would you PLEASE shut your mouth?

then he pulled his fingers out with a pop!

“what the—"

“show’s done.”

you looked back up at the tv, white text scrolling against the black background.

“you ready to finally give me some love?” he asked as if he was some kind of neglected animal and not a fully grown man with enough responsibilities to make you gag.

you looked back up at the tv, advert for crunchy granola replacing the episode you had basically half watched.

you huffed.

"fine. but you're doing all the work 'cause you made me miss my episode. how am i supposed to know what samir did about the blocked toilet?"

"baby i always do all the work." and as if to prove a point he picked you up from the couch and tossed you over his shoulder.

"oh and he cut it up. like with a knife and fork."

"...seriously?"

"tried using conditioner first. did not work out."

a/n :: just finished s1 of adults and i quite literally cannot wait until s2 oh my godddd

810 AD, Spring, 10:09 A.M.

Sixteen, furious at the world and absolutely no one's sweetheart- Sukuna was, to put it plainly, a bear waiting to be poked. The abandonment issues and the judgment he caught for the way he looked didn't help matters either.

That's exactly why your father never understood your obsession with the little freak. The boy was poor and- well. four eyes. four arms. your father shuddered just thinking about it. no daughter of a Dainagon would so much as glance at something like that, let alone lose sleep over it

So, what does any loving and overprotective father do? He gets his men to discreetly execute the boy. obviously.

One cool night when the sun had long set and moon sat high and mighty- your father, an elegant noble man who loved you very dearly, picked up his pen and jotted instructions down on a paper.

He'd keep you safe. he always has, your pretty little head was too full of butterflies and fuji petals to know any better.

In two days, my daughter’s birthday will be held. You, my most trusted soldiers, will go and and capture Ryomen Sukuna. Do not return without success.

wait wait wait. i almost forgot! i should probably give some background about this whole crush on the village outcast thing huh?

806 AD, Spring, 3:12 P.M.

it all started when you were twelve.

afternoon sun filtered through the trees and the cool breeze provided some relief to the frenzied children. they took hide and seek very seriously.

"one...two...three..."

Hotaru counted to one hundred facing an old sakura tree. you and your friend Ume decided to hide together, so giggling and sweaty the both of you beelined it to the abandoned shed at the end of the meadow. usually you'd be too scared to hide there, but Ume was with you and in your eyes she was fearless or in your friend Masanori's, words 'badass'

why would you be scared exactly? well there was a rumor that the ghost of a young monster lived in the shed. the kids at school said his mother had been cursed and turned into a sakura tree. the woman was pregnant when it happened and when she, or more so the tree, gave birth, the child came out hideous. to protect her son from any danger the woman used the last of her strength to turn him into a ghost so that no one would ever be able to harm him.

stupid story right? that's what you'd always thought. it hardly made any sense. but still- the thought of a lonely child just wandering around made you feel something more than fear or sadness. you could never quite name what it was.

"Ready or not here i come, LOSERS!!!!" Hotaru screamed loud enough that the whole town must have heard, she was always so overly competitive. Ume shoved you behind the shed and flopped right next to you, both of you heaving.

"there's no way Hotaru will find us." Ume said between breaths. "she's too much of a scaredy cat to come here. she just pretends to be all tuff."

the two of you camped for a while till the sun hung lazy and low. you'd need to be heading home in the next twenty minutes. Ume had slipped away from her spot to go take a tinkle.

crunch.

you flinched, head whipping around. "Ume is that you?"

silence.

"if you're playing one of your pranks on me it's not funny. i don't want to be by this shed anymore, let's move spots. Ume?"

oh flip.

now you were getting scared. you stood up and like a complete horror movie character, started walking toward the noise anyway. found yourself stepping inside the shed before you'd even made the decision to.

the sight greeting you was a small back facing you, fluffy pink hair, and- wait. did he have four arms?

stepping away your back hit the wall and your breath caught in your throat. the person was short so it must've been a boy. oh gosh the stories were true. it's the little ghost boy. you expected to see the ugliest creature ever (like full on E.T. or smth) when he turned around- instead you were met with two pairs of scarlet eyes staring straight into yours.

"you are beautiful."

the words escaped your mouth before you even knew you'd formed them. you couldn't help it, truly. just looking at him made you want to melt into the shed floor, your limbs felt all gooey, your cheeks and the tips of your ears warm. something about him made your twelve year old heart do things it had absolutely no business doing.

the boy looked taken aback, all four of his eyes going wide for just a fraction of a second, and then his expression slammed shut like a door. the scowl that replaced it was practiced. comfortable. like a thing he wore so often it had shaped itself to his face. his very pretty face. he pulled the dagger from his belt and took a step forward, slow and deliberate, the kind of step that was meant to make you stumble backward.

"What was that you dared utter?" his voice was low and careful, the way someone is careful when they are trying very hard to be frightening. "Do you truly believe flattery will spare your life, child? Your lies are as worthless as you are."

the light was on but absolutely nobody was home.

you heard none of it. not a single syllable. your eyes had found those four scarlet ones and simply refused to leave. up close they were even more extraordinary — deep and red like the inside of a pomegranate, ringed with the kind of thick dark lashes that girls at court spent hours trying to achieve with powder and brushes. every time he blinked they swept down slow and pretty and you felt your brain turn completely to soup. so this is love?

his hair was so fluffy. you wanted to touch it so badly it was actually painful, your fingers twitched helplessly by your sides.

"the hell are you staring at—"

"pink's my favourite colour."

the words came out dreamy and distant like you were half asleep. somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware this was perhaps not the ideal thing to say to someone holding a dagger. that part of your mind was unfortunately very far away right now.

the boy stared at you. a long, disbelieving stare, like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence that would make this make sense.

it did not come.

"What is this nonsense?" something almost offended flickered across his face. "You truly must be insane. i do not care about your favourite anything, girl!"

at this point your irises had absolutely turned into literal hearts. he talked all funny. How cute!

"don't you see?" you breathed, gesturing between the two of you like you were explaining something very important and very obvious. "pink is my favourite colour and your hair is pink. it must be a sign from the Gods." a dreamy little sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

then you introduced yourself.

you announced your name with the kind of bright toothy smile normally reserved for festival days, one hand pressed politely to your chest the way your etiquette tutors had taught you. something in the way you said it- the cadence of it, the name itself - must have placed you immediately because two of his four eyes twitched at once. a noble's daughter. here. beaming at him like he was something wonderful.

your hand shot out between you, palm open and waiting.

in all honesty it wasn't entirely out of courtesy. you just wanted to feel his hand in yours. just once. he was so pretty it was making you feel a little insane. gosh you hoped your hands weren't clammy, that would be embarrassed but it would make a great story at your wedding.

he looked at your hand. then at your face. then at your hand again.

"You-" he seemed to be having some difficulty. "I have a dagger."

"i know! you're left handed, that's so cool." you wiggled your outstretched fingers encouragingly. "i'm right handed myself, hence-"

he did not take your hand. you were not particularly deterred.

"what's your name?" you asked, retracting nothing, least of all your enthusiasm. "i bet it's really cute."

something behind those scarlet eyes short circuited visibly. he opened his mouth. closed it. the dagger had drifted down an inch — not on purpose, you suspected. more like his body had simply forgotten what it was supposed to be doing. he had clearly never encountered this specific problem before and had no tools for it.

he turned and walked away.

you followed him.

"hey wait! i didn't catch your name!"

"i did not give it." flat. not breaking stride.

"that's okay! i'll just come up with one." you fell into step beside him like this was a perfectly normal afternoon stroll and not a twelve year old chasing a ghost boy out of a haunted shed. you tapped your chin thoughtfully. "you look like a...Nao. are you a Ren? maybe a Takamori?"

he stopped walking.

his jaw was tight. a vein in his temple was having a genuinely terrible time. slowly he turned to look at you with an expression that had run completely out of patience.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

you gasped softly. even angry he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen in your entire life.

"so you're not a Nao or Ren." you said solemnly. "noted. i'll figure it out."

Somehow you ended up loosing him. You followed him deeper into the meadow. Yapping his ears off about the most minute details of your life, and yes you knew it was unwise not to talk to strangers let alone tell them all your business but this boy was no stranger, you could feel that in your bones. He was your soulmate!

when you didn't here the occasional huff of annoyance any more you stood very still.

your hands found your cheeks. they were warm. embarrassingly warm. you could feel the heat radiating off them like you'd sat too close to a fire and honestly you had, just a different kind.

you spun around twice just to be sure, scanning the tree line with the desperate energy of someone who had just lost something very very precious and very very pink. nothing. he was simply gone, the way beautiful things sometimes are, cruelly and without warning.

you pressed your hands harder against your burning cheeks.

you didn't even get his name.

you had given him yours. you had told him your favourite colour, your favourite season, your feelings about plum blossom versus cherry blossom- cherry blossom obviously but plum blossom had a certain charm- your completely honest thoughts about your language tutor, the names you'd already been quietly saving up for your future children, and a fairly detailed description of where you imagined your wedding ceremony taking place as well as how you wanted your wedding robes to be the same shade as his hair.

and you didn't even know what to call him.

well.

you looked out at the tree line, lips pursed, thinking very hard for approximately four seconds.

Pinky Pie, you decided. you would call him Pinky Pie until further notice. it was perfect actually. it was him. you were incredibly good at this. the universe owed you a real name eventually but Pinky Pie would do for now.

it was fine. it was okay. this was not the end. the Gods had clearly put an enormous amount of effort into this afternoon and they were absolutely not done yet. you were going to see him again, you felt it in your fingers and your toes and somewhere deep behind your ribs where things just knew.

you also still had very important questions about the arms, like who needs so many-

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"

Ume appeared from thin air and seized your wrist, dragging you backward through the grass with the energy of someone who had converted a solid hour of worry into pure irritation.

"i've been looking for you EVERYWHERE. we won by the way, no thanks to you—" she stopped abruptly and squinted at your face. "why are you so red?!"

"i'm not red." you said, which was an enormous lie.

Ume opened her mouth. then closed it. then filed it away with the very efficient system she had for things you weren't telling her yet.

the others were calling and the sun was melting gold into the hills and she dragged you off through the grass before you could float any further away.

you looked back once at the meadow.

soon, Pinky Pie, you thought, with the complete unshakeable confidence of someone who had already decided how the story ended.

very very soon.

806 AD, Spring, 14:25pm

you had thought about him every single day.

not in a small manageable way either. in the way that had completely colonised the inside of your head and evicted everything else. #he was living rent free in your cranium. your calligraphy tutor had said your name three times last tuesday before you heard her. ume had waved her hand in front of your face at lunch and gotten nothing. your favourite attendant had given you a look that morning while fixing your hair.

you were unbothered. you were in love. these things happened.

three weeks and four days after the shed you went back to the meadow.

the long path home from calligraphy just happened to go past the edge of town. past the old shrine gate. past the place where the houses got quiet and the air got a little thick and strange and the birds stopped singing past a certain point for reasons nobody talked about openly.

most people found that part of town unsettling.

you found it had very nice afternoon light actually.

he wasn't at the shed when you got there. you stood in front of it with your hands clasped, considering, remembering the way he'd looked standing inside it three weeks ago. four scarlet eyes. fluffy pink hair. four arms. the dagger. the scowl. the way he'd said leave me alone like you were the most exhausting thing that had ever happened to him.

you sighed dreamily.

you turned around and he was already there, leaning against the ginkgo tree like he owned it, arms crossed, two of them anyway, watching you with the expression of someone who had been there a while and was deeply unimpressed by what they'd seen.

your heart did a full cartwheel.

"you're here!" you said, with exactly as much delight as you felt. which was an enormous amount.

"this is where i live." he said plainly, like girl duh.

"i know! i came to find you."

the look he gave you could have curdled milk. "why."

"because i wanted to." you sat down in the grass nearby, robes smoothed neatly beneath you, perfectly comfortable, completely unbothered by the fact that he was staring at you like you'd just announced something insane. which you hadn't. wanting to see someone was very normal. this was fine.

"what," he said slowly, "are you doing."

"sitting."

"why."

"my feet are tired." your feet were completely fine. "also you're here."

he stared at you for a long moment. then he looked away. his jaw did the tight thing you'd already started to recognise. the strange heavy feeling in the air around him shifted slightly, like something exhaling.

you had brought something from home, wrapped carefully in cloth and tucked in your sleeve all morning. you set it in the grass between you like a peace offering.

"i brought you something. sweet rice cake from the good place near the east gate, the old woman there uses proper red bean paste, not the thin watery kind, very important distinction-"

"i don't want it."

"okay!" you left it there anyway.

then you started talking.

about your calligraphy lesson. about the poem your literature tutor had made you memorise and what was specifically wrong with it. about the baby bird ume had hidden in her sleeve through an entire afternoon of lessons before it escaped during the quiet reading portion and pecked the teacher in the back of the neck.. about the dream you'd had where all your teeth fell out and whether that was an omen or just your brain being strange.

he said nothing.

he also didn't leave.

he stayed against his tree with the afternoon light coming through the ginkgo leaves above him, scarlet eyes somewhere in the middle distance, and you talked and talked and talked and he said absolutely nothing and somehow it was the nicest afternoon you'd had in a very long time.

at some point you noticed the cloth between you was empty.

you looked up at him. he was very busy looking at the tree line. very focused on it actually. extremely interested in those particular trees right now.

you looked back at the empty cloth.

you said nothing. you were twelve but you were not stupid. some things were better left alone. some things were like butterflies — you had to pretend not to see them or they'd fly away.

so you just kept talking, softer now, chin in your hand, watching the light go gold.

when it got low enough that you knew your attendant would be starting to pace you stood up, smoothed your robes, and said goodbye the same cheerful way you said everything.

"same time next week?" you asked.

"no." he said, not looking at you.

"perfect." you said. "see you then."

you were almost back to the path when you heard it. the tiniest sound. barely anything at all. somewhere between a scoff and something that didn't have a name yet.

you kept walking.

you smiled the whole way home.

that night you lay on your futon staring at the ceiling with your hands pressed to your cheeks, feet kicking slowly in the air behind you.

best. date. ever.

807 AD, Summer, 13:52pm

a year was a long time.

a year was also somehow not very long at all when you measured it in stolen afternoons and one sided conversations and a boy who never once told you to come back but never once told you to stay away either.

you had a system now. calligraphy on tuesdays meant the long way home. temple visits on thursdays meant a detour through the meadow. any other excuse your twelve, now thirteen, year old brain could manufacture meant a trip to the ginkgo tree where he was sometimes there and sometimes wasn't and when he wasn't you sat in the grass anyway and waited and approximately seventy percent of the time he showed up eventually pretending he hadn't been anywhere in particular. he was dependable or more so predictable, you liked that in a man.

you had never once pointed this out. butterfly rule.

ume was suspicious. ume was always suspicious. she had the instincts of a girl three times her age and the patience to wait you out and you were running out of deflections. but that was a problem for another day.

today you had something important to do.

you had been working up to it for weeks actually. the name had lived in your head for a full year now, warm and private, and something about keeping it only in there had started to feel insufficient. he deserved to know. it was a good name. you had put genuine thought into it.

he was at the tree when you arrived, which was the seventy percent. sitting this time rather than leaning, back against the bark, one of his four hands turning a stone over and over. he looked up when he heard you coming through the grass and his expression did the thing it always did. starting at something almost neutral before remembering it was supposed to be a scowl and correcting itself.

you found this absolutely precious. you had never told him that.

"you're here!" you said.

"you say that every time." he said. "as though it is surprising."

"it's always a little surprising." you sat down across from him, closer than you used to sit a year ago, close enough now that you could have reached out and touched the hem of his sleeve if you'd wanted to. you hadn't. yet. "good surprising though."

he looked at you for a moment with those four scarlet eyes and then looked back at his stone.

you had brought sweet rice cake again. you always brought sweet rice cake. you set it between you and he always said he didn't want it and it was always gone by the time you left and this had become so routine that neither of you even acknowledged the script anymore, you just set it down and moved on.

"i've been calling you something." you said, after a moment.

he didn't look up. "i am aware. you have called me several things. none of them my name."

"in my head i mean. i have a name for you. in my head." you paused. "i've decided to tell you what it is."

now he looked up. something cautious moved through his expression. "...why?"

"because you should know." you said, very reasonably. "it's yours after all."

he stared at you. the stone had stopped turning. "i already have a name."

"that you won't tell me." you pointed out.

his jaw tightened. he had no response to this because it was simply true and you both knew it.

you took a small breath.

"Pinky Pie." you said.

the silence that followed was very loud.

he looked at you with an expression you had never seen on his face before, which was impressive because you had catalogued quite a few of them by now. this one was new. this one was a specific kind of stillness that preceded something, like the air before lightning.

"what." he said. very quietly.

"Pinky Pie." you repeated, maintaining full eye contact, completely serene. "that's what i call you. in my head. and now out loud. i think it suits you."

"it." he stopped. started again. "it does not."

"it really does though."

"i am not—" he seemed to be having some difficulty locating the correct words for how wrong this was. one of his upper eyes was twitching. "i am not a Pinky Pie."

"you have pink hair." you said helpfully.

"i am aware of the colour of my own hair-"

"and you're sweet." you added.

the twitching stopped. everything stopped. he looked at you like you had just said something in a language he didn't speak and his brain was still working on the translation.

"i am," he said, very carefully, "not sweet."

"you ate my rice cake every single week for a whole year." you said. "and you never once actually made me leave." you tilted your head at him, chin in your hand. "that's pretty sweet Pinky Pie."

the expression that crossed his face in the next three seconds was genuinely extraordinary. you watched it move through him like weather- the outrage, the denial, the scramble for something cutting to say, and then underneath all of that, buried so fast you almost missed it, something small and flustered that he absolutely did not want you to see. did he have to be so adorable?

he looked away so quickly his hair moved.

"that name," he said, to the tree line, with great dignity, "will never leave this meadow."

"of course." you agreed very seriously.

"if you utter it anywhere near another living person—"

"i would never."

"i mean it."

"Pinky Pie i would never." you said, and the way you slipped the name in so naturally made him turn back with an expression of pure betrayal that you met with your most innocent smile.

he made a sound low in his throat. looked away again. one of his four hands had come up to push his pink hair out of his face in a gesture that felt almost — self conscious. almost. it was gone very quickly.

you watched him with your chin in your hand and felt that warm squeezing thing happen behind your ribs, bigger than usual, bigger than it had been a year ago when it had started.

it was getting harder to keep things butterfly-rule quiet.

"same time next week?" you asked, when the light started going low.

he picked his stone back up. turned it over once. "i make no such agreements."

"love you too Pinky Pie." you said cheerfully, standing and smoothing your robes.

the sound he made at that was truly spectacular. you were going to think about it all the way home.

you did.

best date ever, you thought, for the approximately three hundredth time.

number one still belonged to the sweet rice cake afternoon but this one was a very strong second.

807 AD, Autumn, 12:43pm

to be clear, you were not supposed to be at the market.

noble daughters of Dainagon did not wander the market ward unattended. this was a known and established fact that you were aware of and had chosen not to apply to yourself today because ume had described the new fabric stall near the east gate in such detail that you had simply needed to see it with your own eyes. your attendant thought you were in the garden. your father thought you were at your calligraphy lesson. everyone was happy.

you had your eye on a particularly beautiful bolt of silk, deep blue, the colour of the sky just before it decided to become night, when the person beside you made a sharp sound.

you turned.

a hooded figure. small. quick. already moving away through the crowd with something tucked under their arm before the merchant had even finished processing what had happened.

the merchant processed it.

"thief!"

now here is where a sensible person- a noble daughter, for instance, who was not supposed to be here- would have stepped back and let the matter sort itself out. you were already moving.

you were a fast runner. ume had always said so, usually while failing to keep up with you. you ducked under elbows and around baskets and through the crowd with a focus that would have impressed your physical tutors if they had known you possessed it, eyes fixed on the hooded figure weaving ahead.

they were fast too. but you were faster.

you caught up at the edge of the market where the stalls gave way to the quieter lane behind the old granary, and you grabbed the back of their hood without fully thinking through what came after the grabbing part.

the figure stopped.

turned around.

the hood fell back.

pink hair. four eyes. a look on his face that cycled through surprise, recognition, and extreme displeasure in about half a second.

oh.

"Pinky Pie." you said, slightly out of breath.

"you." the displeasure won out. "why are you-" he stopped. looked at your hand still clutching the back of his hood. looked at your face. "why did you chase me."

"you took something." you said.

"i am aware of what i did."

"from the person next to me."

"also aware."

you looked at him. he looked at you. you both looked at the thing tucked under two of his four arms which was, upon closer inspection, a small bundle of food. rice. a couple of wrapped portions of something. nothing extravagant.

something settled quietly in your chest.

"are you hungry?" you asked.

his expression did something complicated and fast that he shut down immediately. "that is none of your concern."

"it's a simple question."

"and i am choosing not to answer it." he pulled his hood back up with sharp dignity, which was impressive given the circumstances. "let go of my hood."

you let go of his hood.

he straightened himself up and looked at you with the expression of someone who would very much like for this interaction to be over. you looked back at him with the expression of someone who had just run halfway across the market ward and was not going anywhere.

"how much was it worth." you said.

"i told you it's none of—"

"how much Pinky Pie."

the vein in his temple. hello old friend.

he told you. grudgingly. like the words had to be pulled out one at a time.

you reached into your sleeve, produced the right amount, and held it out to him.

he stared at it. "what is that."

"it's the money. so you didn't steal it. so if anyone asks you paid for it." you said. "take it."

"i don't want your money."

"i know." you said. "take it anyway."

he looked at the money. then at you. then at the money again. his jaw was doing the tight thing. all four of his eyes had an expression in them that you couldn't entirely read, something tangled up and complicated that he was working very hard to keep off his face.

"i don't need your pity." he said. low and quiet and with an edge to it.

"it's not pity." you said, just as quiet. "it's just money. and you're just hungry. and i have enough." you kept your hand out steady between you. "just take it."

a long moment.

he took it.

he didn't say thank you. you didn't expect him to. he looked away down the lane, hood up, money tucked somewhere in his sleeve, food still under two of his arms.

"you shouldn't be at the market alone." he said, after a moment. still not looking at you. "noble daughters don't come here unattended."

"this one does apparently." something moved across his profile that might- very briefly, very quietly, have been the ghost of something almost warm.

"you're going to cause yourself trouble one day." he said.

"probably." you agreed happily.

he looked at you then. just for a moment. all four eyes. the complicated thing still in them but quieter now, settled. then he pulled his hood further up and turned to go.

"Pinky Pie." you called after him. he stopped but didn't turn around.

"same time tuesday." you said.

he walked away. you stood at the edge of the lane watching him disappear and felt that warm squeezing thing behind your ribs, bigger than usual. then you smoothed your robes and headed back into the market to find that silk.

you had completely forgotten about the silk.

807 AD, Winter, 10:47am

Freezing. it was cold enough to crack an egg and it would immediately freeze, like literally you were watching the chefs make breakfast and your egg froze before it even touched the pan.

so why were you currently layering you clothes and putting your boots on? well you had to go see your favourite guy of course! its been weeks or has it been a month since you've seen the grumpy chap? it was hard to tell with the increase in duties. Your father also started having more time for you suddenly which did play a role in distracting you.

in all honesty these past few days you've been really tired, bags under your eyes tired. why you might me thinking to yourself again? well because of the face he made that day. he looked so...sad. the thought of your Pinky pie going hungry all this time broke you. he probably needed those rice cakes more than you could imagine. how was he doing now? without them for so long.

you were going to go to him. maybe buy something new for him too try, but a part of you was a little scared.

its like hes been avoiding you after you gave him money which is weird because you were only trying to help, but it did kind of make sense i mean your mother told you about how men relied on dignity or whatever and that they were born with egos bigger than their heads. she says thats why your father is such a big selfish basta-

"Sweetheartttt! are you decent? i have something to show you!"

your father's cheerful voice rang through the door. you smiled and opened it. he practically skipped into the room with a small cherry wood box in his hands, holding it out to you with the energy of someone who had been waiting to do this for quite some time.

As you can see, you got your optimism from him.

"it was supposed to be your birthday present but it arrived early and i simply could not wait. open it up!"

you popped the box open and inside sat a gorgeous necklace.

oh the Gods are hilarious.

how creative they are, the gem in the center was the same hypnotic colour as Pinky pies hair, though nothing could ever compare to your- i mean his lushes locks. The way they stood up and defied gravity, every thing about him was just so magical.

"I LOVE IT!!! EEEEEEK!"

you were basically frothing at the mouth. the whole wing probably heard you. your father beamed and laughed the big warm laugh he saved for moments like this. "only the best for my little girl." he leaned forward and fastened it around your neck himself, careful and gentle. "you must promise to wear it at all times, my delicate one."

Your mother always scolded the man when he'd call you that. 'delicate'. she'd argue that it made you sound fragile when you were anything but. She felt that it was condescending, her words not yours.

you nodded so eagerly your vision got all grainy. Darn low iron. you were already thinking about showing Pinky Pie. he was going to see it and think of his own hair and realise it was a sign from the Gods and then the wedding planning could really begin.

"oh and my little blossom." your father paused at the door, turning back with a smile that was somehow both warm and careful at the same time. "i want to discuss something with you when you come home from your lessons."

you were already too busy admiring the necklace to notice the careful part.

Pinky Pie was at the tree. seventy percent. dependable.

he was sitting with his back against the bark, two arms crossed over his chest, the other two tucked into his sleeves against the cold. his pink hair was as aggressively fluffy as ever despite the weather. he looked up when he heard you coming through the frosted grass and did the thing. almost neutral, remembers the scowl, corrects itself.

you had missed that thing so much.

"Pinky Pie!" you dropped into your usual spot, pulling your layers tighter. "i've missed you. have you been avoiding me? you have haven't you. it's about the market isn't it, i want you to know i wasn't trying to-"

you stopped.

he wasn't looking at your face.

he was looking at your neck. at the necklace. and something in his expression had shifted in a way you couldn't immediately name. not the scowl, not the controlled nothing he usually wore. something else. something you had never seen on his face before in all these months.

"what?" you said.

he didn't answer.

"Pinky Pie."

nothing. his eyes stayed on the necklace and the look in them was doing something complicated that he hadn't managed to shut down yet. in all these months he had always been so quick about that. always got his face back before you could read it properly.

right now he wasn't managing.

"do you like it?" you touched the pendant, suddenly self conscious in a way you couldn't explain. "my father gave it to me this morning. look at the colour-" you held it out toward him so he could see the pink gem properly, leaning forward slightly.

he stepped back.

not dramatically. not storming off. just one step. then another. until there was a distance between you that had never existed before, not in all the months of sitting in the grass together with the rice cake between you and the afternoons going quiet around you both.

you lowered your hand slowly.

"what's wrong?" you asked.

"nothing." flat.

"you stepped back."

"i'm standing."

"you stepped back when you saw the necklace-"

"i said i'm standing."

his eyes had gone to the middle distance. you had learned enough about him by now to know that was where he went when something got too close. you looked at him standing there in the cold with all that careful nothing on his face and felt something uncomfortable growing in your chest.

"did i do something wrong?" you asked.

"no."

"then why-"

"nothing is wrong." quiet. final.

you sat in the frost and looked at him standing further away than he had ever stood and went through everything you could think of. the market. the money. the weeks of avoiding. and now this, all because of a necklace your father had given you this morning that you had loved immediately because it was pink like his hair.

it didn't make sense.

none of it made sense and he wasn't going to tell you why and you didn't know how to ask in a way that would reach him through whatever wall had gone up so fast you'd almost missed it happening.

so you just sat there. and he just stood there. and the cold sat between you like a third person neither of you had invited.

he stayed the whole afternoon. he always stayed. but it was different today and you felt the difference in a way you couldn't find words for yet. He didnt touch the dango skewers you brought.

when the light went grey he left without ceremony.

he didn't look back.

you sat in the frost alone and held the pendant in your palm and stared at it for a long time.

and somehow the most important question that sat on your heart was "is he hungry?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

your father was in the main room when you got home.

he looked up when you came in and smiled and something about the smile was warm and careful at the same time. you had been too distracted this morning by the necklace to notice the careful part.

"my little blossom. sit with me."

you sat. hands folded. waiting.

"i want to ask you something." he said, in the gentle voice he used when he wanted you to know he wasn't angry before he said the thing. "and i want you to be honest with me."

"of course father."

"you were at the market recently." he said. "unattended."

you kept your face very still. "i only wanted to see the new fabric stall..."

"you were seen." he said. "giving money to a boy."

the room felt smaller.

"someone near me had something taken. i was only trying to help!"

"the boy with the pink hair." your father said. and the way he said it, slowly, like he had been holding it all day, made something cold settle in your stomach. "you know who he is?"

"i've seen him around." carefully. "i don't really know him."

your father looked at you for a long moment. "do you know what they say about that boy." he said. not a question.

you said nothing.

"they say his mother was cursed." your father said. "that she wasn't even human by the end of it. that whatever came out of that isn't human either. four eyes, four arms..." he shook his head slowly. "the priests won't go near that part of town anymore. did you know that? the animals won't either. dogs won't even bark in that direction." he paused. "there is something deeply wrong with that boy. something that has been wrong since before he was born. and the whole town knows it."

you thought about the heavy air near the ginkgo tree. the way birds stopped singing past a certain point. the way the shrine road always sat emptier than it should.

you thought about him walking alone at night because the days belonged to people who had decided they didn't want him in them.

"he didn't seem wrong to me." you said, very quietly.

your father's expression shifted. not angry. something more concerned than angry, which almost felt worse. "that is exactly what worries me my little blossom." he said. "you are young and you are kind and that is a beautiful thing. but kindness without wisdom can lead you somewhere you don't want to go." he leaned forward. "that boy is not someone you help. not someone you speak to. not someone you go near. do you understand me?"

you looked at your hands. "yes father."

he was quiet for a moment. then, "starting tomorrow you will have two of my men with you when you go out. just for peace of mind." a small smile. like it was nothing. like it was simply a kindness. "a Dainagon's daughter shouldn't be wandering unattended anyway. i should have arranged it sooner."

your head came up before you could stop it. "that isn't necessary-"

"it's already arranged." gently. warmly. like a door being closed very softly so you almost don't hear the click.

you sat very still.

"go rest before dinner." he said. "my little blossom."

you went to your room.

you sat on your futon and stared at the wall and thought about all of it. the things your father had said. the things the town said. the priests. the animals. the heavy air and the empty streets.

then you thought about tuesday afternoons and sweet rice cake disappearing without acknowledgement. you thought about him stepping back today. the look on his face before he managed to put the nothing back.

you took the necklace off.

you folded it into the bottom of your robe chest under three layers of silk and closed the lid.

then you lay on your futon and stared at the ceiling and thought about two guards who would be standing behind you from tomorrow onwards and a ginkgo tree that was now going to be very hard to get to.

next tuesday felt very far away. and very complicated.

807 AD, Winter, 08:10 A.M.

You were half way dressed when the whispers started. your attendants had the habit of forgetting you were there when they dressed you. You never really minded because you honestly enjoyed the gossip, its not like it was ever about someone you knew. until now that is.

you stared at yourself in the mirror while they spoke. your fathers gift sat prettily on your neck. Pink gem glittering in the light.

Its been two days since you've seen him and the thought that he'd be skinnier when you saw him had next played on your mind all night. has he stolen food again? does he miss you like you miss him?

the chatter behind you pulled you from your thoughts. "I heard the lady is going to the festival. her and the Lord had a huge fight, she threw a a shoe at him. almost hit his head." one of your attendants whispered the other gasped and paused her ministrations on your robe. "The lady has always been remarkably feisty, i admire her strength even in times like these..."the other responded.

CLANK! BOOM! POW!

hairpins one the floor, accessories scattered in your wake as you ran out the room. Hair standing up in several places and robe going every which way, when you busted into your parents bedroom to see your mother styling her hair and your father impeccably dressed as always, pacing around the room, and a shoe laying on the floor. your mouth moved before your brain. "YOU CANT GO! YOU JUST CANT. I WONT ALLOW IT!"

"pffffft!"

one thing about your mother is she was not serious .her hand went up to cover her mouth as she snickered, she was always so effortlessly elegant. your father paused his pacing and looked at you. up then down. it was obvious what he was thinking i mean with the way you were looking?

he wanted to rip out his hair and just yell. say something on the lines of "girl. call yo fucking uber, look at your hAiR! you look an absolute mess and the hell do you mean 'allow'? im having a tough day as is with you're mother being stubborn and now i have to deal with my spawn doing the same thing. fuck my stupid fucking chungus life."

but lucky for you your father was a man of patients or at least he tried, he sided eyed your mother who was still giggling but had went back to doing her hair, he took a deep breath and walked over to you. he knelt down so he reached about eye level or at least he was closer to your eyes than he would be standing and took both your hands in his.

his eyes locked onto the necklace you were wearing. before they made their way to your eyes, "My jewel, you know why i gave you this necklace other than a birthday gift?" his voice was soft and soothing. you stayed silent for a moment, "No...i dont."

"I gave it to you to protect you. It was your mothers grandmothers. i had to import it from her village far away. it deters cursed spirits and oni. i love you so much that i will do anything in my power to protect you. the same goes for your mother, but id never clip her wings nor yours. this is her choice and there will be two physicians comming with us. now finished getting dressed and fix your hair, we are leaving in an hour and a half. do not forget to bring something to offer."

he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and stood up. your mother had watched the entire thing with a soft smile on her face. when she started coughing your father rushed to her side and your heart panged.

when you were back in your room, the ladies continuing their work on you after apologising profusely for their insolence, the only thing you could think of was the necklace.

did your father know more than he was letting on? why else would he give a necklace that protected you from cursed spirits unless he knew there was more to the story of you and the pink haired boy.

then your mind wandered to your mother, she was anything but fragile, well that's how she used to be at least. Now...now you don't know.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Stepping out of the carriage, you had to stop yourself from petting the oxen, they were just so fluffy! you just wanted to hug their big chubby faces when they'd release little puffs of hair that looked like tiny clouds of smoke in the cold air. they were just too cute. (now i want a pet ox)

on the outskirts of the town, nobles gathered in front of the shrine, an offering in each of their hands, some a baby tooth, maybe a gold ornament, others a old family heirloom. the towns people watched, every year at the peek of winter when the cold itself had frostbite and wind could cut like a knife, a ceremony was held to honor the Gods and grant a safe rest of the season.

after the priests prayed and lit incense, one by one the people placed their offerings. when the time came to place yours, you set your antique hair pin down and bowed, when you rose up and turned to go back to your family you froze.

the crowed collectively gasped and some even cried out. There stood your father with a panicked look on his face as he held your mother, her face just a sliver away from hitting the ground. she fainted and he had caught her just in time.

Saying your mother was popular was an understatement, the woman could work a room. she could belittle you to filth and you'd ask for an autograph instead of crying. many treated her as though she were the a saint.

the family physicians came running and helped your father move her too the carriage. like any sensible daughter you ran after them.

"mother! mother!" you cried after them when you caught up, you climbed into the carriage behind them. your father was a mess, in between ordering the servant to take them back home and fussing over your mother, he didn't even notice you and when he did- he exploded. it was not a pretty sight.

harsh words were said by both parties and before you knew it you were running. you weren't sure where too, but your legs where moving as fast as they could. they carried you to the old Sakura tree, the one you and your friends used for hide and seek.

It was all too much. the emotions- they were just too many, floating in your heart and pounding in your head. when the tears came you made no attempt of fighting them, instead inviting the salty drops openly.

you weren't sure how long you sat curled against the tree crying when felt his presence. you knew he was a distance away without even looking up. your legs were tucked in and your arms wrapped around them securely, head buried in your knees.

"you sound like you could use a tissue. the noises you're making are disgusting." the little shit boy mumbled. you sniffled extra loud in response to which he scoffed. lifting your head and wiping your nose with the back of your hand, you grumbled, "im not in the mood, Pinky pie."

"Its Ryomen."

it took you a minute to process. your head tilting to the side, "huh?"

He sighed obnoxiously loud, probably regretted saying that but oh well too late. "My name. Its Ryomen Sukuna, dummy."

And just like that it felt like all your problems dissipated into thin air. the sparkle returning into your eyes. slowly you stood up. then you registered the distance between you two. oh yeah, you had this stupid necklace on. without a second thought you unhooked it and tossed it aside.

and at this point you didn't care, yeah maybe he'd try to shank you with his dagger but you needed this. maybe he did too.

He froze when he realised you were running towards him, he remained stiff or more so, steady, when you crashed into him. your arms roping around his waist and your head smooshing into his chest. was he always this tall?

"the hell are you doing ,weirdo." he made no move to push you off, instead his top two arms slowly wrapped around you awkwardly and the other pair remained limp by his sides. it was like he didn't know how to hug. its okay though, you'd be happy to give him lessons!

quiet yet not sombr, you melted into one another. right. it felt so right and so warm. all it took was his body cradling yours for that hurt in your heart to begin to slowly settle.

Then he began to talk. Not letting go.

Hey was it raining? Why was your hair getting wet?

"My father gave it to me, you know. My name." oh silly, it wasn't raining.

he sniffled before continuing, "He thought i was gift from the Spirits, that i was unique with all my uh... extra parts. He wanted to keep me, but he was weak. pathetic man really."

he held you tighter, "The scrutiny from the village and my mother was too much for him and they dumped me with the old man that used to live in the shed down in the meadow. he was blind. i was 6 when it happened."

you audibly gasped, you wanted to cry for him. you could imagine it now. A mini pinky pie, all soft cheeks and big eyes, crying for his parents as they abandoned him with some random old man. Ryomen continued, "it doesnt hurt anymore though, they died in a fire shortly after, along with their new baby. serves the bastards right."

that was the moment you knew. You'd do everything in your power to undo his hurt. no matter how long it took, decades or centuries, you would do it. you'd love him so much he'd suffocate on it.

okay maybe not that much, but you get the point. you were a very determined little thing.

the two of you stayed tangled in each others embrace until the evening washed over the meadow.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

across town your father sat beside the futon where your mother slept.

he had been holding her hand since they got back. she had argued the whole way home that she was perfectly fine and had only stopped when she ran out of energy for it, which told him everything the argument was trying not to.

he looked at her in the low lamp light and didn't say anything for a while.

"you scared me today." he said finally, quietly, to a woman who couldn't hear him. "you scare me all the time but today was a lot even for you."

he looked at her hand in his.

"she came running to me this morning with her hair half done. looking about nine years old." he shook his head. "too old to still look that young when she's worried. i don't know when that happened."

he was quiet for a moment.

"i snapped at her. at the ceremony. i'll fix that." a pause. "she disappeared after. guards lost her in the crowd, brilliant, very useful men i've got. came back before dark with red eyes and wouldn't look at me directly." he looked at the lamp. "i'm not a foolish man. i know my own daughter."

he sat back in his chair.

"teenagers." he said, like the word itself was exhausting. "she's thirteen and she's already keeping things from me. i can see it happening in real time and i can't do anything about it because the more i try to hold on the more she — " he stopped. "she has your eyes. that's the problem. she looks at things the way you look at things and i never know what she's going to decide is worth her time."

he thought about the market. the pink haired boy. the money.

"if it's him—" he started. stopped. shook his head slowly. "i don't know what i'll do if it's him."

your mother breathed slow and even in the quiet room.

807 AD, Winter, 07:00 A.M.

your father had been up before the sun herself. yes the sun is a female and no i want elaborate any further.

anyways...

this was not unusual when your mother was having the other kind of days. he moved through their bedroom quietly, the way he had learned to over the years, wringing out the cloth and folding it neatly before pressing it gently to her forehead. she didn't stir. she had slept through the night which the physician said was good and which your father had nodded and then spent the rest of the evening not quite believing. could you blame him?

he sat with her for a while in the early quiet. just sitting. the way he did when he thought nobody was watching and he didn't have to look like everything was handled.

then, after a while he stood, straightened himself, and became the Dainagon again. he had letters to write and men to see and the ordinary business of being an important person waited for nothing, including an unwell wife and a daughter who was giving him a headache.

he stopped at your room on the way out. the maids were inside tidying, moving around each other in that practiced quiet way, your futon already put away, your robes from yesterday folded neatly. the room had that particular emptiness that meant you had gone.

his eyes found the vanity.

the necklace sat right in the centre of it. not tucked away, not pushed aside. just placed there, neatly, the pink gem catching the weak morning light. like it had been put there purposely. with thought.

he stood in the doorway looking at it for a long moment.

then he turned and went to write his letters.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

safe to say your poetry tutor had the worst timing. not only did she not teach properly and expect you to get all the work right, she was never in class when you had questions.

she had given you your instructions, explained the form, said something about seasonal imagery and restraint in classical verse, and then announced she needed to step out briefly to fetch a reference text. all that happened in the span of eight minutes. like girl be so for real.

but whatever, she was doing you a solid even if she didn't know it.

you were up before the door finished closing.

you had peeped the guards positions at the main entrance when you walked in. meaning you couldn't just stroll out of this place. you'd have to get down and dirty. popping open the weirdly small window on the side of the room, you took a deep breath in and then exhaled every bit of air you could in hopes it would help you squeeze through. first was your head, then your shoulders which did hurt a little and before you knew it you were out in the garden. heck yeah, like a boss.

your hands smoothed your hair and then your robes, couldn't go seeing Pinky Pie all messy now could you?

It was weird knowing his name now. Ryomen Sukuna. Just saying it made the tips of your ears warm and your head all fuzzy. did everything about him have to be so handsome? You'd still call him Pinky pie though, at least sometimes, you decided. i mean you kinda got attached to the name. it was cute- like him.

With a surprising amount of stealth you weren't aware you possessed (or the security just sucked) you sneaked through the garden till you made it to a small gate the gardeners used, nobody ever guarded here. the place had a lot of blind spots okay.

you took a moment to catch your breath before moving to open the gate.

SMACK!

"ow! what the flip?" you hissed, you're hand had insistently pulled back from the sting. Ume snorted and stepped in front of you. "sneaking out,are we? tsk tsk tsk."

"i was um just taking a stroll. don't you have mathematics? how did you even escape Takeda-sensei?" Ume raised an eyebrow at your excuse and scoffed. rolling her eyes,

"firstly, i'm insulted you think id believe such a lame excuse, do i look like Hotaru to you? secondly, i invented the concept escape. now tell me what really going on because this whole keeping secrets thing is getting out of hand. i hardly see you anymore, the others are worried too. you never hang out with us after school and at lunch time ,you're daydreaming with this weird smile on your face. 'fess up dude."

you sighed, you knew this day would come, but confrontation was never your strong suit when it came to you being in the wrong.

"remember when we were twelve and everyone was into hide and seek? you started off quietly. Ume's eyebrows knitted in confusion for a second before she nodded. you continued, "Well, there was this one time when you and I hid behind that old shed. the one from the rumors."

she hummed in acknowledgement, "yeah, we won that day...that's...that's when you started acting all strange."

Ume grabbed your arm and pulled you over to this huge rock, sitting down and pulling you with so that you could talk freely without worrying about getting caught.

you went on to tell her everything.

from tiny details like the way his hair always stayed so shiny and fluffy, the length and thickness of his eyelashes even the amount of money you spent the past year and a half on Sweet rice cakes- all the way to the big things like the fear your father may be realising whats going on or how you decided your wedding theme would be pink and orange instead of the initial pink and green because Pinky pie (you told her about the nickname too, you couldnt help it) mentioned he liked the colour of your orange robes once.

Ume stayed silent threw it all, she gave the occasional hum or nod to convey she was listening, it was obvious she was soaking up every drop of info you gave her like a sponge.

when you were done she just sat staring at you silently. until she squealed. very loudly. she jumped onto you resulting in you both going into a frenzy of giggles and squeals.

she flopped onto her back and a dreamy sigh was pulled from her lips, "how romantic! forbidden love, A love never meant to exist, yet impossible to let go!" she screamed and kicked her legs. as you can see she obviously liked poetry more than you.

she sat up and stared at you, "i cant believe it. my own best friend and the towns freak. no offense to your bae, but its just so...wow! you were going to see him weren't you? that's why you sneaked out of Akio-sensei's class? go. ill keep the guards distracted, you have around two hours. go go go!"

you thanked her profusely and after one to many hugs you were off. sprinting down the quiet brick road and then trough the trees. when the meadow came into view you reduced to a slow jog.

you made it to the old shed.

he wasn't there. so you poked your head inside and still no luck.

there were a pile of sticks in the corner, a bunch of robes haphazardly thrown onto a stool, some looked brand new and others still fairly usable. yeah brodie defiantly stole this, as well as the three pairs of boots that sat beside the stool, each a different size. oh well, guys gotta do what hes gotta do.

there was also a small pot sitting on the table. you went over and lifted the lid. some kind of root vegetable stew, still faintly warm.

you put the lid back down and sighed so deeply your whole body deflated with it.

he was eating. he had food. he had made food. the relief was genuinely embarrassing, you were thirteen not his mother, and yet here you were feeling like you could cry over a pot of stew.

you left the shed and stepped back into the cold.

it was only then that you remembered you had completely forgotten the sweet rice cakes. oh poop. in all the chaos of windows and Ume's dramatic yet weirdly beautiful forbidden love speech you had not bought a single thing. you stood there for a moment feeling terrible about this and then made a very firm internal promise. next time. something new, something good. the fish skewers from the east gate vendor absolutely. the sweet potato dumplings from near the shrine road as well. actually both. he totally complain about it, that was fine, complaining was his love language.

the ginkgo tree was a few feet from the shed and he was there. seventy percent. dependable as ever.

he was sitting with his back against the bark, legs stretched out, looking unbothered by the cold in the way he always was, like the weather had simply decided he wasn't worth the effort.

cause he is like supes nonchalant.

there was a cloth laid out beside him with several pieces of mochi on it, the kind rolled in roasted soybean flour, a few already gone. he had something in each of his four hands and he looked up when you approached.

you walked straight past your usual spot and sat down directly in front of him. close. knees almost touching his.

he looked at where you had sat. then at your face. then back at where you had sat again with the expression of someone whose brain was buffering.

you reached over, grabbed a piece of mochi off his cloth, took an enormous bite, and launched into everything without so much as a hello. the window, the garden wall, the ornamental rock ambush, Ume being annoyingly perceptive as she always is, the whole story of telling her everything, even the nickname...which you apologized for telling coming out in one long breathless stream while you chewed enthusiastically.

Ryomen watched you eat his mochi with an expression of deep personal offence. "do you make a habit of taking food that doesn't belong to you?" he asked but it felt like more of a statement. "you eat like an ox. a large, noisy, inconsiderate ox."

"and how exactly do i know this is even your food." you said, reaching for another piece without breaking eye contact. your father did always say you had your mothers spunk at times

"it is on my cloth." he said through his teeth.

"could be anyone's cloth." you said pleasantly, and kept talking.

he scowled so hard it should have been physically painful but he did not move the cloth away. you both understood what that meant. butterfly.

the conversation had been easy the way it always was, drifting in and out of things without any particular destination, and then at some point without either of you doing anything to cause it, it just wasn't easy anymore.

it changed. cool refreshing air thickening. you both felt it at the same time, you could tell because he went quieter and you went quieter and the space between you, which was already smaller than it had ever been, started feeling very loud.

neither of you said anything for a moment.

you looked at the mochi on the cloth. at your hands. at a very interesting patch of grass near your knee.

"can i ask you something?" you quesitoned, too late to back out now champ. this was it.

"you never ask." he said. "you just start talking."

"i'm asking this time." you said.

he didn't say yes. he didn't say no. he waited, which for him had always been the same thing as yes.

you took a breath and looked up at him. "what am i to you?"

he looked at you.

"i know what you are to me." you said. "i've known for a while. probably since the shed honestly, which is a little embarrassing considering i was twelve and you had a dagger, but here we are." you picked at the grass beside you. "i just don't know what i am to you. and i think i need to. because it matters. you matter. to me. a lot."

he was quiet for so long you started to think he wasn't going to answer. he was looking at you with that direct look, the one he didn't give often, all four eyes, the kind that meant something had gotten through all the walls whether he had planned for it to or not.

then he looked away.

"you show up." he said. like he was starting somewhere and didn't know where it was going yet. "without warning. all the time. you talk constantly about random things and you bring me treats like i'm some pet and you gave me a name i will spend the rest of my life trying to forget."

"Ryomen." you said softly.

"and you sat in the frost." he said. quieter now. "for an entire afternoon. even when i put the distance between us. you just sat there and waited." he said it like it was something he had turned over many times and still couldn't fully account for. "nobody does that."

"i did." you said.

"i know." he said. "that's what i'm saying."

you looked at him. he was looking at his own hand, the one closest to you, turning it over slowly like it had done something without his permission.

"i don't have your words." he said finally. "i don't know how to say things the way you say them. i never have." a pause. "but you're not nothing to me. you have never been nothing to me. not once."

your heart was so loud. so embarrassingly loud.

"Ryomen." you said, and your voice came out smaller than you intended.

he looked up at you.

and then, slowly, like he was doing it before he could think better of it, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. just that. just one small thing. his hand was warm and the touch was careful, the kind of careful that meant something had been considered, and then his hand dropped back to his side and he looked away and his jaw was set and his ears were pink and he said nothing.

you said nothing either.

you sat in the winter afternoon with your heart doing its embarrassing thing and looked at the meadow and felt the shape of something enormous and gentle settling over everything like the first snow of the season, quiet and covering everything it touched.

"okay." you said eventually. just that.

"okay." he said.

and somehow that was everything.

you stayed until the light started going. when you finally stood and smoothed your robes you looked down at him still sitting against the tree and he was already looking at you and neither of you said anything about that either.

he picked up the last piece of mochi and held it out to you.

you took it. your fingers brushed his and neither of you moved for just a moment longer than necessary.

"eat on the way home." he said, looking away. "you're always forgetting."

"you notice that?" you said softly.

"it's hard not to notice things about you." he said. to the tree line. like he hadn't meant to say it quite like that.

you smiled at the mochi in your hand. "goodnight Ryomen."

he said nothing. but you felt him watching you walk away and you carried that the whole way home like something precious.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

the house was quiet by the time your father came to your room.

you were already asleep, or close enough to it, curled on your futon with the blanket pulled up and the lamp burned very low. he stood in the doorway for a moment just looking at you the way he only allowed himself when he thought no one could see it.

he came in quietly and sat down beside you. he reached out and smoothed your hair back from your face, slow and gentle, the way he had when you were very small and couldn't sleep.

"do you remember." he said softly. "when you were three years old and decided you were going to catch a firefly." a small smile crossed his face. "you chased that poor creature for a full hour. around the garden, through the kitchen, into the main hall. three years old and completely unstoppable. you cried when it got away." he paused. "and then the next evening you went back outside and tried again. and the evening after that. and the one after that." he shook his head slowly. "your mother said you got that from her. i said you got it from me. we argued about it for a week."

he was quiet for a moment, just looking at your face in the low light.

"you are my whole heart." he said quietly. "every stubborn impossible inch of you."

his hand stilled in your hair.

"and there is nothing in this world." he said, softer now, the warmth dropping into something lower and more certain. "nothing and no one, that i will allow to hurt you."

he sat with you a little longer.

then he stood, and straightened himself, and went back to his letters.

oop! looks like you've reached the end. oh no! fear not for this is only, dun dun dun PART ONE!?

Yay! (^o^)

so yeah when i did intended to make this just a one fic thing but as i kept writing i realized, hey. i talk to much and this becoming way to long and we are like just past half way... i hope you ate this fic up until now and are excited for the next part because its already cooking. PART 2 is out nowww!!

A forlorn sigh leaves his mouth at the thought of it. He gets up, his loose hair forming a sort of veil around his face as he walks over to the radio. Death metal blasts through the speakers as he continues on getting ready for the day, his head bobbing back and forth in tandem with the music.

After a quick shower in the bathroom adjacent to his room, he tightens his tie around the collar of his work shirt, his hair already done and his jacket waiting in the confines of his closet waiting for him to fill it. It's all so painfully mundane and it makes him feel like he's missing something.

The images of you in his head become more annoying by the second.

He thinks of you getting ready by his mirror where he could — no, would — steal glances of your unguarded self. He would plant chaste kisses against the side of your neck while his hands slither around your upper abdomen, squeezing you tightly against his body. He'd inhale the scent of his detergent on your clothes, letting you invade the confines of his heart like a grandfather clock you enjoy taking apart just to put it back together again.

Would your delicate hands tie his tie for him if you stuck around beyond the dark hours of the night?

He laughs. Of course you wouldn't. You're not a damsel waiting for him to save you.

You're a bird in a cage of your own making.

The only reason it nags at him so relentlessly is because he'd be yours if you'd just let him.

He turns the dial on the radio to shut it off once he's done getting dressed for the day. Fortunately for him, today was going to be a fairly easy one. Team Eager was dispatched for a routine cleanup at the outskirts of a town where trash beasts were apparently popping up more frequently. It wasn't too hard of a job, he could probably be done with it in an hour if luck was on his side today.

He walked down the hall and into the kitchen hoping to grab a quick bite or maybe have himself some coffee. To his partial dismay, the chime of your laughter beckoned his sight once he had entered the dining area. There was a smile plastered up on your face and with it, an inkling of jealousy made a home in his gut once more.

Tamsy saunters over to the kitchen area to make himself a cup of coffee. It wasn't as good as what he was used to on the Sphere, but it would do. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed you walking up to the fridge beside him as he scooped up a spoonful of coffee grains. You grabbed a chilled brownie from the fridge — Did the Vianders bring in a fresh supply of sweet treats?

"Good morning," he greets, seeing as you weren't going to acknowledge him unless he spoke up.

"Morning Tamsy," You bite off the corner piece of the brownie in your hand while you lean against the counter. "Gris was just telling me about how last week, Enjin got shitfaced while bar hopping and almost got into a fight with the bouncer at one of them-" You giggle at the memory, covering your smile with the back of your hand. "-I swear I was this close to dying from laughter, he was so embarrassed."

"Was he?"

You scoff and bite into the brownie again, "Prolly not, you know him."

"Indeed, that does sound like him." He lifts up his sleeves to wash the spoon he used, "Do you mind handing me the cream?"

You hum and open the fridge once more, taking the coffee cream out of the fridge and opening it to pour it. He smiles, drying his hands and content that you knew just how much cream he liked in his coffee. You didn't do this for anyone else, it made him feel a little special and perhaps a little bit disgusted that this simple act of yours had him feeling so mushy inside.

You put it back into the fridge shortly after, resuming your prior position at the counter beside him. "You have work today?"

"Just a routine clean up at a nearby city, I should be back before sundown. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," you say as you finish your brownie, "I was wondering if I could see you tonight?"

He smirks, "My, do you miss me that much already?"

You shift uncomfortably and an awkward smile finds your lips. Seeing your uneasiness made him feel a little nervous. "Ah.. Something like that."

"Mm. Is it important?"

"Not really, I just want to talk."

"Alright then."

You make yourself scarce from the kitchen quicker than he would have liked, but he doesn't make an effort to make you stay. He watches as you rejoin Gris and Enjin and as much as he would have liked to stake his claim at your side, he simply finishes his coffee and makes his way to the garage to wait for Delmon.

If he looks at you any longer he's sure to abandon his principles for you — the thought alone is dangerous.

You glance at him as he leaves and you can feel that familiar tug at your heart upon watching him disappear behind the doors of the lounge. It was the same feeling that lingered whenever you left his room in the early hours of the morning, the same one that was present whenever he kissed your lips during your moments of intimacy in his bedroom.

The same one you needed to get rid of.

"_______, you okay? You got that sad look on your face again."

You flick a card at Enjin, "It's my resting face you idiot."

"Uh-huh," He snickers, "Whatever you say, sweets."

You roll your eyes and continue playing with them for a while until the lounge gets busy. You weren't a big fan of crowds so once it started getting loud and filled with people, you made your departure into your room.

Before you knew it, night had arrived and you found yourself at the rooftop of the headquarters. Somehow, you'd slept the afternoon away and when you woke up, there was yet another celebration going down in the lounge. With nothing but a few cans of beer at your side, you dangled your legs off of the edge of the building without much care as you drank the night away.

When you heard the door to the rooftop open, you knew who it was.

"So this is where you are."

A smile finds your lips and you raise your can of beer, signifying that you had heard him before raising it to your mouth and finishing your fourth one tonight. The liquid was bitter but it was what you needed for a night like this.

"Thought you said you were gonna be back by sundown." You place the empty can beside you and reach for another. You weren't drunk, but you were buzzed and loose for sure.

He sits beside you with a small gap in between you. "Mission took longer than I thought it would."

You hum in acknowledgement and open another can of beer.

"Haven't you had enough of that tonight?" he glances at you, watching you drink like its second nature.

"Mm.. not nearly enough if you ask me," You snicker.

He stays silent for a while simply looking at you, until he eventually stopped beating around the bush and broke the silence. "Why did you ask to see me tonight?"

Your hand holding your beer stops midway and drops into your lap. "I was thinking about, y'know, what to say to you, but I still haven't come up with anything — so I guess I'll just come out n' say it."

He feels his skin become warm, and shivers run amok all over him as he waits for your next words.

"We have to stop."

His slight smile drops. "..Stop what?"

"This," you gesture towards yourself and him. "Whatever we have going on.. it has to stop."

".. Is that so?" He rips his gaze away from you and looks out towards the vast landscape. This isn't at all what he had expected from you. Well, it was a possibility — he just didn't think you would actually go this far.

"Yeah," You chug the rest of the beer and lean against his shoulder. "I can't really afford all that love stuff, n' I don't wanna lead you on or nothin'.."

"My, how careful of you."

"..I like you too much," you mumble against the fabric of his sleeve, "Can't have that. No sir-ee.." You laugh to yourself but it doesn't sound as joyous as it normally does.

"And why would that be? Do tell, I'm quite curious."

"'Cause it never turns out well, like.. ever," you huff, "That, and caring about someone else is just.. tiring."

His allows himself to lay his head atop yours. Objectively, you were right, it was a hassle to care about others. He experienced such a feat firsthand with you and he's sure that you knew it by now. Yet, still he asks:"Is it?"

"Mhm," you play with his fingers while you speak; it's probably the alcohol that's got you feeling all mushy and vulnerable. He can't say he hates it though. "I hate caring about where you're at, or what you're doing when you're not with me.. hate getting jealous too — it's all so irritatingly stupid."

He smirks, "You get jealous?"

"Of course I do, I'm human." You deadpan.

He smiles a places a kiss atop your forehead before leaning back to look at you. "..And what if I said I didn't want to stop this, hm?"

"…" You look ahead, "..We agreed no strings, so me liking you kind of violates that, doesn't it?"

"It's nobody's business but our own, so what's stopping us from changing that?"

"Me."

Your eyes meet his own for the first time this night. He swears he can see the uncertainty bubbling within you. You're trying so hard not to give into your inner desires and unfortunately for you, he's willing to push you to the edge to force you to confront them.

"You're making it much more difficult than it has to be, Dear."

"I don't want a relationship — I wasn't looking for that when we started this."

"And yet your heart still yearns for me, does it not?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I want a relationship with you," you look away from him with a disheartened expression, "I'm just not built for that. You know this."

He reaches out to lace his fingers against your own, causing you to look back at him. "I'm offering myself to you," he tells you, "All you've got to do is accept."

Your hand squeezes his lightly and before you know it, your vision is blurry and your fingers tremble. "Doing that means trusting you with everything I am, I don't- I don't know if that's the right thing for me."

"Baby steps," his voice is soft and inviting, it makes you want to cry. "We can move at your own pace."

He reaches out to wipe your tears, but it simply makes you cry more.

"Tamsy.. I.."

"Shh.." He coos, bringing you into a hug.

His embrace has always made you feel so safe; As if everything else in the world didn't matter when he would wrap his arms around you. His body was warm against yours and his scent just as comforting as always. It was strange — despite how much more intimately you'd known him — this was different.

Trusting him with your heart was different.

"Confide in me, that's all you have to do."

"You make it sound so easy.."

"Because it is," He whispers, "You don't need to worry about what could go wrong when you're with me. I've shown you that, haven't I?"

And he has.

He's always been reliable and has never once done anything you didn't like him to. He respected your boundaries and held himself to the highest standard. He could be the perfect partner, if you'd just let him.

A soft sigh escapes you and you nod meekly, unable to find the words to express just how terrified you are of giving your heart away to someone else — of freeing yourself from the cage you've known for as long as you could remember. It had been your home for so long that you forgot just how refreshing the environment outside of it felt — you forgot just how much you craved to be held.

How much you craved to be weak in the arms of someone capable of handling that side of you.

And in your moment of vulnerability, you let your heart fly into the arms of the man you've chosen to trust, not realizing that it was another cage — it was simply more spacious than your previous one.

Because once he had you, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

His voice sounded as animated as usual. Truthfully, you were not too well acquainted with him despite being on the same team as him, so you didn't know much about him or his personality aside from what you saw during jobs or at HQ, but you figured that speaking to him wouldn't hurt — especially not after the way this night was going. You needed a distraction.

You nod, "Yeah. Are you?"

He smiles placidly, golden eyes warm and somewhat inviting. Again, you didn't know much about Tamsy's personality, but his looks certainly were not scaring you off. In fact, when you really thought about it, he had an almost warm and heavenly aura about him. It was strange to see beauty like his on the Ground where people were constantly suffering from sickness or hunger but it wasn't like you were going to complain.

He seemed nice to talk to.

"I don't usually come to these things, but Delmon insisted, so here I am." He sighs as if the mere thought of his teammate stressed him out. From the amount of times Tamsy has yelled at him to keep quiet though, you suppose it's warranted.

"You came because of Delmon?" A genuine laugh escapes you and you down the rest of your liquor afterwards.

"He wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed." He frowned wistfully. "Why did you come? You're not exactly the most sociable person."

"I'm going to ignore that last comment," you said with a slight snicker. You swiveled around on your stool so that you were facing the dance floor rather than the bar. Your elbows were propped up on the counter behind you as you leaned back. "I came because Enjin asked and I wasn't tryna see him beg me to come. He's annoying when he gets like that."

Tamsy's eyes are still on you; watching your relaxed demeanor. Probably a result of the alcohol you've been consuming.

"Is he now?"

"Uh-huh; He has a way of making me feel guilty when he gives me those damned puppy-dog eyes. Plus, I felt bad giving excuses as to why I couldn't go all the time." You looked on at the people dancing to electronic music in front of you. Everyone seemed to be in their little worlds, focused on the music or the people they were dancing with. You hated to admit it but places like these made you feel out of place — that was the real reason you didn't come to these things.

"Hm.." Tamsy sips on his drink. "You really should try to socialize more; Perhaps it could help you feel less.. gloomy."

You turn lazily and give him a confused expression, "Who said I was gloomy at all?"

"The look on your face before I came was pretty telling," He laughs softly, his eyes closing as he did so.

"I wasn't gloomy," you roll your eyes, "I was simply bored. It's not like I know anyone here anyway."

"That's.. kind of the entire purpose of socializing don't you think?"

"What is?"

"To get to know people." He says it like it was obvious.

"Yeah…. no." you deadpan as you swivel back to face the bar counter and prop your chin up on the palm of your hand. "I'm not good at carrying conversations with people I don't know — especially if we have nothing in common."

"And how exactly are we speaking right now?"

"We're on the same team, which makes us co-workers — ergo, we have something in common. If I started talking to some random-ass guy here, he'd probably think I was flirting and it'd get really awkward, really fast." You gesture to the barkeeper to get her attention and she nods in acknowledgement, heading towards you once she's done serving another patron. You ask for a refill and sip on your drink once the barkeeper fulfills your request. The alcohol does well in making you more sociable, so you have no problem going a little over your limit.

"I suppose you do have a point," Tamsy shrugs. "It seems lonely though."

You sigh, "Being alone and loneliness as a state of being are two different things — that's what I like to think." The liquid burns your throat and it's not as sweet as you'd like it to taste, but you drink it anyway.

"So you mean to tell me you don't get lonely?"

"I do," you look at him through dazed eyes, your head resting on your forearm. "But it's manageable so it doesn't really bother me. Arkha tells me I should try 'making more friends' but-" you shrug, "-it's a work in progress." He looks out of place if you're being honest, but you're tipsy enough to ignore the thought in favor of speaking with him.

"Hm." He drinks from his cup and finishes the liquor inside. You weren't aiming to get drunk, but your previous four cups of liquor were beginning to get you there. I'll just finish this one, you thought to yourself. Gris agreed to drive all of you back to headquarters so you didn't mind being a little less sober. It'd be easier to sleep if you were drowsy anyway.

"That seems like a sad thing to me." He looks down at you through golden eyes that seem less welcoming and more like they're pitying you. You feel a twinge of annoyance but don't think much of it, the alcohol was distorting your vision so you're probably just seeing things. Tamsy, from what you've seen around HQ, is kind and while he does tease, he never really says any of it with ill intent.

"Yeah, to you." You smile lazily, "It's actually pretty fulfilling in my case. I don't have to go around worrying about how I come off to other people."

"Seems a little to me like you're avoiding it," he points out, much to your dismay.

You scoff, "I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? That counts."

"Does it?" He tilts his head and rests his chin on the palm of his hand that's propped up on the bar counter, mirroring you.

"You know, I think this is the most we've ever talked. Like. . at all."

"Remind me who's fault that is?" He smiles once he hears your laugh.

"What, it's mine?" You didn't think he'd notice your avoidance of him in specific.

See, despite not interacting much with Tamsy aside from work and occasionally greeting him at HQ, you'd be blind to not notice his blatant kindness. He takes the time to help others and while he may get annoyed at times, he never gets angry. What stood out the most to you though, was how observant he was of everything around him. That, and his odd way of speaking; but that was besides the point. The point was — it was because of his unfiltered gentility that you made sure to keep a tight distance away from him.

"Your words, not mine."

"I didn't think it was that noticeable — but it's not intentional. Sorry if that offends you. . . somehow."

"Oh, I'm not offended at all," he says passively, "I was simply curious as to why you always stayed to yourself, away from everyone else. . though, I see now that it's simply your nature."

Your eyes narrowed at him slightly, like you were trying to solve a puzzle. He was quick to decipher your tells and you weren't sure how you felt about that, but you were too buzzed to actually be freaked out about it. It's not like he could do much with the information that you were an introvert — even if it wasn't the full truth of your carefully maintained isolation.

"You were curious?"

"If my own teammate avoids me like a sickness, it's pretty normal to be curious, no?"

He's right, but you hate that he noticed it at all. "You keep answering my questions with your own."

He laughs softly, "Sorry. Force of habit."

"You know, . . .you've got a funny way of speaking; Has anyone ever told you that?" Your brain is telling you to shut up because you're talking entirely too much than you normally would, but your body wasn't listening at all. You were usually on your guard when it came to anyone that wasn't Arkha. It was clear that the alcohol was to blame for your newfound confidence in maintaining conversation with someone who was essentially a stranger.

"Funny how?" He quirks up an eyebrow in confusion.

"Like.." you narrow your eyes as if you're trying to visualize it, ". .Fancy? You sound like a princess if I'm entirely honest."

He seems to be amused by your tipsy behavior by the way that he's just gazing at you with a lazy smile, as if you're some sort of entertainment. It hides the flicker of annoyance behind his kind eyes. "A princess. ." He muses, "I suppose it is a little strange, . .people down here aren't exactly used to it." he murmurs the last part, so you didn't catch it.

"Why do you talk like that?" your words pour out of your lips a little slower because of the fact that your body felt so relaxed. It was welcomed because you rarely ever get to let loose — or rather, you seldom allow yourself to do so. In addition to that, Tamsy's friendliness made you feel oddly safe around him so it was no surprise you weren't quite acting like your usual self. It wasn't like you were shattering that careful persona you've built up by being a little more talkative.

There weren't any consequences to just speaking with him since he'd probably forget about the entire interaction by tomorrow.

"Do you really want to know why?" he asks, his voice soft and as sweet as honey.

"_________!"

You heard Gris call your name, but as soon as you turned your head to look at the tall man walking in your direction, Tamsy leaned in close besides your ear enough that you could feel his soft breaths and whispered, "It's because I'm not from down here."

"Huh.. ?" You confusedly look back at Tamsy but the sly expression only lasts for a moment before morphing into something that mimics sincerity. "Down here..? What do you-"

"________. " Gris is at your side now, prompting you to look up at the blond man that towers over you.

In an instant, Tamsy's words are pushed to the subconsciousness of your mind. "Oh hey Gris. .! We're leaving already?" You smiled up at the man who nodded to you in response. Noticing that you were buzzed, Gris offered a hand to help you up, which you gladly took.

"Thanks," you told him as you lifted yourself off of your seat and looked back towards Tamsy. "You're coming right?" Tamsy follows at your side and nods in response to your question, that usual lazy smile splayed across his lips.

The two of you follow Gris to the jeep parked outside which ends up with the two of you all the way in the back — not squished against each other since there was enough space, but it was still closer than the two of you had ever been. Enjin was behind Gris' seat, talking his ear off about how his driving sucked because it put everyone to sleep and you didn't really remember what Delmon and Semiu were talking about in the seats in front of you because all you could think about was how warm Tamsy's knee felt against your thigh. The alcohol coursing through your system already made it difficult to understand what exactly it was that you were feeling. So when your eyes traveled up until you were gazing at his face, the feeling of alien warmth perplexed you even more.

When Tamsy's eyes found your own, you instantly looked away, opting to gaze at the scenery outside the tinted window. The mere act of his clothed knee knocking against your thigh meant nothing. It had been a normal human action, completely devoid of intention.

You shouldn't be reading into small things like this when you barely even knew the guy like that.

When the next morning rolled on by, your limbs felt as heavy as rubble from a rundown building. You were in your room with barely any recollection of how it was that you ended up there. Your memories were a blur and the more you tried to think about it the more your head began to ache. Maybe going out to drink after a difficult mission hadn't exactly been the best idea.

You should have stayed home yesterday.

"Oh well. . ." you groan tiredly as you slowly swung your feet off the edge of your mattress. The headache was only getting worse the more you moved around but you were desperate to get some water into your system. You halfheartedly greeted some of your fellow cleaners that walked down the hall as you made your way to the dining hall in search for water. As you approached the gallon of water that sat on the counter, you noticed that Tamsy was inside the kitchen as well. Your memory of yesterday was hazy but you were pretty sure you talked to him a bit. . hopefully you didn't say anything embarrassing.

"Morning," you murmured as you poured yourself a cup of water.

"Good Morning, ________." Tamsy greets calmly as he always does. He's in casual, yet still somehow formal-seeming clothing and the blue sections of his hair are out of their usual wraps; the strands cascade softly over his chest as they usually do when he's dressed to go to the city. You might not talk to him much, but you're observant enough to know these things; Especially when it involves one of your teammates.

You give him a subtle once-over as you drink from your glass of water. "You goin' out?"

The man nods as he fixes his sleeves. "Yes, I was looking for you actually."

You lift a brow in his direction. His gaze seems calculated. "..What, did you need something?"

"..I was simply wondering if there was something you'd like for me to bring back from the city; It's my day off."

A look of surprise flickered over your features for a split second, "Oh. Um.." You knew Tamsy was of the generous kind, which was something rare to find on The Ground, but your eyes instinctively shimmered with something akin to gratitude when you registered his question. "I uh.. I was needing some pen ink, if that's not too much to ask..?"

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, that's it. I don't really need anything else." Even if you were used to the urge of wanting to ask for more when someone offered you anything at all, you were never one to actually give into those urges and take advantage of generous offers. From your birth to now, you've seen people take advantage of opportunities out of necessity — but that wasn't you anymore.

You were in a safe haven now — you didn't have to hold onto people's kindness with the desperation and fear that you'd never be offered it again.

Even if it would take a while for it to actually sink in.

After Tamsy bid you farewell and went on his way to the city, you retreated to your room to get ready for the day. It was bad enough you felt like a dead person walking on most days but the effects from the alcohol from last night only made you feel more so. A tired huff left your lips as you sat at the edge of your bed. "Hm.." You pull your second drawer of your bedside table open. Your gentle hands pick up the well-worn journal inside of it, smiling as it transforms in your hands, seeming as if it were brand-new once that warm golden glow of anima washed over it.

Your very first jinki, 'Effigia' you named it, was a worn out journal you held near and dear to your heart for as long as you could remember. When you were a child, the journal served as your way of escaping from the world — you could spend hours writing about the things you saw, the people you interacted with; anything that helped you empty your busy mind. When the journal was touched by anyone other than yourself while activated, the pages would drench themselves in ink that could rearrange to form animations; They told stories of the person who touched it as long as they had contact with it while activated. These drawings, however, could only ever be seen through the eyes of its owner — you.

It's why you didn't really flaunt it in battle, or anywhere that wasn't your room.

When you were a child, Effigia served as your only form of connection with others. You enjoyed seeing the pictures the ink would create when others touched it, it brought you happiness in your moments of isolation. Others would think you to be strange, looking at your blacked-out pages like it was interesting simply because they couldn't see the ink reshaping before your eyes and telling you animated stories about their lives.

It was childish, invasive and didn't help out much in battle, which was why you kept it in your drawer, only bringing it out when you were feeling nostalgic and alone. Every time you touched it, the ink would reshape old animated pictures of the people who touched it in the past. It was your comfort as an abandoned kid on The Ground. To go from living purely for survival, to having time to go out with people who considered you a friend — the difference was night and day.

A soft knock at your door pulls you from your reminiscent thoughts, causing you to scramble to hide your journal within the drawer and only sighing with relief when you hear the words, "It's me, _______." You walk up to your door after tucking the journal back into your drawer to let Semiu inside. She usually never parts from her beloved lobby desk but you assume it must be pretty important if she's at your door.

"Hey Semiu, what's up?"

"The boss is back," She smiles calmly and leans against the doorframe with her arms crossed, "He's askin' for you."

"He's back already? I thought he was gonna be out for longer?"

"Dunno. He said he had'ta talk to you 'bout somethin' important so.." Semiu shrugs and closes the door behind her once you nod in agreement, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

You aren't alone with them for long though since you decided to heed Semiu's words and head to the boss' office once you made yourself look more presentable and less like a dead person walking. A slight smile finds its way onto your features as you make your way down the hall with your boots quietly tapping the tile surface. All the other cleaners must be out doing jobs, it's probably why it's so empty at headquarters. It's strange to be here when everyone else is scarce; nonetheless, your hand doesn't hesitate when its met with the cold metal of the boss' door.

Three soft knocks is all it takes for the boss to welcome you into his office. "Semiu says you asked for me," you say as you walk into the familiar office after closing the door behind you.

"I did," Arkha turns around to look at you; his eyes are as soft as they always are when they land on you. "Did you have fun yesterday?"

If there's one thing you're not good at, its faking your nonchalance around Arkha Corvus. He was your boss, yes, but he had been your closest friend first. A smile breaks through as you uncross your arms and instead opt to rest your hand on your hip, "Well, It wasn't bad if that's what you're asking; I had fun watching Enjin and Semiu get drunk off cheap alcohol."

He chuckles, "Sounds eventful."

You shrug, "Tamsy and Delmon were there too."

"Seems like you're finally comin' outta that shell of yours, huh?" He asks, all too aware of how standoffish you could get when it came to groups. It had been around two years since you joined team Eager and five since you officially became a Cleaner, it was only natural that you'd finally start socializing with people the more you were around them. In fact, Arkha had begun to worry if putting you in a team at all would help you make good connections. If it wasn't for the fact that he was your closest friend, you wouldn't have given in to his ruthless attempts to convince you to join a team at all.

"Seems like it.." You sigh, "It's still weird though; It's like everyone's just been tolerant of me while I just.. stay behind. I dunno." The words Tamsy said last night must've hit hard if the impact of them lingered long enough to make you question your self-estrangement from others.

Arkha rounds his desk, "You're not fallin' behind on anything, Alright? It's just takin' you a while to get used to everyone n' that's okay. Everybody's different."

"Yeah I guess so," You say as you meet him halfway and let him engulf you in a firm hug. As Arkha's the only person who has ever seen you at both your best and your worst, it's as if your body knows to let your guard down around him. To you, he's always been a safe person in this world full of uncertainty. It's a little strange sometimes to feel that way about a friend — but knowing that he returns your same feelings of fondness makes you question it less.

Arkha wasn't like the men you were involved with prior to becoming a cleaner, after all.

He was a true friend — your only friend.

"How have you been? Did your trip go well?" You part from him and sit atop his desk. "You're back earlier than I thought you'd be."

At your words, Arkha lets a sigh escape his lips as he crosses his arms, "Well, somethin' came up with Enjin."

"Somethin' as in 'normal Enjin stuff' or like, 'he fucked up' type shit?" Confusion is present in the way your brows knit together. How was it that you had just been with him and he's already gotten himself into trouble? Actually, scratch that — how is he not hungover??

Arkha laughs, "Well, normal Enjin stuff I'd say. He says he found a Sphereite — Alive."

You blink, "A live Sphereite?" Now that was interesting.

"I've got to take care of some things before Enjin gets back which is why I was wonderin' if you could use Effegia to get some intel on the kid when he gets here." Arkha is the only other person who knows about Effegia; He's also the only one who knows how to put it to work. When he had first recruited you, you were unsure how a set of broken handcuffs and a journal would help him in his cause. However, he proved to you very quickly that he wasn't the Cleaners' boss for nothing.

You used Effegia much like Semiu used Eyes. Whilst Semiu was more apt at seeing both the physical and metaphysical characteristics of a person, you were more well-versed in getting the overall story of a person's life. From their past to their present, the ink within Effegia would perform animated stories to you across its pages, stories that would only make sense to you. What he was asking was logical given how unusual the situation was, but you could tell he still hesitated to ask.

You nodded after contemplating it for a while, "It isn't exactly respectful to use it on people without their knowledge.. but it's a rare occasion. I'll take care of it, Arkha."

"Thank you," He says with a warm smile. "I have to head out again but I'll make it up to you when I get back."

You smile as he turns to leave, "I'll hold you to it."

"I know," He chuckles as the door closes behind him.

And just like that, you're left alone again. You look up at the ceiling and sigh. Arkha's always been so understanding of you, it kind of makes you feel bad for being so difficult about socializing sometimes. He tells you not to because he knows why you are the way you are, but it doesn't stop the guilt from creeping in unexpectedly.

You think that maybe. . . it's time to step out of your comfort zone.

A few hours later, when you're in your room fixing up some of your clothes, three soft knocks make their way onto your door. You don't notice it because you have the loud sound of heavy metal playing on the radio, so when you hear your name spoken from right behind you, your mind goes blank as you drop your clothes and turn to throw a punch instinctively.

It's only then that your eyes go wide once you realize it was just Tamsy trying to get your attention. "Tamsy!? You almost gave me a damn heart attack!" You're still startled from him scaring you but also very suddenly grateful that the punch didn't connect. That'd be a bad way to greet a teammate, you think.

He blinks in surprise, feeling oddly lucky to have been fast enough to dodge it. "Did I? My apologies, your door was just unlocked so.."

You sigh in relief and go over to turn the radio down, "What um.. what happened? Do you need something?"

He shook his head softly, "No. Actually, I've got the ink you asked me for. Is this alright?" It's then that you notice that he's got a paper bag with him. It's probably packed with the stuff he brought back. Out of it, he takes a glass container of ink; it looks new, you almost feel bad that you'll be using it.

"Uh.. yeah that should be it. It looks more expensive than the one I usually get though.. are you sure it's fine for me to have this?" You hold it in your hands as you inspect the label on it. It's a plain black ink bottle but it feels way too fine of an ink to be in your hands at all.

"I wouldn't make good use of it, I fear." Tamsy smiles, "I got it for you so it'd make more sense for you to use it, wouldn't it?"

You return his smile softly, "I guess so, yeah. Thanks again." After the moment passes, you're reminded of the mess of clothes you've got on your desk; it looks a lot like August's work-room now that you're looking at it. "Oh-! Sorry for the mess, I didn't think anyone was coming by." You suddenly feel way too exposed now that it sinks in that he's in your room.

"You need not apologize," He says softly, "May I ask what you're doing?"

You close the door to keep anyone else from peeking inside and seeing the absolute mess before moving to your desk. "I'm just fixing up some of my clothes. Some of the shirts Enjin got for me on Akuta's last run were a bit too big so I'm modifying them."

"Ah, I see." His eyes linger near your bed. "..Can I sit?"

"Uh. . Yeah. . ?"

It's awkward having him in your room, especially given that you two have never really interacted outside of work. Still.. it might not be so bad to listen to Arkha for once and start making friends. ". .Just let me move some of my clothes off so you can actually sit." He laughs softly and looks around your room. You've got sick, intricately decorated posters and tags up on your walls. The aesthetics of your room are darker than he thought they'd be. Even the cracked walls seemed to fit great with the painted skulls and sigils around them.

Then again, he's never really had the chance to ask you about your interests, so he can't really say he expected something different either. 'Progress,' he thinks, as he sits on the soft covers of your bed.

"Do you mind if I turn the music back on? It kinda helps me focus so.."

"Of course not, I quite enjoy it so it doesn't bother me at all."

You turn the audio up enough to where you can still hear him; it's serves as more of background music than a tool of focus now that he's here with you though. "Really? I didn't think you'd be into this kind of music."

He smiles warmly, "And why would that be?"

You shrug and take a seat at your desk, "Dunno.. You kinda seemed too.. proper? for this kind of music."

He hums in amusement, "It's never nice to judge a book by its cover, ________."

"I wasn't trying to . . ." Blood rushes up to your face, embarrassed at your previous remark once you realized how judgemental it sounded. You should be the last person making judgy remarks. "It's just, well- you never dropped any hints that you were into it, so. . it's surprising to me. ."

"Are you always so frantic? I don't recall you being so anxious when we're on the job." He's now comfortably sat on your bed with his legs crossed and his hands supporting his weight behind him. It's unnatural to see him so .. comfortable even if this is his first time being this close to you. Did you make a mistake in dismissing your team members' previous attempts at getting to know you? Would Delmon also be this different if you got to know him?

You try to maintain your calm, less-anxious composure by busying yourself with the cloth in your hands, cutting alongside the hem of one of your shirts to alter it. "I'm not always jumpy, it's just 'cause you're here." You don't realize how differently your words could be taken.

"Oh?"

"Not that it's a bad thing that you're here- It's just-" You sigh defeatedly, "I don't do well with talking to people. I suck at it." Suddenly, you get the flash of a memory to the forefront of your mind, reminding you of the conversation at the bar you two had yesterday. "Wait- haven't we already had this conversation?" You turn around on your chair to look at him confusedly.

"Hm.. no. Last time was about you being gloomy, this time is about you sucking at the very simple art of conversation." He smiles like he didn't just insult you two different times within a single sentence.

You deadpan, "And now I'm realizing why it's so easy to talk to you." You swivel around on your chair to continue working on the shirt.

"Really? I'm honored."

You can almost hear his sarcasm. "Yeah, It's 'cause I don't have to pretend to be nice to you," You joke half-heartedly.

He gasps dramatically, "Words hurt, ________."

You softly scoff at his theatrics, taking some measurements and marking down where you were going to cut next. There's an honest smile on your features now though. "You're more different than I expected you to be, to be honest."

"For the record, you are too." He says. "I thought you were quite the serious person.. turns out you're just an introvert."

You roll your eyes, "To be fair, I have my reasons to be. ..It's not like its easy to trust people so easily."

Inflections in your tone give away the emotional weight behind your words, causing Tamsy to straighten up. It was rare that he saw you be anything other than witty and closed off. You remind him of his favorite kinds of sweets — the ones with hard shells and a sweet, gooey goodness within its interior.

"You've been let down before." He says, dropping the joking tone yet still sounding soft enough. "I get that."

Your hands slowly stop their work and you turn to look at him, accidentally giving away the fact that his words managed to strike a chord with you. To your luck though, he's not looking at you; He's more immersed with the pattern he's drawing on your sheets with his fingers.

"It's only natural for you to be cautious of others, if that's the case."

. . Just what was his deal?

He spoke like someone who knew you on a deeper level than you were aware of — like someone who knew your inner workings and had you figured out to a T. If you were being honest, it scared you because this had never happened before. No one usually cared enough to get to know you — not even the endless amounts of men you used to fool around with.

"How is it that you know that..?" Shit. Did you say that out loud? "I mean- It's.. I don't really expect others to know these things like that. About me."

"Well it's not something you hide well, if I'm being totally honest." He speaks with a nonchalant cadence in his tone that makes you feel queasy; You're unsure if its his tone or the words he's saying that make you feel so uneasy. "If you leave people alone with their thoughts long enough, they'll come up with their own theories."

Your brows knit together, "..What are you talking about?" Did he have theories about you? Just how much did he know?

"It's nothing, I'm simply rambling." He smiles placidly as he moves to stand, "I do have to go though; We've got work tomorrow and I don't want to keep distracting you."

You're still struggling to process his past words as he picks up his bag of goods from your dresser and bids you farewell for the night. "I'll see you tomorrow, _________."

You nod hesitantly as you follow him to the door, "Ye..Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

Once you close the door, your lay your forehead upon the metal and allow yourself to fall to the floor. Just what exactly did he mean by that? Was he trying to imply that you he knew more about you than you let on?? That.. It just wasn't possible. It couldn't be. You had been careful hadn't you? Maintaining all your relationships as distant as possible and only allowing others to see the parts you wanted them to see — even getting Arkha to withhold any and all information about your past — you'd been careful. So why.. Why did it seem like Tamsy knew more than you wanted him to just from a pair of words you uttered without thinking?

Had you accidentally told on yourself without knowing it?

Absentmindedly, you stand to shut off the lights in your room and leave your desk as it is, no longer feeling motivated to modify the shirt. Your hand goes to the communication choker around your neck and wait for a few minutes.

"_________?"

"Arkha? Can we talk?" Your voice shakes as you try to bury yourself underneath your blankets; trying to feel safe under the panicked alarm bells going off in your head.

"Yeah, what's wrong? You sound off."

"I.." You try to get your breathing under control so you can speak, but nothing comes out. The anxiety chokes you up, damn near paralyzing you. "I'm.."

"Take your time, I'm here."

You feel that familiar warmth from his words alone and it loosens the grip your anxiousness has on you. You were okay. You were safe. "I think Tamsy knows I've been avoiding everyone at HQ. . I don't really. . .know how to feel about it. . ."

"Well. . You don't exactly hide your intentions very well."

You frown, "Tamsy said the same thing. ."

"To be fair, ________, It's not like they're not going to notice — especially when they're your own team members. Though, mentioning that straight to your face is pretty. . bold."

Your lips curl into a small smile, laying your head against your pillow, "He didn't — at least I don't think that was his intention, but I guess you're both right.. it's just strange to think that other people actually think of me."

"I think of you."

You chuckle, "Yeah but you're my friend. Having strangers think about me and come up with their own reasons about why I'm so distant.. it makes me feel strange."

"You're scared."

"I am," you admit. "I don't know anyone and . .getting to know them means allowing them to hurt me."

"Not everyone is like that," Arkha reminds you, "Things are different now, remember?"

You huff, "It's a more pleasant thought in theory than it is in practice."

"Then start small. You don't have to be friends with everyone, but gettin' along with your teammates would be enough baby steps, wouldn't it?"

You mull it over in your hand and sigh. "It's.. not a bad start."

He laughs quietly, "Don't overthink it too much, okay? Go get some sleep."

"Okay," You say warmly, "Thanks for listening to me ramble. . . Don't stay up too late."

"I'll keep that in mind," Arkha says with a lighthearted tone.

You know he isn't going to listen, but it's always worth a shot.

After he disconnects, you screw off the choker and lay it at your bedside desk. Now that you've spoken to him, you feel calmer about everything. You suppose that it isn't that surprising to know that Tamsy thinks he knows you — maybe he's just observant. Even so, your mind runs rampant with possible conversation starters and ways to approach him in the future. You're definitely overthinking it, but a little planning never hurt anyone, right?

"Agh! Fuck..!"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just a scratch — Watch out!" You wrap your hands around the chains that connect to the cuffs at each of your wrists, whipping them around to strike the trash beast currently wreaking havoc. Tamsy gets out of the way just in time and activates Tokushin to trap the beast completely.

"Delmon, now!" You command as you distract the beast long enough with your twin whips for Tokushin to wrap a net around it so that Delmon can deal the final blow.

The tall and surly man activates his instrument as he charges towards the beast, "On it, _______!" He stops just short of the beast and turns up Thirst Quencher to the highest degree, aiming at the trash beast before blasting it to weaken it. You reel your whip back towards yourself before Tamsy completely crushes the beast in Tokushin's threads, destroying its core.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you deactivate your vital instrument; the one you use for work — the pair of broken handcuffs on your wrists.

"This one wasn't too bad," Tamsy speaks as he walks to stand by your side.

You try to catch your breath, your hand clutching your side as you wait for Delmon to regroup with the two of you. "This one was the last one of the day, right?"

"Yes," Tamsy leans against Tokushin like he's more bored than tired. It brings a smirk to your features despite the stabbing pain you feel in your upper abdomen. "The townspeople will live to see another day, it seems."

"Thankfully we got here just in the nick of time," You say as you try to straighten up once the car pulls up. "You're driving this time."

"Me?" Tamsy frowns, "Why me?"

You roll your eyes and try not to let your forming headache get the best of your mood, "'Cause Delmon drives like a maniac."

He pokes a finger into your shoulder, "What, you can't drive?"

"Nope."

"And why's that?"

You lean against the car door to face him, revealing the gash at your side. "'Cause I'm pretty sure. . I'm bleeding out."

For a fraction of a second something wild flashes in Tamsy's golden eyes, you might have mistaken it for concern if you weren't concentrated on staying conscious. "You. . !" He stammers before helping you walk to the passenger side. "This is way more than a scratch, you idiot !"

"I'll be fine once I see Eishia," You hiss as you clutch your side, putting pressure on the wound.

"What happened!?" Delmon asks frantically as he sees your state.

Tamsy quickly sits beside you, his hand over your own in an attempt to stop the bleeding before demanding that Delmon drive, "_________ got themselves hurt, that's what."

"I'm fine, Delmon. I'll be fine. Tamsy's just-" You hiss at the pressure and look down at your wound, your hand and Tamsy's own hand covered in your blood. "-being dramatic. ."

"Hardly." His brows are furrowed as he watched the blood seep out of you. He was probably worried about you, so you feel kind of bad that you're more focused on his warm hands that cover yours and how excited it makes you feel. It's completely uncalled for, but you let yourself sink into that makeshift warmth like it means something other than friendly concern.

It's been a while since I last got hurt like this, you think to yourself,

A long while.

.

.

.

[ FIVE YEARS AGO. ]

"Ngh.. Y'feel so good," He thrusts, grunting as he nears his climax.

You stay silent, save for the occasional moan you let out. Your thoughts are flying to distant places as you try to fake your enjoyment. "You're s-so big, mnh..!" you let out a forced moan to sell it. Men don't usually care about your pleasure when you sleep with them anyway so there wasn't a point in trying to lie to yourself about it.

In any case, you were only in it for the money.

"Tell me who you belong to," The older man demands, his hand tightening around your throat.

You hated when they spoke like this. As if you were something to be owned. "Y-you..! Ah- only you.." Upon hearing your words, the man speeds up his pace, the skin of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs. You know he's close when his hips stutter, so you bring your hands up to bring his lips down to yours. He tastes like lies and regret but you swallow the sounds he makes all the same.

In a place like the Ground, selling your body for money wasn't uncommon. You found out pretty quickly that to survive, you'd have to do things that were unfavorable to normal people. And so, you learned to view the act of sex as nothing more than a transaction. You didn't care what you had to do, as long as you got to see tomorrow.

"That's right," the man says before crashing his lips down onto your own, kissing them fervently like the starved man he is. "You belong to me." He affirms, "My obedient girl."

"Just yours, Sir."

And that was all it took for him to cum.

Men were easy to please — at least the older ones were.

You were only glad that what they lacked in intelligence, they made up for in money. To them, you felt like easy prey and despite your profession, you played the innocent young girl well enough to make those sick bastards think it was real. Sometimes you enjoyed it, but most times — like now — you just didn't have the motivation to even psych yourself into liking it. All you were thinking about was where you'd sleep tonight and whether you'd have enough for your next meal.

The man pulls out, letting you get up to go use the restroom. At least the hard part was over, now all you had to do was pretend to be grateful so you could leave without any bruises. You learned the hard way that men liked to be babied and if you made the small mistake of making them feel used, they'd retaliate as if it was justified. The irony of that was almost too much for you to keep a straight face at times.

You emerged from the bathroom a few minutes after feeling partially clean after a shower, and began slipping your clothes back on. Once you were dressed, you headed over to the tall man, Synder. He was one of your regulars so you were kinder with him than the other men who partook in your services. "Thank you, Syn." You place a kiss on his cheek from behind, "Was I okay?"

He smiles and turns so he can place you on his lap. He's surly for a man his age, though, you guess he's not even that old — he's only two decades or so older than you — so it makes sense for him to still be able to do things like this. After planting a kiss on your forehead, his calloused hands fix your hair so its out of your face. "You were great, as always."

You preen at his comment. Maybe it was sick, maybe there was something wrong with you, but his praise always made you feel warm. "Unfortunately though.. I don't think we can keep seeing each other like this."

"Huh? Why?" You frown, straightening up in his lap.

"My girl's having my kid," He explains with a wistful smile, "And I need to be there for her. So for now, I can't see you."

"But.. I mean, you like me, don't you?" Your heartbeat speeds up and you don't notice your hands clutching his shirt.

He caresses your cheek, "I do, but my life is with her. You understand, don't you? Be a big girl for me, yeah? We can see each other in a few months, just not now." Your brows furrow for a moment but you're quick to accept it. It wasn't as if what you had with him was anything more than transactional either way. This was just a service, and you had no right to feel angry.

"Okay," You say as you get off of him. "Okay. Yeah." You're unsure if those words are for him or for yourself. With a sigh, you pick up your bag and plant a kiss on his cheek, "Just don't miss me too much, m'kay?"

He leans back on the bed and smiles, "I'll try not to."

With that, you close the door to the hotel room he had purchased for the both of you.

From what you knew, he was a pretty loaded businessman and a ruthless one at that; So it was no surprise that he had enough money to even pay for a place to see you instead of a bathroom or a random room with barely any privacy like you were used to with other men. He had more than most when it came to what Groundlings consider wealth; enough that he even warranted the attention of the Raiders a few times. When you really thought about it, yeah he wasn't exactly the best guy.. but he wasn't all bad either.

You stepped hurriedly down the stairs at the side of the hotel building and make your way to the alleyways, deciding to take a shortcut to your favorite burger joint. Maybe you'd get an idea on how to continue that poem you were writing in your journal last night; food was always the best at helping you come up with ideas after all. It was one of the only times that you wouldn't be in survival mode.

"I think a cheeseburger is in order," you think aloud to yourself with a smile as you near the end of the alleyway.

It was then that you heard a pair of very loud foot steps rushing up towards you and as you turn around, you're met with a masked face and a sharp pain near your upper abdomen. Your hands wrap around the arm thats plunging the sharp object into your body but the assailant simply brings you in closer with a hand around your waist and plunges it deeper.

"Who-!" you hiss, "Who are-"

"I'm sorry, hon." A familiar face makes it into your blurry field of vision behind the person currently stabbing you. "I can't have any lose ends.. and that unfortunately includes you."

The voice was familiar.

It was Synder.

.

.

.

".. Synder.." your lips murmur as you begin to wake up.

When you come back to reality, your eyes shoot open and you try to sit up, completely confused as to where you are and what happened. Unfortunately, you're held down by a firm hand and you waste no time in grasping the persons wrist until you notice that its Tamsy who's holding you down.

"You'll hurt yourself if you get up now." He says. It's then that you realize that you're in the medical wing at headquarters. Eishia must have healed you. "You've been out for a few hours so it may take you a while to get used to your surroundings. Eishia said it would be best if you rested for the remainder of the week."

You study his features for a while before ultimately sinking back into the mattress. You grip loosens around his wrist but you don't let go. "How. . . What happened?"

He hesitates for a beat. "You passed out in the car."

"Oh."

"As it turns out, it was way more than a simple scratch."

". . .My bad."

He scoffs, "Indeed, it is. Did you think you would just make it back here in time to deal with on your own? I mean, honestly."

"I didn't think it was that serious,"

He sighs but he doesn't fight you on your response. He seems rather concerned, but you guess you could have died in his arms. . so his concern was warranted. It was strange to have someone other than Arkha worry about you though.

". . .Are you planning on letting go?"

"What?" You turn to look at him and notice that you're still holding onto his wrist. "Oh- Sorry. . I didn't. ." You let go of him, the warmth that radiated from his skin lingering on your hand.

"Seriously," Tamsy sighs as he takes a seat beside you and crosses his arms. "One would think that an injured person would rely on their teammates if they were hurt. Are you stupid or just that air-headed?"

You laugh, no longer feeling that dull pain in your abdomen. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad."

"No," He admits, "But you could've given me a heads up instead of bleeding all over the car like a dunce."

"You seem oddly concerned."

He tuts and hands you a glass of water as he watches you slowly sit up, "It'd be a shame if the most convenient member of Team Eager died to a mere trash beast."

"That's high praise coming from you." You sip on your glass of water, choosing to look out of the window to distract yourself. Your memory was still fresh on your mind; you guessed it had been triggered by the fact that you were injured in the same spot. It was a little funny now that you thought of it. Your mind could forget what you had lived through, but your body couldn't — how inconvenient was that?

"..May I ask who Synder is?"

You sigh and watch as the water in the cup swirls around. "No one important. I don't want to talk about it."

Tamsy thinks for a second about questioning you, but ultimately lets it go. "That's fair." With nothing else to do, he decides to get up to leave you to your own devices.

"Where are you going?" You ask him as if it isn't obvious.

"You'll heal better without me bothering you."

Your brows furrow for a second, "Oh." You bite the inside of your cheek. If you're being honest, you don't really want him to go.

"Did you not want me to leave?" There's that placid smile on his face again. It's almost as if he's teasing you.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to stay."

He smiles, "Alright." Tamsy turns to leave and your eyes linger on the back of his jacket, darting somewhere else when he comes to a stop. "Oh, also, it seems that Enjin's back. He's brought a Sphereite with him."

"That's.. unusual." You're pretty sure your tone gives you away, but you're trying to let him think you're clueless about it despite Arkha filling you in on it two days ago.

"Indeed." Tamsy made his way out of the room shortly after, leaving you on your own. A tired sigh leaves your lips as you sink back into the mattress. Your hand clutches your side again as you reminisce on the event that changed your life five years ago.

The day you met Arkha Corvus.

.

.

.

"Who-!" you hissed as the sharp object continued to dig into your skin, "Who are-"

"I'm sorry, hon." A familiar face makes it into your blurry field of vision behind the person currently stabbing you. "I can't have any lose ends.. and that unfortunately includes you." The assailant parts from you, leaving you on the dirt injured and clutching your side.

"I wasn't..! You knew I'd never tell, Synder.. So why-!" A harsh kick to your stomach cuts you off and you find it hard to believe that this was the same man who made you feel warm and loved just a few seconds ago. He grabs you by the torn up collar of your shirt.

"I didn't mean it to end this way, I just.." He sighs and brings you into a hug, "I just can't have you running lose after what we've been doing."

"What..?" Your voice shakes, "I'm not a threat to you.. I thought- you knew that.."

He chuckles and buries his face into your neck, "I know you aren't. You're too stupid for that, but I don't need anyone using you against me. It's simply business — you get that right?"

You let out a pathetic whimper and tears begin to cloud your vision. "I'm sorry," you say softly as your vital instrument activates, the broken chains on each of the cuffs around your wrists merging together to form a single pair of handcuffs instead of the broken pair they usually were.

"Sorry for what? You've nothing to apologize for-" You cut him off by headbutting him and getting him away from you. "You bitch!" He yells at you from the place on the ground. Wasting no time in making your move, you raise your cuffed hands to choke him with the chain without mercy. In the heat of the moment, you beak his neck and allow your jinki to go back to their broken state and transform into twin whips instead.

You go to face your assailant only to realize that they're gone. A scoff leaves your mouth; They probably left as soon as they saw you gain the upper hand in the fight. Despite the fact that they'd probably been paid, they were still a petty mercenary.

Even if you were wealthy and had more than the average Groundling, it meant nothing.

You'd still end up a pile of dust on the ground.

Forgotten.

The sound of careful footsteps meets your eardrum, causing you to immediately fling your whip towards the sound as you turned. Your eyes widen when you see a tall man catch your whip without any trouble. You fling the second one but it's to no avail; he catches that one as well.

You retract one of them to hold your side, realizing that you're still bleeding pretty badly, even after all the adrenaline that surged within you after being stabbed.

"What do you want?" You call out to the stranger.

He looks clean and he's got a jacket much like the ones that the Cleaners wear. You notice his lack of hostility towards you the most, though.

"I want to help, that's all." He says as he walks closer to you.

You back away with each step that he takes. "Stay away from me. D-Don't come any closer..!" You shout, whipping the chained whip around to scare him away from you, like a cat hissing to cause fear in unwanted company. Unfortunately, none of that worked and you tripped on a stray rock lying in the alleyway. You gasp when you realize you're about to fall but you're luckily caught by the stranger.

His arms are strong when they hold you and rays of light almost seem to appear behind his silhouette as if he's something more than human. As if he's a savior of sorts. "Who.. Who are you?" You manage to ask as dark spots litter your vision.

"Arkha." He says, "You can call me Arkha."

You passed out from your wounds not too long after.

"How the hell did I manage to get stabbed in the same spot twice?" You ask yourself with a hint of disbelief in your tone. You had to be really unlucky to land that outcome twice. When you look outside, you notice that it's dark outside now. You must've been out for a long while after Tamsy brought you back. The thought alone makes you shiver; you were never really okay with anyone other than Arkha seeing you so vulnerable — Still, . . you admit that the closeness that you remembered at the car felt somewhat. . welcomed.

At least Tamsy didn't make a big deal out of it, you think contently while getting comfortable underneath the sheets.

By the next night, you had been allowed to sleep in your own bed underneath your own very comfortable covers enjoying a good night's sleep. The kid Enjin brought back, Rudo you learned his name was, had gone with some of the members of team Akuta for most of the day, so you weren't able to meet him formally, but it wasn't like you were on a time crunch for that background info Arkha entrusted you to get. You wondered what Effegia would should you once the kid touched it.

There were still a lot of things that the Cleaners still didn't know about the Sphere, so you hoped that his story would be interesting to say the least.

During the next few days, you opted to allow Rudo to get more situated with his team and the Ground alike. He had just dropped in out of nowhere, so intruding on the boy's past felt a little .. abrupt? Especially since the boy was still getting used to his life here.

Looking into the pasts of others and the stories they held within themselves was never an issue of morality for you because none of it was ever shared with anyone — their stories only served as a substitute for real human connection for you, who learned to be detached from others, as well as yourself, as a survival tactic. So when Arkha asked you to collect information in this way back when you first became a cleaner, it was a little hard for you to agree.

People's stories were sacred to not only you, but to them, as well.

However, you also understood that as the leader of the organization, it was only logical that Arkha would utilize your gifts to the benefit of the Cleaners; It was his job to collect knowledge and pass it on to those closest to him. That was the only reason you were comfortable doing it for him, because even if the stories you'd collected with Effegia over the years was something that helped you feel something similar to human connection, it was also an incredible tool that could help others.

Yes, it was an invasion of privacy — but it was necessary, so in your mind it wasn't all that bad.

Either way, in those two weeks that you let Rudo get used to everything, you used the time you had free to try and socialize more with your team. And by team, you mean Tamsy specifically. Despite the fact that you got along well with Delmon, he was always way too enthusiastic and loud for your liking, so it was only a matter of time before you drifted towards the calmer teammate you were more acquainted with.

It surprised you, actually, how quick you were to seek the blond out without even noticing that you were doing it.

Whenever you were in the cafeteria, your eyes always landed on Tamsy; your mind already coming up with possible conversation starters just for him to come up to you instead after you chickened out. It happened more than you liked to admit and most of the time it felt like a damn humiliation ritual. Still though, you were getting more comfortable with him and were starting to consider him a friend, so you guessed that maybe that was progress?

A sigh leaves your lips as you think out loud, "I wish there was a manual for this shit."

"A manual for what? Talking to people?"

You nod, wiping off the excess of nail polish from your nail, "Didn't I tell you to quit appearing out of nowhere like that?"

Tamsy lets out a laugh, "I didn't 'appear out of nowhere', this is my room after all. I should be asking you why it is that you're in here anyway." He closes the door behind him, locking it and taking off his jacket after a long day of work.

You raise the bottle of nail polish as if the action alone would tell him why you were here, "My nail polish was in here, s'your fault for not locking your room."

"..I must have forgotten." He sighs and lies down on his bed, his legs bent at the knee, feet loosely planted on the floor beneath them. His shirt rises a little and you accidentally catch a glimpse of his scarred midsection. You rip your eyes away from the sight before he notices your silence, mentally scolding yourself for looking. "But it still doesn't explain what you're doing in here." He turns to look at you, the lose strands of his hair framing his face beautifully. He looks almost angelic, it's criminal.

"I was just looking for it and got carried away. . ." You say, feeling a little warmer than you did two seconds ago. "A-Anyway, I found what I needed so-"

He hums, "You're leaving already?"

You nod as you get up off of his floor, "Yeah, my nails are pretty much dry so there's no reason for me to.. stay.."

"Hm.." He hums, leaning back to look up at the ceiling, "How about you paint my nails for me?" It's an impulsive request, but you don't seem to catch that it's out of the ordinary for a guy like him.

Your mind goes blank. "Are. .Are you sure?"

"You don't think it'll look good?" The sound of his dejected question makes your stomach do flips — Why in the hell is he making you feel like this?

"No..! No, that's not what I mean, It's just, I've never seen you with your nails painted, so I didn't think you'd like it," You stammer as you sit on his bed after he's sat up and ready for you to paint his nails. "If you regret it, I'm not helping you take it off." you joke half-heartedly to make yourself feel less tense. He smiles and offers you a hand which you take with a gentle hold. "Try not to move, kay?"

"Alright," He replies softly.

You hate that you notice now more than before how gentle he is.

His fingers are warm and softer than what you expected. You don't comment on the missing part of his pinky finger but instead admire his scarred hand all the same. To you, who's never been close enough to people like this — in an innocent, friendly type of way — it puts you on edge because its something you're not used to. You were comfortable with hugging Arkha and being friendly with him, but sitting here in front of Tamsy felt different.

It felt intimate.

Even though you failed to perceive it, Tamsy sure took note of the way you admired the scars on his hands. Despite your greatest efforts to remain calm about his skin touching yours — it was clear that it was somewhat of a deeply personal, foreign experience to you. It's almost a little sad that for someone who seems to be so dear to Corvus, his intuitiveness hasn't rubbed off on you one bit. It's entertaining — watching you teeter between the longing for connection and the caution that so clearly causes you to flee from that connection — so he doesn't mind toying with you like this.

Aside from the joy he gets seeing Rudo wander about without the knowledge that his father's killer lurks in the same building he sleeps in, he can admit that you're quite the intriguing person, even if you were clueless about it. The way you crave closeness so terribly and yet haven't the slightest idea on how to achieve it; the way you deny yourself fellowship with others when it's offered. He's observed those self-destructive habits of yours quite well, to say the least. It's the reason you stay away from most people at headquarters. It's the reason you used to stay away from your own teammates — at least emotionally.

Seriously, Tamsy thinks, I'll have to thank Corvus for helping you out of your stubborn shell.

"What's so funny?" You ask him with a quirk in your brow, adorably unaware of the callous thoughts floating in the head of the man sitting cross-legged in front of you. Had the thought of you been so entertaining that he was laughing aloud? God, you make it so hard to act as normally as he knows he should when you demonstrate your obliviousness like this.

You're exciting because he knows that your naivety isn't the end all be all of your being.

His lips stretch into a faux smile, "Nothing, nothing at all."

He wonders for a moment, how you would react if he told you more than the off-handed comment he whispered that day at the bar. Maybe soon, he'll let you panic about it. For now though, he will let you continue believing that it is an innocent friendship that exists between the two of you and not the mind game of entertainment that it actually is for Tamsy.

After all, it was nice seeing you so focused on him after three years of nothing but distant glances and one-word replies from you.

Truthfully, he was more enticed by you than he'd like to admit.

It's why he took the liberty of learning your schedule. Learning what made you ache when you thought no one was around to see it. Learning who you were close to and why… Maybe he was a little obsessed with your perfectly imperfect mind, but you didn't have to know that yet.

Tamsy was the type of person who enjoyed the hunt.

Of course, the end results were satisfying as well, but it was the process of tearing down your walls — the process of subtly getting you to betray your common sense for him and making you think it was you who wanted it — that was what he enjoyed the most. It was convenient that your walls already had cracks in them by the time you came to HQ.

You didn't react to August's loudness, didn't pay much mind to Team Child's shenanigans, didn't lounge around whenever the other cleaners were present; you were absolutely isolated — and willingly, too. Those aspects of you had already triggered Tamsy's curiosity, but your attachment to the leader of the Cleaners was also something to note — it made his pursuit of you all the more exciting.

It had been a long three-year wait, he must admit, but the hunger for connection that spilled from you was so worth it. Tamsy wanted to see all of you, not just the performative, silent side of you that you demonstrated to everyone else. He wanted to see what you looked like underneath the hard shell you've encased yourself in.

"..'re not even listening are you?" You deadpan, watching him blink as you witness the man in front of you returning back to reality after being lost in his thoughts in real time.

He covers his mouth with his hand nervously, "My apologies, I was lost in thought.. What were you saying?" He didn't much care for whatever topic you were rambling on about, but he thinks he should entertain you if he wants you to yearn for him.

"Don't do that, you'll ruin them..!" You frantically move to grab his hand and spread out his fingers across your own, "Anyway, I was just talking about random music stuff, so it's not too important. It's not really that interesting-" Tamsy notes your words as a method retreat and for moment he feels guilty, but by the next second the feeling is shoved away and out of his mind.

"No, no, please. What were you talking about?" He speaks softly like he always does when the two of you are alone — it's intentional. He's found that it makes others lower their guard around him when he speaks like that. Would it work on you?

He sees something akin to that of a flustered look wash over your features for just a split second before you show a small smile and continue speaking. It's quite adorable how much you enjoy things as basic as someone listening to your ramble — it also says a lot about the past you have yet to tell him. Despite knowing more about you than the average Cleaner from your file alone, like how your vital instrument worked or your daily work schedule, nothing about your past was known to him since it wasn't on there. Perhaps it was possible that you had asked Corvus to obscure such information.

Nonetheless, it just made him more curious about you.

"A concert I was thinking of going to," You say as you coat the nails on his left hand in another layer of nail polish. "I've been a fan of their music since forever and I have their CDs so I was thinking I might attend."

"What band?"

"Theatre of Tragedy."

"I don't think I've heard of them before."

You bite the inside of your cheek as you focus on the last nail on his left hand, a sign of your focus. "..I can lend you one of their CDs if you'd like?"

You don't see the smirk that stretches across his lips, "Why don't we listen to it together while you finish?"

"Are you sure? It's kinda.. loud."

"I can handle it," He rests his chin on the palm of his hand, careful not to ruin his freshly painted nails.

That subtle flustered look flashes across your face for the third time tonight as you get up from his bed to go get the CD, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Truthfully, he would have thought that getting this close to you would have been a challenge given that you were usually so guarded. Fortunately for him though, your desperation for human connection was steadily winning you over and working in his favor to get you attached to him. The fact that the two of you were on the same team only allowed for more familiarity to exist between the pair of you.

It had only been around a month since you began getting comfortable with him and Delmon, but with the way things were going now, in about two or three more months he'd have you completely wrapped around his finger without you even realizing it. Tamsy liked breaking things and building them up again to fit his vision but with you.. he's not sure what exactly there is to break besides your protective walls. You were the prime example of the vulnerable prey he sought, but what lured him into you wasn't the fact that you were emotionally defective — it was that you were a walking contradiction.

It was clear that something had happened to make you so closed off, but usually people sought comfort from those closest to them. The participated in the most minute interactions and gave into their desperation for love and attention in an attempt to fill whatever emptiness existed inside them.

You, however, . . You maintained everyone at a distance.

You were desperate for love and attention, yet you denied yourself the luxury of it every time.

"I'm back," you said happily, the CD in your hand as you walked over to his CD player and popped it in.

He notices your careful hands as you take the the CD out of its casing, your fingers holding it by the edges of your five fingers so your fingerprints don't touch the underside of the CD which could cause it to skip. You held it as if it was something dear to you. How peculiar.

"There." you press play and take your seat back in front of the man to continue painting his nails. "The first song starts off a bit slow, but it gets heavier as you go through it, I think you'll end up liking it if you're into heavy music already."

"I hope so." He smirks, watching as you resume your focus on his hands again.

For a while, there's a comfortable silence between the two of you — save for the high pitched vocals and contrasting metal screams that are present in the music. It's when the sixth song of the album comes on, after you've finished painting his nails in the same black color that you've got on your own fingernails, that Tamsy begins to blur that line in between the friendship that exists between the two of you and something entirely different.

"Do you listen to this type of music often?" He's glancing down at you as you draw shapes on his sheets; your legs are crossed and you rest your chin on the palm of your hand much like he was doing beside you. Cute, you were mirroring him.

"Mm.. I enjoy it but I listen to a lot of other music depending on my mood so it's not the only thing I listen to; if that makes any sense." He observes you as if you're a foreign creature unknown to him. Prior to these past few weeks, he thought you to be a shy, frightful thing — he sees now that he mistook your reticence for timidness. "Do you?" You peer up at him, gazing at how unusually gentle he seems right now, completely unaware of the schemes that flash across his mind at the mere sight of you.

He could kill you and dispose of the childish feelings you evoke within him.

It'd be easy.

But he doesn't. And he can't pretend to know why he doesn't.

"Most mornings, I do." He leans his weight back on the palms of his hands behind him, "It's either that or the weather report — and I don't much like hearing that in the morning."

A laugh emits from your pretty lips. He hates that it pleases him to hear such sounds from you.

"Y'know, you're right about that; The reporter can be a bit annoying."

"Mhm."

"What do you think about the album so far?" He can almost feel the heat emitting off of your skin.

"I like it. The vocals seem to be the main focus of it, though. It's different than what I usually listen to."

You nod enthusiastically, "A lot of the lyrics are from an ancient language, that's what Arkha told me. He translated some of it for me but there's isn't a dictionary for it so I still don't know what some of the words say."

That's right. Corvus. He still hasn't figured out why you're so close to him.

It's only been a month that he's invested in getting you closer to him. . . but perhaps he can push his luck just a bit? You seemed frazzled the last time he hinted at your troubled past. He was teasing you back then, but it gave away stray details about your person that he couldn't exactly piece together just yet. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that you were.

"You seem quite close to the boss." It's a statement, but he's vying for information about your relationship to him. After all, if the two of you are as close as he thinks you might be, it'd be an issue if he slips up even the slightest bit since you could turn around and snitch. He wants to know how cautious he should be around you.

You slowly bring your knees to your chest and look towards the CD player.

You're hesitating.

He tries not to let his enthusiasm show. It must be pretty sensitive information if you're closing up like this.

"..He saved me."

They're three simple words, but they carry immense weight when they roll of off your tongue. Unfortunately for Tamsy, your answer was less of an actual answer and more of an invitation to more questions. So he lets you continue.

. . except you don't.

You want him to work for it, huh?

"Saved you?"

"Mhm." A shaky sigh leaves your lips; you're quick to attempt at hiding it by smiling a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. It's fake and you both know it, but he doesn't point it out. "I was in a pretty shitty state when he found me and brought me here. ..Despite how much he's away, he's actually my closest friend."

Tamsy tries not to gag at how kindly you speak of the boss. He had expected that you would, but he didn't think you'd get all sappy on him so quickly. Is this was isolation has turned you into? Pathetically giving yourself away to anyone who so much as glances at you warmly?

He reserves his judgment because he knows there's more to you than a love-starved shell of a human being.

There has to be more.

"It's a little crazy thinking back on how we became friends," You smile fondly at the memory of it, "I used to hate him, y'know?"

Now that was interesting.

"Really?" He prods.

A nod, and then a warm smile. "He was unbearable. His kindness was dangerous and something I thought I couldn't trust. This place breaks people. . and there he was, telling me that life could be 'different'."

The permeating feeling of warmth finds its way into the fabric of Tamsy's being. "..Is it?" It almost makes him gag, how tender you make him want to be with you.

"Very." You answer simply. He takes note of the gratitude present in your tone, "If he hadn't taken the time to get to help me — to get to know me. . . I don't think I'd be here right now."

You finally meet Tamsy's eyes. His own were already set on you; they don't look away when you hold his gaze. You think his eyes look like gold; something precious. The way you look at him has changed, and you know that well.

You know it well enough.. to know that you should also cut it out because you were falling for him at an embarrassingly quick pace. You knew that it was because of the lack of healthy interaction with men in your life, that you were quick to get close to someone as gentle and kind as Tamsy — and you didn't need him to get the wrong idea either. You didn't want to get invested and lead him on just to run away at the last second because you couldn't deal with good things happening to you.

So you stood up.

With a pep in your step and a dull ache in your heart, you moved to get off of his bed. "A-Anyway, I'll head back to my room n' stop bugging you with my sappy stories; I'm glad you liked the album." You try to ignore how awkwardly you were going about this by turning your back to him and instead putting your CD back in its case, actively putting space between you two and ruining the build up of tension you both had created unintentionally.

The abruptness of your leave gave Tamsy whiplash.

When he decided to pursue you, he accounted for the fact that you would be on guard. He accounted for the fragility within you that you clearly fought to protect. He accounted for the possible risks of playing around with you and still, it seemed that it hadn't crossed his mind that you yourself would be self aware of your own brokenness. It seemed like every layer of you that he uncovered, there was another laying in wait to surprise him.

Truly . . you were fascinating.

"We should do this more often."

You really shouldn't.

Your hand hesitates for a second, "Yeah, we should.. maybe next time we can listen to one of yours."

"That'd be fun," he stands and unlocks the door to his bedroom.

You linger for a moment when you're at the door, "Sorry again for coming in unannounced-"

"You don't have to apologize." His tone drips with honey and he pushes his luck with you for the last time tonight, "Feel free to come by again. I enjoy our conversations." He hands you the black nail polish he swiped the moment you left his bed so he'd have an excuse to talk to you before you left.

You give him an owlish glance as you reach out to take it. Your fingers linger on his skin longer than they should and somehow, the tension that you assumed had dissipated the moment you awkwardly got up to leave has made itself known again.

You only give him an understanding nod in response before disappearing into the hall.

The bottle of nail polish felt warm in your hand, as if Tamsy's lingering touch seared your skin.

Seriously, how did you end up this deeply invested in him?

Effegia feels heavy in your hand when you walk down the hall.

It's a cold afternoon and everyone's settling down in the cafeteria for tonight; It must've been quite a successful mission if the celebratory music and the enticing scent of fresh food was anything to go by. A warm smile found its way onto your lips as you approached the lively room. The past week, you wondered whether to be secretive about it and get Rudo to touch Effegia in an 'accidental' manner, but if Enjin's description of the boy was right, you figured you could be straightforward about it.

Either way, you weren't exactly the best liar out there so it'd be a way to earn the boy's trust, you suppose.

"______! Hey girl!" Riyo calls out to you enthusiastically with a plate in hand. You notice Zanka beside her looking quite done with the entire celebration.

"Hey..!" you offered an awkward smile and wave as you walked up to her.

"You finally joining us or are you just here for the food?" It seemed that Riyo had also been well aware of your asocial behavior.. how embarrassing.

"If you're here for the food, get yourself a plate before she inhales all of it," Zanka warns, his arms crossed as he ignores Riyo sticking her tongue out at him.

You laugh and shake your head, "Food would sound good but I ate earlier, I'm actually here for Rudo — have you guys seen him?"

"Rudo?"

"Yeah, I need him for something; Boss' orders." You tried to keep it vague and hoped that with the notion that the boss himself asked you, they wouldn't ask too many questions. After all, no one besides Arkha knew of your vital instrument and you'd rather keep it a secret as much as you could.

Zanka shrugs and looks back at a fairly empty table, "New Guy's over there sulking."

"Sulking?"

Riyo nods, "Yeahhh…. Seems like his instrument crapped out on him in the middle of a job so he's kinda bummed about it."

"Wait, so what's the party for?"

"It's a 'Welcome to the Ground' party for Rudo!" Riyo's lips curl into a smile.

Zanka rolls his eyes, "It's an excuse for everyone to get wasted and you know it."

A small chuckle escapes you. Who knew Enjin's kids could be so lively? You really should start spending more time with other people. Preferably someone who's not as alluring as Tamsy.

"Thanks for the clarification," You joke before dismissing yourself from the conversation.

As you make your way around the crowd to head over to the table, you notice that Enjin and Gris are already with the boy. They're probably giving him a whole pep talk about what happened with his instrument, knowing them. Despite not knowing too much about the kid besides what Enjin's told you, seeing Rudo's bummed out expression tugs at your heart strings all the same.

You tuck Effegia in between your thighs as you take a seat besides Gris. You couldn't exactly just walk up and take Rudo away from his own party since it'd be a little questionable, so you opted to get to know him a little by talking to him casually like this instead; First impressions were important anyway.

"________, you're finally joinin' us?" Enjin asks as he ruffles Rudo's hair, leaving the teenager to glare up at the blond man behind him.

You roll your eyes, "Y'know Riyo said the same thing. Are you guys telepathically connected?"

Gris lets out a warm laugh, "Can you blame them? You're hardly ever here with us."

"Well, I wasn't able to say 'hi' to the new kid when he first got here so.." You extend your hand out to the sulking boy in front of you. He breaks his focus on Enjin and takes your hand hesitantly; His gloves are pretty big on his hands, but they suit him nonetheless.

"I'm _______. S'nice to meet you, Rudo." He nods after you offer him a welcoming smile. "I've heard a lot about you from Enjin n' Team Akuta; Seems like you're adjusting well down here."

He shrugs, "I guess so. I just wish I wasn't so useless down here though."

"It takes time alright? Don't be so hard on yourself." He nods but doesn't seem to believe your words all that much. "I'm serious. It takes some time to get adjusted with your instrument — and given that you just got here, I can only imagine how new this all is to you."

"Yeah, but-"

Enjin cuts him off, "She's right, kid. You're way too busy beating yourself up about the bad things that you can't appreciate the stuff you've done right."

"It's all about balance," you chime in, a smile finding its way onto your lips. "It's okay to feel beat when things don't go the way you want them to, but its better to learn from it and improve."

He lets the thought marinate in his brain for a while before eventually clenching his fists and nodding, "Yeah. You guys are right. I just have to keep trying."

It's strange, the way he seemed so torn about his inability to control his instrument well. It was all so foreign to him and he had been clearly impacted by the events that led him down to the Ground. You don't blame him though, you were almost as defeated as he was when you first got here.

"With that being said," You tuck Effegia under your arm and stand, "I'll have to kidnap him for a bit; Boss asked me for somethin' concerning him."

Enjin ruffles the kids hair one last time as he got up, "Alright, just don't take too long or he'll miss out on Job's dope artwork. And the food. Especially the food." You chuckle at Enjin's comment and excuse yourself from the gathering with the kid in tow. You figured that Arkha's room would work best since no one usually lingers around there and it'd save the two of you from any prying eyes and ears.

"How are you liking it so far at HQ?"

"Everyone's been pretty welcoming so far," Rudo shrugs. "But I don't really know how to feel about it. There's a lot I need'a learn before I can do what I wanna do, but it's like every time I think I've got the hang of something — it all just . . crumbles."

"I feel that," You tell him, your tone sincere and heartfelt. You'd been in his place, hell, you still would consider yourself to be in that place.

"How come you needed me though? Is it something to do with the boss?"

You nod, "Kinda. I'll tell you once we're there, okay?"

While the two of you made your way to the office, you couldn't help but feel as if you were being watched. You chalked it up to your own paranoia but it was a feeling you couldn't shake until Rudo and yourself were behind the closed doors of Arkha's office.

You pulled out a chair to sit beside Rudo at Arkha's desk; he wouldn't mind the two of you being here, you think.

You held Effegia in your hands as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you opened the journal and activated it in front of him. "Arkha Corvus, well — The boss — asked me to get intel on you." Rudo listened intently, watching your journal transform from the worn out leather journal it seemed like into a brand new one. The pages were black with ink when it transformed, none of what you had written in your regular journal would show when it was activated; Instead, the ink would emerge from the pages to form animated pictures to you and only you.

"He wanted me to find out more about you, but.. I didn't exactly wanna be an asshole and do it without your permission since . . . it has to do with your past."

"My past?"

You nod, "My instrument, when its activated, shows me things when it comes into contact with other people. It can show past events of the person, secrets — just everything about the person's life."

"So, it'll show you what happened before I got thrown down here?"

"More or less."

"I mean.. if the boss asked, I'll do it." He reached his hand out to touch the journal, causing your anima to come into contact with his own. Since he needed the boss' approval to be recognized as one of the Cleaners, he'd do what it took to get a step closer to his goal of returning to the Sphere.

In an instant, the ink lifted off the pages. It flowed like water, forming intricate scenes of the boy's past lived experiences; from the incessant ridicule he endured from the kids in his neighborhood, to the raids he himself went on at the dead of night and finally, to the murder of his father figure. Rudo stayed silent through it, unable to see the scenes that were being revealed to you and still keeping his hand firmly on the book. You were shown the masked face of the one who murdered Rudo's father as well as the disparity that existed on the place known as the Sphere.

As the ink began replaying the scenes, you blinked back into reality. "You can take your hand off now, Rudo. Thank you."

"What for? I didn't really do anything.." He said as he stood up.

You followed suit, "People's life stories are sacred, they're pieces of yourself you don't show to just anyone." Your lips curled into a warm smile, "So thank you for trusting Corvus and I with it. He'll tell you more about the Cleaners once you're officially with us, but I'll make sure to put in a good word for you."

"Are you like his assistant?" The boy asks curiously as you hold the door open for him.

You shake your head and laugh awkwardly, "Nah, he's just . . He's my best friend if that makes sense."

Rudo's eyes widen, "His best friend?? The Boss??"

"He probably seems like an intimidating figure to you, depending on what Enjin's told you — but he's a softie at heart. He'll like you, so don't worry too much about it."

"Hm . . "

You close the door behind you, "You should probably go back to the celebration though."

"That was it?"

"Yeah, that's it." You smile.

"Okay then," He continues walking without you, "See you around..!"

You wave at him until he's out of your line of sight. A sigh escapes your lips; using Effegia didn't cause you to feel this tired when you were a kid but it seemed as if the time and care you'd put into the journal had made it all the more powerful. You began walking off in the direction of your room, only to bump into the person you'd been avoiding — or trying to avoid — for the past week.

Tamsy.

You must've been walking too fast because the moment you crashed into him, your journal slipped out from your hold and fell open to the floor. It was still activated so thankfully, the only thing he'd see were blank black pages instead of all the things you'd written in them. However, before you could move to retrieve it from the cold tile floor, his hand touches it and suddenly, the ink begins to lift off of the pages. Your heart began to race because the last thing you would want to do is violate his privacy —

— oh, who are you kidding?

The last thing you want to do is see something that makes you feel something other than platonic warmth for him.

You were already attracted to him and if his past was revealed to you, your helpless, lovesick brain would find something to romanticize — and that was not what you needed after trying to keep him at arms length.

Except, what you see isn't romantic at all.

It's Rudo's memory . . . from Tamsy's perspective.

You see the mask that the murderer wore. You see flashes of gold, of silk — of royalty. You see cleanliness; streets so devoid of clutter they almost gleamed when light reflected upon them. It was so . . . foreign. You see an ostentatious building dripping in riches — it's a palace, you recall. Finally, you see Tamsy, but he doesn't look like himself or rather — he doesn't look like the self you know.

These aren't the memories of someone born and raised on the Ground, you realize.

"..ight? ________?"

You blink in shock at what you've seen, you're blood turning to ice as your eyes slowly tear away from the ink dancing in front of you to look at the pair of dusty, golden eyes that peer down at you with concern — and for the first time since meeting him, you can't tell if it's genuine or not.

"I.. Sorry, what.." You take your journal back but it feels heavy in your hands again. As if the weight of what you had just seen was too much to carry. "What were you saying?"

"Are you alright?" Tamsy asks, his voice as smooth as silk and as calm as ever.

The contrast is uncanny.

That couldn't possibly have been him. He wouldn't. . . would he?

"I'm.." You struggle to find the words, "I'm okay, I was just in a hurry, sorry about that." You turn to leave, the leather from the journal in your hand probably had dents from your harsh grip. It felt as if the scenes you just saw would turn to mist if you didn't hold onto it despite knowing that it wasn't possible.

The stories of the people that touched it remained there long after they were gone.

"Hold on," He says, his fingers slithering around your wrist. Desperate. "You've been avoiding me. Why?" He gives you a pointed look that instantly blindsides you.

"I haven't-" Your mind is muddled with the thoughts currently running rampant in your mind. Thoughts of how he possibly could be the murderer Rudo was looking for . . Thoughts of how his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin in their wake. "I've just been really busy with work — It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." You stand your ground despite the fact that the man in front of you has you up against the wall. You knew Tamsy to be kind and gentle, but the man you were looking up at seemed as if he had his sights set on something you couldn't quite identify. He wasn't frantic and that was the scariest part because — he was eerily calm for someone who was possibly living a double life.

"So, leaving rooms when I happen to enter them and curt greetings in the hall have nothing to do with me? Do you really expect me to believe that?" What he really means is: Do you think I'm stupid? but he doesn't voice it. Instead, he towers over you, awfully close enough that you're sure he can feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

He sounds like someone who cares and it would have been sweet if you knew for certain whether or not he was telling the truth.

"You're overthinking it." you affirm.

"And you're lying."

"I'm really not." You maintain eye contact with him so steadily that it feels like a tug of war between his will and your own. This isn't the first time you've been cornered like this and it also isn't the first time you enjoyed the danger in playing with a man you didn't know well enough; The glint of violence in his eyes doesn't match his tender words but that familiar warmth slithers and coils in your stomach all the same.You thought that you had escaped that cycle of self-sabotage, but running away from the cycle doesn't exactly equate to breaking free of said cycle, now does it?

At the end of the day, you were the same fucked-up woman you were five years ago; Ready to dive in head-first into a situation you knew would leave you more torn and desperate for love than you had been before.

What would Arkha say about these treacherous feelings of yours?

"Tamsy . ."

You feel his hand come up to hold your chin gently, but firmly at the same time. His touch feels like fire on your skin — the type of fire that feels cold when it's hot enough.

"Did I do something?" His voice is low; just above a whisper. You hate that it makes your heart skip a beat.

"No," You lightly slap his hand away from your jaw and cross your arms, creating an unspoken barrier between his body and your own. "Like I said, It isn't about you at all."

"Then what is it?"

". . .I like you." A shrug, "That's all."

That's all??

Tamsy's mind goes blank.

He knows you aren't shy, knows you aren't a pushover.. but the woman standing in front of him is different than the one he's used to seeing. You're not afraid of him, you're not jumpy — You're looking straight at him as if you're daring him to step out of line; to let the mask slip just a little. He can tell you've seen something because let's face it, you were never that good of a liar — but you're not calling him out on it even if he knows that you know that you should.

You're confessing to him — but it's devoid of the romantic nervousness he expected from you.

"You.." His eyes narrow, unable to tell if you're telling the truth or lying to him in order to get out of the situation. To be fair, he had been egging you on in order to force an answer out of you and slither his way into your very clearly empty love life for reasons he didn't even know anymore, but you were giving him whiplash with your short and brutally honest quips. You kiss your teeth as if the conversation's boring you and you lean onto the wall behind you with a newfound air of annoyance he hadn't accounted for.

He hated that you made him feel like prey when he was the one with the upper hand — It was like you were mind-fucking him and telling him to take it — he abhorred it.

"You like me?"

"Look, it's not that big of a deal, alright?"

"If it wasn't, you wouldn't be avoiding me so much."

"I was 'avoiding' you because I didn't wanna hurt you, okay? I get silly crushes all the time and every time, they fade away." You talk about this as if its normal. For him, it's anything but. "Long-term relationships aren't really my thing and I don't really feel like stringing you along for a one time thing, especially not when you seem like such a nice guy."

He's found the part of you that he felt was missing when you hung out with him in his room, but it only left him with more questions. He allows one of your hands to snake up and lay flat on his chest. He's warm, you notice. It's a shame that you have a tendency to like guys that weren't any good for you.

"That's awfully kind of you.. But you can't simply drop that on me without hearing me out as well."

"If you're going to tell me that you like me too, you can save it."

What kind of a woman doesn't want to hear that the object of their affection reciprocates it as well??

He knew you were broken, but in his experience, broken people usually liked someone filling in their cracks. He was torn between his admiration of your damaged state of being and his vitriol towards the way you stubbornly held onto your own will that didn't allow for Tamsy's manipulation to succeed entirely.

After three years of waiting for you to open up, he was quickly beginning to realize that he severely underestimated how destroyed you really were on the inside.

An oversight, sure.

But he could work with this.

He leans closer to whisper his next words. "You could at least let me say it."

His breath on your ear makes you shudder and you fight the smile that threatens to appear on your lips. You feel drunk on his words for a moment, it's ruined when you realized just how easy it is for you to slip back into old patterns. He was a murderer and a liar. A normal, well adjusted person couldn't possibly be into him even after knowing this —

yet here you were, leaning into him once more and breathing him in like a flower soaks up sunlight.

"I don't need to hear you lie again." You whisper back, your fingers toying with his tie. The thrill of messing with someone who could probably kill you ignited that fire within you that you hadn't felt in so long.. you had almost forgotten how addictive that feeling was.

You lightly pushed him away from you and walked away from him. To his utter disappointment, he allowed it. Your journal was warm in your hands but it lacked that weight you felt prior. You could feel yourself slipping back into the person you were before you joined the cleaners and as much as you tried to bury that identity deep within you and become someone else — it was becoming painfully clear that you were doing nothing but lying to yourself if you thought you could escape your past self.

You trudged back to your room after what felt like a long walk, making sure to lock the door behind you before kicking your boots off and plopping down on your bed. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, processing what the hell had just gone down between Tamsy and yourself.

It was irreversible.

You couldn't take back your confession, nor that display of unfiltered honesty. The transition between the self you curated for others and the person you actually were on the inside had happened so seamlessly that you wouldn't have been able to stop it even if you had noticed it. You felt as if something dark — something unforgivable and disgusting — was emerging from within your walls of flesh, as if the inner you was clawing its way out of the grave that was your fake persona. . .It only took a few moments of realization for your eyes to begin pouring tears onto your sheets.

You were broken and you'd known it for a long time . . but tonight was the first time you had witnessed just how hypocritical your own behavior could be if presented with the opportunity. You were damaged and confused; Y had been pretending to be someone who knew their brokenness and owned it.

You hoped you'd begin to believe that lie the more you kept at it.

But you were never good at telling lies.

Not even to yourself.

That night, you curled into yourself, your pillow riddled with snot and tears of frustration. You wanted to break everything, make it all as damaged as you were — but all you could do was lay pathetically in your bed as you sobbed like a child over a broken toy. Except the toy that lay broken before you was the version of yourself that you could have been, and you were sat on the floor trying to piece it back together in futility.

You'd never be whole again.

You should talk to Arkha.

The next week, you busied yourself with compiling all of the information that concerned the Sphere and Rudo into a file for Arkha to see when he returned back to headquarters. To tell the truth, you had been avoiding Tamsy for most of it — but it wasn't due to the revelation of his past that you did it — in fact, it was because the notion of harboring feelings for a man who wasn't as gentle and sweet as you initially thought him to be frankly scared you.

There was a part of you that wanted to give into what you knew would end up badly for you, but there was also a part of you that wondered if doing so would be betraying the progress you've made and the kind people you've met since the day Arkha saved you. Holding onto your feelings for Tamsy meant betraying Arkha, Semiu, Enjin, Rudo and most of all — yourself.

The fact that you were even debating it should have already told you what you needed to know about yourself.

You poured hot water into your mug, hissing when you accidentally spilled some on your hand. What a great start to the day. You mixed in the sugar and coffee grains with a calculated ease, adding milk to do away with the bitter taste of it. Arkha usually took his coffee the same way because of his sweet tooth. You smile at the memory and wonder when he'll be back, only to frown when you feel the presence of a certain someone enter the kitchen.

His hair is in that familiar updo, but his blue strands lack the tube that they usually ran through. You wonder what he'd look like with his hair down now that you've seen that other version of him — The Sphereite version of him.

"Up so early?" His tone is as gentle and collected as ever.

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Work."

"Mission?"

"Different kind of work."

"Ah."

"Yep."

"Mm."

After a beat, you stretch your lips into an unsatisfied line and gesture towards the doors of the kitchen, "..I'll see myself out."

But before you can exit the kitchen, his fingers find your wrist. "Hold on, I wanted to . . ask you something."

You mentally groan at yourself when you turn and allow him to continue speaking. What you actually should've done was leave the kitchen and do what you were supposed to do, but unfortunately for you, Tamsy had a way of making you do the opposite of what your mind intended, which you found incredibly annoying.

"What is it?"

"Go on a date with me." The words feel like acid on his tongue. They sound like out-of-tune guitars to you.

"You said what?"

"A date." He repeats, smiling placidly like he always does, "There's a noodle restaurant that opened up in the city and I was thinking . . . perhaps we might go together. . ?"

You think about it for a moment despite your brain telling you that you were an idiot for even considering it.

If what you saw a week ago was correct, he was a murderer and a smart one at that. He could kill you, could dispose of you, make it look like an accident and walk away without any consequences. There were hundreds of possibilities that ended with your death and his triumph.

However, you weren't so weak that you could be killed that easily, so..

". . . What time?"

"How does later in the afternoon sound?"

". . . Alright."

"It's a date then?" Tamsy reluctantly lets you go, watching you disappear into the hallway shortly after affirming his question.

Truth be told, he thought to ask you on a 'date' as a last-ditch effort to get you alone after what had happened a week ago since you had been avoiding him everywhere all over again. He knew of your second vital instrument because he had snooped around in the boss' office a few months ago in an attempt to find out more about you, but the mechanics of your second instrument weren't on file, much to his dismay.

He felt a little on edge because it had been clear to him that the journal in your hand that day definitely revealed something about him, but if you haven't told anyone — not even Corvus — and you agreed to be alone with him on top of that. . . he should be safe for the most part. Even if you had revealed an intriguing side of yourself the last time the two of you spoke, your naive heart seemed to be a constant trait of yours and for that, he thanked you.

Depending on how tonight went, he'd either have to kidnap you, kill you or.. he could also erase your memories of what you'd found out if he wanted.

Either way, involving himself with you was beginning to cause more of a headache than he intended and on top of all of this, the thing that annoyed him most was that his heart felt a tad bit joyous at the notion that he was going on a date with you.

You had him feeling like a lovesick teenager, so much so that he debated hurting you for it.

"Damn you.." He sighed to himself, his hands steadily gripping the kitchen counter.

"What's up with you?" Enjin asks, yawning shortly after and heading towards the refrigerator.

"Nothing."

Another yawn, "You look emotionally constipated."

Crude as always, Tamsy deadpans. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh, well, whatever the case might be — just show her a good time n' you'll be golden."

Okay, what is he talking about? "Pardon?"

Enjin smirks like he knows something Tamsy doesn't. It only serves to annoy him more than he already is. "You asked her out didn't you? Being nervous is natural!" He moves over to hang an arm around Tamsy. "Just pay for everything n' be try to not be such a square; it works like a charm."

He narrows his eyes at Enjin and considers wringing his neck with Tokushin's threads. "I am not a square."

"Yeah, you're a pentagon." He snickers.

"Lay off," Tamsy scoffs and breaks away from Enjin's hold, opting to make his way out of the cafeteria instead. Enjin could really be a pain in the ass when he wanted to be.. But a bigger question loomed: Had you told Enjin where you were going as a safety precaution?

Tamsy smirks at the thought of it.

Perhaps you weren't so naive after all.

.

.

.

As you were sat at the center of your bed, you had a notebook at your side and Effegia opened up in front of you, replaying Rudo's past to finish up a few details on the file you were to turn in to the boss. Even if it had only been a task asked of you by Arkha, you'd be lying if you said you weren't invested in the kid's story and felt empathy for him because of the things he had gone through. Despite his status as a Sphereite, his life wasn't all that different from the people on the Ground — save for the trash beasts, trash storms and life-threatening pollution of course.

He had his own hell, it would seem. Your eyes narrowed at specific points of the scenes, watching them over and over, writing down specific details you deemed necessary for Arkha to know. From what you'd seen so far, it seemed that there was a misconception about the way people on the Ground saw the Sphere and the people on it. It wasn't just a world full of money, glory and peace — It was divided and filth still existed on it, just not as severely as it did down here.

"That's interesting.." you spoke aloud, writing it down in your notebook. After a few more minutes of re-watching his memories and noting everything you could about them, you closed your notebook and took another drink from your cup of coffee. Almost empty . . .

When you checked the time, you realized that about an hour or so had gone by. You still had a few hours before the date, so . . .

You flipped a page and the ink began to emerge once more; This time, Tamsy's memories were on display. It had only been for moment that he touched it so you had only seen flashes of the most important events of his life, but it was riveting nonetheless.

You looked upon the images of Tamsy's memories with an awe-stricken gaze. That minuscule peak into Tamsy's life was fascinating and only left you with more questions. Just who exactly was he? That same scene of Tamsy draped in that fancy clothing adorned and accented in gold, his hair down and flowing in the wind instead of his usual updo . . . He was the embodiment of ethereal beauty — it almost felt like a crime to see that version of him.

He shone as brightly as a fire, and could burn you just the same — You wonder if you'd let him.

You think maybe, you would.

Maybe you'd let him burn you enough to consume you whole . . .

It was already a hard task to admit that you fell for him, it was even harder to accept that the man you fell for was the same one who framed Rudo for the murder of his own father. There had to be something deeply twisted within you to even consider the possibility of being anything more than 'friends' with a murderer as cynical as him. Then again, your taste in partners was never the best so you suppose its on brand for someone as fucked up as yourself, because as much as you hated to admit it, you found comfort in violence even when better things — like a healthy social life at headquarters — were offered.

The warmth of HQ, the welcoming feeling of being a part of something bigger — it should have been enough to heal the cracks within you and fill you with something new. Something heartfelt.

Instead, you felt like an imposter for lying to everyone — to Arkha — about how you actually felt about your situation. But. . . was it really even lying? You were simply saving everyone else from dealing with your damaged, true self. You were broken, and keeping everyone else at a safe distance so they wouldn't cut themselves on your edges — it couldn't exactly be considered lying, could it?

Perhaps that was the reason for which you accepted Tamsy's lies and accepted his offer.

He couldn't fix you, you weren't stupid enough to think so; but you could be yourself — your true, unfiltered and raw self — with him. As cynical as he seemed to be, he had to be pursuing you for a specific reason.

One you intended to find out tonight.

.

.

.

"So you realized that you liked him and he asked you out.. and now you're going on a date with Tamsy?"

"Yes, keep up." You look at yourself in the mirror, painfully aware of every flaw on your body now that it's getting closer to the afternoon. "So, should I dress casually? I have some stuff August made for me but I don't want to go all out and be overdressed for something that isn't that serious.."

Arkha laughs over the choker comm, "It's a first date, isn't that pretty serious?"

"I guess.." You couldn't tell him this was anything but a real date.

You hear some unintelligible sounds from the choker comm,"Sorry _____, I have to go, tell me how it goes, yeah?"

"Will do." You say, "Stay safe."

He hums in acknowledgement before disconnecting, leaving you in your room with your head blank and starved for ideas on an outfit. You groan, "This is why I hate going out-"

"I certainly hope that isn't in reference to me." That tone . . .

Shit! He's here already??

"I'm not ready yet!" You tell him, feeling the room suddenly get hotter.

"Relax," You can almost hear his smirk. "..I could lend you a hand if you'd like."

"How bold." You burn holes into the door while you consider letting him in just to see if he was serious. Being naked in front of men had never really fazed you — especially not with your past occupation. A part of you contemplated for a moment what expression he'd make if he were to see you bare. The other, more reasonable side of you, scolded your mind for even thinking of that.

"Is that a no?"

"No," You walk to the door, walking away from the last semblance of faux dignity you thought yourself to have. "I'd like your opinion actually."

When you open the door, your eyes trail over his outfit. He seems to be in formal attire; it's still loose clothing — still so painfully him — but it compliments him well. His hair isn't in its usual updo he wears for work, and his blue strands cascade gracefully over his chest. He looks handsome and you hate to admit that he does.

"How bold." He returns your words to you before entering your room and choosing to sit at the edge of your bed where your heap of clothes lay. "What is it that you need help with, hm?"

"Just.." You close the door behind him and make your way beside him to sort through some clothing. You're in a robe and in a far more vulnerable position but if your unflinching gaze is anything to go by, he doesn't think you care.

You're challenging him. Again.

His fingers grip the sheets a little tighter than he should. The tension between the two of you is thick enough he's sure he could cut it with a knife. There's many things you haven't told him, details he certainly hasn't disclosed to you, questions that have yet to be answered.. yet he feels strangely at ease.

His heart races at the foreign, yet pleasing sight of you in a black silk robe. He's fascinated at how brazen your presenting yourself at the moment.

It's almost like you don't even . . . Oh.

Oh, That's interesting.

His hands loosen around your sheets.

"I didn't want to overdress so I was torn between formal and casual," Your eyes rake over his form and he begins to feel strangely hot when he notices you doing it so unabashedly. "-But seeing you now, maybe a mix of both would be good . . Maybe this."

You held up a black dress; the design was simple and reached your knees, but the v-neck was notable and would compliment you well. He watched as you laid the dress flat on the bed, entranced by how delicately you handled the fabric and how your fingers raked over the satin that kept your body hidden from him.

Your fingers worked at unraveling the tied knot at your center with ease, but just before you revealed yourself to him, he laid a hand over your own, towering over you once more. "What are you doing?"

It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"I could ask you the same thing."

There was that dull, uninterested look in your eyes again. He recognized it because you had been the target of that same look in his eyes for longer than he'd like to admit.

You were toying with him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" His hold on your hands grows firm but you notice that it's as if he's trying to restrain his own self rather than you.

You knew poking the bear was a bad idea, but you lived for the thrill of it.

You look him dead in the eye when you carelessly bite, "You can figure that out."

And in the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned to your own bed with his hand at your neck and his frame hovering over you. Your back is laid flat against your covers as his knee nudges in between yours that are bent against the mattress. You should have been scared, any woman in your place would have been, but you simply smiled as you looked up at him — like you were enjoying yourself. His eerily calm expression made your heart almost beat out of your ribcage and it was then that he realized two things.

One: He had accidentally revealed part of the self he kept hidden from you with this impulsive action of his.

And, two . . .

"Oh." His eyes widen as his grip on your throat softens. "Oh, You like this."

Your smile falls at the statement, he sighs in satisfaction.

"God.." He smiles and leans close to whisper into your ear, "Someone really messed you up, huh?"

You scoff, "Like you're any better." Your fingers creep up his nape and into his beautiful navy blue strands. Your fingers are gentle, but your words are anything but. "Who in their right mind kills a little boy's father and frames him for it? I mean, really, that makes you more fucked up than I am." It was a frail attempt to hurt his ego and erase the fact that he uncovered your shameful desires so quickly, and of course, it didn't work.

He was amused.

He pulls away with a soft smile on his lips but his hand remains on the column of your throat, his thumb softly pressing against your vein. "You're the one in love with a murderer — I think that makes you an accomplice, angel."

You bite the inside of your cheek and narrow your eyes at him. He'd be right on a technicality, but you refuse to believe his statement when it comes from his mouth. "Hardly." You try to get up so you can get dressed, your playful mood now slowly dissipating, but Tamsy doesn't allow it, instead forcing you to stay on your back and staring down at you with a deep disdain.

"Now, tell me. What exactly did you see, hm?"

"What are you talking about?" Did he know about Effegia?

"Your second instrument — The book you carry. How does it work and what did you see?"

"How do you know about that?"

Your eyes don't tear away from his own. "Answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

You mull it over for a few seconds and ultimately decide that the deal only benefits himself more than it benefits you. "I don't really have an obligation to answer you."

"No?" His smile fades, "Last time I checked, I'm the one with the hand around your-"

"You can save your threats," You interrupt, growing tired of his pointless hostility — Even then, you can't find it within you to hate him. Your hand easily rips his own off of your neck. "I won't tell you how it works, but you don't need to worry about your secrets getting out. I'm not telling anyone."

Secrets? Plural?

It takes him a moment to respond after the realization that that journal of yours, did in fact, show you something about him settles in.

"And why should I believe you?" His arms are crossed as he watches you rise from the bed, your hand undoing the knot fully and allowing the silk to pool at your ankles. His eyes trail over your naked form for a second longer than they should have before turning to look at the wall, a slight reddish tint on his ears. Yes, he was sadistic and conniving to inhuman degrees — but none of that seemed to matter when you unknowingly woke the dormant human feelings of bashfulness in him.

"You don't have to believe me, but if I was interested in ruining your . . .plans, I would've told Arkha the moment I found out."

He tries not to listen to the rustling of clothes behind him.

"Why didn't you?"

A beat.

".. I'm selfish."

The implications of your admission bring him a newfound appreciation for your puzzled and deeply disturbed mind, but he doesn't laugh at it. Somehow, you've wormed your way into his treacherous heart and he can't help but look over his shoulder and gaze at you with deep-seated anger-laced admiration.

Is it possible to love someone so much you wish to harm them? He thinks it might be.

"Can you help me with this?"

He turns fully and walks up to you with a relaxed expression, the zipper feels cold in his warm fingers. He could help, or let you squirm and figure it out yourself while he watches . . but he decides against it; Simply sliding the zipper upwards instead. The black fabric sparkles in the light of your lamp and the skirt of your dress flows freely. It's not too tight on your body but it compliments you well nonetheless. His fingers linger on your back for a moment, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress and thinking about how you'd look in a dress that's truly worthy of you — or how you'd look with Tokushin's threads wrapped around your plush skin — he snaps out of it when you glance back at him with an annoying smirk.

"Like what you see?"

How is it that you manage to ruin the intimacy of moments like these every time?

He doesn't answer and instead steps away, his hands leaving your waist.

"Just finish up, would you? It's getting late."

You laugh at his excuse, but move quickly nonetheless, willing your mind to momentarily focus on something other than him.

The savory aroma of fresh noodles and broth filled the noodle restaurant.

Unlike the cold breeze outside the establishment, the environment inside was much more comforting. A twinge of disappointment tugged at you when the two of you sat at a booth within the quaint restaurant because the words that would be said tonight were anything but romantic — This wasn't a real date, you had to keep reminding yourself of that . . .

Yet, even if false pretenses had led the both of you here, it still made you feel fuzzy inside.

The worn leather of the booth cushioned you as you sat across from Tamsy. There weren't that many people inside, so the two of you were able to get your menus rather quickly and order what you thought sounded the most delicious.

"Have you been here before?"

"I haven't. Why do you ask?"

A beat passes. "Have you forgotten you're an expert in the art of lying?"

You certainly didn't hesitate.

Reluctantly, he sighs and leans backward as he lifts his gaze from the menu momentarily, the look within his eyes appearing more calculated by the second. "I see you have no intention of pretending this is anything else."

"I don't like to beat around the bush. But if we're laying our cards out on the table, we're doing it my way."

"Oh?" It seemed that you had already planned for this. Once more, your forethought demands his appreciation. "What did you have in mind?"

"I ask, you answer."

"That hardly seems fair."

"You don't get to choose after lying to me."

He sighs. "I had my reasons for doing so."

"I'm sure you did." You stare blankly at the people sitting around the restaurant enjoying their meals, having warm, probably more positive, conversations amongst each other.

He smiles, dusty golden eyes meeting your own. "So, what would you like to know? It sounds like I don't have much of a choice here."

"Well, first of all-"

"Here are your drinks!" A waitress interrupts, "Your food will be here shortly."

The both of you thank her and you wait until she's out of earshot to finish your question. "Are you really from up there?" You keep your voice down so you don't garner the attention of the people in the restaurant yet even then, the words feel so foreign on your tongue. By being here with him, purposefully omitting what you learned about Tamsy from Arkha despite being aware of its importance, you were betraying everything you tried to build for the past five years.

You were betraying Arkha's kindness.

Your selfish heart sought the unattainable; it sought a person more twisted than yourself and you were at a loss when it came to analyzing what that said about you. Were you really willing to shield a potential threat for the sake of your starved heart? The question sat at the back of your mind as you toyed with the cuffs you wore as bracelets — your instrument, your safeguard.

"I am."

"So.. Why are you down here, then? I don't really see a reason for you to be down here when life up there seems so much more fulfilling." You take your straw in between your index and thumb and sip on the water you ordered to keep your hands busy.

You weren't angry at the fact that a Sphereite was essentially pretending to be one of you because you had never been interested in the Sphere enough to care about the implications — your entire life, you'd only been surviving and the Cleaners gave you a place to finally live, so wasting your energy on despising those on the Sphere was a luxury you simply wouldn't purchase for the sake of your mental health.

Though, looking back now, you probably would have been better off hating Sphereites.

Maybe then it would've been harder for your feelings for Tamsy to persist.

"The Sphere is the primary reason for the suffering you, and other groundlings, experience on the Ground," His gaze is now downcast. A sign of vulnerability? You hesitate to mark it as one. He meets your eyes once more, "I seek to end the rule of an oppressive force, that's all."

"So then what was your reason for murdering Rudo's father?"

Blankly, he states: "It was an act of love." His voice is devoid of hesitation; He fully believes what he's saying.

"An.. An act of love. You did that for . . love?"

"Without his father's death poor Rudo's anger would not have culminated into what it has. I only want to elevate his already powerful abilities."

"You're using him."

"I am."

"You understand that you hurt him, right?"

"The hurt is necessary. He's a pawn in a game much bigger than you and I."

You blink slow enough that you feel time has stopped for a second.

". .Is that. . Is that what this is?" You ask him pointedly, a dull pang of disappointment reverberating in your chest.

It was your own fault for falling for a murderer — a deranged one, too. However, that didn't make the terrible ache within your heart any less real. Feeling anything at all for a man like him was proving to be a continuous form of self-harm you couldn't seem to quit.

"That's what I am to you? A pawn?"

As your eyes look into his own, you slowly begin to realize that the Tamsy you once knew — the gentle and kind man who went out of his way to give gifts to his friends, the man who saved you on countless jobs when you had been too reckless, the man who didn't distance himself no matter how distant you had been despite being on his team — was truly gone.

No, you corrected, he had never existed.

The callous man in front of you, speaking of people as if their lives held no greater value than a game piece, that was the real Tamsy.

And the real Tamsy offered you neither warm gentility nor unrelenting kindness, no, he offered you nothing short of brutal honesty.

"Did you think yourself to be anything more?"

His words cut deeply, even if they are the words of a lying murderer.

You swallow the bitter lump in your throat, "I would have thought that I had at least been a friend to you."

He smiles upon seeing the way your eyes don't meet his own anymore, but the smile hides the tug of guilt he strangely begins to feel. Your fingers are fidgeting with the cuffs at your wrist again; tugging and pulling as if to keep yourself grounded. Your brows are pulled tight and he can tell you're trying not to show any of your true emotions, but he doesn't comment on it.

In that moment of awkward silence your food arrives, but you find that your appetite no where to be found. You swallow thickly, taking your chopsticks, meticulously breaking them to dip them into the broth. The meal would've been nice on any other occasion.

". . If none of it was real, what was the point in making me think otherwise? What did you gain by making a fool out of me?"

Your tone has changed to something much more raw — it lacks your usual bite and he notices it instantly. He's unsure whether the unfamiliar dull pain in his chest means something.

"You're in Corvus' good graces, being close to you is an advantage."

You swear you could break the chopsticks in your hand.

He hums as he bites into the noodles. The broth is savory and the noodles aren't too bad. They certainly don't compare to the cuisine on the Sphere but he can admit that it's better than most of the food he's had down here.

"How are you liking it?"

"It's fine."

He frowns, "Just 'fine'?"

"You kind of killed my appetite."

"Oh, don't be so sour." He says, reaching out towards your lips to wipe a droplet of broth off of your face. Why did he do that? "We can still enjoy our time here, can't we?"

"I suppose so."

You answer curtly; A conversation with him would only lead you towards more unwanted heartbreak. After all, this was the very reason for which you never approached any of your crushes before: Letting someone into your heart meant giving them the ability to break it from within. Feeding delusions of a romance by agreeing to this date had been a mistake and as much as your actions loved to defy your mind's logic, emotional hurt was never something you enjoyed.

You would take physical pain over internal pain any day.

Given that you were preoccupied with the multitude of thoughts running rampant in your mind, you failed to notice just how pathetic your expression was.

Tamsy for the most part, had tried to ignore the unfamiliar ache in his chest — he tried pushing down the guilt he was feeling because it was unreasonable — he shouldn't feel this way for you; It'd be a distraction, more than you already were. Inner Tamsy was having a field day, finding a sick gratification in having that much of an effect on you, so much so that it left him with a warm tingling feeling all throughout his body.

And yet, the stubborn organ within his chest in the confines of his ribcage clenched with the notion that he had done something wrong.

He had never once regretted any of his actions.

All of them had been necessary and each one had a reason behind it. The act of pursuing you, however, lacked a coherent one. There had been many reasons for which he chose to go after you and cultivate romantic feelings within you but none of them were because he considered you a pawn. Somewhere along the way, his unsuspecting mind had begun to view you as less than an interesting experiment and seeing you on the brink of tears — because of him specifically — well, it felt a lot worse than he thought possible.

Just as his lips began to part to say something, you placed your chopsticks on the table beside your very full bowl. The broth still emitting steam that warmed your skin. It was a shame it could not warm you heart as well.

The rest of the dinner was silent and the walk back to headquarters was uneventful to say the least.

You were torn in between feeling unfettered rage towards the man who toyed with your already fragile heart, and sadness that he clearly had viewed every moment between the two of you as nothing more than a strategic advantage.

Amidst those emotions, however, it dawned on you that. . . you had been here once before.

You had been with many a man who disappointed you, used you and threw you out like you were nothing but a warm body.

Tamsy was the same.

He was no different.

Yes, he didn't use your body like those other men had — but he used your heart.

You would argue that that was worse.

"__? _________, are you listening?"

You blink back into reality, "Sorry, I wasn't— What were you saying?"

He smiles. You remind yourself it isn't real.

"I was asking if you'd like to pass by the bakery before heading home."

"Oh." You nod hesitantly, "Yeah, that. . I'd like that."

He notices your mental absence and for a moment, he stays silent. You don't note his silence but you're quick to perceive the way his hand finds yours.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you to the bakery, Angel."

His fingers lace around your own and despite being caught off guard for a moment, your stupid heart allows his touch to turn your brain into mush. Your fingers close around his own tenderly, as if his hand was fragile glass, and they remain that way when the two of you enter the bakery, even as he opens the door for you; Ever the gentleman.

Your mind struggles to find the answers as to why he's being so cordial — borderline romantic — when he quite literally admitted that you were nothing to him just an hour ago, but after minutes of trying to fill in the gaps, you sigh and accept that he's just doing this for whatever sick pleasures he harbors inside that twisted mind of his.

His affections do not feel as if they're for you, but you enjoy his touch nonetheless; A starving person wouldn't be picky about the little food they're given, so why should you?

Your fingers twitch at the feeling of warmth that mixes into the sadness you felt moments prior back at the restaurant into a soup of intense emotions that boil within you unforgivingly.

"Have you been here before?", he asks while gazing into the cakes behind the glass casing. There are many decorative pastries; Cakes, cupcakes, buttery breads and fluffy sweets, the bakery smelled wonderful and welcoming.

You nod in response, "Yeah. . I like their cheesecake."

"What a coincidence," His lips curl into a smile that you want to believe is genuine. "I also happen to enjoy their cheesecake."

". . . Do you want to get a slice?" you ask him earnestly. "My treat. Since you paid for dinner n' all that."

"A slice?" He brings a finger to his chin, "Why don't we simply get the entire cake?"

". .Okay, That sounds good too."

He hums happily and tightens his hold on your hand when you make an effort to order the cake. You look back at him with a confused expression, but he pays you no mind as he walks up to the counter to do it himself. You chalk it up to just Tamsy being Tamsy, but when you pull out the cash needed to pay for the cake, he hands in his own money which only serves to puzzle you even more.

By the time the cake is boxed up and ready to go, you offer to hold it on the way home but he refuses politely; Something about not minding it. The entire walk home is spent in a silence with a twinge of tension and confusion embedded within it. Everything about this feels so horribly . . . out of place? You're sure that's the right way to describe it.

If there's one thing you know about Tamsy, it's that he never does anything without a motive. To him, there has to be purpose in every action he does. You used to think it was thoughtfulness — you know now that it's more of a subtly calculative behavior than pure-hearted kindness. So, knowing this, why in the hell was he holding your hand? Why did he pay for dinner, for the cheesecake- why did he call you 'angel'? What was there to gain from exploiting your heart and stretching your patience thin?

You're so consumed by your thoughts that you register the fact that the two of you are on your way to your room all too late. When you arrive at your door, you take out your keys to unlock it but they feel heavy in your hands. Initially, you thought to discover why he was pursuing you tonight — and you did. 'An advantage' was the reason why he had been fighting to claim the space of your heart behind those walls of yours and he left no room for misinterpretation.

Yet still, you wanted to believe there was something more to it. That for once, you were wanted. But nothing about what he had said tonight even hinted at his interest in you. His actions on the other hand. . .

"Is something the matter?"

You shake your head no, not trusting your lips to say the right thing. You insert the key into the lock and twist the knob, your hand — the one that Tamsy still holds — growing warmer by the second. He follows after you without question and lets go of your hand to place the bag holding the boxed up cake on your desk. His warmth lingers on your palm. When he turns to leave, your breath hitches and you reach out to tug at his sleeve without a single thought of the implications of your small action.

"Where are you going?" You hate that your tone gives your meek desperation away.

He all but smiles, "You don't intend to eat the cake all by your lonesome, do you? I'm going to get plates and utensils for us."

"Oh."

The moment passes and when he's gone, you internally yell at yourself for succumbing to the feeling that you didn't want to let him go, for letting it show. It was stupid, but it ate away at you. As much as you viewed yourself as an astute, observant person, the girl from the underworld of the Ground, the girl that slept with men to feel some semblance of warmth and lied to herself by telling herself it was only about the money, the girl that craved true closeness and passion . . . she still resided within you.

Morals be damned, you were selfish.

When he returns with two plates from the kitchen, silver forks and a knife, your intense feelings don't subside — they're magnified.

You truly had the worst taste in men.

"I'm back," he announces, the plates clinging as he lays them both on your desk.

He hands you the knife and you make quick work of the cake, cutting a slice for him and one for yourself. You sat yourself at the edge of your bed, beside your desk so you could lend Tamsy the space at your desk and still remain close to him. The sight of someone like him doing something so domestic after the shitshow of a 'date' the two of you had embarked on just an hour ago was oddly comforting. Your heart warms upon feeling the cake almost melt in your mouth when you take a bite of it, a small smile appearing on your lips.

He watches you eat the cake, taking in your presence as if its something sacred and of course, you notice.

". . .Why are you looking at me?" you ask him mid-chew, trying not to squirm under his careful gaze.

He smirks, "I'll tell you, if you tell me what your journal does."

You frown, and look back down at your cake while picking at it. "You're still on about that? Haven't I already proven my fealty to keeping your secrets?"

"It's not about that, I'm simply curious."

"Are you, now?"

"Extremely." He says it with a warm curl of his lips that makes you ignore your common sense for the nth time today.

"It just shows me things, it's not that special." You try to be vague, but it doesn't get him off of the topic.

"How insightful."

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're being sarcastic, aren't you?"

"Noooo, what could possibly make you think that hm?"

"Okay, fine." You deadpan and reach towards the last drawer of your desk, open it and take the journal with worn leather out of its place. You allow your anima to seep into the journal and look at his curious eyes as he watches it change from the worn book to the new version of it he's seen before. "It shows me scenes of a persons life. It only works when people touch it while it's activated."

"That's . . .useful."

"I guess," you say half-heartedly, "Though, if I hadn't had it activated when you touched it that day, we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place, so. . . It has its downsides too. Knowing too much can also be a bad thing." You lay your journal beside you when you deactivate it and continue eating at your slice of cake.

"Are those sights only visible to you?" He places his empty plate on the desk, "Or could I see them too?"

"Unfortunately for you, only I'm able to see them."

"How convinient." He drawls.

"Very." You run your fork through the last piece of cheesecake on your plate, "Y'know, if you hadn't grabbed my journal that day, your façade wouldn't have been ruined."

"Is that so?" He rests his cheek on his palm as his elbow is propped up on the desk in a leisurely manner.

"It's why I tried to get it before you did. I didn't wanna pry into your past or anything, but of course, fate had something different. . ."

"Fate. . ." he scoffs, "I grabbed it intentionally."

Your brows furrow as you stack your empty plate above his own. "Why would you do that? I. . We could have kept on being friends if you hadn't done what you did."

"Friends?" He questions, "Is that what we were?"

"It's what I thought we were. . " You look away from him and towards the cake.

Something about your words seem to tick him off, though you're unsure what exactly did it. "Are you being dense on purpose? I never pegged you as the oblivious type."

Your eyes trail back to him, who's looking at you with a rather calm expression. "What are you talking about?"

"I would have thought you would have caught on by now, but I suppose I might have overestimated your capabilities." He sighs, as if you're too stupid to catch his drift.

The fabric of your sheets bunches up in your hands. "Are you trying to call me a dumbass for thinking that we were friends?"

"Is that truly what you thought?" He gazes at you, pretty lashes fluttering as he does so.

"Uh, Yeah? Up until a week ago, we were good friends — great even! Are you telling me that you didn't feel that way either?" You don't think you would be able to keep yourself contained if he told you that he truly never saw you as a friend either. It was already disheartening to find out that what you thought were romantic advances were nothing but strategic movements in his game, but your friendship with him? Was that nothing too? "Did it mean nothing to you, too? Was it all one-sided. . .?"

You look up at him and maybe it's the night that makes you feel so vulnerable, maybe it's him — but you can feel your eyes watering despite how much you tried not to cry in his presence the entire night. You were strong, but you have your limits too.

He seemed to be an expert at pushing yours.

Tamsy stands over you now and you hate how composed he is. Doesn't he know he's crushing your fragile heart?

"Do you get enjoyment out of this? Out of watching me act a fool because of you?"

"I used to," he admits, "Now, it's just . . .annoying."

You wipe your eyes on your sleeve as you let his words sink in and for a moment, you find your resolve. "Take the cake n' get out." Your words are shaky and filled with hurt, but you mean them. "I don't want-"

"It's annoying because now I'm starting to care."

"You. . . What?"

His index finger slithers underneath your chin to bring your focus back to him. You flinch but don't make any effort to stop him when he leans in, his lips finding your own. Against your better judgment, you return his kiss and move tenderly against his lips, as if your scared he'll disappear if you deepen it.

And then you snap back to reality.

You lightly press on his chest to stop him and create distance between the two of you before it goes any further. Your heart pounds within you so quickly that you're sure he could hear it if he tried. You stare at him for a moment, and he doesn't say anything — doesn't question why you stopped him.

He also doesn't question when you pull him back in and slot your lips against his own. Your teeth tug on his lower lip lightly, carefully avoiding his piercing, while your shaky fingers rest against the sides of his neck; you cradle his face as if he'll break if you press too hard and the scarred skin on the right side of his neck feels smoother than the rest of him.

While you kissed him, you adamantly ignored the alarm bells going off in your head enough that they simply became background noise that blended in with the CD player on your dresser. The two of you had been eating cake and listening to music but by now, both of those things had been left forgotten in exchange for the warmth the two of you found within each other.

Tamsy knows your confused. He can feel it in the way your hands tremble, in the way your lips hesitate sometimes, as if you're still trying to figure him out. He doesn't blame you, he himself can't exactly explain why he did all of this except for the obvious reason that he harbored some type of feeling for you; the type of feeling that made him want to cut you open and nestle himself in the wound.

For the first time. . . it was he who was betraying his sense of self in favor of feeling your touch.

You tasted like cheesecake, sweet and creamy. Softly, he helps you onto your bed until he hovers over you. His knee is in between your thighs as he continues kissing you softly, swallowing each whimper and sigh that leaves your kiss-bitten lips. No words are spoken between the two of you but the way his fingers hold your waist, the way you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. . . it feels like conversation enough.

When his knee accidentally rubs against you, your pull away from his lips and sigh softly. "W-Wait. ."

"Did I hurt you?" He asks, sounding strangely genuine.

You shake your head, "No, but. . I don't want to ruin your clothes. Or my dress."

You're stalling because you can't exactly believe that this happening, with him of all people. You can't say you haven't imagined this before, but. . was this real?

"Ah. That's right. ." He wastes no time in helping you unzip your dress, discarding his jacket while you throw your dress in a random corner of your room, leaving you in your underwear and him half naked from the waist up. He doesn't seem to hesitate to place gentle kisses on your skin despite your own reluctance to touch him, and even if he seems confident in his actions, they're gentle.

You're not new to this, but he's new to you.

You're not used to feeling so conflicted and yet so sure about someone while kissing them, not used to the way you think about how his hands that leave goosebumps in their wake have had blood on them, not used to the way his lying lips feel so good on your warm skin, how those pretty lashes that tickle your jaw belong to a man willing to ditch the safety of the Sphere for dark reasons you had yet to find out — you're not used to any of it, but none of the things that confuse you about his person, about his past, actually stop you from reaching out and letting him explore the expanse of your body in whichever way he pleases.

You whimper when his teeth latch onto the skin of your neck, sighing when he smooths it over with his tongue as if to apologize and lightly tugging on the blue strands of hair on the base of his scalp. He smelled sweet, like honey and something woody. For a moment, the two of you gaze at each other, and you can feel your features softening when you take a good look at him in the dim light that your lamp offers.

The sensation of his hand caressing your cheek feels foreign but not unwelcome and slowly, your hand travels up to the hair tie that holds his hair up and tugs on it, releasing his long blonde hair from its restraint. He leans in and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, enjoying the sight of you completely lost in him and his touch even though he's done nothing but kiss you. You look drunk, satisfied with having him hover over your warm body.

He wonders if you'd look as satisfied if that was all he did.

"You're infuriating. ." you whisper.

"Am I?" his thumb softly moves back and forth over the skin of your jaw.

"You are," Your breath hitches when his knee rubs against your clothed cunt and you shoot him a glare because you know it was anything but accidental that time.

"Your body doesn't seem to think so, Angel."

His lips curl into a smirk as he dips to place butterfly kisses in between the valley of your breasts, his nails dragging softly down your sides as he keeps descending until eventually he's standing over your body with his hands on your bent knees as he takes a moment to appreciate how ethereal your plush body looks.

You feel a bit embarrassed, given that it's been a while since you last slept with a man, but the way his hands slide your underwear off of your legs has you forgetting that bashfulness.

"My body's stupid." you say half-jokingly.

He chuckles at your statement, relishing in your confused expression when he crawls over to you and places his fingers on your bottom lip. You open them without a lick of reluctance and let his middle and ring finger settle on your wet tongue. You watch his eyes narrow when you suck on his fingers, coating them in the slick of your saliva — you swear you could get off on just the sight of him.

You have, actually.

You'd ever tell him that though.

When his fingers withdraw from your lips, he dives in to catch your lips in another mind-numbing kiss. It's not as slow as the previous ones, it's passionate and a little hungry in contrast to his previous kiss, it's as if he can't get enough of you.

The thought of being wanted by him is enough to spread a tingling warmth across your entire body. Your arms come up to wrap themselves around his neck loosely, tightening when you feel a cold, wet finger slide into your folds with another one of his fingers following shortly after.

Your breath hitches and as much as you enjoy the slow circles he draws meticulously around your sensitive clit and the fervent kiss the two of you share, the thing that truly makes that warmth settle in your stomach the most, is the fact that he's here with you. He was confusing in the worst of ways and sadistic in a manner that you'd never accept from anyone else, but here and now — he was gentle.

For the first time, sex was not something that was being done to you — it was something you were sharing with someone else.

With Tamsy, sex wasn't transactional — it was a conversation.

You break the kiss with a soft sigh, and find yourself burying your face into the crook of his neck, all of a sudden feeling a familiar warmth begin to pool in your stomach as his fingers slide up and down languidly in between your sticky folds. Your hips buck in time with his hands, desperate to feel the friction he's so generously giving you.

He slips in one of his fingers with ease due to your arousal and the second one follows soon after. Your teeth sink lightly into the scarred flesh of the space where his neck and shoulder as you feel your orgasm nearing. Your breath becomes short and your moans louder as his fingers gradually hasten their pace, pumping in and out of you whilst his thumb rubs your clit side-to-side with a pressure that has you on the edge of climax sooner than you'd like to admit.

Your teeth bit down harder on his skin and perhaps if you weren't so lost in your own pleasure, you would've cared about how your teeth could draw blood if you bit any harder. You hear him grunt but he doesn't stop his merciless ministrations against your wet folds.

One of your arms tightens around his neck, bringing him closer to you as your free hand holds onto his forearm in between your legs, keeping his hand there as you feel that pressure in stomach build up to where you can tell you're seconds away from cumming on his fingers.

Much to your dismay, however, he brings his fingers to an abrupt halt, causing you to whine in frustration and grind your hips against the heel of his palm to keep the friction going. Your weak movements are in vain though, because his fingers withdraw from your opening completely and leave you feeling empty and wanting.

Your teeth unlatch from his skin slowly, "Why'd you do that. .?" You're still panting heavily, coming down from the high he started while he simply placed a kiss on your cheek like he didn't just do what he did.

"Punishment." He drawls.

Your brows furrow in frustration, "Punishment for what?"

"For doubting my love for you."

You suppose it shouldn't surprise you, given his fucked up definition of what love is, but it does nonetheless — which he notices.

"It's not that surprising, is it? I mean, given our current situation, it's quite obvious is it not?"

Your hand comes to rest on his hand that's cupping your jaw. "I've slept with men that I had no feelings for. I didn't really have a reason to think that this had strings attached, since. ." You avoid his golden eyes, ". . You used me, toyed with me and made me believe you were into me for your own pleasure. . I was your pawn. . and you want me to believe you're doing this. . because you love me?" Your disbelief is present in your tone but he's not offended by your words.

His expression softens and he tenderly brings your focus back to him, "I'll admit that it was harsh to say such a thing, . . .I forget how fragile you are." He brings his forehead to yours and that action alone has your heart skipping in your chest. It was such a small thing and yet, it moved you so intensely that it brought back all the feelings you wanted to bury.

"I'm sorry Angel," he whispers, "You've never been a pawn to me." Tears begin to fall from the corners of your eyes as your hands come up to the sides of his neck again. "Can you forgive me, dearest?" He kisses the corners of your eyes, wiping your tears away with his delicate kiss.

You nod, not able to find your words since you're trying not to full-on sob underneath him. "I need to hear it from you," he murmurs as he kisses your jaw again. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access to your skin but say nothing in response as you allow your arms hang around his neck once more.

"I suppose that'll suffice," he says as he grabs a pillow and slides it underneath your lower back so you're more comfortable in this position. He props him self up with his arm as his other unfastens his belt.

"M'sorry," you tell him as you gaze upon the fresh bite mark you left earlier. "I didn't mean to bite so hard. . I usually don't."

Your admission seems to amuse Tamsy. "Perhaps you just haven't been taken care of enough to do so," he suggests. "You need not apologize, you can bite as much as you'd like."

You bring your lips up to his own, choosing to not dwell on the newfound embarrassment you feel at his gentle words. You barely notice the fact that he's freed his dick from his pants and boxers when you're kissing him that you let out a soft sigh when you feel him rub himself against your slick folds.

For a while, he makes out with you while grinding slowly against your soaked cunt; his tongue piercing feeling warm against yours while you kiss him passionately. The sensation of both his kiss and him grinding against you could have made you cum if that had been the goal, but it wasn't — at least not yet. His slow movements and your tender touch were more about enjoying the effect the both of you had on one another rather than the orgasm you'd both be chasing later.

It made you happy, just kissing him endlessly. So much so, that when his dick eventually pushed into your opening, you asked him to remain that way for a moment. "Jus' wanna feel you," you'd told him in between breaths.

To have him inside you filled you with such a warmth that only amplified the love you already held for him. That voice that scolded you at the beginning of all of this was nowhere to be heard, allowing you to take pleasure in the simple act of existing near him, with him.

You felt him start to move out of you slowly while you kissed the scar on his neck, your breath hitching when he thrust back into you at that same languid pace. You moved your hips in tandem with his movements, meeting him halfway and finding satisfaction in how he filled you up, his length stretching your walls around him so deliciously it had you moaning quietly against his ear.

"T-Tamsy," you pant as your arms leave his neck in favor of one of them curling under his bicep and the other grasping the sheets underneath you.

He groans when you hook your legs around his hips, allowing him to fit deeper into you with his tip kissing your cervix with each of his thrusts. "You drive me crazy," he gasps, "You- mh, know that, right?"

"Uh-huh," you respond absentmindedly, almost completely lost in him to think about what you're saying. "To be fair, you started thi- Ah!" A moan escapes you when he drags his dick out slowly just to thrust back up into you sharply. Your nails dig into skin as you feel the warmth settle in your lower stomach once again.

You murmur his name with a whine as your hips buck erratically, chasing your orgasm in fear that he'll stop again, "Don't stop," you sigh, "Please.."

He laughs softly as his pace hastens, giving you exactly what you want for once instead of denying you your release. You can feel yourself grow impossibly wetter as he keeps his fast pace, your eyes rolling back and closing as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Tamsy stifles a moan that threatens to spill from his lips when he feels your walls clench around his sensitive dick.

He's imagined you this way before, shamelessly watching the way your breasts bounce within the confines of your black lacy bra that's still somehow on. His hand snakes around your back to unhook the last piece of clothing still on you with an quickness that you don't appreciate as much as you normally would, since you're too lost in the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

"Arms up," he directs, his hips slowing momentarily to help you take your bra off. You comply without a word, feeling your nipples stiffen when they're exposed to the cold air of your room. His hips rut into you deeply, reaching places you never could with your fingers, and you find yourself gasping at the sensation of his tongue on one of your nipples while one of his hands rolls the other in between his index and thumb.

Your back arches in response to his tongue piercing nudging your sensitive nipple and a loud whine is ripped from you when his teeth lightly bite it, his other hand flicking and rolling the other without a care for how close you are to cumming. Your hips begin to stutter as they buck chaotically, "Tamsy-! Wait ah-" A strange feeling begins to build in your lower abdomen but it's not something you're used to feeling, "Mgh- Wait-! I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead," he cuts you off, increasing his speed to get you there.

"No w-wait, it's-!" A guttural moan escapes your throat as you feel yourself gush around him, making a wet mess on your sheets and his pants. He has half a mind to look down at how you've squirted around him to enjoy the sight but with the way your walls clench around him mercilessly, he decides against it and simply dips into your neck to suck on your skin.

Your eyes water as he begins to thrust deeper and faster into you, feeling so incredibly full and yet still wanting more of him. You're on the edge of your orgasm when your legs lock around his hips and your teeth his shoulder again to stifle the scream your sure you'll let out if he keeps this up. Regardless of the pain he feels when you bite him, he keeps thrusting at his pace and chasing his own orgasm with an embarrassing whimper of your name falling from his lips.

"Tell me you love me," you whisper as your hands cup his cheeks, his hair falling around you like a curtain, "Please.. Even if its a lie- ngh! pleasepleaseplease..!"

His hips falter as he gazes into your teary eyes and he dips down to capture your lips in a bruisingly passionate kiss. "I Love you," he murmurs against your lips, "Love you so much, you don't even- mh," A deep groan comes from him as he feels your walls spasm around his dick which brings him to the edge of his own orgasm. His pace becomes chaotic and downright primal as he chases his orgasm, reaching his climax when you pull him down to suck on the sensitive scar at the side of his neck.

His hands grip the sheets as he fucks you through both your orgasm and his own, his hips gradually slowing down as the two of you come down from the height of pleasure. Your teeth unlatch from the skin of his shoulder and you lick over the bite mark as if to apologize. You're breathless when he comes down to kiss you again; It's slow and the two of you pant in between breaths but you kiss him back nonetheless.

"I meant it," he says as he slowly pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

Your mind is hazy from the impact of your orgasm but you understand what he means. Right now though, you don't really want to dwell on the truth of his words.

"Come on," he says from the adjacent bathroom in your room, "We can't go to bed like this."

You follow soon after him, joining him in the shower once the water gets hot enough. Your heartbeat slows into a mellow rhythm when you stand underneath the water with him, watching as his hair grows wet with each passing moment. He looks different with his hair down, but it's a good different. He keeps it that way when the two of you step out of the shower and lay in bed with the fresh new sheets he helped you change.

Your head rests on his chest when you ask, "Do you wear it like this when you're up on the Sphere?" You twirl a stray blue strand of his hair around your finger, enjoying the closeness of his warm body against yours.

"I do, yes." he muses, "Though I prefer to wear it up when I'm here. Feels more like me, if that makes any sense."

You chuckle and a sleepy smile finds its way onto your lips, "I get what you mean, sort of; I changed a lot over the years that I've been a Cleaner."

"You mean to tell me you weren't always so sappy?" he half-jokes, which earns him a light slap on the pec.

"For your information, I've always been pretty sappy." You trace the scars on his skin, "But I've only recently started to express myself more recently. I used to be really closed off."

"I know," he says, his thumb drawing circles on the curve of your waist.

"You do?"

"Of course. For three years, I watched you grow into who you are now."

"Creepy." You fake-shudder and he pinches your skin.

"Oh please, You were curious about me as well."

"Only a tiny bit." You admit.

His lips curl into a smile, "I'm sure."

"Y'know. . This is wrong."

"How so?" He gazes down at you, who dons a forlorn expression.

"I. . You're a Sphereite and you hid that from everyone — from Arkha. If anyone finds out about that, or about what you did to Rudo's father. . We'll both be found liable."

Of course, he's known this since the beginning of his mission to wrap you around his finger — he's not stupid. If he was found out, you could either play dumb or admit guilt, but even then, he had known that dragging you into his world meant that you would also have to keep his secrets.

"I've been able to remain under their radar for long enough, Angel. You don't have to worry about any of that tonight."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," you admit. It's mushy and very unlike you, but it's true.

"I can take care of myself," he affirms, "You don't have to worry about me."

". . Okay." You accept his words and nuzzle into his skin as you close your eyes.

In your life, you've met many men.

Men that take, men that harm, men that violate; Every man you'd met before joining the Cleaners had been a lesson, and Arkha had been the first to do you the honor of becoming your first friend and showing you what honest human connection could be. So while you knew little to nothing about real love. . you're sure that what you have here with Tamsy is pretty close to it.

And even if it wasn't, you weren't picky.

You'd take this twisted and perverted form of love and sell it to yourself a million times over if it meant you could stay by Tamsy's side.

You fell asleep in each other's arms shortly after.

The next morning, you awoke to the feeling of being tickled by. . long blonde and navy strands of hair . .? You blinked a couple of times and rubbed your eyes only to realize that what had happened last night hadn't been a dream. It was real.

Your sit there with a puzzled expression, feeling strangely calm as you sit up and watch Tamsy sleep beside you while the memories of last night come flooding back into your brain. The blanket drifts off of your form, exposing your naked upper half to the cold air as you tentatively reach out to comb his hair back lightly so you can see his sleeping expression clearly. You had only ever seen his calm expression or a troubled one from time to time, so this was a new side of him you were witnessing.

His breathing was shallow and you felt almost as if you were seeing something you shouldn't. It was criminal for him to look so ethereal in his sleep.

A soft, quiet laugh escapes you, and before you can withdraw your hand, his own comes up to hold it. "Tamsy."

His eyes flutter open and he gazes up at you for a moment through sleep-riddled eyes, "It's early. . ."

"I know."

"So why are you up?" He says as he pulls you towards him, your back to his chest as he spoons you from behind.

You yelp and try to pry his hands off of your waist with a laugh, "Tamsy! we have work-"

"Liar. It's the weekend."

"Worth a shot," you shrug as you opt to just lay there. "We have to get up though, preferable before anyone sees you come out of my room."

"You're not embarrassed of me, are you?" He teases.

You roll your eyes, "It's better for you. I couldn't care less what anyone else thinks of me."

"My, how brash. . ." He murmurs, planting a kiss on the space where your shoulder and neck meet before letting you go and rolling over onto his back. "But you're right."

Moments pass and after Tamsy leaves your room after giving you a final slow kiss, you're left alone with your thoughts in your bedroom. After leaving the restaurant, you thought that you would have cried yourself to sleep that night, but as luck would have it, the night turned out much different than you initially thought it would.

You glance at the manila file on your desk, a reminder of your duties as a Cleaner. The cake from last night was long gone since it was now in your mini-fridge so that Rudo couldn't get his hands on it, at Tamsy's request. With a sigh, you grab the folder and head towards the lobby to ask Semiu if Arkha was in, and to your surprise, he was.

You headed towards his office with the folder containing info on what Effegia had shown you about Rudo, trying not to think about how you intentionally protected Tamsy for an entire week by omitting the details of who Tamsy really was. And despite all the questions you still had about his intentions, the only one that really glared at you was: if every Cleaner was analyzed by Semiu's Eyes upon arrival — how was it that Tamsy was let in?

Was it possible that Arkha already knew about this?

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts before landing three careful knocks on his door. There's no way he'd keep that from you if it was true. He tells you to enter once you state your business, closing the door behind you.

"Rudo seems to trust you a lot," you say with a small smile as you hand him the folder, "He was eager to let me use Effegia on him once he heard that it was you who requested it."

"Really?" He smiles as he looks through your notes about what you saw, the descriptions of the scenes.

"Yeah, I told him I'd put in a good word about him so, just keep that in mind."

He chuckles at your words and reaches for his cup full of too-sweet coffee. "I will. He seems like a good kid n' he's already proven himself with Team Akuta, so it's only logical that he join us. On another note. ."

You lift a brow at him quizzically.

"How was your date?"

Your face grows hotter at the mention of it, "Oh. It went. . . well."

"Just 'well'?" He questions.

"Well, okay. More than well." You allow a genuine smile to shine through as you gush about your date — without telling him the important details of course. "We got along pretty well and he was kind of romantic near the end of it. . . We spent the night eating cake n' talking about music. It went better than I thought it would."

He smiles and closes the folder, his cup clinking against the table. "That's good to hear; I just hope he doesn't affect your performance at work, seeing that you two work together."

Your roll your eyes and cross your arms, "What am I, twelve? Of course not. You know I take my job seriously." Well. Not seriously enough to tell him he's harboring a Sphereite within his faction.

"Just teasin'," he laughs softly before a knock on his door interrupts the two of you. Semiu walks in with a couple of papers in her hand, probably something about upcoming missions.

"What are those?"

Semiu sighs lethargically, "Just some missions that need to be approved before we can send anyone out."

Arkha leans back in his chair, "Speaking of that.. _______, you should probably enjoy the free time you've got; Team Eager's joining with Akuta for a trip to the No Man's Land: Penta."

"All the way out there??"

"There've been rumors of a woman who's seen people travel from the Ground to the Sphere and Rudo expressed an interest in going, but because it's a No Man's Land, I've decided that it's best to make it a joint operation."

"Oh. . yeah that makes sense," You sigh, thinking about all the work you'll probably be required to do once the mission rolls around. "Alright then, I'll let you get back to work. I'ma go get myself a much needed cup of coffee."

"Alright," He says as you make your way out of his office, leaving him with Semiu.

When you step out, Tamsy's standing outside the door, surprising you unexpectedly. "Tamsy..! What are you doing here?"

"I was simply waiting for you," He smiles, "I thought we might get breakfast together."

"Oh.." As he continues his conversation with you, you don't notice how he shares a glance with the boss just before the door fully closes.

The fact that his annoyingly human heart seems to cherish you to the point where he betrays his own sadistic nature to a certain degree may be undeniable, but his goal remains the same. It doesn't seem as if you plan to stop him or out him to any of the other Cleaners so, being by your side makes him close to untouchable.

He's sure you'd forgive any of his misgivings, and even if it was true that Arkha saved you on that day five years ago — he couldn't save you from your own decisions..

and loving Tamsy?

Something of daylight still lingered high above the massive skylight, its fractured glass pane serving as your solitary glimpse of what was outside. Cruel and out of reach—a taunting reminder of how you had been swallowed away from everything you had ever known.

Whether it had been the rose-tinted illusion, or the way you had a persistent inkling that something was amiss, you couldn’t say. There was something about him, the very air he exuded, suggesting depths far past what the eyes permitted to discern. You should’ve taken heed. And yet, somehow, you’d still found yourself undeniably drawn to him, abandoning all sense of self preservation, and had treaded right into his silken traps.

Bathing in the weak light, Tamsy appeared not of this world, so pretty and unfairly so. Midnight hues bled through his disheveled, pale golden tresses, shimmering along with the fine dew of exertion coating his misty countenance. You had been pondering them for some time now—the scars—how it happened, what he had lost when he had acquired them. You yearned to understand, but understanding meant feeling for him, and you couldn’t afford such tenderness. Not here. Not like this. Not ever.

But oh, what torment. How you adored him. How you despised him. You wanted to kiss him, yell at him, hit and hold him all at once.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

Lowering yourself onto Tamsy, your welcoming walls, slick and warm, sheathed him slowly to the hilt. His eyes roamed about, hands perusing every inch—its blooming marks and all—of your damp skin. Quite the view, he mused, that he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from disrupting your little game.

“How uncanny.”

“What is?” You murmured, head tipped slightly back and out with the sweetest sigh.

“You’ve been strangely docile since I stepped foot in here.”

“That’s because I am.”

“You jest, surely.” Slender, calloused fingers ventured a slow path from your hips upward, stopping to squeeze and pull and roll your nipples between his fingertips. “I’ve yet to find a single docile bone in this body.”

In pleasure, in pain, broken gasps spilled from your lips. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”

“Perhaps,” his fingers dug into your flesh, prompting you to draw air through your teeth. “Though I’m certain about one thing. It’s how... transactional you can get.”

A chuckle bubbled out of you. Light. Innocent. “Transactional?”

“You heard me. For instance, the way you’re so eager to please me so suddenly.” A sly, kitten-like smile formed on his lips. “Come on, out with it.”

“Eh?” You mirrored his air. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Hm, really now,” his hand lazily inched towards Tokushin, yet never committing, its handle a tease away from his grasp. “You’d rather I force the answers out of you, is that it?”

“Oooh?” You leaned forward, pouting, taking both of his hands in yours, fingers tight and intertwined above his head. His lashes fluttered as you pressed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, scrunching your own. “Look at you, so communicative.”

The gesture was equal parts agitating and endearing, it almost made Tamsy end the standstill right that instant. He wants what he wants, and he wants it now. But too deep within the clutches of curiosity, he refused to take the reins just yet.

So, beneath you, he relaxed, letting his head sink back into the cushions as you rolled your hips languidly against him.

“Silly girl,” he slurred in genuine pleasure. “You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

“Not your strongest suit, Tamtam. But sure, I’ll humor you.” Some tender thought, something like longing, seemed to have you in its grip as the act dropped for a split second. Your voice, almost inaudible, cracked. “Let me see her. Just this once.”

Oh. So it was about your jinki. How predictable.

“That’s one way to kill the mood.”

“You asked and I answered. Besides,” letting go of his hands, you leaned back, spreading your legs completely, swallowing and releasing his entire length, again and again, only for his eyes to see. “I’ve been very good, haven’t I?”

“If your understanding of ‘good’ is not trying to kill me in my sleep, then yes, perhaps you’ve been good.”

“So, a yes?”

And there it was, the impatience, inviting itself in the fold, settling nicely across your visage. You shifted your weight to hook your fingers into your mouth, sucked then released it with a wet pop, before reaching down for the poor swollen thing between your legs—painful with need.

“I surmise there’s something else trailing along with that request?” Because there was always something, Tamsy thought. The need to complicate. The need for more.

“Let me out of here.”

Tamsy could all but sigh. Pulling you towards him, he took your busy hand in his, pressed his lips over your knuckles like a proper man, only to melt them with wet, obscene kisses all over your skin, eyes lidded and drinking you in.

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Didn’t I indulge you in some roller skating just the other day?”

“You know I’m not talking about that.”

You scowled now, but oh, how elated you had been then. Your laughter, its echoes, and the warmth emanating from your hands as he held them tight in his, hit Tamsy all at once. Bile rose in his throat. It unsettled him, how such silliness ate its way into his core, knotting around his heart.

So repulsed by the thought, he guided your hand away from his lips, wrapping it firmly around his neck instead. It felt good, how easily you could end him right this instant. Too good as he gambled with the belief that you wouldn’t dare cross him. The thrill made the blood rush in his ears, his head all floaty, spacey and numb from the ache—a mind purged of nuisances that could entangle with his plans.

“Move.” He heaved the moment you had grown sluggish. Through the now rough edges of his vision, you met his eyes. Hazy. Dim. He thought them pretty and all the emotions that had yet to cast over them. He wanted them all to himself. He wanted you all to himself. And so you shall.

“Please, Tamsy.”

“Please, what?” He whisked your hand away and rose. The space between you dissipated as he sealed you into an embrace. “‘Please, Tamsy, enough, I can’t anymore’? Or ‘Please, Tamsy, fuck me, yes yes, more, right there’? Which is it, dearest? Get to the point.”

He buried his face in the curve of your neck in which he attacked with open mouth kisses. Down to your chest, he lapped and soaked you up, leaving radiant indigos in their wake. Your hand crept up his bare back, tangled into his hair, and much to his surprise, yanked his head away to force him face-to-face. Tamsy openly grinned. The audacity gorged him with mirth, enticing him to keep going, to keep fucking around.

“Ah, ah,” Tamsy spoke as though you were merely misbehaving. “Someone’s emotional.”

“I’m trying to reason with you,” you said through gritted teeth, every word decked with jaws rushing at him. “I want my life back.”

“This again.” He pressed a kiss on your left cheek. “You’ve already worn me out with your antics, if you can’t tell already.” Another on the right. “Moreover, I’m so not in the mood for another circular discussion.”

“Tams, listen.”

And with that, the curtains fell. The facade finally crumbled to fine dust. Tamsy rolled his eyes just to have you aware that he was not to have any of the approaching prattle. When in fact, he found it amusing.

You rambled on, “I just—I don’t get why I’m here when we can do all this back there… at HQ… back home. We’d still be together. I promise, whatever has happened, I won’t tell a soul. I’ll still stay with you. Just let me go back, yeah?”

Lies, he thought. There seemed to be something else there. But still—

Lies.

“I want to be with you, Tams… you know this.”

Ha! And another! How comical. Uninventive.

“You do? My, consider me flattered.” He cupped your cheeks, scribbling circles with his thumbs. “Surely this foolish talk is not because of a certain someone among the cleaners, no? Because if so, well, I just hope they’re worth discarding me for. Also, tell me,” his voice dipped, “Have I grown inadequate for your taste?”

And just as he had expected, your expression contorted, hardened, before you landed a heavy slap on his face. Tamsy could’ve easily dodged, yet chose not to. It was rather enthralling—the sting, this metallic tang now melting on his tongue. Whatever he’d do moving forward might as well be warranted. What a feast! It wasn’t even dinner time yet.

“You egotistical piece of shit,” you spat, writhing in his lap. “Why do you make every little thing about you?”

“Oh, listen to you,” his brow twitched, as if oblivious of the distress he was causing. “Always with the demands. Always so greedy. You live a rather lofty life, do you not? I even brought some of your belongings here, you know—a great risk. How fickle you are. Does nothing ever satisfy you?”

You choked out a half cry, a whine. “You don’t understand. I’m so bored, Tamsy. One more day in this shithole and I might just bang my head bloody on the walls.” Then, a snarl. “I’m so lonely.”

“Lonely?”

How silly. Would the act of devouring you whole, alive and curled up in his ribcage, fix such afflictions? Should he have you crawl around just underneath his skin? Have you swim, like the parasite you were, in his bloodstream? You’d never feel lonely for one moment more. Would that be sufficient? Boredom, however, would be something you’d have to figure out yourself.

Lonely, he scoffed inwardly. If he couldn’t have you to himself, nobody else was allowed to. It was a shame, really, how the likes of you couldn’t even begin to comprehend such devotion.

With an unblinking stare from the softest eyes, he let the silence stretch before he closed them, breathing out the heaviest sigh. “Very well.”

Tamsy gently lifted you off him. At the same time, a vague sense of giddiness heated him from within after an idea so brilliant caught him like lint to a flame.

“Get dressed,” he urged, hopping off the bed to clothe himself. When he didn’t hear any movement behind him, he smiled at you over his shoulder. “We have plenty of time for that later. Go on, get dressed.”

As you did what you were told, anticipation clung to your bearing, yet apprehension slowed you down. Was the normalcy throwing you off? Yes?

Good.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere fun.” He beamed, eyes curving into crescent moons. “I know a spot.”

“A spot, huh?”

Tamsy responded with nothing, set his eyes on you and waited as a statue would. Patient on the surface, ecstatic beneath, fiddling with Tokushin inside his loose sleeve.

Ere long, your gazes met. Fear and panic, healthy amounts of it, gradually mottled your face as you stared into his glowing eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

A fine thread slithered out of Tokushin, multiplying into thick, strong ropes, binding you to him. The impact was as immediate as a loom pulled taut. You squirmed about, but were only met with watchful silence on his part. The reality of the situation finally caught up, it seemed, as your glare passed through him and flickered upward, your mouth falling agape.

In quick intervals, your countenance tensed and softened and tensed again, stunned by the coils of deep blue undulating upward, morphing into a towering winged creature—more monster than human—standing behind him.

His thread clone, now massive and imposing, extended its hand, lifting the two of you high into the air as if either of you weighed nothing.

To this, you shrieked, tossed around violently. “What the fuck is this?!”

“You said you were lonely and bored, were you not?” He deadpanned as though suffering from the same ordeal himself. “And will you please stop moving around? You’re going to hurt yourse—”

“Unbind me!” You screeched. “Unbind me, and I will end you!”

Ha? The gall to make such empty threats when the notable inequality was this apparent.

As always, you wouldn’t listen, just because, and on and on, you thrashed in the tight hold, screaming endless profanities like that’d do anything.

“I said! Let me go!”

Such petulance, really.

“Fine.”

And so let go he precisely did.

Midair, the ropes that had bound you together unraveled, and it rendered him intoxicated—the terror with which your sweet face was adorned. What could be the matter now? He was simply offering you, other than himself, some craved company and enrichment. Weren’t you asking for this just moments ago?

Lifted up to such astounding height, you reached out mere centimeters beneath the skylight, fingertips a hair’s breadth shy of freedom, when both you and Tamsy were plunged into a free fall—descending into the void below that was the humanoid’s gaping mouth. You both slid and rolled and toppled over each other as you two were conveyed deeper into the cramped, muted darkness, in which the softest woven threads cushioned the fall.

At last, you were nestled in Tokushin. At long last, you were nestled in him.

Enclosed in the desolate silence, your choked sobs were amplified as your chest heaved, helplessly dragging all the air into your lungs. Tamsy basked in the way your head snapped in every possible direction, seeking, tearing through the soft walls which were pressing inward. This was the most honest you’d been with him—stripped bare of the stubbornness, the arrogance, and for once, and quite literally, he had you all to himself.

It was beautiful, wasn’t it, what he did?

The way he had your entire system frenzied, shaken to its core, only to get hit by this shocking stillness, leaving your senses in sudden deprivation.

“There there,” he all but cooed, keeping his hands to himself as you were finally subdued, limbs and mouth covered with the help of his reliable jinki. “That’s it. Breathe through your nose. There you go.”

His whims now fully realized, it was best to pick up where he had left off.

“Oh dear, still having trouble?” He gripped the neckline of your clothing, and with one swift pull, tore the fabric apart with a resounding rip. “Let’s get you out of these.”

Afraid and covered with nothing but cold sweat, Tamsy finally held you in his arms, and eased himself back between your legs, sliding forward and back. A shiver ran up his spine as your fingers trembled, your walls clenching around him, still evidently tense. Perhaps, you were looking for the familiar warmth, his warmth, his bare skin against yours, in the hopes of ridding yourself of the dread? Sadly for you, you were not to have any of that. His clothes would be staying on.

Fueled by your inconsolable cries, Tamsy rolled you onto your stomach with haste. Now you wouldn’t be able to hold him, nor could you see him. You were left with nothing but to feel him.

He pushed his way back into your slippery walls, stifling a yelp with a bruising kiss. Manic and breathless, your teeth scraped against his piercing, humming in bliss, in frustration, perhaps even in anger. How saccharine your pleas were—the way his name cut through your lips as you lifted your hips to meet him.

What was that again? Ah, right. You were bored. Lonely even. But alas, this was the true face of isolation. You were begging for him—begging for a way out, for the soaring relief that only he could grant. Was this your most desperate yet? He wondered as he kissed you through wet lashes. You sweet thing. How lovely you were like this.

You wanted out? Needed more air? A savior?

Tamsy was more than happy to oblige.

“I’m here. It’ll be alright. You’ll be alright.”

A couple more thrusts, a couple more rolls of his hips, and you began convulsing in his hold, squeezing and mewling underneath him. He had to give it to you, for making it difficult to endure the pleasure rapidly catching on to him as his own release was imminent. But Tamsy didn’t stop, nor did he have any desire to pull out.

Down your back, he nipped and kissed as moans of shameless ecstasy finally bubbled out of his throat. He found it difficult, with his body draped over you, to separate your heartbeat from his own. Not when his insides were still tingling with the ache to devour you whole.

In time, muffled thuds reverberated through the space as the racket which had ensued began to ebb, carpeting most of the floor space in blue hour dusk. Tokushin collapsed the same way Tamsy did.

When he peeled himself off of you, some of the excess began to seep out from his tip, trailing a thin line from your hole before dripping off. Tamsy turned your limp form to face him and was greeted with a smile so serene and soft and satiated, that he had to part your knees once more.

He lowered himself, tucked stray locks behind his ears as to have nothing in the way of him and your pussy. And as though biting into a rich, decadent cream puff, he hummed into your drenched warmth. His tongue slotted, flattened between your wet slit with fervor, eliciting more sweet, quivering noises with every tilt of his head.

He stayed there a good while, pinning your hips down as he buried his face longer than he should’ve, engrossed into pushing you towards the precipice, even way past it. Just because he could.

Because for him, you would.

At length, Tamsy finally found it within himself to grant you reprieve, but not before he squeezed the soft flesh of your cheeks until your moist lips parted, pushing the alkaline taste from earlier into your mouth. He didn’t have to utter a word—your throat moved. The act, having you like this, deeply gratified him, even as it left him bitter.

He wanted to rip you asunder.

He wanted to meld into you.

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you mumbled, as if awakened from a trance, dazed from the aftermath. “You really are. I hope you know that.”

“What a harsh thing to say.” His face remained hovering over yours, everything else shrinking into nothing as his hair cascaded like a veil around you two. “Especially to someone who simply looked after you.”

“Looked after, my ass.” You snorted, rolled your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

But then, with searching eyes and an air that felt known, yet impossibly distant, the pads of your fingers traced the marred parts of his face. A touch too delicate. Featherlight. He nearly recoiled.

Still, he found himself leaning further into your touch.

“In a moment.” Kissing the curve of your shoulder, Tamsy murmured against your flushed skin. “You know I love you, right?”

You merely nodded. Merely. Nodded. Nothing more nor less. It had been poking at him, this reserve, for some time now, and irritatingly so—the manner in which you had never uttered the words back.

Each instance casted him momentarily into a bad dream, inside a life he had once lived, chipping relentlessly away at the already hollowed part of him.

And it sickened him, how bothered, if only just a fraction, that he even longed for it to begin with.

Maddened that it even crossed his mind.

Really, what was that about? Tamsy pondered. Perhaps this was just the impulsive, sloppy side of him rising to the surface—No, that couldn’t be it. That’d be absurd. It was simply the flesh, and all its transient ardor, swaying the mind. You were quite the good fuck after all.

Now, moving forward...

“Well, that one took a while.” Tamsy stood up with a grunt, smoothed back his tresses. He then glanced at a corner where two bowls rested on a makeshift table, untouched, the steam long gone. “Ah, it seems the noodles have gone soggy now.”

a/n. writing for this guy closely resembles snorting a line of coke, its highs and lows and and. hoooo… anyways. his past!! i yearn for his past. atrocious, i hope, for the angst.