ballroom seeking silence and there they found Aurie tediously working on a ladder to drape pastel colored curtains.

It had been a week since her window was ransacked. A week since having to have a few of Kylian’s security guards at her place—Bleu getting accustomed (and healing) to their presence—and a week since Aurie last saw Kylian.

She hated it.

Kylian had been in Paris, getting treatment from Martin, as he did whatever he was doing—Aurie was still out of the loop. Every time he called her it was the same: he’ll let her know when he has time to talk. But it was infuriating because he would call her when he barely had time to talk and there was so much to say but could never be uttered because Kylian was racing around. So why even call in the first place?!

She detested it.

Usually she was the one who sought to avoid serious conversations, but with the roles now being reversed, made her want to scream. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep also sneaking up onto her, but either way, nothing had been the same. Not since Kylian confessed that he loved her.

He wasn’t entirely silent. Throughout the day, he would send her messages such as:

I can’t wait to hold you.

I just want to be in your arms.

I miss you—so much, mon amour.

And it made Aurie all even more confused. What could possibly be occupying his time that he couldn’t even give her an hour of his time? Martin and Dr. Minic had given her their documents of his session with him last week. His temperament was a lot better, but there was also redacted information about a “couple” of stressors. Why was it redacted?! Martin’s notes about Kylian’s calf were nothing but positive progress: “Showing great progress under Aurie’s care, and on track for the first week of preseason. No international competitions.”

But then she read the next couple of lines: “Will be monitored in Paris for the next week (or so) under Martin’s care as he has many meetings in Paris. Will begin some light sessions with a ball and sprinting.”

How many meetings is too many? And why? For how long? There were endless questions that Aurie had but still could not get answers. Most were about Kylian but a few daunting ones were about her—did she do something wrong? Was his progress actually not on track?

For fucks sake.

The silence from Kylian and then vague answers from Martin were fucking awful. All of her phone calls to Martin were the same: “Aurie, don’t worry. He is doing really well. He has some things to do here so it’s better for me to take care of him so that he isn’t constantly traveling.”

And as if to make matters worse, Aurie’s mother showed up to her door the other day wondering why her window was blue. Aurie lied and said she broke it while playing with Bleu upstairs—but then Bleu came jogging towards them and Elina saw his still red gash on his snout. When she finally told her mom the truth, it was all the same thing: “He’s ruining you…you’ve come so far. You gave it all up for this job, imagine how much you’ll give up following that man.”

Aurie blinks away tears as her hands shake while dotting the last drop of glue. She presses down a green leaf onto the glue. The sign for the summer gala was now finally done, even if Camille said it looked fine an hour ago—it didn’t. But now, it was perfect. There were green leaves and pink flowers that swooped around the words: “Summer Garden Soirée.”

She leaves the sign to dry and gets up from her seat, seeing Simone and Camille arrange the last centerpiece together at the other end of the ballroom. She sneaks out of it quietly, her legs unbalanced like Bambi on ice.

Aurie’s phone buzzes a couple of times and she digs it out of her pocket and notices it’s a random number calling her. She declines the call, but then a previous message on her lock screen reads: “It’s Brice.”

She sighs, answering his next incoming call. He greets excitedly, “Hey! I’m out shopping for Kylian—uh what color is your dress?”

“My dress?” Aurie furrows her eyebrows.

“Mm-hmm,” he shuffles around, the sound of hangers sliding across the metal bar fills her ear. “For the gala.”

“Uh…” Aurie thinks. She knew the color of her dress but why did they need it? Kylian didn’t say he was coming to the gala. “What for?”

Brice chuckles, “Kylian did say you were stubborn. I need it to match his tie.”

“He isn’t coming tonight.”

Brice pauses on the other line, the sound of him moving hangers comes to a halt, “Oh. Uh—did he not get invited?”

“Brice,” Aurie pauses, utterly confused. She knows nothing about Kylian’s whereabouts. Brice knew more. She sighs deeply, “I mean…yeah he was invited but after everything that happened…I didn’t think he’d be coming.”

“Mm-hmm,” Brice repeats, the metal grinding on metal continues. “Well he said he was gonna be there tonight—”

“News to me,” Aurie mutters, and then closes her eyes and silently curses herself for letting her sarcastic remark slip out.

Brice sighs on the other side, “Aurie…it won’t always be like this…he just has a lot going on right now. I promise he’ll tell you everything when he can. This is the first time something like this has happened.”

Aurie stays quiet, now leaning against the hallway. The first time? What the hell is that supposed to mean? But it is still the same thing everyone has told her. “Yeah…”

“Hang in there,” he encourages.

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles, desperately trying to make her voice strong. Everything about this situation was hard. This wasn’t the same Kylian she had been exposed to—and she was realizing that this is probably how he was before they met—his real self. A glimpse of what their future would be like.

And in all honesty, Aurie wasn’t strong enough for this. She couldn’t bear the silence, not when Kylian seemed to always want to seek her out. Was it because he was forced into her house, so naturally he reached towards her? If he had been in Paris this entire time, and she was visiting him, would things have been different? Or is it—

“Aurie,” Brice says softly, “the color of your dress?”

“Green, like an emerald green,” she answers quickly.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll talk to you later,” he sighs. “Take care, Aurie.”

Aurie hangs up the call as quickly as she can. She closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall. Her phone buzzes again and she audibly groans, but her heart sinks at seeing Kylian’s name pop up…and his smiling photo they took outside when they were chopping wood. His dimple is so deep and pronounced in it.

Her fingers instinctively graze her necklace, the gold daisy he gifted her now a source of comfort. But she couldn’t answer the phone. She couldn’t bring herself to press the ‘accept’ button, which only made her only feel worse. She sighs as it goes to voicemail, and then Kylian sends her a message almost immediately:

I miss you, call me when you can bébé

Aurie frowns at the message, forcing herself to send him one back:

I miss you too, I will

Aurie went home and napped for almost three hours and caught up on sleep she had missed the past couple of days. The window had been patched and fixed by now. Maple still slept in Kylian’s room, while Bleu seemed to be getting much calmer each day. He had been waking up to every slightest bit of noise—the security guards switching, animals rustling around, or even thunderstorms. He would whine or bark so aggressively that Aurie would have to get up and open her bedroom door so that he could go search for the problem.

She had showered and taken her dress and makeup to the nursing home. She got dressed with Maria and Estrella, the two of them filling the room with endless laughs making her forget all about her troubles. Everything seemed insignificant in their presence.

And they looked stunning. They wore matching puffy and ruffled dresses—purple and pink. Their jewelry was simple but elegant with just enough sparkle. They let Aurie do their makeup and it wasn’t like Aurie could do impeccable makeup but it was enough for the gala. Plus, it made them all laugh even more when she messed up.

With the gala set to start in half an hour, Aurie left their room and made her way towards the ballroom. The cake is decorated just as she imagined it, a traditional 3-tier light pink cake with a white border. A couple of decorative butterflies were centered on the top and down one side of it. The photo booth and drop were in a corner, different colors of greenery and flowers made the border. Instead of balloons, it was bunches of flowers that made the booth pop.

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone yells as she catches Aurie off guard. She didn’t hear the ballroom doors open. Simone comes crashing to Aurie’s dress, “The green! So pretty!”

Aurie smiles, watching Simone’s face light up as she looks up at her. Her little yellow poofy dress flowed all the way down to her sparking silver slippers. And that flower crown that Aurie made earlier, on top of Simone’s head proudly. “You look so pretty too, Simi.”

Simone blushes with a smile, “Thank you, I brought you a surprise—look!”

Aurie had been so caught up with Simone that she didn’t even notice someone else walked in behind her. She turns towards the door, and Kylian is standing there in a black tuxedo with a matching green bow tie. He wears a sloppy but nervous grin once Aurie sees him. His hands fidget with the buttons before he clasps them tightly together.

Aurie’s breath hitches, not at all anticipating to see him here. Sure, Brice had let her know, but she didn’t believe him. It was almost like she was getting used to Kylian's absence that she was no longer expecting him to show up when she searched for him. But here he was, standing at the entrance, his eyes twinkling and growing fonder with each passing second.

“I’m going to go find my mommy now,” Simone whispers, making Aurie look down at her with a hesitant but then genuine smile. Simone trots off towards Kylian, his eyes soft as he watches her skip past him and then out the door. They watch her both in silence until the door shuts.

Kylian struts towards Aurie in a few, long strides, kissing her temple and then embracing her firmly. His head fits right into her shoulder as he leans down, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. Aurie’s arms wrap around his back tightly, her head nuzzled into his chest and for the moment she doesn’t even care if makeup transfers onto his tux.

God, she had missed him so much. There was no denying it. She missed his scent, his strong and protective arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She really didn’t want to cry right now but she can’t help it. It felt like she had been holding it all in and now she was finally able to release them. All the unanswered questions, the lack of sleep, the stress—it was all coming out at the wrong time.

Kylian hugs her tighter, his hands wrapping tightly on her lower back. “I know,” he repeats.

“Kylian,” she croaks.

He cradles the back of her head with his hand, holding her close to him. “I’m sorry, Aurèle.”

“Stop apologizing,” she mumbles, her voice trembling as she sniffles. “I’ve ruined my makeup.”

He chuckles softly, “We can fix it.”

“And your tux.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes softly. He hated seeing her like this and if his week wasn’t so fucking hectic, he wouldn’t have made her feel like this. He kisses her temple and leaves his lips pressed up against it. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” her voice trembles as she speaks. Kylian’s heart sinks.

He pulls his head away from her slowly, far enough to see her confused and hurt eyes. Her makeup messed up from her tears. He frowns, “Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Just tell me,” she pleads—demands.

Kylian purses his lips, glancing around at the ballroom. It was so beautiful that he momentarily got distracted with it, and he looked at all the decorations that he knew she had been working hard on. His fingers press into her lower back more firmly.

“It’s only us in here,” she waves around. He would have chuckled at her sassiness any other time but he can’t seem to find the courage to do so now.

He looks back at her, searching her eyes and his knees buckle at the sight. They’re patient, full of adoration—but hurt. Gleaming with tears of confusion, anger, and exhaustion. He sighs, “I’m moving to Madrid. It was finalized this week.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Her eyebrows raise softly and that is all the emotion she expressed. She isn’t confused or hurt…she’s…unreadable. He can’t decipher her look.

“Oh,” she says.

Kylian furrows his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue, but she never does.

A part of Aurie feels relieved, that his silence was warranted. It was a big deal. It was a huge deal. This silence was possibly just a single occurrence and most likely wouldn’t happen again. All the cryptic messages from him, Martin, Dr. Minic, and Brice—they all made sense. It all made sense. Sure, they still have much to say, but with maybe fifteen minutes until the doors opened, they couldn’t hash out everything right here.

“Okay,” she says, blowing a relieved sigh.

“Okay?”

“You want this right?”

He nods slowly, confused, “Yeah…” His hands let go of her waist and rested on his own hips. “That’s it?”

“Well we certainly can’t talk about this right now,” Aurie says. “Congratulations though, Kylian. For going to Real Madrid, I hear that’s a great team.”

Kylian chuckles, still slightly confused, “You’re being weird, but thank you.”

Aurie smiles, her hand capturing his palm as she leads him out of the ballroom. With their hands intertwined, they walk to the front of the nursing home to retrieve Aurie’s makeup bag. As they enter one of the restrooms, she locks the door.

“I’m happy for you, Kylian,” she says truthfully, “I kind of remember the whole thing about you and Madrid some years ago.” They share a small laugh. “So I’m glad it worked out.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

Aurie stands in front of the mirror and wipes her face with a makeup towel as Kylian comes behind her and slides his hands around her waist. His frontside bumps into her backside and he kisses her neck, smiling bashfully at her, “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I couldn’t—and still can’t—so you don’t know anything. It’s a secret.”

Aurie chuckles as she reapplies her makeup. She doesn’t put too much on this time because she knows the night might call for more tears.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he sighs heavily against her shoulder, his eyes peering up at hers in the mirror as he tucks his head into her neck. His lips graze her skin tenderly, pecking the skin before he fully rests his chin against her shoulder. His arms bring her into an actual embrace from behind. Her body flushes against his and they both share a sigh. Full of longing, more unspoken words, but for now, they are soaking in each other’s breath as if they need it to survive.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’ve missed you too.”

“If I could’ve handled that situation any better, I would’ve, chérie. I would’ve flown you with me to Madrid.”

“You went to Madrid?” she furrowed her eyebrows, a small chuckle rising out of her.

His knees buckle at the feel of her laugh against him, “Yeah.” He sighs softly. “I did, to discuss further with Florentino Pérez.”

“That is so…cool,” Aurie says, amazed. He laughs when he sees her eyes full of wonder in the mirror. “You can just get on a plane and fly.”

Kylian’s chest rumbles again with another laugh, “Why is that? Do you want to get a plane and just go away too?”

Aurie shrugs. After the week from hell she’s had, she wouldn’t mind dropping it off and forgetting all about her troubles to rest at some unknown location. Even if her main trouble was staring right back at her, it would be better than the shitty week she endured.

Kylian notices the slight drop in Aurie’s eyes and squeezes her hips firmly again. He brings his head up to kiss her cheek, languidly and chaste. “I’m really sorry, Aurèle. I’ve felt awful ever since I left that day. Had I known I wasn't going to see you for a week, I would’ve held you a little tighter that night and told you right then and there but it just happened.”

Aurie blinks away the tears, “Kylian, stop talking please. We can talk about all of this later okay? I promise. I just can’t right now—I know you didn’t mean it.”

Kylian nods slowly as he stands up straighter. His hands remain on her waist and the fleeting thought of her avoidance invades his mind. “Don’t avoid this, Aurie.”

She turns around to face him, the makeup brush stops mid-motion. “I’m not. The gala is about to start in five minutes.”

“I know, but,” he sighs, “I don’t want us to go long without talking.”

“We aren’t,” she promises again. Her voice is unwavering as she says it and he hates that he came at a bad time. Hates that his flight was delayed because if he had come the original time, they would’ve had an hour to catch up and resolve their issues.

Aurie senses the doubt on Kylian’s features and so she soothes her hand across his freshly-shaved jaw, “I’m not running away from this, Kylian.”

“Okay,” he whispers softly. He leans in to kiss the space between her brows and then kisses her lips softly.

She chuckles, “I’m almost done here.”

Kylian instinctively grins as he lets her turn around to finish her makeup. He glances at himself in the mirror to make sure his tux still appeared fine, and there was a small spot of makeup that had rubbed off from Aurie but it was unnoticeable. He adjusts his bowtie and then slips his hand onto Aurie’s back. He wants to steal every moment of her that he can, especially after experiencing how his life would be without her.

A chill runs down Kylian’s back at the possibility. The sudden realization that Aurie probably wouldn’t be coming with him to Madrid and his face stills. His eyes land on her daisy necklace as he thinks—horrifically—his life without her presence now. He’s gotten so used to her the past month that the one week away from her was enough to make him groan into the pillows at night and stare aimlessly into every empty seat. A week that felt so long—

Aurie spins around, snapping Kylian out of his thoughts, and his hand rests now against her hip.

“Let’s go,” she beams and clasps her hands with his. He swallows his emotions down harshly as he follows her. He masks his face quickly once he sees Camille and Simone, Raphael tailing the two of them.

Across the corridor, a couple of guests and their family members begin to trickle into the ballroom. Aurie leaps out of Kylian’s hand and he lets her go do her job, wistfully smiling from across the corridor. Simone chases after her happily, giggling cheerfully. Camille steals a glance at Kylian and notes how content he looks.

The gala proceeds as planned; Aurie camps out at the photodrop section because all the residents want a photo with her. She doesn’t mind it at all. Kylian shares his fair share of taking photos and autographs as well, even dancing with many residents who were left unimpressed with his hesitant dancing skills but they let him lead anyway. Kylian’s politeness and charm woo the residents’ families.

Kylian steals a couple of photos with Aurie and Simone at the photo booth, making silly faces with the both of them. Simone wraps her arms around both him and Aurie as he holds her up.

The dinner portion of the gala goes smoothly as planned, there is even food leftover for seconds. Kylian and Aurie sit together with Camille, Raphael, and Simi. But as the hostess Aurie is, she can barely eat or sit down. Her mind is on too many different things—the DJ, the small mishap with a bouquet on the photodrop getting loose, and making sure that everyone actually gets a plate of food. Even with the help of volunteers from the local university and staff working to make sure the event goes smoothly, Aurie has to be in the middle of it to confirm everything is good. Eventually, she sits back down at the table and Kylian encourages her to eat but her bites are small.

Later on, he dances with her to two songs—he takes count because he stepped on her heels a couple of times and he felt bad. Aurie only encouraged him though, never chastising him or getting upset. The sound of the music drowned out that he could only hear her giggles in his ear and the feel of her hands wrapped around his neck.

Even with Aurie and him separated for most of the night, it didn’t stop him from constantly stealing glances of her from across the room. His eyes would focus on anything and everything when he looked her way, such as her necklace or her smile that never failed to make his knees buckle.

Now, as Aurie takes a breather outside in the corridor of the gala, she runs into her two favorite troublemakers, Maria and Estrella.

“What are you two doing out here?” she announces with a smile, sipping on her cup of water. The two women startle and then turn around in their walkers. Their faces trying to recover after being caught red handed. Aurie’s smirk only grows. “What is it?”

Estrella laughs, her pink gown sparkling against the corridor’s lights, “We were just having a break.”

“Really?”

Maria nods, “Estrella is escaping Claude. He won’t stop talking!”

The three of them share a laugh. Aurie walks closer to them and leans against the wall, resting her head on it with a somber smile.

“What’s the matter, Aurèle?” Maria inquires, her face immediately etching with concern. Estrella follows suit and steps closer gingerly.

“Nothing,” Aurie smiles softly. “I am just thinking…tonight has gone better than I expected. Everyone looks like they are having a good time.”

“Well of course, you are always the best planner,” Maria says. “Do you remember when you organized that dinner and we ran out of sides? Many of the residents were upset and it was your first week here, but you quickly found a solution and it was perfect.”

Aurie smiles again at the memory, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Plus, Simi and the other kids make us feel young,” Estrella adds. “And that boy of yours, Kylian. He is a charmer—can work on his dancing skills though.”

Aurie snorts, “He tries.”

Estrella gives her another look, “What’s really bothering you?”

Aurie deeply exhales. “What do you guys think about Kylian?”

“He really loves you, darling,” Maria smiles. “I remember my love like that. It’s beautiful to witness.”

“I know,” Aurie says truthfully. It scares her that she knows exactly what Kylian’s love entails and how deeply it shows. Even with their week apart and their short time together, it was difficult for it all to be a cruel ruse. “But the famous part of him…the side of him that is going to Madrid. With crazy fans…harsh critics. A huge life. That side of him?”

Maria and Estrella share a look with each other. The mischievous mood of the corridor had quickly turned pensive. The ballroom’s door suddenly opens up and the three of them turn around quickly. It is just another resident making their way to the restroom. Maria says, “Do you want to go out in the garden to talk more?”

“Sure,” Aurie says softly, walking in between the two women. “You guys are great.”

Estrella chuckles, “We know you have been working hard for this. So let’s go outside so you can get a breather.”

Aurie snickers although her heart feels heavy. If she were to move to Madrid, she would miss this. She would leave this life behind. It would mean leaving the nursing home that her mother worked so hard on shaming her for working there. The coworkers and friends at the hospital and nursing home that she has made along the way, she would leave them too. Two places that drew her back to her real self, especially the home. Without this place, she would still be a physio for PSG, feeling miserable because keeping up with the workload was too much for her. Every day she felt like she was drowning. She never felt like she was underwater here, even when her first week had been so rocky and the residents were reluctant to trust her.

She memorizes the cream-colored painted walls and white tiles as they lead up to a set of doors. The night sky is in full effect, with glittering stars and a crescent moon. She smiles as she sits down. Maria and Estrella gingerly set their walkers aside and sit down on the bench on either side of her.

“Do you love him?” Maria asks.

Aurie simpers, “Yeah.” She looks at Maria, “I do…it would just be so fast. I barely met the man almost a month and some weeks ago.”

Maria chuckles, “I married my husband after three weeks of knowing him. We were married until he passed, for 57 years.”

Aurie bursts into a small laugh, “Three weeks?! That is too fast.”

“You love him though?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Would you be able to uproot your life to live with him at least?” Estrella asks. “If he really is going to Madrid like the rumors say…would you be able to do that? To try?”

Aurie freezes momentarily. Sure she was just thinking about the possibility but she hadn’t come up with an answer. It was too soon to say.

“I don’t know,” Aurie says. “I’ve left here many times and still always come back.”

“Can you imagine a life in Madrid at least?” Estrella proposes. Her hand touches where Aurie’s knee would be over her dress.

Aurie stills. Images of her in the Santiago Bernabéu appear and while the two of them seem happy, it feels empty to imagine her life without the nursing home.

Maria says, “You need to go, Aurie. If it doesn’t work out, you will always have here. You have so much life and love to give. If you don’t go for him, go for yourself. Explore Madrid. Pretend it’s a vacation if you will.”

Aurie chuckles softly, “That is absurd, Maria. This is my home.”

“You can always visit home, Aurèle,” Estrella sighs. “You don’t have to live with him immediately…like a trial run.”

Aurie snorts, “You guys, do you hear yourselves? What will happen here while I’m gone on this ‘vacation’ and ‘trial run?’” Aurie makes quotation marks with her fingers. “To uproot my entire life for a man…I mean? It sounds a little pathetic.”

For the first time in a long time, Aurie’s mother, Elina, sneaks into her head again. That chasing and following Kylian would ruin her. Maybe Elina was right. Maybe she was seeing Kylian’s plan all along.

“Aurèle,” Estrella snaps her fingers in front of her face. “It’s not pathetic, you know why? Because you are able to afford it. You are able to afford to try it out. You have time to see if it works. You have the skill and power to find a job over there—although you wouldn’t need money with that man’s kind of pockets.”

Maria interrupts with a chuckle and Aurie smiles sadly.

“And what have you done when it hasn’t worked?” Estrella asks rhetorically. “You’ve picked yourself up and kept going. Tenías ganas. You did that, no one else.”

Aurie feels the few tears that slip out and once they start, she can’t stop them. Tears stream down her face as she tries to wipe them away. The girls pull her into a side hug and lay their heads down onto her shoulders which only makes her cry harder.

“What about you two?” she asks with a wobbly voice.

“We will be fine,” Maria says. “Do not worry about us. You will always have us.”

“Phones work too,” Estrella adds and it makes the other two laugh.

“Plus,” Maria continues, “you can always visit us. Knowing you, you would probably come every two weeks.”

Aurie laughs as she wipes the tears, feeling a little better. She could always visit. Kylian had a jet that he could fly anywhere with and even if she couldn’t use that because let’s be honest, she wouldn’t want to, she could find a commercial flight.

“We will miss you certainly,” Estrella says, “but you won’t really be gone. There will always be a piece of you here.”

Aurie smiles fondly, wrapping her arms around the two bestfriends, “If I do end up leaving, I am going to miss you both so much.”

“‘If?’” Maria and Estrella shriek.

“We didn’t do all this crying for nothing!” Estrella chastises. “I will book your flight tonight.”

Aurie laughs loudly, “No, no, I am kidding. But seriously, Kylian hasn’t asked me to move anywhere, and if he does, it will still be my decision in the end.”

They nod understandably. “Yeah-mmkay.”

Aurie snickers, “I’m glad it took the possibility of me leaving for you two to show your true colors. Who knew you two loved me so much.”

“Oh Aurie—”

“You are full of jokes today—”

Aurie laughs again and unwraps her arms around them, “Thank you for this. I needed to get more tears out and this was perfect.”

“Of course, princesa,” Estrella smiles. “Always breaks our hearts to see you sad.”

“I know,” Aurie wipes her face more. “I am just emotional.”

Maria agrees and helps clean Aurie’s makeup with a tissue from her small purse, “Why even put makeup on if you will cry it off?”

“I know, I know,” Aurie repeats, enjoying getting pampered by her. They never let her look like a fool. Something they kept true since when Aurie first met them, and they let Aurie know her hair was all kinds of messed up from the bad weather.

The three of them make it back to the gala without a batted eye in their direction, seamlessly blending into the crowd. Kylian was too engrossed in conversation with a collection of teenage boys that were related to the residents. He was sitting in a chair, relaxed with his legs open and his arms resting against the empty seat next to him. His eyes were in deep concentration as he gave the boys advice on how to improve their football and mental skills.

Aurie notices him immediately and lets him continue the conversation. She mingles around with the other guests and makes sure all the refreshments are stocked. Raphael and Simone are sitting down at the table. Simone’s head is resting against her father’s shoulder as he holds her in his lap. Raphael now wears the flower crown, Simone most likely putting it on him. Aurie grabs two lemonades and heads in that direction.

Raphael gives her a kind smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Aurie smiles, gently tapping Simone’s back. Her hair is disheveled and her shoes scraped up. She peers up to look at her and gives her a tired smile. “Tired, Simi?”

Simone nods sleepily, “I ran too much with the other kids.”

“Aww,” Aurie chuckles, glancing back at Raphael.

“She’ll sleep well tonight.”

“She will,” Aurie agrees. “Where’s Camille?”

Raphael looks in the direction he last saw her, “Restroom, although I think she was trying to find you. Where did you go anyway?”

“To the garden with Maria and Estrella.”

“Ah,” he tsks, motioning to the cup of lemonade. Aurie nods and pushes it towards him for him to sip. Simone’s eyes blink heavily.

The two of them chat longer briefly until Aurie gets up to mingle with more guests. And as she crosses an empty table, Kylian grabs her forearm gently, “Sit.”

“Sit?” she looks up at him with a surprised smile. “Hello to you too, princess.”

Kylian rolls his eyes, feigning to be flustered, “You gotta eat something because I know you will want to help tearing all of this down.” He pulls a chair open with his foot and motions her down. He slides the plate of food in front of her. Aurie chuckles as she sits down in the propped seat. As Kylian sits down beside her, he kisses her cheek.

Aurie does just that. She eats while Kylian talks about his conversation with the teenage boys and the guests.

“You owe many people dances,” he mentions. “The ladies weren’t happy with my skills…and the men kept coming up to ask me if it was okay to dance with ‘my woman’ and I said yes.” Kylian grins cheekily.

“Why would you say that?” Aurie chuckles, not upset at all, just endeared from his reaction.

Kylian shrugs, “I liked the sound of them calling you my girlfriend, my girl, or my lady as some of them said.”

Aurie cringes, feeling older with the formality. “‘Lady?’”

Kylian chuckles and sits up to kiss her cheek, his arm resting around her seat, “My lady. You forgot a word, mon amour.”

Aurie’s cheeks warm at Kylian’s excited rant, his hands jesting around in the air. His continuous rambling should be annoying but it’s like music to her eyes. She hadn’t heard his voice the past week and hearing it all once again, it made her content. Such a simple sound, and it was all hers. Right here in front of her.

As she finishes her food, she clasps her hands with his underneath the table on her knee. He smiles when he feels it, pulling her empty plate off to the side so that he can lean against the table with his elbow propped up. His smile falters, “You…took off your makeup? Or some of it?”

Aurie’s smile wavers. “Do you have to notice everything?” Always so attentive.

“What was it?”

“I cried some more outside with Maria and Estrella.”

“Ah,” he frowns. His thumb strokes Aurie’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

Kylian’s hand squeezes hers in a sign of reassurance. The pads of his fingertips bristle over her nails. “Okay.”

FIVE HOURS BEFORE

Kylian could practically hear the blood pumping through heart as the rain storm raged through Madrid. His palms were sweaty as he looked out the plane’s window. His flight was already set to be delayed an hour now and he was running out of time to find a tuxedo.

“Relax, I can go to the store real quick,” Brice suggested, watching Kylian’s face grow anxious the longer they sat on the tarmac. His bouncing knee was bound to burn a hole through the plane’s floor.

Kylian shook his head. “We’re gonna be too late.”

“No we aren’t. The dance will probably be three hours long so that gives us more time.”

“I need to talk to her beforehand, I can’t just walk up in there,” Kylian groaned, rubbing his face with his face. “She’ll be upset. And most of all, she deserves an explanation for my silence.”

Brice exhaled softly, staring across the small space at his best friend. “She’ll understand. She’s…sensible.”

Kylian snorted. “Too sensible. She probably wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Would you though?” Brice questioned and Kylian quieted down as he opened his eyes. He wouldn’t. That wasn’t the time nor place to talk about why he’s been gone. He should’ve never been absent in the first place. But one missed phone call after the other and it began to get pathetic to continue apologizing for it. He could tell she felt the shift as well—who wouldn’t—through her short responses.

And god did he miss her. He hated being away from her for so long without a proper goodbye.

Brice shuffled up to his feet, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “You stay here, I’m gonna find you a tuxedo.”

Kylian sighed, his head rolling as he watched him walk by. “And if the plane takes off?”

“It won’t, but if it does, I’ll just have it transferred to a store in Paris and someone will give it to you there when you land,” Brice reassured. “Just relax. It won’t bring you any help if you see Aurie and you feel anxious.”

Kylian nodded wordlessly, watching Brice exit the plane swiftly and then jog into a black van. He was beginning to accept that they wouldn’t have much time to talk when he did arrive before the gala began. With the minimum two hour flight and hour drive out of Paris, it would be a miracle if he even had a moment to share with Aurie.

Screw it, he thought.

Bouncing up from his seat he raced out of the flight and caught up to the van, knocking on the dew-plastered window before it drove off. Brice opened the door confused. “What?”

“Move over,” Kylian said, his eyebrows pinching as he felt droplets land on him.

Brice slid over to the other seat beside him without saying a word. Kylian couldn’t stand being on a plane alone with nothing to distract him for who knows how long.

Mac and Paul sat quietly in the front seat and they drove them to a Dior store. It was unusual for Kylian to not have a tuxedo ready on hand for an event like this but truthfully, all of his old tuxedos were too fancy for the occasion. He could’ve gone with a suit, but he wanted to be a bit more dressed up for Aurie.

And while his measurements were already on hand with Brice—and Dior—he still needed to pick it up and the downpour was making it difficult for anyone to drive to the airport to drop it off in time.

Although it seemed like they had all the damn time in the world now.

Kylian cursed softly as the rain got heavier once they entered the bustling streets of Madrid. The rain on the window blurred everything in his view.

Once the van halted, Brice and Kylian rushed out with their heads ducked. Paul was right on their side, attempting to hold out an umbrella for them but they rushed inside too fast that it was no use.

“What’s the color of her dress?” Brice asked.

“Green,” Kylian said, eyeing the racks of the suits.

“There’s hundreds of shades of green, Ky, what kind of green?”

Kylian paused at the associate coming up to him with the tuxedo in tow. Kylian grabbed it politely and held it over the back of shoulder before he glanced at Brice.

He had no idea what color green it was. He didn’t think to ask, barely even finding it out that it was green in general—was it even green? The more he thought of it, the more he doubted.

Brice’s face dropped. “You forgot?”

Kylian rubbed his face in despair. He was going to lose it. He was so tired, desperately needing sleep because the past couple of days he rarely got any. And not being able to talk to Aurie drained him.

He pursed his lips, the hand gripping onto the hanger of the tuxedo becoming like a lifeline.

Brice pulled his phone out of his pocket, promptly tapping along it and then holding it up his ear. He stood close to Kylian and scooted the other suits on the rack to calm himself down. They were both getting frustrated.

Brice tsks to himself when the call declines, immediately tapping the contact again and sending them a text. Kylian furrowed his eyebrows, trying to lean in closer to make out who the other person was.

He calls them again and masks his annoyance with enthusiasm. “Hey! I'm out shopping for Kylian—uh what color is your dress?”

Kylian’s eyes bulged as he overheard his words, reaching out for Brice’s phone. Pivoting his body, Brice bumped into the racks again and tried to straighten out the hangers. He successfully shielded his phone from Kylian.

“My dress?” Kylian overheard, stilling at her voice.

“Mm-hmm,” Brice nods with a scowl in Kylian’s direction. Fixing the hangers, he glared at Kylian. “For the gala.”

“Uh…” Aurie thought. Kylian’s hands paused on Brice’s forearm. “What for?”

Kylian can’t tell if the noise that comes out of Brice is a snort or a chuckle. “Kylian did say you were stubborn. I need it to match his tie.”

“He isn't coming tonight,” she responded. They halted in their fussing, Kylian stared at Brice in shock, his lips parting softly.

“Oh,” Brice said. Kylian urged him to continue the conversation with the flick of his hand. “Uh—did he not get invited?”

“Brice,” Aurie started and her tone stabbed Kylian right into his chest. He grimaced, rubbing the spot, she sounded upset and confused. “I mean…yeah he was invited but after everything that happened…I didn't think he'd be coming.”

Kylian sighed, rubbing his head. God he was going to get a headache, he could feel it. All of this miscommunication was stupid and unnecessary. Why did he have to keep it a secret anyway?

“Mm-hmm,” Brice mumbled, sliding the hangers to grab Kylian’s attention. He knew his best friend was starting to feel discouraged about the whole ordeal. “Well he said he was gonna be there tonight—”

“News to me.”

Kylian felt gutted hearing her remark and he shook his head quickly. Brice shouldn’t make any more promises to her because with the way this weather was, who knew if he was actually going to make it?! Despite the tightness in his chest, he motioned for Brice to end the phone call. He’ll buy every shade of green he has to.

Brice sighed, watching Kylian’s shoulders deflate and ignoring his plea. “Aurie…it won't always be like this…he just has a lot going on right now. I promise he'll tell you everything when he can. This is the first time something like this has happened.”

Kylian groaned, closing his eyes. It took a while for Aurie to respond and when she did, her voice sounded so small that Kylian could barely hear it. “Yeah…”

“Hang in there,” Brice encouraged, flickering his eyes towards Kylian.

Another agonizing moment goes by while Kylian eyes the green ties and bow ties. Maybe he could sneak in to get a look at her dress and then fix the tie onto himself in the parking lot. Hell, did he even really need a bow tie at this point?

“Aurie,” Brice said softly, getting Kylian’s attention. “The color of your dress?”

“Green, like an emerald green,” she answered quickly.

Of course it was, like the color of most of her plants. He should’ve known that.

“Okay, thank you. I'll talk to you later,” Brice sighed. “Take care, Aurie.”

Once he ended the call, Kylian looked at him remorsefully.

“Yeah, she’s upset,” Brice said curtly.

Kylian huffed, exiting the store with his tuxedo, leaving Brice to pick out a bow tie. He needed to call Aurie.

Once in the car, Paul shut the door behind him while he found Aurie’s contact quickly—it being his most recent—and called her. With each hum of the ringtone, his knee bounced and shook the car. The tuxedo was loosely draped across the seat and at this point he didn’t care if it got wrinkled.

“C’mon, Aurie,” he muttered.

But the call didn’t go through. It went to her voicemail, causing him to groan loudly.

He hesitated to call again. She was upset, no doubt about it. Hurt most likely.

He sighed, sending her a text instead:

I miss you, call me when you can bébé

He watched as the message was read and then saw her type a message back. He held his breath, hoping that the typing bubbles wouldn’t disappear.

I miss you too, I will

He frowned and shut his phone off. He didn’t have time to think about the message because Brice came in, tossing the green bow tie and receipt towards Kylian’s lap.

“Why are you upset?” Kylian asked, confused, although there was a slight irritation in his tone.

“Because, whatever is going on between you could’ve been avoided,” Brice exhaled sharply and clicked his seatbelt after he moved Kylian’s tuxedo.

“I know, but it’s been a hectic week, I couldn’t tell her,” Kylian defended himself.

“Yeah but saying something—anything, really—is better than not saying anything at all. I mean come on, Kylian, how much do you actually like her to be treating her like this?”

Kylian gaped but Brice shook his head.

“No,” Brice grumbled. “She’s perfect for you. I don’t get why you’re acting like a child.”

“I want to tell her but it has to be in person. I can’t even tell anyone yet.”

“But Aurie is different,” Brice sighed. “She isn’t just ‘anyone’ right? Or so I thought.”

Kylian pursed his lips. No, Aurie wasn’t just someone. She was someone he cared about, deeply and quickly, but still struggled to show it. Even with the tumultuous week he went through this week, he should’ve spared more time for her.

His trip to Madrid was abrupt and quickly planned by his mother and Florentino Pérez. One day he was in front of Dr. Minic and Martin for another mental evaluation and rehab, and the next day he was in Madrid getting tests done on his physical fitness.

It all went too fast.

Way too fast for Kylian to catch his breath and tell Aurie.

“I know,” Kylian sighed.

Brice eyed him, his disapproval slowly dissipating when he saw how stressed Kylian was. His eyes stared blankly at the back of the driver’s seat. Brice exhaled, “I know this is the first time something like this happened, the timing of everything and all, and you’re handling a lot of stuff at once, but don’t push her away and expect her to welcome you with open arms. You screwed up—sure—but Aurie is reasonable, she’ll understand if you just tell her the truth.”

Kylian nodded, digesting Brice’s words as he continued staring ahead with a dull gaze.

In the midst of Kylian droning his thoughts away, they return to the airport and climb up the jet’s stairs. The rain stopped and they took off about half an hour later.

Two hours later, Kylian was jolted awake in his seat by Brice.

“Come on,” he motioned, holding both his and Kylian’s bag on his shoulders. Kylian stood up and grabbed his bag from him and then tuxedo bag.

“What time is it?”

Brice tilted his head, his lips tight, “You have maybe an hour and a half. Probably just thirty minutes by the time we get to the gala.”

“Where’s your suit?” Kylian realized, barely noticing that Brice only had the suit he took to Madrid somewhere in his bag.

“I’m not going, but you are,” Brice reassured him as they climbed into the car. “However, you do have to get ready in the car.”

Kylian sighed. This wasn’t his first time getting ready in a car and most likely wouldn’t be his last. Each time he hated it, the height was entirely too small to maneuver around in there.

He would be fine without Brice at the gala but it would’ve been nice to have alongside him to calm him down.

Kylian undressed and dressed fast in the back seat, adjusting his bow tie over and over again. Finally when they arrived at the nursing home, Kylian was able to adjust his tuxedo better outside of the car and then quickly walk in to find Aurie.

Inside, he was met with the familiar walls he would walk through for Aurie’s bingo sessions with the residents. Turning the corner, he ran into Simone.

“Kee-lan!” she cheesed and pulled him into a hug. Her arms barely reached around his thighs as he bent down properly to give her a hug.

“Hey,” he beamed, adjusting the flower crown on her head. “What are you doing here alone?”

“I’m not alone,” she replied, pointing a nimble finger at a door that was opening. Camille and Raphael walked out of a small room in their matching purple dress and suit respectively.

They smiled at Kylian, greeting him warmly before Simone looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “You want to see Tatie Aurie?”

Kylian chuckled, his cheeks flushing with heat, “Yeah.”

“Okay, follow me,” she smiled and led him to the ballroom doors. “I haven’t seen her yet too.”

Kylian’s hands shook as he adjusted the buttons of his tux. Simone was doing good at distracting him but once they stopped at the door, he gulped.

“In here,” Simon paused and pointed at the doorknob. Her small hand reached out towards the handle and pulled it down, opening the door wide enough for the both of them to fit. He found Aurie before Simone could. His breath caught in his throat as he took in her stunning dress and pure beauty. His hands stopped trembling as he watched her adjust a centerpiece. His damn knees wanted to buckle.

Simone took off running and screamed, “Tatie Aurie!”

Kylian’s thoughts blurred as he watched them hug, his mind racing with what he should say first and what he could save for later. All his thoughts jumbled together in her presence that they didn't quiet down until her eyes landed on his.

PRESENT

Kylian watches blissfully as Aurie dances with the guests he promised would get time with her. She moves effortlessly on the floor, her steps light and her smile unwavering, as if she’s free from all worries. The sight warms Kylian’s heart.

Simone rests peacefully against his shoulder. Kylian had suggested Raphael switch off holding her so Raphael and Camille could share a dance, and he was grateful that Simone occupied his arms, providing an excuse to avoid the dance floor.

Time passes slowly, but Kylian doesn’t mind it. He’d rather soak in the gala that Aurie had been perfecting for weeks now. Every few minutes, her eyes find him with a radiant smile, and his fingers itch to reach out and touch her.

As the song changes, Camille approaches Kylian from behind, startling him as she appears beside him.

She chuckles, “Sorry, here I’ll take Simi.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. Camille’s hair is now frizzy, her skin glimmers with a small layer of sweat.

She nods. “Rafa and I danced too hard and now we need a breather.”

Kylian chuckles, carefully standing up and passing a sleeping Simone to her mother. Her small frame cuddles into Camille’s chest as Kylian pulls the seat out for her to sit in.

“Thank you,” Camille smiles. Kylian shimmies off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over a chair nearby. He loosens the cuffs of his sleeves and heads toward a glowing Aurie.

As she notices him, her eyes light up with a sparkling smile, and he laughs nervously. She thanks her previous partner for the dance and wraps her arms around Kylian’s neck when they meet.

He kisses her nose as his hands settle on her waist. “Having fun?”

“Lots,” she smiles. She pecks his lips and then sways him to the slow rhythm of the song. Her fingers play with the collar of his white dress shirt. “You look really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he simpers. “You look stunning. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you all night.”

Aurie’s cheeks warm, and then her smile dips. Her hands tighten around his neck and he raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he whispers.

“I want to meet your family,” she admits. “I know I don’t have the best track record of families and mine is small, but…I want to meet yours. Soon. Plan it on my calendar and everything.”

Kylian's smile widens. “Okay. How about in two days?”

“Deal.”

Aurie leans in to kiss him, the kiss chaste and delicate, without an urgency but a promise. Kylian has rarely ever invited a girl to meet his parents, let alone the rest of the family. And Aurie, always reluctant to meet parents not just because of her time working in pediatrics, but of what this particular set of parents meant.

Of what it could mean for the future.

-------

Note: So sorry for the longest delay I’ve ever had, was on my last year of uni and yeah…life happened. Experienced many joys and lows over the last bouts of months, met a bunch of great people, stepped out of my comfort zone, and studied hard while dabbling in many outings. Not only that but I felt inspired to write for a couple of different players and scenarios and kept feeling stuck on this particular story, but I’m starting to find my groove back. Hopefully if all goes well, this story will at least have one more chapter (the epilogue) or two. Thank you for everyone who stuck by this story. It’s been fun closing the journey of Aurie and Kylian and I can’t wait to finish it soon, not only for you but for me. (:

Taglist: @karotland @mrs-bellingham @kylianswifey @kymb-10 @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

#kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fic #em.writes #comme les fleurs

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 9 months ago

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Unconventional Flowers Event - March

Birthday Chrysanthemums ft Yuta

A/N: March prompt for my Unconventional Flowers Event. And a belated happy birthday to Yuta! All images have been credited at the bottom of the post. Hope you like it @sehunaeri.

Rating: E, fluffy

Pairing: Yuta x reader

Word Count: 933

Yuta awakens abruptly, swearing he felt a breeze rush over him only to see the curtains still closed, hazy streaks of sunlight flowing through the window.

He blinks, trying to come back to reality, staring at the white ceiling of his dorm room, before stretching and yawning widely. He sits up, then pauses as he sees a small bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums set on his study table. Curious, he reaches out and pulls a card from between the stems.

Happy birthday Yuta! Yellow for the cutest fellow! Anyway, if you want to find out who sent these, just crack the clues!Clue 1: Where students learn to control cursed energy, seek the first clue underneath the oldest tree in the courtyard.

Yuta feels a slight flush creep into his face as he reads the first line, a grin spreading across his face as he finishes reading the rest of the card. A secret admirer on his birthday?

He quickly gets ready for the day and heads out of his dorm, card in hand. This was a relatively easy clue, and as he walked into the main courtyard, his eyes quickly scanned the ancient tree that was rumored to have been the focal point around which the high school was built. The enormous oak tree stood proudly, its trunk thick and knotted, branches spreading out to form a lush canopy. Wandering in circles around the tree, he spied another brightly colored chrysanthemum, orange this time, tucked away neatly in one of the high branches. Yuta pauses for a second, looking around to see if anything could help him reach the tall branch but nothing is within sight.

He sighs. He’s never been much of a tree climber but here goes nothing…He hesitantly hops to grab one of the lower branches and pull himself up. He’s never gotten over his fear of heights and keeps his eyes trained upwards, focusing on the little bloom following branch after branch, until he reaches out a slightly shaky hand to grab it.

“Well whoever it is can climb trees…good to know…” he mutters to himself as he balances himself on the branches and quickly reads the second clue.

Clue 2: Amongst the relics of the past, search for the classroom where disasters were forecast.

Yuta carefully puts the flower and the note into his pocket and awkwardly shimmies down the tree, feet uncertainly probing the space below him for assurance of a branch until he’s safely back on the ground. He peruses the note again.

“Disasters were forecast…in the past…” He remembers the past year and the events of the Night Parade…Didn’t Gojo collect them all in a classroom to inform them what to expect before sending them off?

He finds the classroom and enters it, feeling an odd wave of nostalgia overtake him. Had it really been more than a year ago that he’d stood in this classroom, scared, unable to let go of Rika, and doubting his sorcerer abilities? He finds himself marveling at his own growth as he wanders around the empty classroom, running a finger over the desks as he walks. It doesn’t take him long to find a pink flower hidden away in one of the desks and the accompanying clue.

Clue 3: Beneath the celestial glow, find the place where the protection barriers flow.

Yuta ponders on the clue. The obvious answer here would be Tengen’s barrier but to access that…

It takes him a good while to find the entrance, and it’s well past noon when he does. When he finally gets to the elevator, he’s surprised and relieved to find the next chrysanthemum taped to the corner, violet this time. Despite his enthusiasm to get to the end, hunger was chipping away at his interest.

Clue 4: So close to the end, go to the place where people meet their friends

Strong instinct tells him it’s going to be near the vending machines and he hopes he’s right as he trudges towards them, the walk quite long from Tengen’s elevator. As he approaches them, the shade from the building soothing after walking in the sun, he sees a red chrysanthemum stuck to the side of one of the vending machines. He takes it, and reads the final note.

Turn around.

Your presence is quietly announced as he turns around, his eyes glittering as he finally sees who it is.

“Y/n!”

You smile at his slightly disheveled appearance from running around all day. “Yeah. Me. I hope you didn’t mind the little treasure hunt I orchestrated.”

He approaches you, a smile breaking out on his own face, the red chrysanthemum in hand.

“I take it you kept all the flowers?”

“Yes, of course!’ Yuta fiddles in his pockets to pull out the rest of the blooms.

“Well, let me explain then.” You tap each flower as you speak. “Yellow for happiness, and I hope you always have it. Orange for excitement because I hope your life is never boring. Pink for friendship, because you deserve people who support you. Violet for thoughtfulness because you are so considerate to those around you.”

You pause as you touch the red one. “And red for love.” You look into his eyes, blushing slightly but determined to get your point across. “Because I have feelings for you.”

Yuta’s face mimics yours, blushing crimson, and he chuckles softly. “Wow y/n. I’ve never had anyone confess to me before.”

“Happy birthday,” you say softly. He responds by pulling you into a hug, and you embrace him back, knowing this was the start of something special.

all dividers by @/ cafekitsune

Yuta icon from @/ icrevert

#yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu fluff #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x y/n #unconventional flowers event #vee writes #yuta okkotsu jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk yuta #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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daboyau · 7 months ago

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And another rise hunger games chapter! Wow, just training and interviews to get through, and then the real fun begins. First person to correctly guess who the president is gets a prize or something idk

prev/next

tag list! as always, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. 💚 thank you to everyone who reads and interacts with my stories. I definitely wouldn’t be updating as often or as eagerly without you guys.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @burritello3000 @midwesternvibes @justchillininthebackground-06

The roar of the crowd is deafening as they emerge into the City Circle. Donnie doesn’t drop to his knees and cover his ears, no matter how much he may want to. Kendra presses herself subtly closer to his side, making his skin crawl as she tests her weight slightly against his arm, and once she’s confident that he isn’t going to let her fall, she lifts both arms high in the air in a dramatic flourish that has the crowd going wild.

Well, that just won’t do. The competition for attention (and for their lives, though he’s trying not to think about that right at the moment) has begun, and Donnie has been a middle child for far too long to let someone else win. With a hand still bracing her, he lifts his free hand high to call attention to himself, then sweeps into a graceful bow as he uses that hand to flip the train of his costume and show off the way the scales shift and change with his movements. The excitement that gets him makes Kendra elbow him hard, digging into the leftover bruises from when Kendra had tackled him. Despite the slight sting, he turns to smirk down at her, smug as she glares back. He’s grateful for the distraction. It makes it feel a little easier to ignorr the ever increasing urge to start screaming.

White and yellow chrysanthemums rain down all around them, carpeting the streets and getting crushed beneath the wheels of the chariots. Donnie sputters as one nails him in the face, and when Kendra tilts her head back and laughs, he forces himself to do the same, all too aware of the eyes and the cameras trained on them. Kendra plucks it from where it had fallen to his shoulder and tucks it behind her ear, grinning at him with a gleam in her eyes before turning a bright smile towards the cameras. More cheers, and suddenly the flowers raining down around them feel a lot more intentional. Oh, she is good.

There’s not much room in the chariot for them to do much more than wave or bow, or make a few subtle gestures at one another as they try to disguise jostling and thrown elbows as incidental closeness. Every time either one of them does a little half-twist or bows, the crowd goes crazy as their costumes ripple and change in a complimentary dance of beautiful colors. For one stupid moment, Donnie can almost forget what’s at stake; this just feels like hassling April or his brothers over the last piece of a birthday cake or for their dad’s attention. It is stupid and childish and all the meanness without any of the malice. It’s almost nice.

And then the feeling of a new set of eyes on him sends a prickling up his spine. This gaze is different. It is not the attention of the thousands of cheering fans, or even the grave watchfulness he can almost imagine he feels from the District people settled in their homes, watching the proceedings on their holoscreens. It is cold and dangerous and close.

Donnie snaps upright from his latest sweeping bow, careful to maintain his facsimile of a smile as sharp eyes sweep the crowd for the source of the gaze. He knows that it is foolish to actually believe that he can pick out or even feel a single glare amongst a crowd of over one hundred thousand, but he doesn’t know how else to classify the sudden creeping, choking sensation that has crawled up his spine and circled his neck like a noose. Alarm bells are ringing inside his head, drowning out all other sounds.

He scans the crowd, taking in the gleeful smiles and hungry excitement, before his eyes finally settle on the massive raised platform that they are barreling towards. The presidential mansion looms above them, bright and beautiful and utterly sterile. Lights are projected onto its side, fake fireworks exploding over the bone white surface in a colorful facsimile of true celebration. Standing high above them all, the president stares out with an expression that Donnie can only think of as regnant. He is impassive as he watches the proceedings, and indifferent to the fact that he holds so many lives in the palms of his hands. He is completely confident in his control of the situation and the people as he stares down at 24 soon-to-be killers. The distance between the procession and the presidential manor is still far too great for Donnie to delude himself into thinking that their eyes can meet, but he still shudders when that cold gaze passes carelessly over him. He knows where that sense of danger is stemming from now.

Though his features are wizened and long greyed with age, the president still cuts an imposing figure. He has not let power make him soft. The cushion of Capitol living hasn’t done anything to dull his sharp edges.

Not that Donnie is surprised, really. The man has been in power since before papa was born; an impressive feat, considering the immense power struggle that had occurred after the first rebellion failed. From what papa has told him - and what the cobbled together and highly sanitized history lessons have conveniently left out - there were an impressive number of assassinations during that time. He would have had to be sharp to survive. Unless, of course, he was the one ordering said assassinations in the first place.

Donnie narrows his eyes as they draw closer to the man who has created an age of prosperity for Panem, and has kept the Districts crushed thoroughly beneath his heel. He’s always looked minatorial during every holoscreen appearance he’s made, and papa used to warn them all of his propensity towards cruelty in hushed, fearful whispers. Donnie had never questioned his father’s words, but he hadn’t realized before now just how accurate those statements had been.

He keeps the smile in place, even as the lump in his throat grows and threatens to stop his breathing. He can’t tear his eyes away from the platform, or the figure standing atop it, flanked by his counsel. They watch the procession with a detached interest, like the children they are sending to their deaths are nothing more than pawns to be moved across the board.

Those cold eyes settle upon their chariot, raking over the beautiful costumes and sparkling gems, assessing the Tributes encased within. The president doesn’t seem impressed. He turns his attention on to the next set quickly, and Donnie feels tension prickle across his muscles as their chariots begin to slow, raising goosebumps across his bare skin as each one settles upon its predetermined spot before the presidential mansion.

The crowd falls silent as the president steps closer to the podium, the slight electronic feedback of his microphone enough to have the entirety of the Capitol holding its breath. Donnie does his best not to wince at the sound as it needles at his skin and scratches uncomfortably inside his brain. The president’s eyes sweep over the gathered tributes again, slow and thoughtful. He does not smile, but he does incline his head at each chariot, as if acknowledging each individual District.

“We gather today, to welcome our tributes,” he says, his deep voice soft but commanding the attention of the crowd with enviable ease. Donnie can almost feel each onlooker sit up a little straighter. “We salute each of you for your courage and your strength.”

The crowd erupts into applause, more subdued now than the previous raucous cheers and screams, but no less enthusiastic. The president smiles, just the slightest tick of his lips, and his gaze moves slowly over the crowd before snapping back towards the gathered tributes once again.

“We honor our tributes,” he says slowly, as his eyes come to rest directly upon Donnie. “—and their families. We recognize the sacrifices made for the sake of peace and prosperity. We thank you.”

His gaze moves on, but the feeling of it lingers. Donnie stays frozen, fingers digging hard enough into the handrail that he can almost feel the flimsy metal warp beneath his grip. His heart is pounding. The lights are too bright. Everything is so loud.

He just wants to curl up in the familiar comfort of his own bed, tucked beneath the weight of his blankets. He wants Mikey to sit on his thighs to to provide much needed pressure while he hides away in the darkness of his covers. He wants Raph to hum and rub careful, comforting circles on his back. He wants Leo—

Well. He just wants to be home. He wants his family.

“We wish you all a happy Hunger Games,” the president says serenely. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

The crowd cheers. Fanfare plays. The fake fireworks pop and explode all across the walls of the mansion, painting it bloody red and fire orange. Donnie stares at the bursts of color, wishing the fires were real. The president stares back, eyes narrowed like he knows the thoughts inside his head.

The chariots begin to move with a lurch that nearly sends Digi and Gizmo stumbling off the back of theirs, and has Kendra clutching at his arm to keep her balance. He can almost feel that chilling gaze lingering as they ride away. Kendra bumps him gently with her shoulder, and when he turns to look at her, she gestures for him to lean down. He obliges, mostly out of the desire for a distraction from the creeping unease.

Her lips brush the shell of his ear as she whispers, “That speech was total bullshit, huh?”

His smile feels a little more real all of a sudden.

There is a stranger waiting for them when the elevator doors slide open to reveal their fourth floor apartment. He is seated primly upon the pristinely clean and stupidly shaped sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, hands folded in his lap, head held high. He is invading the only marginally safe or private space afforded to them within the Capitol, and it rankles how much he looks like he belongs within this stupid fancy apartment.

He assesses them as they pile off the elevator, Donnie and Kendra both shuffling awkwardly forward as they clutch at the trailing fabric of their costumes to keep it from getting caught in the elevator door. They each keep a wary eye on him, suspicious of the interloper in their apartment. Atomo goes silent when she sees their visitor, her excited chattering about their Chariot Ride and the burgeoning sponsor interest cutting off with a sharp gasp. Donnie glares at the stranger, who surveys him with an expression that he has no idea the meaning of in return. He looks…excited, maybe? But that doesn’t quite fit. Certainly not upset, but not happy either. There’s a strange shininess to his eyes as they focus on Donnie’s face. He wishes Mikey or Leo were here to tell him what that expression means.

The stranger doesn’t stand until papa steps out from behind the cover of their small crowd. His eyes light up, yet his lips pulls down into a frown. He smoothes the fabric of his skirt and crosses his arms, muscles bulging in a way that even Donnie can tell must be purposeful. Yikes and gross. Talk about desperate.

“Draxum,” Yoshi says, his voice low and full of a quiet rage that Donnie rarely gets to hear. His hands flex at his sides before curling into tight fists. Donnie steps to the side, train dragging in his wake and shimmering even in the dim apartment lights, intent on keeping both of them in his sights. As if sensing the brewing danger, Kendra and Atomo both hurry to join him, standing a few feet back like they hope he’ll act as a buffer.

“Yoshi,” the man returns, sounding more amused than angry, which tells Donnie all he needs to know about who holds the power between the two of them. The stranger’s eyes narrow as they move slowly up and down Yoshi’s body. It’s something that he’s seen done to his father before, but it makes Donnie’s skin crawl worse than usual this time. “I see you are as pathetic as ever. Maybe even moreso than usual, considering the…special guest this year.”

Donnie stiffens as those sharp golden eyes drift towards him once again. Draxum’s lip curls, and if he didn’t know any better Donnie might have said that it almost looks like a smile. He stares back, too exhausted to bother trying to force even the barest hint of emotion into his expression. His papa hisses between his teeth, sharp and deliberate, and Draxum’s attention snaps back towards him immediately.

“What do you want?” he snaps, and though Draxum has a significant height advantage, he somehow manages to look down his nose at him in the way only someone who knows their own strength can. This time, the twisting of Draxum’s lips can only be a smile, small and cruel as it is.

“There has been a report that your son requires medical intervention,” Draxum says, slow and soft, and Donnie feels his stomach drop at the way those words make his father’s face go all twisted and pale. He really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

So he won’t.

“I’m going to shower,” he announces, refusing to meet any of the eyes that snap towards him. “If you’re still hanging around when I’m done you can look at my back then.”

And then he turns and stomps away, ignoring the voices that call after him as he goes. It feels good to slam the bedroom door behind him, and as silence falls over the room he finally feels like he has a chance to catch his breath. Leaning against the door just in case anyone decides to follow him, he takes a moment to just try to breathe. His eyeballs feel hot and his chest feels tight. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds, echoing the dull throbbing at the base of his skull. There is an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips.

Thankfully, no one tries to follow him. There is no pounding at the door or jiggling of the knob. He’s not sure what he would have done if someone did try to get in, but he’s sure there would have been blood. Exhaling slowly, Donnie steps towards the bathroom, mindful to stay close to the wall and out of the range of the camera’s ever watchful eye. Glittering gems trail in his wake, silent as they fall to the carpet. The sting as they’re pulled from his skin feels good. It feels real in a way very little else has today.

He leaves the beautiful, glittering gown in a heap on the bathroom floor. His hands are steady as he turns the faucet, water gushing forth and filling the air with steam almost immediately. For a long while, he sits on the side of the tub and just watches the water as it circles the drain, breathing in the steam and the lingering smell of the shampoo he used when he last showered.

The water burns when he finally steps beneath its strong spray. His back tingles at the heat and the pressure, but it does not hurt. He thinks about the stranger in the living room, and wonders what he plans to do during the so-called medical intervention. His hands do not shake even though his lungs feel too small inside his chest. He takes his time. Thankfully the Capitol never runs out of hot water.

When he leaves the quiet sanctity of the bathroom, he’s not surprised to find Draxum in his room. The man is standing by the floor to ceiling window, which has been made clear again, and is staring at the city beyond. There’s something thoughtful and fond in his gaze, though Donnie couldn’t begin to guess at what he might be thinking as he looks out at the glittering expanse of white and silver. He clears his throat, impatient to get this over with, and Draxum turns slowly to face him.

“I’d rather this be fast,” he says simply, arms crossed tight over his chest, refusing to look Draxum in the face.

“It should be a simple matter, as long as you haven’t caused any undue damage to yourself,” Draxum concedes with a tip of his head. Dark pink hair cascades over his shoulders with the movement, silky and long. Teal lines his eyes and lips, a strangely vibrant pop of color against his dark skin and dull grey clothes.

“Close the window.”

Draxum arches an eyebrow at being ordered around but thankfully complies, and the late evening sunlight is dampened as the window goes opaque again. Donnie grits his teeth and stands by the foot of the oversized bed, wishing there was a chair or a desk or something besides a bed in this stupid room. He feels vulnerable. He hates it.

“Shirt off,” orders Draxum, and the cold clinical tone he uses is actually almost enough to soothe some of the nerves sparking inside Donnie’s chest, screaming that this situation holds the hallmarks of both stupid and dangerous. Donnie shrugs his shirt off, but keeps it clutched tightly in his hands. Draxum slips on a pair of gloves, not looking at him. “Turn so I can examine your back.”

There is no gasp of shock as he takes in the scarred expanse of flesh and the metal exo-spine. He doesn’t even hum with interest or ask how a boy from the Districts could have come into possession of such a piece of technology. All he does is press forward, far too close for Donnie’s comfort. He can feel each of the man’s cool breaths on his back and feel the press of latex covered fingers as he examines the seam where skin and metal meet. Donnie grits his teeth and tries not to snap.

“You don’t seem surprised by it,” he says instead, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. Draxum scoffs, and his fingers press a little harder, almost to the point of pain. His gloved hands trace the metal spine, and Donnie feels his legs tingle. He hates it he hates it he—

“Why would I be surprised?” Draxum demands as he prods at one of the keloid scars on his shoulder. “I made it, after all.”

#Rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #the hunger games #rise hunger games au #my writing #rise of the tmnt #The chariot ride scene kicked my ass #I’ll probably do some edits before i post it to ao3 lol #Side note i love flower language #If i ever mention a flower by name in my writing there’s probably a meaning I like for it

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