Too old to care

His eyes focusing on the water he blowed steam away and sipped careful on the beverage.

Soon he will go back into the house to prepare breakfast for his love, but for now he enjoyed the solitude of the moment.

The sunrise coloured the cloud hanging sky in warmth, while the surrounding became brighter.

For a second he saw himself on the lake, cracking ice under his boots. He blinked the memory away. This was another time, another man. He had grown since then. His love helped him with that.

He smiled to himself. This was one of the moment he felt happy. Him with his secret little family. A place to call home. The smell of the lake. Sunshine on his skin. The sweet anticipation for a morning kiss.

He turned around and went with soft step back to the house.

It had changed too.

Walking in he relished in the warm colours, candle white and maple wood.

He stopped in his steps to look hesitating into the round wall mirror that hung in the floor.

His face greeted him, familiar, but also changed. The morning light seemed to change his skin. His scars a fine net. The former hollow cheeks filled. His cheekbone not more this sharp. He already got some colour.

He went closer and leaned forward. Are there even freckles?

He smirked amused. He could not remember when he saw freckles on his nose. Seemed a lifetime.

He turned to the kitchen, an half open space, sharing the living area. Setting his mug aside. Taking another. Fingerpainting from a pre-schooler as decor. Filing it with coffee. No suger, but Creme. The Colour of almond.

As silent as possible he made his way to the bedroom, holding the coffee mug in both hands. On his way he throw a glance up the stairs. There was no sound coming. His little doll was still asleep.

He entered chateaus the bedroom, walking careful to the bed to softly place the mug on the bedside cabinet. Stepped back, while his eyes get drawn to the bed.

His love rested there. Deep asleep the bedsheets wrapped chaoticly around her limps. The light of the sun painted her skin colden. A sleeping goddess between white silk.

He observed. Waited. Until he saw her nostrils widen. The coffee worked. As alway. Every morning.

Safin smiled as he watched his love slowly waking up by the scent of her favourite morning drink.

She lifted her head, wild wheat morning hair and sleep sticky eyes. Smiling drowsily she greeted him.

“Lyutsifer” A croaked voice, alas still honey to his heart.

“Good morning, my love.”

'Schroedingers Box' rushed through Madeleine's mind. She had to stop a giggle. Instead she found some encouraging words.

“Sometimes objects can be more evocative than memories...”

She held the box for a moment in her hand before placing it on her lap. It was light. The dark wood soothing to the eyes. And yet - an alarm bell suddenly rang in the back of her head.

She fiddled with the lid, eventually lifting it aside... and stopped breathing. The nightmare of her childhood - this object - brought all the memories back.

She was ten years old again.

Her mother, bleeding on the sofa. Cigarette smell in the air.

The frozen air around her as she drew the body out of the house

The broken face, lifting up, like a ghoul out of a grave.

She sat there, staring at the white mask, and the icy water surrounded her again.

His voice was dark as a shadow, yet pierced her ear.

“I never forgot your eyes under the ice. They needed me. They still need me. I'm rather.. taken by them.”

His words sunk in. She understood the implication. The icy lake water she meant to feel on her skin changed to heat.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed down the sob. Blinked rapidly the tears away.

She hadn't yield as a child. She will not yield now.

Anger, ice cubes in her stomach.

Rage, bile in her mouth.

Wrath in her mind.

She did look at him.

'Safin. His name was Lyutsifer Safin. A wounded child, trying to kill another child. Failing.'

How had she not recognized him? His skin cleaner now, his voice not as croaked. Still. How could she been so lazy? After all her father had taught her?

Silently, she closed the box again, her eyes on his scarred face.

Even so silently she handed the box back to him.

His dark eyes questioning her.

She rose from her chair - and slapped him hard across the face.

The clash echoed loud in her office. His eyes wide open in shock. Her hand was burning.

He didn't said a word. Probably wondering if he should kill her right here and now.

It doesn't matter to Madeleine.

“How dare you?”, she hissed. “How DARE you!?”

He remained still. Eventually he faced her again. In his eyes now understanding.

"THAT! Was such an arsehole move!", the frightened child spoke from inside her mind.

Lyutsifer nodded. His expression soften.

“I'm sorry.”, he whispered. And then: “Did you have some ice for me?”

Madeleine paused, unsure if he used exactly this moment to through a pun out. She saw her handprint on his cheek.

“I think I have a icepack in my office fridge.”

She had indeed.

A moment later she sad aside him, while he held a blue freezer box at his face.

After a while they started to talk. Like adults.