ꜱᴏꜰ!

'Dear Diary… I don’t know. The days all blur together now.

Kaiser promised the ride to New York would be nothing but beautiful views and easy company. I hate to admit it, but he’s been… mostly right.

There’s the morning coffee by the fire, the sketching by the creek while the horses drink, the endless teasing from those young cowboys who think they’re charming (they’re not, though). And the road itself… wide, wild, and stretching so far it feels like the whole sky’s trying to swallow you.'

That’s what you’ve started doing since that day, jotting little notes beside each sketch, especially the ones of creeks, wildflowers, and sunsets. Surprisingly, journaling actually gave you a bit of relief from all you’d seen on that awful day.

Kaiser was another kind of relief. Not that he ever let you forget he was there, his teasing and cocky remarks followed you like a shadow, but so did his comfort. From your stories to his, the two of you learned more than you probably meant to about each other.

And the connection…it grew. You hated to admit it — hated even to think it— but feelings for him had begun creeping in. For him of all people? Your childhood friend?…A criminal?…A cowboy?!…With those shamelessly touchy hands and that infuriatingly smooth voice? Never mind.

He still gave you time. (Or at least you hope that’s what it was. With Kaiser, patience was just another game.) Let’s not forget, this was the same man who handed you a card with his feelings written plain as day. He waited — impatiently, no doubt — but he gave you space.

Since there were other people traveling with you, it was impossible not to socialize whenever Kaiser and the boys went off on their own. You weren’t exactly thrilled about it. Back in your hometown—well, one of them—you’d never had much luck making friends. Moving from place to place because of your father’s work had made it worse. The last town especially…let’s just say your attempts at “fitting in” were about as successful as a one-legged horse in a race.

“Y/N, go talk with the other girls like you,” your father would say, whenever you were left alone by the wagon or under a tree. But every time you looked at the younger girls here, something inside you said nope. They tried to look innocent, but the act didn’t fool you.

There were three of them. You remembered seeing them sneak boys into your father’s saloon before—noisy, flirty, and attention-hungry. Their personalities were as loud as their dresses. Sure, they were pretty, but they made sure everyone noticed it: whiny voices, dramatic laughter, and just enough “accidental” touches to keep eyes on them.

And three days ago, they’d crossed a line.

“Hey, handsome~” Barbie, the self-appointed leader of the trio, slid up to your table at the inn’s dining room that night in the West of Arkansas. Pretty, olive-skinned, green-eyed, and brunette as could be, she interrupted your conversation with Kaiser without so much as a glance your way.

She leaned on him with that glint in her eyes and purred, “I heard you’re good at dancing~.”

Kaiser smirked. Smirked.

What was this feeling? Did he hate you now? No! Stop thinking like that.

He tilted his head lazily. “Oh~ And who told you that~?”

“My eyes~,” she chuckled, brushing her fingers along his arm.

Your grip on your cup tightened hard enough to bend metal. Why did you feel like this? You hated him—no, wait, no you didn’t—no, you did—WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY THOUGHTS?!

“Hm, then you seem to have a fine vision, dear,” he grinned, sliding an arm around her waist.

You froze. Absolutely done. The shock must’ve been all over your face, because her two other so-called friends started giggling behind her.

Is this a prank? Or just them trying to bully me? You know what? Fuck it. Let them laugh. I’m just gonna sip my drink and sulk in peace while they murmur praises to each other.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type,” Kaiser’s voice cut in suddenly, cold and flat.

Your ears perked up. Barbie, standing in front of him, blinked and raised a perfectly arched brow. Before she could say a word, Kaiser leaned forward just enough to make his next words sting.

“Listen, sweetheart” his tone dripped venom “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last woman on this damn frontier. So do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my sight.”

Barbie froze. Her mouth twitched, but whatever she wanted to spit back died in her throat. With a sharp turn and a huff, she left, dragging the girls with her.

Kaiser dusted off his hands like he’d just finished a chore. “Now, where were we-?” He turned toward you with a smile.

But you were gone.

Later, in your inn bedroom:

“Y/nnnnnnn,” Kaiser whined, spreading himself on your bed like a man mortally wounded.

You didn’t look up from fluffing your pillow.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Why are you always so jealous?”

Your head snapped toward him. Jealous? Oh, that was rich, especially coming from the man who had “accidentally” made you avoid every half-decent young man you’d met in the past three weeks.

“You know I love youuuu,” he drawled, like that would fix everything.

You hurled the pillow at his face.

“Faaah!” He grunted.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

His smile softened, warm but still annoyingly smug. “I saw your face earlier… the way you sulked, it was cute~”

You ignored him, trying to pull your blanket over yourself.

“And your grip on that cup,” he went on. “Heard your little murmurs. How you called her a bitch. You love me, right?~”

"I hate you so much!" "WAH—"

PUM!

The pillow landed square on his face with a satisfying smack. You saw him flail for a second before his hands darted to your sides, tickling until a squeal escaped you. He rolled off, snatching up his own pillow and winding up for a return strike---

"YOU TWO!"

Everything froze.

Your father stood in the doorway, hair mussed, eyes narrowed. "Goddamn, it’s eleven at night! Kids are asleep! People tryin’ to get some shut-eye and you two are in here playin’ like it’s a kindergarten?!"

That…pretty much summed up the days you’d been spending with the blonde boy. And not just him, his buddies too.

Alexis. More like Kaiser’s dog. No joke, you’re pretty sure in another life he was a dog. So obedient, always by Kaiser’s side, like a shadow that never left. But in that annoying way, quietly loyal, protective even. He’s sweet and nice, especially to you and Kaiser, but anyone else? Not so much. There’s this intensity in his gaze, like he’s sizing people up, figuring out if they’re worth his time or not. Still, you like his smile. It’s soft, almost shy sometimes, and you remember once, almost absentmindedly, reaching out to stroke his hair. It was softer than you expected, could’ve stayed there forever, running your fingers through those soft locks. Then, bam! Shidou showed up and ruined that small moment of peace.

Shidou’s a whole other story. He’s the one they call the explosive one, not because he’s volatile, but because his ideas and humor always blow up the room. He’s got this wild energy, a crackling spark in everything he does, especially when he talks about art and design. You have learned to read his moods, his sarcasm, his weird jokes, and honestly, you kinda like it. But it’s strange, everyone seems to hate him, or at least keep their distance. You don’t get why. He’s hilarious, sharp as a tack, and when he goes toe-to-toe with Rin, it’s like watching a fire duel. They throw barbs and insults like daggers, and you swear sometimes you can’t tell if they’re actually fighting or just flirting.

Rin…now he’s different. Dark hair, piercing eyes, that calm but unsettling air around him. His horse is just as cool, strong, silent, and always poised. Whenever Rin walks by, you freeze. Talking to him? You try to avoid it. There’s something about him that makes your skin crawl and tingle at the same time.

"Shidou mentioned me about your brother, he seems like a cool and strong guy" you said, trying to be casual.

Rin shot back, “Don’t you dare mention that frog-faced maggot.”

Your face twisted, “What? He’s just an unavailable asshole who thinks he runs the world.”

And then, well…the conversation didn’t seem to stop from there. That’s how you get Rin talking, drag out something he hates and he’ll rant for hours.

Other cowboys wander in and out of the little circle, names like Oliver and Lorenzo get tossed around. Kaiser calls them mediocre, which makes you wonder what the hell qualifies as ‘good’ in this gang. These guys, their personalities, their rivalries it’s like a strange dance of love and hate, constantly shifting.

Everyone had stopped for the night, probably for the millionth time, by yet another river. This one was larger than any you’d seen so far, its slow, glassy surface catching the last gold of the sun. It reminded you, faintly, of the river that ran behind your old house when you were seven… before it happened.

You pushed the memory aside. This wasn’t the time for it.

Summer’s warmth wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, and you pulled yourself back into the moment. Right, you’d come here for a bath.

You slipped away from the others, careful to put enough distance between you and the camp to claim a rare bit of solitude. Your moment. Just you, your thoughts, and the gentle hymn offered by Mother Nature.

The river greeted without the shock you had braced for. Fresh, clean and welcoming. That’s all you needed. You waded in until the water reached your chest, then finally released the sigh that had been trapped inside tour lungs for far too long.

“Mmm…” The sound slipped out unbidden while tilting your head back, eyes closing, letting the sun’s warmth spill over your face in full

“KACHOOW!!!" SPLASH!

Water exploded around you, droplets hitting your face and shoulders. You blinked through the spray, staring at the spot where someone had just cannonballed into the river.

Then he surfaced.

Him. Michael. Fucking. Kaiser.

Oh, this boy.

Your mouth hung open, somewhere between shock and disbelief. He shook his head, sending arcs of water flying, then casually slicked his wet hair back with his two hands. The motion flexed his biceps, of course it did, and the tattoo on his left arm caught the sunlight just enough to make it seem intentional.

Is he serious right now? IS HE SERIOUS?

“Aaah,” he sighed contentedly. “This water is so fresh.”

“Kaiser, please.”

“Please what, dear?”

“This is…actually too much.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, smirking. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I need my time-”

Before you could finish, he dove under again, vanishing with barely a splash. You groaned, waiting until he popped back up a bit far away from you.

“I need my personal time too, no?” you said, brushing water from your face. “Not now, when I’m naked!”

“Under the water,” he countered smoothly.

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it. He tilted his head at you, clearly savoring his win.

“What’s wrong with being naked? That’s how you were brought into this world. And…” His eyes flicked down toward the waterline, “I don’t think you’d mind giving me a good view.”

Your cheeks burned as he started drifting closer, and you shoved him back before he could get within arm’s reach.

“Ooh, c’mon now,” he chuckled, then flopped backward into the water with a dramatic splash.

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking jerk,” you muttered under your breath before diving in with far more grace. The cool water wrapped around you as you resurfaced, pulling your hair back from your face.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, lingering. You glanced over your shoulder.

Bingo.

He was staring like a kid caught daydreaming, blinking slowly as if to play it off.

“You also came here to… shower?” you asked.

“Yes! And to swim with you.” His voice dropped slightly as he drifted closer. “Like we did as kids, remember?”

A scoff slipped out, followed by a soft chuckle. Oh yes, you remembered. When he’d first arrived—quiet, withdrawn, so hurt you thought he might shatter if the wind blew too hard. Unlovable, or at least convinced he was. You’d decided to change that.

The first thing you did to break through his walls was teach him how to swim. Why you’d chosen that, you couldn’t quite recall. It had taken five days for him to even agree, three more to finally swim on his own, and two weeks before he acted anything like a normal kid.

That was one of the few memories this trip had given back to you—thanks to Kaiser. And for that, you were quietly grateful.

SPLASH.

“Kaiser!” You wiped your face, glaring at him.

“Where is your mind?” he teased.

“Savoring its positive childhood memories,” you said flatly.

“Mm, now that’s more like it,” he smirked.

The next few minutes drifted by in easy laughter. You swam in lazy circles, talking about nothing—nonsense theories about birds, stories that spiraled into absurdity. Sometimes, when you were speaking, Kaiser would pull ridiculous stunts: floating on his back like a starfish, arms spread wide.

You made a point not to look down—God forbid you got a view of his creature—but it was hard to ignore the warmth in his smile when your eyes met again.

“Have you ever felt loved?”

The sudden seriousness in his tone made you slow to a stop.

“Loved like…by my dad? Then yeah.”

“And what about a boy?”

You froze, gaze sliding away, not just to think, but to hide the heat creeping into your cheeks. “I-”

“Before I sent you that card,” he added.

You sighed and finally looked at him. “No.”

“No?”

“Never. No guy ever asked me out. Except for the drunk ones in the saloon.” You smiled faintly as you said it.

A soft laugh escaped him. “So…I was the first that ever expressed my love to you?”

You looked forward, hugging yourself out of habit. “Yes…you’re the first guy who’s ever done that.”

Silence stretched between you, filled only by the whisper of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the wind’s steady breath.

“I always wanted to be loved,” Kaiser said at last. “And I tried to love…and I think I love now.”

You turned to study him. His sharp features had softened, his expression more boy than man.

“Like I told you before…something about you just hits different,” he continued. “We hadn’t seen each other in a decade, but without you… it felt like something was missing. We only had three months before they attacked, but in those days… you opened something in me. Before that, I—nevermind”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered.

He glanced down at the water, then back up. “Before you, I was… different. Broken. Shut down.I think I felt it the first day you talked to me, but I didn’t know what it was. After we got separated, I thought I’d lose myself again. Luckily, someone I trust—one of the most important people I know, and whose soul is somewhere better now—kept me from closing off completely. I still thought about you. Every day. For twelve years. I remember seeing you two years ago, at that art store you always went to. I’d never felt so happy in my life. But you didn’t notice me. Or maybe you didn’t recognise.  And…I understand that.”

The river moved between you, carrying his words like they were meant only for you to hear.

“For all those years apart, I tried to feel loved. Slept with other women, tried to fill the space. But there was nothing. No spark. No… anything.” He gave a small, nervous laugh, and you found yourself smiling faintly too.

“But now, with you…I think I feel it all the time. Even if I can’t tell if it’s real. it’s overwhelming. Like my skin’s on fire, like my heartbeat’s in my ears. You don’t know how many times I’ve stood in front of a mirror, practicing the words I wanted to say to you. It’s euphoria. Joy. Connection…Freedom. All tangled together. And I only feel it when I’m with you. I’ll say it to your face.” His voice shook, not from weakness, but from holding too much in for too long.

“I love you. I’ll say it over and over again. I fucking love you, Y/N. I know this is love. I’ve tried to learn it—everything about it—even through my own mistakes. And I think I’ve come to the conclusion… it’s you. You are my love.”

There was a strain in his words now, almost desperate. “I’m sorry I’m not good with words, especially when I have to say them to someone’s face.”

You shook your head. “No… you said everything you needed to. I can tell these words have been stuck inside you for a long time, and it must have been hard to let them out. I understand that, Michael. You’re brave for saying them.”

You moved closer, the water rippling between you, until you could place your hands on his shoulders. “Love has always been something unfamiliar to me, especially when it came from boys… or even some girls. I never knew how you felt about me when we were younger, I swear.”

You pulled him closer until your chests touched, feeling the heat of him through the cool water. “I understand your love for me… but I don’t know if I feel it the same way. I don’t know what love really is, even after hearing what it means to you.

“Sometimes I feel my skin burn. And jealousy… it’s never been easy for me, but I felt it when I saw other girls near you. I don’t know if that’s love. Do you understand?”

You took a breath, searching his eyes. “Still… there’s something between us. A connection. Like something strong is pulling me towards you. Maybe it’s stupid to say, but I think I try to avoid you sometimes, just so I don’t have to feel that pull. That… magnetic pull.”

You both held each other’s gaze—no teasing, no masks—just sincerity.

“I feel it now,” you said softly. “Like you said…connection. I feel it, Michael. I don’t think I’ve ever felt it this strong. I think… I love you.”

His eyes widened just slightly. “Love me?”

“Yes. Maybe love doesn’t look the same for everyone. I remember my teacher saying it’s the most complicated emotion a person can have… I fear it’s true, Michael..."

“...I love you.”

Silence fell again, but this time it was thick with something unspoken—comforting, warm, almost electric. Neither of you moved for a moment, yet the space between you shrank as if pulled by an unseen force.

Your faces drifted closer. Eyes locked, unblinking. Your breaths mingled in the summer air. And then your lips met.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t tentative. It was deep in its stillness, the kind of kiss that speaks for you when words aren’t enough. His mouth was warm against yours, the faint taste of river water and something wholly him lingering on your tongue.

You felt the tension in his grip as his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your own fingers curled into the back of his neck, sliding upward until they tangled in his wet hair, tugging just enough to draw a quiet sound from him.

When you finally broke for air, foreheads resting together, he murmured against your lips, “I knew your lips would feel and taste like this.”

Before you could answer, he caught your mouth again, this time hungrier, the kiss deepening until the cool water around you felt like it couldn’t possibly balance the heat between you.

You couldn’t help it, you smiled against his lips, breathless, needing him closer still. His arms tightened around you, and when you finally pulled back again, his lips trailed to your damp, chilled neck, sending a shiver through you.

“So…what are we now?” he asked, voice low against your skin.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Umm…”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend?” His mouth brushed your cheek, his smile warm against your skin.

“…Yes…?”

“Sorry,I think I should say this properly. “ He chuckled, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes again. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled—really smiled—and whispered, “Yes.”

He pecked your lips, barely pulling back before murmuring, “That means I can do this-”

Mid-sentence, his hands shot to your waist. In one swift motion, he lifted you clean out of the water into the cool evening air. You squealed, the sudden chill biting at your skin, and then collapsed against him. You weren’t entirely sure if your chest had collided with his… or the face.

You both surfaced again, your glare sharp enough to cut through the moment. “You did that on purpose.”

“Tried not to do it earlier,” he said with a grin that was anything but innocent.

“You ruined our moment,” you muttered, turning in the water to leave.

Before you could get far, his arm hooked around you, spinning you back toward him. In one fluid movement, he gripped your thighs and lifted you again, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist until your chest was pressed firmly to his.

“I think you’re just too pretty,” he said softly, the words paired with a smirk that quickly shifted when his gaze flicked downward. His eyes darkened the moment they registered that your chest was now fully out of the water.

“Pervert.”

You slapped a wet hand over his eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks. He only chuckled under your palm, the sound low and unapologetic. Leaving the water felt like dragging yourself out of another world. Every step was heavy, the warm air clinging to your wet skin. You took your time rinsing off and pulling on your clothes—a white dress you’d sewn not too long ago. It flowed around your legs in the evening breeze, making you feel like some wandering princess.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was sprawled naked on the warm grass like it was the most natural thing in the world, soaking in the sun with zero shame.

“You’re not getting dressed?” you asked, gathering your hair into a loose braid.

“Hmmm…too much work,” he drawled without even opening his eyes.

You sighed, shaking your head, but soon enough the two of you were making your way back to camp. His arm draped lazily over your shoulders, the weight of it oddly comforting.

Down by the river, Shidou, Ness, and Rin were splashing around with a group of children, Shidou roaring like a tiger just to watch the kids scream and scatter. You glanced up at Kaiser.

“I don’t know how to tell my dad about us,” you murmured.

He looked down at you with a slow, confident smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

That I’ve got this should have been your first warning.

You stepped into camp. Your father sat in his usual chair, reading glasses halfway down his nose, a worn book open in his lap. He glanced up casually.

“There you two are,” he said. “Took you long-”

“We’re officially together,” Kaiser cut in, hands sliding from your shoulder to your waist.

You froze mid-step. Your dad froze mid-breath. Kaiser looked utterly pleased with himself.

“Yup,” Kaiser added, flashing teeth. “Together. Me and your daughter.” He topped it off with a quick peck to your temple that made your ears go hot.

Your father’s gaze flicked between you and Kaiser, narrowing briefly… before breaking into a quiet chuckle. He closed his book with a soft thump. “Then I’m proud of you two.”

“As you should be,” Kaiser replied, giving a mock bow that was somehow both ridiculous and charming. “It’s my pleasure and I should thank you for making such an amazing, grumpy and beautiful daughter.” His arm tightened around you like a victory flag.

You were still too stunned to form words.

Your father studied you both for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose you two can wander freely.” He leaned back in his chair. “But! One condition.”

Kaiser sighed dramatically. “Here we go. What is it?”

“No fun games.”

Kaiser grinned. “Define ‘fun’.”

Your dad didn’t even blink. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Michael.”

Ms. Irene’s house sat tucked into the hill like it had been there for a hundred years, its porch crooked with age and a swing that creaked when the breeze hit just right. Mr. Benjamin wasn’t much for talk, and Kaiser liked that. He could exist in the silence here without questions.

But this morning wasn’t like the others.

He stood in his room stuffing his few things into a travel bag, maps, revolver, letters he’d never sent.

“You’re leaving now?” Ms. Irene’s voice drifted in, soft as always.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, shoulders dropping just a bit.

She stepped inside and approached, hands folded around something. When she got close, she held it out to him, a deep blue bandana, neatly folded, stitched at the edges with care.

“You made this for me?” he asked, taking it slowly from her hands, almost like it was fragile.

She nodded with a smile. “The old one was ripped. Lost its color.”

He opened it carefully and paused when his eyes landed on the small detail in the corner, a blue rose, sewn delicately into the cloth.

“You even sewed a rose,” he murmured, tracing it with his thumb.

“You like it?”

“I...yes, I...”

He didn’t say thank you right away. Instead, he stood awkwardly, unsure what to do with his hands. Gifts always felt foreign to him. Unnatural. Like he wasn’t supposed to have them.

Ms. Irene only chuckled and reached up, pinching his cheek gently the way only a grandmother could.

“It’s for luck,” she said with a soft look in her eyes.

He gave her a small hug, one arm around her back, the other clutching the bandana tightly.

“I’m keeping this,” he said firmly, already beginning to tie it around his neck.

She stepped back and gave him a once-over, arms crossed.

“You can still see my tattoo, right?” he asked, tilting his chin a little higher.

She sighed, exasperated in a way only someone who loved him could be. “Yes, it’s visible.”

“Great.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, tugging on his boots with practiced ease. The worn leather gave a soft creak with each pull.

“How long you say you’ll be gone?” came Mr. Benjamin’s voice from the doorway, gravelly and warm.

“Eight, nine months at the least,” Kaiser answered without looking up, adjusting the fit of the right boot before standing.

Mr. Benjamin walked over, broad hand coming down firm on his shoulder. He gave it a slow shake, not just for support, but something closer to affection.

“Then do us a favor,” he said, voice low with meaning. “Stay safe out there. Get your girl. Your new clothes, like always. Your money. And most of all, that damn presence of yours.”

Kaiser huffed a short chuckle, looking down as he adjusted his holster. “I will. Don’t worry.”

But before he could reach for his hat, Mr. Benjamin ruffled his hair like he had done back when Kaiser was still learning how to shoot.

“Easy,” Kaiser murmured, batting at his hand with a half-laugh. “Hair took a while today.”

At that, Ms. Irene stepped in from the hallway, her soft slippers brushing over the old wooden floor. She held her hands clasped, but her eyes shone wetly.

“Take care, Michael,” she said, quiet but clear.

“I will,” he replied, and hesitated just a moment.

She stepped forward and cupped his cheek like only a grandmother could, planting a gentle kiss at his temple. Mr. Benjamin gave him one last sturdy pat on the back before pulling him in for a quick, firm hug, the kind between men who never say much, but mean every gesture.

“I’ll keep y’all updated,” Kaiser added as he opened the front door. “Got a few cards I owe folks anyway.”

“You’d better,” Mr. Benjamin said, tipping his chin up.

They stood at the threshold as he stepped into the light. The sky was clear and pale, the air dry and still cool. Kaiser walked toward the white horse tethered by the post, its mane freshly brushed and saddle already secured.

He reached out with a smile. “Hey, pretty.”

The horse whinnied softly as he patted her muzzle.

“Ready for the road?” he murmured, resting his forehead briefly against hers. “We’ve got a long ride ahead.”

He swung into the saddle in one smooth motion and let out a breath as he sat tall, his new bandana tied neatly at his neck, collar crisp, coat fitted just right.

“I haven’t talked to her in days,” he said aloud, more to himself than anyone. “Haven’t seen her either.”

The horse neighed gently, as if in answer.

“I think she took the apology,” he went on, narrowing his eyes toward the distant hills. “Least I hope she did.”

With a flick of the reins, the horse began to walk. He didn't look back, but he heard the soft voices behind him, the quiet door closing, and the wind carrying their care along the trail ahead.

The road to New York, and to her, had begun... The fire reflected in his eyes. He stood frozen, staring at the burning house like time itself had stopped.

“Kaiser! Kaiser!! MICHAEL, PLEASE!”

He blinked. Snapped back to the present. You were shaking him, your hands gripping his shoulders tight.

“Y/n? Are you insane? What the hell are you doing here?!”

An explosion went off too close. You flinched hard. Gunshots rang out again. He pulled you against his chest, shielding you without hesitation.

“We need to leave,” you said, breathless.

“Shit…I know we do,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

He jumped to his feet and helped you up quickly. His hand found yours and didn’t let go. You both started running, him leading you through dark alleys, away from the chaos.

“Get down!”

You didn’t have time to think. Kaiser pushed you down and you hit the ground hard, landing on your stomach just as he dropped on top of you. His weight was heavy but careful, his arms planted firmly on either side of your head to keep from crushing you.

Gunshots cracked around through the air like lightning. Dirt flew near your face.

You froze. He was so close. You could feel his breath on your cheek, quick, uneven. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought he might hear it. His face hovered inches above yours, eyes darting over your features before flicking back to the noise around you.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, breathless.

You gave the tiniest nod, too afraid to speak, too afraid to move.

“Stay still,” he whispered.

Another shot rang out in the distance. He flinched slightly. His jaw was tight, but his eyes, they were full of something else.

“I swear I’ll get you out of this,” he said, voice almost a promise.

Then, silence.

He lifted his head just enough to check their surroundings. “Clear.”

Kaiser shifted off of you quickly but gently, then reached for your hand, pulling you up to your feet.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to keep moving. Now tell me, how the hell did you even get here in the first place?” Kaiser demanded.

“Tell me what’s happening first!”

“No. Answer my question first.”

You were already out of breath, from the smoke, from running, from what you’d seen.

“I took someone’s horse.”

He groaned. “Great.”

Without another word, he pulled you toward his white horse, hoisting you up into the saddle before grabbing the reins of the horse you’d borrowed. He tied it with a rope, letting it follow behind. The horses sped through the night, hooves pounding over ash and dry earth. Neither of you spoke.

Once you were far enough from the burning town, he pulled the horses to a stop behind a large rock formation. You had both gotten down from the horses, boots crunching against dry gravel and soot. The second horse stood tethered to Kaiser’s, both animals restless, shifting beneath the tension in the air. You stood across from him, your breath unsteady, chest rising and falling rapidly. He paced once, hand gripping his neck.

“Are you insane?” he burst out again, louder now. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?!”

“What was I supposed to do?!” you snapped, voice raw. “Stay behind and wonder if you’d come back in pieces? Wonder what the hell was going on while everyone kept lying to me? Hiding shit from me?!”

He stared at you. “You think this was lying to you?”

“Yes!” You stepped toward him, eyes burning. “I think everyone knew something I didn’t, and they left me in the dark like some little girl.”

He was quiet for a moment. The firelight from the distant town flickered in his eyes.

Then he said, softer, but no less intense, “You weren’t supposed to see any of this.”

“But I did,” you whispered. “And I can’t unsee it.”

You stepped back, your hands trembling at your sides. “I saw the street. I saw them, Kaiser. Alex. Leon. The people. Dead. In front of me.” Your voice broke. “I saw what’s left.”

He closed his eyes. Just for a second. As if your words physically wounded him.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he muttered hesitantly.

“Then tell me what’s going on,” you begged, voice hoarse. “The truth. All of it.”

Kaiser looked at you, jaw clenched, the weight of something years in the making written all over his face. 

“I can’t tell you,”  Your legs gave out beneath you, and you let yourself fall to the dust, arms wrapping around your knees like they might hold you together.

You heard the gravel shift beside you. Kaiser moved, slow and hesitant.

“Y/n…”

“What now?” you snapped, voice cracking. “Can you at least tell me why you came back here?”

His body tensed. You could feel it without even looking.

“You heard what that red-haired boy said,” he began. “That the date was wrong. That they came early.”

You nodded stiffly.

“They’re the same ones,” he went on, his voice low and steady, like he was forcing it to stay that way. “The ones who’ve been tearing through towns and small villages like wildfire. Leaving no one behind. No homes. No names. Just ashes.”

Your throat tightened.

“They were supposed to reach ours in five days,” he continued. “That was the promise. Five days… but it meant nothing.”

“You knew they would come?” your voice cracked under the pressure.

“I had a family here. Not by blood. Your dad found them for me. Took me in twelve years ago. Treated me like I mattered, even when I didn’t believe it myself.”

You stared at him, heart sinking.

“They knew what was coming. They were prepared… as best as they could be. But they didn’t know it’d be tonight.” His jaw tightened. “No one did.”

You felt your breath catch again, remembering the burning house. The cottage. The way he had dropped to his knees like the wind had been torn out of him.

“That house, the one you run to…”

He nodded once. “That was theirs. I saw their wagon on fire from the ridge. Knew then they didn’t make it.”

Your expression faltered, pain rising in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

His gaze dropped. He bit his lower lip and let the silence sit between you for a moment before replying, “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do this.”

“Still,” you whispered, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kaiser let out a breath. He sat down next to you in the dirt without a word, close enough for his knee to brush yours. “People knew what was coming? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t my father tell me?” your voice trembled with each word, frustration and disbelief cracking through.

Kaiser hesitated, jaw tightening. “If I try to explain it… it’ll get bad.”

“I need to know.” 

He turned his head away from you, shaking it slightly as if trying to loosen the thoughts that had built up inside. “It’s for your best,” he muttered, and his voice sounded older than he was. Tired. “Really. Give it some time, Y/N.”

Your disappointment struck deeper than anger ever could. You swallowed hard.

“Are you even sad?” you asked quietly. 

He didn’t look at you. He kept staring at the dust between his boots.

He kicked a rock gently, the motion looking aimless, but you could see the strain in his shoulders. He was fighting to keep himself from breaking.

“They’re somewhere better now,” he said, voice flat.

Kaiser pulled his hat off and held it in his hands, eyes still low. Then he looked at you, really looked, and something in his expression shifted.

“You’ve already carried too much. What happened to you before still clings to you, like ash that won't wash off,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “And after today, I know it’s only gotten heavier. These next months… I don’t want to see your mind trapped in that weight anymore. Not your past. Not this hell we just saw.”

You blinked, lips parting, but his voice didn’t waver.

“I know it won’t be easy. You saw them… those two boys. Dead.” His voice cracked faintly on the last word. “I understand that pain. I do. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m staying. I promised them I'd protect you.”

And for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breath. Kaiser placed his tattooed hand gently on your head, fingers brushing over your hair with surprising tenderness.

“We have to go back,” he murmured.

You didn’t protest, not even as he slid his hand down to yours and helped you rise to your feet. Your knees wobbled, body drained from the smoke, the fear, and the weight of what you'd seen. He steadied you, then held onto you as if you might collapse again.

“In one hour, we’ll be back,” he said quietly, glancing up at the sky. “I’ll try to explain everything to your father. The right way.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond. You simply let him lead you back toward his white horse. He helped you mount sideways behind him, careful and wordless, then tied the reins of the horse you borrowed to follow behind.

The night was bitter. Cold wind tugged at your clothes and hair as the horses moved forward at a steady pace. Smoke still clung to the back of your throat, and the silence between you and Kaiser stretched long, until he broke it.

“Hope you’re not thinkin’ about it right now.”

You blinked slowly. “I’m trying not to.”

He turned his head just slightly, like he was checking to make sure you were still holding on. The moonlight shone silver on the path ahead, and you leaned just a little more into his back, trying to borrow whatever calmness he had left to give. They broke into silence again. Not the kind that brought ease, the kind that sat between two people like fog, thick and full of things unsaid. Only the sounds of hooves in the dirt and the cold breeze filled the space between them. Neither of you could bring yourselves to speak after all that had happened. Words just didn’t feel enough.

By the time the dim glow of lanterns came into view, the roadside inn stood like a quiet sentinel off the dusty trail, old timber, chipped white paint, and a rusted iron sign that swayed gently in the wind. A long porch ran across the front, a few tired travellers moving in and out. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to rest. The scent of horses, smoke, and fire still clung to your clothes.

Kaiser helped you down from the horse, firm and gentle. Just as your boots hit the ground, the inn’s door burst open.

“There you are! Are you two out of your damn minds?” your father’s voice roared across the yard, cutting through the quiet like a whip.

He stormed down the steps, boots pounding against the wooden boards. You barely had time to brace yourself.

“I can explain” Kaiser started, voice level but cautious.

“I don’t need any damn explanations,” your father snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I want you both inside. Go,” he barked, pointing hard toward the inn’s front door. “And don’t either of you dare step out before the sun’s up.”

You flinched slightly, the weight of his anger pressing into your shoulders. You followed your tracks to the room they’d given you. Small, quiet, plain as a prayer, but it’d do for the night. The kind of place where the walls held stories and the bed creaked like it missed the weight of old lovers. You didn’t mind the simplicity. You minded the silence more.

Kaiser had stayed behind, talking with your father somewhere out back. What they were discussing, you could only guess, probably the kind of talk meant to happen behind closed doors and gritted teeth. You didn’t want to think about it.

The wash basin barely warmed your hands. The fog outside pressed its face to the glass, but the cold didn’t leave your bones. Even drawing, your usual remedy, sat useless in your lap. The pencil moved but your mind stayed still. Every time you blinked, you saw fire. You heard the screams. You tasted ash.

The air was thick, not with desire, not yet, but with something rising. Unspoken. Unsettled. Strange.

Even breathing felt like trespassing.

You hated even admitting it to yourself, but you’d snuck your favorite plushie into the bed. A little stitched-together rabbit from your childhood. Worn at the ears and soft from years of love. It was tucked in safely under your arms. You closed your eyes. And slowly, with the quiet weight of exhaustion, the night finally took you. Next day. The road wasn't smooth, but it wasn’t as lonely as you thought it’d be either. Behind you, other wagons creaked. Horses whinnied. Old men laughed over old violent stories.

You were seated beside Kaiser in the back of one of the wagons, riding along with an old man who barely spoke more than a grunt every few miles. And Kaiser? He was back to his old self, cracking jokes, tossing glances, carrying on like he always did.

You didn’t say a word about the night before. Maybe it was his way of keeping the weight off, locking up feelings before they had time to settle. Maybe pretending nothing happened helped him breathe. You tried to think the same way. Tried real hard to wear your usual face. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe some things didn’t need to be picked apart. Maybe moving forward meant not looking back too long.

You hadn’t talked to your father since. 

It hurt. And you didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

Kaiser, of course, filled the silence with his usual chatter.

“So,” he drawled, one arm lazily propped behind his head, “I don’t remember if I ever told you I’m from Germany.”

“I think you did,” you murmured, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

He smirked. “But did I tell you I speak it? Like a gentleman. Real smooth.”

You gave a half-hearted nod. “I figured.”

“Want me to say something?” he asked, grinning now “It’s a beautiful language. Very poetic.”

You looked over at him, barely amused. “Fine. Say something.”

Kaiser leaned toward you slightly, his voice going soft and smug.

“Ich wünschter ich könnte deine Brüste drücken.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Means, ‘I think you’ve got the most beautiful eyes.’”

You gave him a tired look, lips twitching into a small smile despite yourself. “Hm. Sweet, I guess.”

That’s when you heard it.

A choked gasp. From behind.

Ness, who was seated a few feet away in the same wagon. His jaw dropped just a little.

Kaiser tilted his head toward him, cool as ever. “Something wrong, Ness?”

“You…you didn’t just say that,” Ness stammered, eyes flicking between the two of you. 

“What?” Kaiser asked, feigning innocence. “I just complimented her.”

You narrowed your eyes, suddenly suspicious. “Kaiser…what did you really say?”

He shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.”

You turned toward Ness, who looked like he was ready to jump from the wagon in protest.

Of course he’d pull something like that.

He just grinned and ignored the jab. He tilted his head back toward you, his blue strands catching the golden light of dusk.

“When are we stopping?” you asked him quietly, rubbing your arms from the breeze sneaking through the wagon’s wooden slats.

“In a few hours, liebling,” he answered, eyes closed now like he was savoring some memory.

“Few means what, exactly?”

“Seven, probably. We’ll camp next to a beautiful river,” he murmured, stretching with a soft groan. “Clear skies, stars like diamonds, soft grass, romantic, no?”

You didn’t dignify that with a reply. And just past 8 p.m., the wagon finally came to a slow stop by the riverbank. The place was scenic, almost too scenic, like it didn’t deserve to host this band of misfits.

The people unloaded quickly. Bedrolls were tossed. Horses tied. Someone was already lighting a fire and passing around something that looked questionably like stew.

“Tent for me,” Shidou announced, throwing his bag into the grass.

“I’ll sleep here,” Rin muttered as he unrolled his things near a tree.

You stood still, uncertain. The tents had gone up fast, faster than you expected, and now they were almost all claimed. The noise of the others buzzed around you like flies.

“Looks like there’s just one more tent for us both,” Kaiser said suddenly at your side.

You turned, eyes narrowing. “What?”

He pointed, grinning. “Last one is empty. Unless you’d rather go cozy up with your dad.”

You instinctively looked toward your father, who stood across the campfire chatting with other older men. His expression was unreadable.

Kaiser leaned closer. You felt something warm curl around your waist, his arm, bold and casual. “But maybe,” he murmured, voice low, “it’d be nice of you to keep me company tonight?”

You shoved his hand off without even looking at him.

“I’ll think,” you snapped and walked away, jaw clenched.

Maybe sleeping under the stars with coyotes would’ve been easier than sharing a tent with him. Maybe. “Weirdo,” you muttered under your breath.

Kaiser didn’t miss it. “We’re all weirdos, darlin’,” he shot back, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You-- you cowboys are all the same! Stubborn as hell. You and your damn gangs. Sexist, lawless-”

“Whoa there, girly,” Shidou cut in, holding his hands up like you’d just pulled a gun on him. “We ain’t the bad guys. Look around. We’re the ones tryin’ to fix this mess.”

“Fix it?” Your voice cracked. “You all knew about it, didn’t you? About the attack. You let those people die-”

Kaiser stepped in fast, putting himself between you and the others. His hands came down gently on your shoulders, trying to guide you back toward a campfire. “I think you’re hungry,” “I’m not hungry!” you muttered, trying to shove him away.

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he kept steering you toward the others, boots crunching over dry grass.

“We can talk about it later,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like he was trying to keep the peace.

“No the hell we won’t!” you barked. “Why are you acting like this? Like you didn’t just watch your home burn to the ground! Like your whole world didn’t just go up in smoke!”

His smirk faltered for a split second, but it was gone before you could hold it against him.

“I don’t got the luxury to fall apart,” he muttered. “Not with the job I’ve got.”

You stared at him, eyes burning. “You call this a job? What, killin’ folks, stealin’, playin’ cards till sunrise? That’s your idea of work?”

He looked you square in the eye. He hummed, popping the word like a piece of gum. “Now c’mon. Let’s eat.” You sat near the fire, a little apart from the group but not far enough to be alone. There was nowhere else to go, and truth be told, you didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Not tonight. Not after everything. So you settled by the circle of the young cowboys, all loud voices, sharp laughter, boots scraping over the dirt. The fire snapped and spat between them.

Not far off, other camps were doing the same, warming up, sharing food, swapping stories. One of those circles held your father, but he hadn’t glanced your way once since sunset.

Kaiser leaned back on a log with one arm draped over his knee, a cigarette burning lazily between his fingers. He looked completely at ease, even as the conversations turned serious. "Will you talk to your dad about yesterday?" He suddenly asked, voice low enough that it didn’t cut through the fire crackling or the rowdy talk of the boys nearby.

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance his way.

“I spoke to him when you stepped out,” he went on, softer now. “He listened. Didn't lose his temper. He just stood there. I think he’s ready to hear it from you too.”

Your eyes dropped to the dirt. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t fear holding you back, not entirely. It was everything else. The weight of it. The words that never came out right. The way your voice always caught when it came to him.

Kaiser didn’t push. He just sat there, calm, like he understood the knots inside your chest.

You let out a long breath. "Fine..." The word came out dry, quiet.

You stood, brushing the dust from your skirt with trembling fingers. As you turned, he looked up at you and gave the back of your knee a light tap with his hand.

"Good luck," he said with a small smile. Not smug, just steady. Like he meant it.

You didn’t let the nerves show, not on your face at least. But inside, they clawed at your stomach like wild dogs. Sweat clung to your back, your boots dragging more than they should as you walked. Every step toward your father felt heavier than the last.

You didn’t even realize you’d made it to him until you heard the sudden stop of voices, the shifting of men backing away. And there he was — your father — standing still as stone, eyes fixed on you like he’d been waiting.

All you could hear now was your own heartbeat.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“You want to talk about yesterday?” he asked first, his tone flat but rough.

You blinked. A small breath of relief escaped you — you were grateful he’d broken the silence. “Yes…I’m sorry about that” you said, voice dry, guilt creeping into your eyes.

His men, without being told, slowly gave the two of you space.

“You scared me, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“You knew what could happen. You perfectly know that,” he muttered, barely keeping his voice even.

And that was the part that stung.

You nodded once, barely. But his words dug deeper than you wanted to admit.

You looked down at your boots, dirt clinging to your hem. The air hung heavy between you. The silence stretched too far.

"You think I don’t regret going?" you asked quietly. "But if I hadn't, I’d still be sitting here wondering. I needed to-"

He cut in, sharper than before, “You act like you’re the only one with reason to do reckless things.”

That hit a nerve.

"And you act like you’re the only one allowed to hide everything!" Your voice rose before you could stop it. "You and the rest of your stupid gang, always walking in shadows. Tell me, what about the men that burned down that town? The ones who butchered innocent people? Are we just supposed to keep quiet about that too?”

His jaw clenched.

“Are we going to New York to run away from it all? To pretend nothing happened? Are we just going to leave behind every soul that died-”

"Y/N." He said your name like a warning, dry and curt.

You weren’t done.

"Why don’t you explain it to me?! Why won’t any of you say a word about what’s really going on?"

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t even try.

“I have no order to tell you why we’re doing this,” he said.

You froze. "What?"

“I have no order,” he repeated.

“That’s bullshit. What kind of father says that to his daughter? You’re all just playing your selfish little games while folks die behind your back, while I watch people die and you tell me to sit still and smile!”

He stayed silent. His fingers tightened at his sides, but he didn’t raise his voice.

“I have nothing to say or do about that,” he finally said, almost hollow. “I need to keep it quiet. We need to keep it quiet.”

You stared at him, your breath caught.

“…Why?” you whispered. “Why?!”

“Y/N!” he barked, this time with a sharpness that shut your mouth in an instant.

His breath came out rough through his nose. His eyes finally met yours, but they weren’t angry.

They were tired.

Broken.

And somehow, that made it worse.

“Don’t leave my questions open!” you barked, stepping toward him, fists tight. “The more I stay with you and the other cowboys lately, the more I see how much of a coward you all are!”

His brows twitched, but he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even move.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me!” your voice cracked with fury, a heat you couldn’t hold back anymore. “How many people died before all this, huh? Because of those retards with no mercy in their blood! You--you and that Ego guy, or whatever his name is… You could’ve prevented it! Could’ve done something!”

Silence again.

“What do you cowboys even do?” you choked out. “Ride around playing hero while the world burns under your nose?!”

Your breath hitched.

“You’ll also say that everything here was just bad luck… that fate wanted it this way?!” you snapped in a broken tongue, eyes glistening, chest rising fast. “Say it, Dad. Say that too.”

He still didn’t speak.

He just sat there, watching you come undone.

Your voice cracked, but the fury held.

"Are you going to tell me that all of this, everything I went through, was for nothing? That it meant nothing?" Your eyes welled, chest rising and falling with uneven breath. "Because I haven’t forgotten a single thing from that day. Not one."

You stepped forward, as if your words alone could force him to face what he buried.

"I remember everything since that day. The day I watched my family meet their end in the cruelest way I could ever imagine."

Your voice came out sharp. Sharper than a blade, steadier than the trembling in your body. It was the loudest you had ever heard yourself speak. The most honest.

And in front of you, your father said nothing. Because maybe...there was nothing left he could say.

“Ok, ignore it. I don’t care.” you said, barely above a whisper. You swallowed down the rest. “I don’t even have words for it anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

And your mouth closed.

“I tried,” he continued, slower now. “Me. The other groups. Ego. Kaiser. Everyone I could trust. We tried. We really did. We were almost there. We got so damn close… but in the end, we failed. You saw it yourself yesterday.”

He looked at you, and for once, you didn’t look away.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For everything. For the innocent people. For you. Especially for Kaiser.”

You furrowed your brow. “What does Kaiser have to do with-”

But the words fell apart halfway.

Because in that moment, you saw it all again.

The burning house. The ash-heavy air. The sound of his scream as they dragged his small body across the floorboards. The splintered doorway. Your hands tied. The smoke. His voice. His voice, screaming for you until it went hoarse.

“Are they doing this...for him? Because of I’m?” you asked, slower this time.

“Close,” your father said. “But I won’t give any more details.”

You frowned. Thought. Dug deep. But there were no useful questions left to ask. You already knew what kind of answers would come: Blanks. Dead ends. Walls, where truth was supposed to live.

“I’ll go now,” you murmured.

He looked at you fully, listening this time.

“I hope you at least took my first apology…for leaving you worried.”

He stared at you for a few long seconds, eyes darker than before, then gave a slow nod. “I take your apology.”

You nodded back, just once. A line on your lips, nothing more.

“I don’t want to see it happen again,” he said. “Promise me that. Kaiser’s reckless. He’ll probably try to sneak you out to rob something stupid. Don’t follow him. Don’t disappear on me.”

You gave a quiet nod. Nothing else left to say.

“You can go,” he said.

So you turned. Walked.

And though your back was turned, anger still clung in you. It lingered in your breath, in your hands, in the silence between your steps. Like something that refused to burn out.

Of course, with no other choice, you made your way back to where the young cowboys were gathered, loud as ever. Drinking. Smoking. Laughing like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.

And there he was.

Kaiser, sitting lazily on a crate, flipping through something with a crooked smile.

Your sketchbook.

"(Wait—my sketchbook?!)"

You stormed toward him, crouched down fast, and yanked at it. “Give it back! I didn’t give you permission to touch my stuff!”

But his grip didn’t budge. If anything, he held it tighter.

“I’m almost finished,” he said, grinning up at you like a child caught mid-prank. “You’ve drawn some new things since I last took a peek. You stopped sketching people and designs? Looks like you’re into nature now—animals, especially. But this one...” he flipped to a page near the end, “this one I liked the most. Is she supposed to be a baroness or something? And the guy beside her...a prince?”

“Stop!” you snapped, snatching the book out of his hands and rising to your feet. “Don’t go through my things!”

“Hey….” he started, trying to reach for you but you were already walking off, jaw clenched, cheeks flushed with heat, anger, shame, something in between.

He looked genuinely sorry when you snapped.

Without the other boys noticing, he stood up and followed after you, quiet at first, his boots crunching softly on the dirt behind you.

“Moody, huh? Something wrong with your dad?” His voice was low, almost cautious. “Doesn’t seem like things went well…”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, eyes fixed forward.

He stopped walking for a second, surprised by the bite in your voice. Then caught up, falling into step beside you.

“I don’t like this attitude of yours,” he said. There was no grin. No playful glint in his eyes. Just that unsettling seriousness. “How long are you planning to keep acting like this? Sulking around like a damn unappreciative-” he cut himself short, realizing too late how harsh it came out.

You glared at him sharply, and his expression shifted.

“I take that back,” he said quickly, voice quieter. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept walking, your feet leading you somewhere—anywhere—your body felt like going.

Trying to lighten the air, he spoke again.

“We’ll be heading out tomorrow, y’know. Might pass the canyons. Maybe even the creek where wild ducks used to-” “I don’t care if I’ll see mountains or ducks,”

He blinked, slightly taken aback. Then pouted. Actually pouted.

“You’re pouting?” you asked, disbelieving.

“…No,” he said, looking off to the side like it didn’t matter.

The silence between you both crept back in, heavier than before.

But he broke it once more, this time, quieter, more grounded.

“…Are you still set on finding answers?” he asked. “About why those men are doing this?”

You stopped walking.

The question hovered in the air between you, fragile and loaded. Your fingers curled tightly around your sketchbook, the weight of everything pressing in again. 

You weren’t sure what to say yet.

"Well," he started, his voice quieter now, "calmed down? Perfect."

Before you could respond, you felt the faint pressure of his body leaning into yours from behind. His arms didn’t wrap around you, but the closeness was unmistakable. He was steady. Warm.

You didn’t even have time to process that Kaiser—of all people—was hugging you from behind.

Because your head was somewhere else entirely.

Flooded.

With the sounds of gunshots from yesterday. With the cries. The fire. With that childhood memory you tried so hard to bury. With the screams when they took your family.

Kaiser was there. But your mind was not.

And still, he didn’t move.

You turned around and looked him dead in the eye. “Is there a reason you're tagging along with my father?”

Kaiser’s breath caught for a moment, barely noticeable—but it was there. “I was chosen to go with him.”

“And why do you need to go to New York?”

He shrugged too casually. “Ah... thrifting.”

You blinked. “Thrifting?”

“Vacation,” he added quickly.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve heard.”

“It’s true,” he insisted with a crooked grin.

“Hm. Vacation for robbing people, then.”

He smirked wider. “Can’t help it.”

But you didn’t smile. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked, voice low now. “Like nothing happened yesterday. How does that not affect you?”

“Why does it matter?” he said, tone colder than before.

You froze a little. He stepped closer.

“Told you not to carry it into your head on this journey.”

He tapped your forehead, rougher than needed. It wasn’t playful. It stung.

You flinched, just barely. But he saw it. You knew he did.

And for a moment… something in him looked sharper. Harsher. Like the last time...

“It’s hard not to, you know,” you muttered, brushing his hand away with a soft slap.

“Then your mentality is weak,” he said flatly.

You scoffed. “Alright, mister sage-on-a-horseback. Or should I say, His Highness of Hollow Strength?”

He hummed coldly at your jab, but a shift passed in his eyes, no longer detached, but gleaming with sudden interest. He stepped closer with the air of a man stepping onto a stage, gaze locked on you like a knight entertaining his queen.

“Then allow me,” he said, lifting your hand with the grace of someone who’s done this in courts of fantasy, not dusty towns, “to dedicate myself wholly to the noble mission of softening your frown throughout this sacred voyage to your dreamt-of city.”

You blinked. “I—uh—”

But before you could finish, he gently twirled you in a half-spin, making your skirt flutter lightly.

“I shall take you to see the most breath-stealing places this land dares to hide,” he murmured low, eyes never leaving yours, “Cook for you a breakfast so divine, even angels might seethe with envy. I’ll speak of the wonders I’ve witnessed with these eyes, tales of gold and ruin, of cities drowned in rain, of stars I once chased in the desert winds.”

You nearly stumbled at the end of the twirl. He caught you by the waist, smirking.

“All,” he added, voice soft and theatrical, “in service of making my lady forget the weight that bends her spine.”

You stared at him, somewhere between disbelief and reluctant amusement, the corners of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts. Still, you straightened your back, lifted your chin, and answered in the same lofty, royal tone, though your voice carried all the interest of a dispassionate queen at court:

“Very well. Let it be known that I, with immense resignation, shall accept this... pilgrimage of delight. May your grand efforts not exhaust you by dawn.”

He grinned, proud, almost too proud. “Perfect. I shall begin my humble service to your joy at first light. You will witness the man of worth I truly am.”

You watched him with narrowed eyes. Not him, escaping your earlier questions with a twirl and a story. He was always good at that, slipping past what mattered with charm and mischief. Still, you knew yourself well enough to admit it: some part of you was waiting. Maybe a little longer. Maybe he'd speak, on his own.

“Then, if I think correctly,” he began, a sly tilt to his voice as he drew just a little closer, “you’ll be sleeping in the same tent as me tonight?”

You didn’t blink. “As much as I’d cherish the honor, I must respectfully decline the offer,” you said with your most regal composure, though the heat crawling up your ears betrayed you. “Forgive me, dear sir, for not being able to grace your royal space with my lowly presence.”

He chuckled under his breath, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Okay...” he murmured, voice teasing. “I’m not a patient man when it comes to what I want.”

And just like that, your questions were once again drowned under his performance, but they still burned quietly beneath your skin.

“I’ve been planning something,” your father said quietly, voice low as if confessing a sin more than making an announcement.

He moved slowly, dragging out one of the kitchen chairs with a soft scrape against the floorboards. He gestured for you to sit across from him, and though confusion furrowed your brow, you obeyed.

“Planning… what exactly?” you asked, watching him carefully.

He looked down, one hand rubbing his jaw. There was a long pause, thick with whatever weight he was carrying in his chest. Then finally, he exhaled.

“We’re moving,” he said.

“…Moving?” you echoed, blinking once, not sure you heard him right.

He gave a short nod. “Yes… in a few days. Five, to be exact. I just got the chance to tell you now.”

You didn’t speak right away, not because you were upset, but because something fluttered in your chest, a light, breathless excitement that caught you off guard. It rose faster than you expected, leaving a ghost of a smile you couldn’t quite hide.

Your father caught it. His own face softened with a gentle smile, worn at the corners with age and fatigue. “I want better for us, Y/N. Truly. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. You’ve got a fire in you, something bright.You deserve a future, a real one.”

That softened you more than you expected. You looked down at your hands for a moment, your lips curving just slightly, and that was enough for him.

“Where are we going exactly?” you asked.

He leaned back a little in the chair, pride gleaming faintly in his eyes. “The city of Gotham,” he said, smiling.

You paused. “…Wait. Gotham? You mean New York? No. No, Dad, you’re joking.”

He shook his head slowly. “I ain’t. Gotham City, Y/N. Right across the damn country. That’s where we’re headed.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you stared at him as if he’d just said he bought a piece of the moon. New York. All the way east. The place you’d only ever read about or heard in the chatter of travelers passing through town. A place of carriages and steamships, of galleries and stone buildings tall enough to scrape the clouds.

Your father let out a small laugh. “Come on now, don’t look at me like I just pulled a rabbit from a boot. It’s real. And it’s happenin’. We’re leavin’ this town in five days.”

And for the first time in a long while, the kitchen didn’t feel so quiet.

It felt full of possibility.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

Your father waved it off with a small shrug. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. Just start gettin’ your bags together. You got five days.”

You didn’t even try to hide the excitement that burst in your chest. You pushed back your chair and stood up so quickly it scraped loud across the floor.

But then, he stopped you.

“One thing, though,” he added, and your feet stalled mid-step. “We won’t be travelin’ alone.”

“…Wait, what?” you said slowly, your brows pulling together.

“There’ll be others. A few folks from around here, some from nearby towns. They’ll be comin’ with us.”

Your voice rose before you could stop it. “Why? Why them?”

“Mind your tone,” he said calmly, though his gaze carried a note of warning.

“Sorry,” you muttered, lowering your eyes. You were still standing, your excitement tangled now with something else.

He exhaled through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck. “The attacks, Y/N. Out here in Texas they’re gettin’ worse. There’s been raids… outlaws, trouble along the borders. Some families are takin’ the chance to get out while they still can. My old trailmates are gonna ride with us for protection.”

“…What?” The single word left your mouth dry.

Your mind raced to the letter, the strange timing. Of course it made sense now, of course. Evacuation. Quiet warnings. Plans unfolding just beneath your nose.

“You might even get the chance to talk to Michael again,” he added casually, though there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“What? No, come on! I thought it was gonna be just us. You and me!”

He frowned, slow and stern. “Y/N… don’t be selfish.”

“Selfish?” you repeated, stunned. “How is that selfish? I don’t even understand what this all means!”

But the words weren’t born of logic.

Your stomach twisted.

Your father looked at you with steady patience, though the edge of concern tugged at his jaw. “You think I’m hiding somethin’ from you?”

“I-” You froze. No. You couldn’t mention the card. If he found out you had gone through his things, there’d be no forgiving that. No understanding.

“…No. I don’t.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. “Then why the fuss? Why the overreaction? These people are doin’ what’s best for them. And truth is, it’ll make the journey safer for all of us. You may not see it now, but this is how we get through.”

You couldn’t argue. Not really. But you hated the way your body sank into itself. The way you felt like something important was slipping through your fingers and you couldn’t say why.

Your shoulders dropped, and your mouth formed no words. You only sulked as your father stood and left the room, leaving behind a quiet that felt far too loud.

“I know it hasn’t been a good day for you, and I’m sorry,” your father said gently. “Y/N, like I told you, I want the best for you. But I also want the best for other people.”

“Okay, I understand,” you cut him off, your voice sharp and clipped.

You didn’t wait for another word. Your boots hit the steps hard, each stomp echoing up the narrow staircase. Behind you, your father let out a slow sigh, raising his brows in a silent, weary gesture, as if to say Lord, give me patience.

Inside your room, the door shut behind you with a thud. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t think. You just acted.

In one harsh sweep, you cleared your table, everything crashing to the wooden floor. The box Kaiser had given you, the canvas, the brushes, the ribbon, the gold earrings… all of it tumbled down like they meant nothing. Maybe something cracked. Maybe something bent. You didn’t look. You didn’t care.

Your body felt too small to hold all this chaos. Rage. Sadness. Confusion. Your heart had been pulled in so many directions today, it felt like a splintered bone waiting to snap.

With a grunt, you slammed both fists down on the table, the impact shaking through your arms and up into your shoulders.

“He’s hiding,” you muttered under your breath, chest heaving. “They’re hiding.”

You weren’t just talking about your father anymore. You were talking about all of them. The men he rode with. That so-called cowboy circle who always knew more than they let on. The way they spoke in glances, shared secrets in plain sight. You weren’t stupid. Not anymore.

And worst of all, you had forgotten. Forgotten the very first thing you wanted to do when you left the table downstairs. You had wanted to see Kaiser. You were ready to chase him down, to demand more than a letter, more than a box of apologies.

But now?

Now your mind was swimming in things too heavy to hold. Questions. Regrets. Things unsaid. And the weight of it was dragging you under.

You sank down onto the bed, still shaking.

Everything felt unreal. You didn’t know who to trust. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. It was too much.

So you did the only thing you could.

You curled beneath your blanket and let the silence swallow you. 

You closed your eyes.

Let this day be over. Just let it end.

And with that final thought, the world slipped into darkness. "Y/N..." "Y/Nnnnn..." "Y/N!" "Y/N!"

You shot up with a sharp gasp, your hand instinctively clutched to your chest as your eyes flicked around the room, breath shallow. The morning light spilled in through the curtains in soft yellow streaks, dust dancing lazily in the beam. Your ears strained.

“Umm…?” you mumbled groggily, still half-lost in sleep. "Who the hell was calling me..."

Silence. Just the early sounds of life outside, the clatter of a passing wagon, a distant dog barking, the murmur of wind brushing the windowpane.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, then looked down, only to see the chaotic mess on the floor. Everything from your desk, tossed in a storm of emotion just hours ago, still lay scattered. The brushes, pencils… even the small golden earrings glinting faintly beneath a crumpled sketchbook.

"Seven a.m.," you muttered to yourself, catching sight of the small, ticking clock near your window. You let out a slow sigh and pushed off the covers.

Despite the weight in your chest, your movements were automatic. You knelt down and began picking up what you'd thrown, each item a reminder of what you’d tried to forget.

“To my dearest Y/N...” you murmured quietly. His handwriting, elegant and sure, flashed in your mind. So unlike the sharp, reckless boy you remembered. You bit your lower lip, pressing it hard to stop the wave threatening to rise again.

Your eyes drifted to the window. That same dusty town, half-awake under the pale morning sun. Soon, it would be behind you. Soon, you’d walk cleaner streets, maybe live among things that sparkled and shone. But the idea of getting there—with them—with other people.

Your jaw tightened.

“It makes sense now,” you muttered bitterly. “The card my dad got... it’s all connected.”

You paused. Then shook your head.

Outside, a high-pitched squeal echoed down the street, kids yelling and running past. “No, it doesn’t. Not yet. Not really." You blinked, the sound breaking your spiral like cold water.

“Okay. Good timing,” you said under your breath. You weren't going to drag yesterday into today. That was your rule. So you got dressed.

The blue dress you'd sewn yourself, the one with the cinched waist and careful embroidery along the collar. You buttoned it up slowly, smoothing down the skirt with practiced hands. Then came your jacket, dark and trim. You braided your hair into two polished pigtails, tied each with a delicate white bow. You checked the mirror once, twice, then nodded once to your reflection.

This day would be different. You’d make sure of it “Maybe Cupid won’t miss… maybe,” you hummed the tune under your breath, a silly little melody you’d made up long ago, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped out of your room. The air in the house was still, and when you glanced toward the parlor, the space where your father usually nursed his coffee, it was empty.

Gone already. Where? You hadn’t the faintest clue.

The front door creaked lightly as you pushed it open. The morning sun spilled across the porch, and the dry wind brought the smell of dust and prairie bloom. Right on cue, as if the town never changed, two familiar voices shouted from the road.

“Y/Nnnnnn!”

You didn’t even have time to blink before Leon and Alex barreled toward you with grins wide enough to split their faces. Alex’s hair was a mess of curls, and Leon still wore mismatched boots, same as always.

“Good morning,” you greeted, brushing your dress and bracing for impact.

“Why did your dad close the saloon?” Alex blurted.

“…Excuse me?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Your da closed the saloon,” Leon repeated with full confidence, like he’d seen it himself.

You blinked. The saloon? You hadn’t heard that yet.

“…Ah-yes,” you fumbled, trying to catch up, “he did.”

“Why?” Alex demanded with a furrowed brow.

“Stuff,” you said curtly, hoping they’d drop it.

“Noooo, tell usss,” they both whined in unison, as dramatic as always. Leon even tugged at your sleeve.

You sighed. It wasn’t in your nature to lie, not to them.

“I’m… moving out...?” you admitted, instantly regretting it.

The boys froze, their grins melting away, expressions twisting in disbelief like they’d just watched the sky fall out of place. You wished, with a sudden pang, that you could pull the words back into your mouth. Since you’d first come to this dusty corner of Texas, friendships hadn’t come easy. The girls your age whispered behind fans and fenceposts, and the boys either avoided you or wanted something you weren’t willing to give. But Leon and Alex, loud, stubborn, full of questions and wild schemes, had slipped past all that. Without even trying, they’d become the one steady part of your day. They never cared who your father was or how quiet you stayed. They just showed up, every morning, like clockwork, like the sunrise. And in their company, those early hours didn’t feel so hollow. Didn’t feel like you were always waiting for something that never came.

“You’re lying,” Leon said quickly, voice cracking a little. “You’re not leaving.”

“For the best,” you replied softly. “Sorry, boys.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Alex suddenly lit up, eyes wide with realization. “But now you can become a fashion designer!”

You blinked, a little taken aback by his excitement.

“Ahh yes,” you said, deciding to run with it, “I can make as many clothes as you boys want.”

Leon grinned. “Especially the suit for my wedding.”

“Of course,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “And your suit too, Alex.”

Alex grabbed your hand without warning and tugged with determination. “Can you take us to school?” “Of course” you smiled at him. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, and the town was already stirring with the sounds of hooves, wagon wheels, and distant voices. The dirt roads kicked up soft clouds as you walked alongside the boys, the dry breeze tugging gently at your skirt.

“We learned the last letter yesterday! Z!” Leon declared with his chest puffed out like a rooster.

“Hmm, great on you boys,” you said with a grin.

“Will you play with us before you leave?” Alex looked up at you, hopeful.

“I’ll try,” you replied, ruffling his hair.

They slowed their steps as the schoolhouse came into view. Alex turned and hugged your waist tightly. You bent slightly, hugging him back with the care you’d give a porcelain doll. Then came Leon, who clung around your middle like a determined barn cat.

“Pay attention in class,” you said, voice gently teasing as you brushed his hat into place.

“We will! We will!” they chorused, already half-running toward the front steps, laughter echoing in the morning air.

You stood for a moment, watching them disappear into the little building.

Just seeing those two bedbugs was enough to brighten up your day. Every time. They didn’t need to say much. Their presence alone was enough to remind you that not all parts of this town felt heavy or hollow.

And that’s how it went, day after day, in those final mornings before you had to leave. The same old dusty Texas town, but everything felt a little lighter. Maybe it was the quiet now that your father’s saloon was closed. No more drunken fools leering from the porch, no more sharp words exchanged over spilled beer and bad card hands. What a relief. That gave you more time for sketches, for wandering in the sunlight, for those little conversations with the kids, even the ones you only shared a few good memories with.

As for Kaiser? He’d vanished. Not a single sighting. Four whole days, gone like smoke on the wind. The wagon stood behind the house, its wooden sides worn but sturdy, wheels creaking gently under the weight of the growing load. The sun had climbed higher, casting long slants of gold across the dusty yard. Chickens wandered nearby, clucking lazily as they kicked up dirt.

You stood at the back of the wagon, folding a blanket into one of the trunks while Leon handed you a satchel and Alex tried to roll up your old drawing case, though it kept unraveling in his hands.

“Careful, don’t crumple it,” you warned softly.

Alex gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry…”

Leon, meanwhile, was peering back toward the house with furrowed brows. “What are you gonna do with the piano?”

You turned from your packing and followed his gaze, where the old upright piano sat just beyond the back window.

“My father’s selling the house,” you said gently. “The piano comes with it. I don’t need it anymore.” You tried to smile, though it didn’t reach all the way. “I’ll get a new one in New York.”

Their faces shifted at once, both boys’ expressions falling in that unmistakable, quiet way that scraped at your chest.

You knelt between them, brushing a bit of dust from Alex’s cheek. “Hey now,” you said softly, “we’re still gonna write, remember? Cards. I talked with your parents. We’ll keep in touch.”

“It won’t be the same,” Alex muttered, his voice small. “We won’t have you here to draw with us. Or to play music.”

“We have other friends,” Leon added, not quite meeting your eyes. “But you’re our favorite one.”

You took a breath. The ache behind your ribs grew sharper, not just from saying goodbye, but from knowing what it meant to be someone’s safe place. Even if only for a while.

“I know it’s hard,” you said gently, smoothing down Leon’s hair. “But y’all gotta think of it this way, the town stays the same, right? Dusty, noisy, little bit boring… But if I’m in New York, you’ll have someone who’s seen a whole different world. I’ll draw it all for you. Tell you stories. Send you pressed flowers from places you’ve never been.”

Alex blinked up at you. “Really?”

“Of course,” you smiled, finally reaching them this time. “And when you grow up and come visit me, or better yet, when you make it out of here yourselves, you’ll already know where to find me.”

That gave them pause. A spark of something hopeful lit behind their eyes.

“Now,” you said, turning back toward the wagon, “hand me that bag, will you?”

Leon tried to pass it to you, but it was heavier than expected. You tried to lift it onto the wagon’s bed, arms tightening, back tensing.

“Need help?”

The voice came low and smooth, from somewhere behind you.

You turned, breath catching slightly.

There he stood. Michael Kaiser. Tall, clean as ever in his usual dark coat and neatly tied bandana, dust clinging to the soles of his boots. His white horse stood just behind him, reins slack in the breeze.

“I-” You swallowed lightly.

He stepped forward and took it from your hands with ease, lifting it into the wagon without effort.

“You always pack like you're moving a small kingdom?” he asked, brushing his palms off on his trousers. “What are you doing here?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Knew you’d need help. You always had trouble pickin’ up heavy things,” Kaiser said with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes. “You can go. I don’t need your help.”

Unfortunately for you, the next bag was just as heavy, if not worse. You barely got it off the ground before he stepped in again. He let out a low chuckle. “See? Let me.”

Without struggle, Kaiser hoisted the bag and tossed it into the back of the wagon like it weighed nothing.

“Wow, you’re really strong,” Leon said, wide-eyed.

Kaiser smirked at the praise. “You’ll be like me one day, trust me.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair, and Alex immediately chimed in.

“You’re a cowboy?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Can I try your hat?” “Can I touch your gun?” “How many people have you killed?” “Is it true you got more enemies than friends?”

Kaiser laughed at the barrage of questions, indulging them one by one. He let Alex try on his hat, let Leon peek at the revolver’s holster, just enough to stir their excitement without being reckless. You stood off to the side, sulking as you continued organizing the crates and sacks in the back of the wagon.

Then a voice cut through the air. “It’s gettin’ dark.”

You looked over your shoulder. Your father stood behind you, cigar in hand, the smoke curling lazily around him.

“Hello, sir,” Kaiser greeted, polite and steady.

“Hm… hello, Mihya. You’re already here,” your father muttered, squinting as he stepped closer. “Is everything in place, Y/N?”

“Uhum, uhum.”

“I don’t understand ‘hum’ language.”

You sighed. “Yes. Everything’s in place.”

He nodded, taking another slow drag from his cigar. The sun had dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of dusty gold and red while the boys still giggled and clung to Kaiser like he was some kind of hero. And you, well, you kept your hands busy, trying to ignore the storm of thoughts circling your head. “We’re leavin’ in twenty. The rest are on their way. Michael, come here” your father said as he stepped off toward the far side of the house.

Kaiser gave a short hum and went after him, leaving you and the boys by the wagon. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex and Leon pounced on the cowboy’s prized possession.

“Don’t toss it like that,” you warned, grabbing the hat before it hit the ground. “It’s expensive.”

You turned it in your hands, eyes catching on the label inside the brim. Boss of the Plains. “Dayum,” you murmured, impressed in spite of yourself.

On the other side of the house, Kaiser walked beside your father, the wind picking up a little as the horizon deepened with gold and violet. The wooden boards creaked under their boots. Smoke from the man’s cigar drifted lazily into the cooling air.

“Ego, Noa, and their groups are likely near Shvespere by now,” your father said, staring off at the setting sun.

“That fast?” Kaiser asked, brows drawn.

“They left four days ago.”

Kaiser exhaled through his nose. “You think it’ll take longer now? More people this time. Families. Elders…”

Your father rubbed his temple. “Forty souls. That’s countin’ your group, me, and Y/N.”

He let out a long sigh.

“Two to three months on the road, like Ego promised.”

Kaiser clenched his jaw. “Three months? I promised-” He stopped short and looked away. “Never mind.”

Your father’s voice dropped. “They hit another town. South of here. Not much left of it.”

Kaiser turned back, eyes narrowing. “Anyone made it out?”

“No one.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Crickets had begun their nightly chorus, faint at first.

“They’ll be here soon,” your father said quietly.

Kaiser looked him in the eye, tone dark. “Soon means?”

“Noa said five days… but I don’t trust that number.”

“Neither do I.”

Kaiser’s eyes shifted to the trees at the edge of town, scanning the shadows like they might already be here.

“You think we can still get folks out in time?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t have an answer for that yet. People know what’s comin’, Michael. They just don’t all want to believe it.”

Your father looked down at the dirt, thumb brushing against his cigar.

“I just don’t want it weighin’ on Y/N’s head,” he added. “She can’t know. Not yet.”

Kaiser was quiet for a beat.

“She’ll find out.”

“I know.”

“She won’t forgive you for keepin’ it.”

“Maybe. But at least she’ll get to New York alive.”

The last light of the sun dipped past the edge of the hills, and the wind carried the smell of smoke and dry grass. Kaiser stayed still for a moment longer before nodding once, slowly.

“…Then let’s make sure she does.” “You won’t forget to send us the cards,” Alex whimpered, his small hands clutching at your sleeve like he might hold you back.

“I won’t…” you whispered, brushing his bangs out of his teary eyes. “I won’t forget, I swear it.”

He hugged you tightly, nearly knocking the breath out of your chest. Leon followed right after, arms thrown around your waist, his face buried in your coat. You held them both as tight as you could, like you could squeeze the memory of them into your bones. If only you could take them with you. If only the world were gentler.

Alex cried harder, his shoulders shaking, and your arms started trembling too. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the sob rising up in your throat, but it betrayed you anyway. A tear slipped down your cheek, and then another, and another. The mask you always wore, the calm and cool that folks expected from you, cracked in front of them.

You didn’t care.

Not this time.

From the other side of the wagon, Kaiser stood watching. His brows were furrowed, jaw tense, but the look in his eyes was soft. Understanding. There was a silence in his posture, a quiet kind of grief, that told you he saw everything and wouldn’t say a word to break it.

“Time to gooooo~” Shidou’s voice cut through the dusk like a wild chord. He swung onto his horse with that usual manic grin.

“Y/N…”

Kaiser’s voice was quieter than before, more careful. He tilted his head slightly toward the wagon trail. The look on his face said enough. It was time.

You let out a long, trembling breath and leaned down one last time to hug the boys again, tighter than before. If you stayed any longer, you’d break in two. You whispered something they wouldn’t remember in words but would carry in their hearts.

Then you stood, the weight of goodbye pulling at your knees.

Your father was already at the reins of the wagon, silent, waiting.

“Y/Nnnn…” Alex cried again, desperate, and that time, it almost broke you.

Before you could say anything else, Kaiser stepped in. Gently but firmly, he knelt beside Alex, placing his expensive, perfectly-kept hat onto the boy’s head.

“Keep it for luck,” he said, smoothing it over the boy’s dark hair. “It’s yours now.”

Alex blinked up at him, sniffling, touched by the gesture in a way only a child could understand.

“I’ll take care of Y/N,” Kaiser promised, his voice steady. “She’ll be alright. I swear that to you.”

You didn’t expect the way his arm wrapped around your waist, not possessive, but certain. Like he was making a vow and you were part of it. His presence steadied your shaking limbs, but your heart was still raw. And when he turned to you, his hand rose to your cheek, catching your tears before they could fall too far. “I got you,” he said quietly, thumb brushing the salt from your skin. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time all day, you let yourself believe it. He turned you both around without a word. You looked back one last time at your two favorite boys, their small hands waving, their eyes full of everything you could no longer hold. You raised your hand slowly and waved back. They didn’t stop waving. Not even when the wagon wheels creaked into motion. Not even when your figure began to blur behind a veil of golden dust.

Their silhouettes grew smaller with every turn of the wheel. Smaller and smaller, until the shadows they cast vanished completely into the fading light of town.

The sun was low now, hanging behind the hills like a dim lantern. The world was dipped in amber, and the trail ahead was quiet save for the soft rumble of hooves and the crunch of wagon wheels.

The wagon pulled to a stop. You leaned forward and peeked out. There were other wagons ahead. People, too. Most from your town. Some from nearby, others you had never seen before. A handful of children chasing each other near a cart. A few adults your age, faces worn and eyes sharp, like they’d lived double the years you had.

It felt like too much at once.

Your father left you alone to mingle with the others. “Go on, stretch your legs,” he’d probably muttered before disappearing into the crowd. You didn’t. You stayed in the wagon, nestled behind the bags you had packed yourself, tucking your knees in and burying your face against the fabric.It was quiet for a while.

“Boo!”

You flinched. “Kaiser!” you hissed, turning around sharply.

He was crouched by the edge of the wagon, leaning in with a crooked grin.

“Sorry, princess,” he said, clearly not sorry at all.

“What do you want?”

“Talk to you.” He hopped up and sat beside you, resting his face lazily against his arms. “You feeling better now?”

You blinked twice, caught off guard by the gentleness in his voice. “Yes… I guess so.”

He smiled a little. “Still mad at me?”

“Not much.”

“You read my card?”

You nodded. He looked down and bit his lower lip, nervous all of a sudden.

“Why do you feel that way about me?” you asked, voice quieter. “What do you even see in me?” There was a pause. Kaiser looked at you with a strange softness, the kind that didn’t show up often on his face.

“Something about you is just…different...distant,” he said finally. “I can’t explain it clear, not even to myself. But ever since we were kids, my gut’s been telling me there’s something in you I ain’t supposed to lose.”

Your breath hitched slightly. The way he said it, quiet, certain, honest, made your chest tighten.

“Do you accept my apology?” he asked, voice even lower. “Or do you want something more? I’ll do it. Just tell me what.”

You met his eyes. “No,” you said, shaking your head tenderly. “It was enough.”

His smile returned, softer this time. He didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t need to.

He leaned a little closer, his voice low and casual. “By the way it’ll take us at least three months to get there.”

“Three?” you repeated, startled.

“Would’ve been faster if we weren’t draggin’ half the town behind us,” he said, exhaling as he settled more comfortably at your side, his new hat tipping just enough to shade his eyes. “Three months to get to know you better, after all these years.”

You turned to him with a narrowed gaze, but he was already smirking.

“So, for starters,” he began, tilting his head toward you. “You’ve got a fine attitude. Sharp tongue, especially with men. Impatient?...Cheeky. A little sensitive-”

“Stop there,” you interrupted firmly.

“There’s my point,” he said with a light laugh, tapping your knee once. “I find it cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tried to betray you.

Just then, your father’s voice cut through the moment. “Michael, what got you here?”

Kaiser glanced over lazily. “Just bored. Thought I’d give your daughter some company.”

“You can go back to your horse.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“Michael.”

“Please,” Kaiser said, dry as ever, flashing a grin like he didn’t care one bit for your father’s tone.

A few quiet minutes passed. The wagon creaked along the dusty trail, wheels crunching over gravel and twigs. You thought he might drift off beside you, but instead, he started talking, little stories at first. About the time he got chased out of a saloon in El Paso. How he once won a horse in a card game and lost it three days later in another. You didn’t speak much, but you listened. And he kept going.

“I’ve been in Paris, too,” he said after a short silence, glancing toward a trail.

“Where haven’t you been?” you asked.

“Hmmm… Lisbon. Rome,” he replied with a smug grin, crossing one leg over the other.

You raised a brow. “You planning on going?”

“Only if I’ve got the right company,” he said, voice playful. “How ‘bout we take my horse instead? Just the two of us. Faster. More fun.”

“She’s staying here,” your father cut in sharply from up front, without even looking back.

Kaiser sighed like he’d expected that answer all along, then leaned back beside you again, smirking to himself.

“Worth a try.”

Another beat of silence passed. Then he nudged your arm gently with his elbow. “I’ll make sure the new place feels like somethin’ good, if I can help it.”

You didn’t answer right away, but something about the way you looked at him, soft, wary, maybe even hopeful, said enough. Then, without warning, he rested his head gently on your shoulder.

Your body stiffened for a second, you weren’t prepared for that. Your guard slipped.

“Why-”

“You don’t mind if I stay like this for a few minutes?” he murmured.

“…No,” you said after a breath.

“Nice.”

He took his hat off, settling it on his lap, and closed his eyes with a soft sigh. You stayed like that, him leaning against your shoulder, the two of you quiet, as the sky turned deeper and darker. The only thing above you now was the moon, bright and solemn as it followed the trail alongside the wagons. Everything else had faded into blue-black silence.

Then, the wagons creaked to a stop.

“We’re stayin’ here,” came your father’s voice from the front.

You turned slightly and nudged Kaiser. “Kaiser… Kaiser! Michael,” you hissed.

“Huh?” he blinked groggily, lifting his head slowly. “We reached-?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahhh, finally,” he groaned, stretching his arms until his joints popped. “What time is it… ten? God.” He rubbed his face, then looked down at you with a faint grin.

Before you could move, he offered his hand. You took it without thinking, and he didn’t let go. Instead, with one quick motion, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you out of the wagon like you weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

“Michael!” you started, but your feet had already touched the ground.

“Easy there,” he smirked.

In front of you stood an old large roadside inn, the kind with flickering lanterns and crooked signs. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked dry and warm enough.

“We’re stayin’ there?” you asked.

“Just for the night,” your father called over.

Before you could walk, Kaiser casually pinched your waist, making you flinch.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned under your breath.

He only grinned, already stepping ahead with that swagger like he owned the whole dusty road. You were just finishing packing your small bag, a spare dress, a comb, some wrapped bread your neighbour had insisted you take, when you heard the sudden thunder of hooves cutting through the quiet. Heads turned. Three horses charged into the clearing.

Men. Cowboys. From your father’s side. Scouts, maybe.

You were close to the edge of the group, right next to Kaiser, who instinctively kept you near. One of the riders, a young man with long red hair, jumped down from his saddle before the dust even settled and ran straight toward your father and Kaiser’s group.

“They attacked,” he said breathlessly.

“What?” your father asked, stepping forward.

“Already. They weren’t supposed to move yet,” the redhead added. “We were wrong about the date.”

“Bullshit,” your father barked, his face twisting into a scowl.

You stared between them, confused. Kaiser’s body had gone stiff next to you. When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, scared, even. You swore you’d never seen that look on his face before.

Even Shidou, who usually looked like he enjoyed every kind of chaos, wasn’t smiling anymore. The group around you fell quiet, their chatter replaced by tension in the air. Something bad was coming.

“What is happening” you began.

Kaiser stepped away from you without answering and stalked up to the red-haired boy.

“Are you fucking serious?” he asked, his voice low.

“Why would I lie?” the boy snapped. “They’re moving faster. A lot faster.”

“Shit.” Kaiser turned away, ran a hand through his hair, then buried his face in both palms. You could see his back rise and fall sharply. He was thinking. Almost panicking.

Your father said nothing for a moment. Then he turned sharply to his men. “Hide the wagons. We can’t let them see how many we are. Now.”

“Dad” you tried.

“Not now, Y/N,” he cut you off. Everything around you was still. Even the wind had stopped. And in that silence, the weight of what was coming began to settle on everyone’s shoulders. Nothing, and yet everything, was starting to make sense now. The card. The tension. You turned around, your breath shallow, heading toward the red-haired boy who now looked just as frustrated as he did shaken. Two other men stood behind him, one with stark white hair, the other with dark violet. Both were quiet, their gazes fixed on the dirt like it held all the answers.

“What’s happening” Your voice cracked. “What the hell is happening? Please. Tell me.”

He looked at you. “The… the town. It was attacked.”

“What?” Your stomach dropped.

He didn’t say anything else. You didn’t even get the chance to press him.

“Back off from her, Chigiri,” someone growled behind you.

A hand clamped down on your shoulder and shoved you back a step. Rin.

“Look, Y/N,” he began, trying for calm, “it’s just an attack.”

But then you heard it. A horse’s sharp neigh. All heads turned. Your blood ran cold.

Kaiser had climbed up onto his white horse and was already galloping toward the place, back the way you’d all come.

“MICHAEL!” your father roared, running after him too late.

You stared at the dust his horse kicked up, frozen.

Then something in your chest snapped.

The signs. The patrols. The strange cowboys coming into your father’s saloon. The way people stopped talking when you walked in. It was a warning.

You didn’t think. You ran. Past your father. Past the others. Toward the line of horses where a few were still tied.

“Y/N?!” your father shouted, his voice growing louder. “Y/N, STOP! DAMN IT, GIRL-”

You jumped onto the closest horse you could reach. He jerked his reins.

“Why mine?” Rin groaned from behind, half in disbelief.

You kicked the horse gently, pushing him forward. You didn’t answer.

You just chased the only person riding straight back toward hell. The full moon cut through the night like a silver blade, painting the hills and path ahead just bright enough to follow him.

You kept low, urging the horse forward. The town wasn’t far, twenty minutes, maybe less, at this speed. But no matter how hard you pressed, no matter how fast your heart raced, you couldn’t quite catch up to him.

Kaiser didn’t look back. He didn’t know you were there. Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

Then you saw it.

At first, it looked like strange clouds on the horizon. But then they flickered. A shine. Glowing embers lifted toward the stars like fireflies dragged from hell.

You reached the top of a ridge and pulled the reins. The horse reared slightly, but you steadied it, swinging yourself off and stumbling forward on foot.

And there it was.

Your town.

Or what was left of it.

Flames devoured rooftops and walls. Ash rained from the sky. Screams bled out from the streets like they had no end. Gunshots cracked the silence of what should’ve been night. Smoke stung your eyes, but you forced yourself forward, trailing behind Kaiser who was already deeper in, lost in the storm.

You tied the horse to a post just beyond the blaze. The rest, you ran.

You weaved through the wreckage, through the street you knew by heart. Or thought you did. Now, everything looked different. Wrong. Burnt.

You turned a corner and stopped cold.

A side street. Bodies.

And among them

“No,” you whispered behind your palm.

Alex.

Leon.

Sprawled against the cobblestones like discarded dolls. Still.

Your knees buckled, but you didn’t fall. You turned away, heart slamming against your ribs, and ran until the heat from the fires felt distant again. You couldn’t let yourself cry. Not now. Not here.

In the distance, you spotted him.

Kaiser. Running toward something, someone.

A small cottage. Burning.

He reached it. Stopped. Stumbled.

And fell to his knees.

You didn’t know what waited inside that house. But you knew, somehow, it was something he couldn’t save.

“Pfft-” Shidou clapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders jerking with the effort not to laugh.

“You can laugh. I don’t give a damn,” Kaiser muttered, puffing on his cigar and glancing out the window like he wasn’t hoping for a distraction.

Shidou lost it. “P-PHAHAHAHAHAH! You got all sour and moody over that? That? You sittin’ here lookin’ like a kicked dog ‘cause of some sentimental shit?”

Kaiser’s jaw twitched. He exhaled smoke slow, like it’d calm him. It didn’t. He shot Shidou a glare, then gave him a firm shove off the bed.

Shidou let out a wheeze as he hit the floor with a thud. “Aaah, Mihya, you amuse me,” he said from the rug, grinning like a damn fox. “Makes me feel all poky inside.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Shidou sat up, rubbing his back, eyes glinting. “By the by, mind explainin’ why your calendar’s sittin’ on August of 1885? It’s May, dumbass. It’s actually starting to piss me off”

Kaiser didn’t even look. “Because I was gone for nine months, you nosy ant. Try keepin’ up.”

When he finally glanced Shidou’s way, the bastard wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was standing near the dresser, poking at the neat little pile of art supplies Kaiser had laid out earlier.

“Oooh, what’s this? For lil’ ol’ me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t touch it,” Kaiser warned, voice low.

“These pens,” Shidou said, lifting the box with a twinkle in his eye. “I knew a fella who had these exact ones. Real pedo. Found him facedown dead in a ditch, pens shoved straight up his ass”

“Stop,” Kaiser growled, and snatched the box out of his hands with a sharp motion. “Don’t fuckin’ touch it.”

Shidou threw his hands up in mock surrender, that grin never leaving his face. “Whoa there, sweetheart. I ain’t mean no harm.”

He wandered casually around the room, inspecting the walls like he lived there. “So…this is for her?”

Kaiser didn’t answer. He sat back down, propped his elbow on his knee, and took another drag from his cigar.

“When you plannin’ on givin’ it to her?”

“Hopefully never,” he muttered under his breath.

Shidou let out a snort that turned into a strange wheezing giggle. “What kinda laugh was that?” Kaiser shot him a disgusted look. “You sure you’re not possessed?”

“I might be,” Shidou shrugged, crossing his arms with dramatic flair. “Possessed with secondhand embarrassment, considerin’ how shit you are at apologizin’. Lord, it’s painful watchin’ you try.”

Kaiser narrowed his eyes. “It’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’. You hand over flowers like you’re surrenderin’ at war and mutter some half-dead ‘I’m sorry’ like it’s gonna erase the whole mess. Brother, she’s got more reason to shoot you than to hug you.”

Kaiser looked away. “I know.”

“You want her back?”

There was a long pause. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft crackle of the cigar.

“…I want her to be okay,” Kaiser said finally. “That’s all.”

Shidou tilted his head. “That ain’t all. You love her. Which means you’re gonna have to grow a damn spine and say what matters.”

Kaiser ran a hand through his hair. “You make it sound easy.”

“‘Cause for once it is, dumbass. Just tell her you’re sorry like a man. No riddles, no dramatics. Just plain words. You’re only makin’ it harder the longer you wait.”

Kaiser didn’t answer. He just stared at the pencils in the box like they might give him courage.

“Can I give it to her?” Shidou asked with a wink.

“Touch it again and I’ll break your wrist.”

Shidou laughed. “There’s my boy.” You sat at the table, eyes fixed on the card as if it might shift or speak if you stared long enough. It had been sitting there for nearly an hour now, untouched except for the crease your thumb had left when you placed it down.

The quiet was broken by the soft jingle of keys at the front door. A moment later, your father stepped inside, boots dusted from the road, his hat in one hand.

“Hello, Y/n.”

“Hi…” you replied, voice low and unfocused.

He walked over to you, eyes filled with the kind of softness only a father could carry. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, warm and steady.

“How’s it going? You feelin’ any better?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah, better,” you said quickly, eyes flicking away from the card. “Better, I guess.”

He gave a small nod, not quite convinced, and turned to head toward the bathroom, talking over his shoulder about the rough ride home and the broken wheel on the wagon. He got a few steps before he stopped, voice dipping just enough to catch your attention.

“You know, Kaiser told me it was just an argument. Said it got a little heated.” His eyes scanned the floor. “Didn’t expect to come home to a broken vase.”

Your stomach twisted. “Ah- I forgot to clean it. Sorry, I…”

You trailed off as he sighed and crouched beside the shattered pieces still resting in the corner.

“I couldn’t think straight,” you admitted, guilt curling in your voice.

“It’s alright, dear. Everything’s alright,” he said gently, gathering the larger shards with care. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

When he stood again, he glanced at the table and his eyes landed on the card.

“This from me?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Yes. It’s for you.”

“From who?”

“I don’t know…it didn’t say.”

He hummed low in his throat, thoughtful, and took the card into his weathered hands. His eyes scanned the front, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he slid it into his coat pocket.

“I’ll open it later,” he said, voice unreadable.

That made your head tilt slightly without meaning to. There was a shift in the air, subtle, but not unnoticed. Like something unspoken had just taken up space between you.

He didn’t explain. He simply gave you a soft pat on the shoulder and walked into the next room, leaving behind only the echo of that strange, deliberate pause. "…Without any hint of escape…without any hint of escape…" you murmured, barely aware you were speaking aloud. Your gaze lingered on the closed door your father had disappeared behind, but you said nothing. You just thought. And thought. Something in you stirred uneasily, like a clock ticking too fast. You didn’t know what, or when, but you felt it, soon, something would happen. Something that would finally give you a hint. A clue to whatever message that card held, and who had sent it.

"GO, GO, GO, GO, GO-" BANG "HEADSHOOOOOT!" Shidou’s voice cut through the woods like a whipcrack of chaos.

Kaiser exhaled and lowered his rifle. The rabbit lay still, just a few meters away.

"Could’ve gone a little higher," Isagi muttered, adjusting his aim as he studied the next cluster of bushes.

"Like you could shoot a damned thing if your life depended on it, you empty-skulled fool," Kaiser snapped, tossing the rifle carelessly onto the patchy grass. He leaned back against his pale-coated horse and lit a cigar, the match flaring briefly against the afternoon sun.

Isagi rolled his eyes and raised his gun again, more focused on the movement in the brush than on whatever insult Kaiser had thrown his way.

"That one’s mine," Shidou grinned, tongue slipping out of his mouth as he pointed toward the rabbit. "That’ll be my dinner tonight. Hope it ain’t riddled with bone."

Ness, off to the side, stayed quiet, his fingers moving deftly over a pair of disassembled revolvers. He glanced at the sky like it might tell him something.

"What’s our next stop?" Ness asked finally, not looking up.

Kaiser didn’t answer right away. He took a long draw from the cigar, then breathed the smoke into the air like he was tired of everything around him. His voice came low and steady.

"You three go wherever the hell you feel like. I’m headin’ to her place."

Shidou gave a sharp whistle, grinning wide. "Well, I’ll be damned. The Emperor’s finally makin’ a move. You be sure to use some protection, now-"

BANG

Isagi fired again, taking down another small creature without so much as flinching.

Kaiser flicked ash off the cigar, ignoring Shidou’s crude comment, and pulled himself up onto his white horse.

The other three men watched as he settled in the saddle.

"Good luck," Ness offered, his voice dry, but not unkind.

Kaiser rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, then tugged the reins and set off down the trail without another word.

Behind him, Shidou laughed to himself. "Bet he forgot how to apologize properly."

Isagi didn’t even look over. "Bet he never knew how in the first place."

"How much we bettin’?" "Twenty dollars," isagi replied "Deal," Shidou smirked as they watched Kaiser ride off toward town.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the dry dirt road as Kaiser rode his white horse through the narrow path back toward her home. The wind tugged at his coat and ruffled his already-messy hair, but his hands stayed tight on the reins. His lips moved quietly, breath shallow, voice barely audible over the rhythm of hooves on packed soil.

"I can do this…no, I can’t…no, shut the hell up, you’re doin’ it…" He exhaled hard and looked down at the small box tied with a velvet ribbon in his saddlebag, now repacked and neater than when he bought it.

"Just say the damned words…mean it for once…" He slid off the horse as he reached the porch, dusted off his coat, and held the box in one hand. His knuckles were white around it. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the door like it was a firing squad.

Then he knocked.

From inside, you were leaned against the kitchen counter, chewing lazily on a biscuit you had scrounged up, still caught somewhere between aimless thought and bitterness. Then came the knock. Sharp. Intentional. Not impatient, but certainly not casual either.

"Now what in the world…? Better be someone with a damn good reason," you muttered to yourself as you wiped your hands and made your way to the front.

You should have asked who it was.You should have waited.But you didn’t.

You opened the door, and there he stood.

Not a smirk in sight. No swagger. Hair a tousled mess like he hadn’t touched a brush in hours, though his coat was elegant, expensive as always, like he’d made a rushed effort to appear respectable.

"what the hell are you doin’ here?" your voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and rising fury. "I told you not to come near me. Not again. I told you to never speak to me"

"Y/N…" he said, almost like a plea.

"Leave, Michael. I swear, you stay one more second and you’ll make it worse. Dad!" your voice rose as you turned back into the house.

"Wait," he said quickly, stepping forward, though not crossing the threshold. "Please, just…listen for a second. I’m not here to start anything. I’m just..."

You stopped, but your eyes burned.

Kaiser swallowed and looked down for a second, the hand holding the box tightening ever so slightly.

"I am not good at this," he admitted, voice low and steady, but vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before. "Hell, I’ve never been good at it. Never knew the right words, and when I did, they always came too damn late. You were right to be mad. I was wrong, and I was careless. I said things I shouldn’t have. Did things worse."

He finally looked at you, really looked at you.

"I don’t blame you for hating me, not after what happened. I hate myself plenty for it. And I ain’t askin’ you to forgive me. Not now. Maybe not ever. I just needed you to know…I’m sorry. Sincerely. I don’t expect that to fix what I broke, but it’s the only honest thing I got left to give."

He slowly held the box out to you.

"This…isn’t a bribe. It ain’t a trick. It’s just something I picked up, thinking maybe you’d like it. That’s all."

You stared at it, not moving at first. The box was beautiful, the ribbon tied too neatly for someone like him. Suspicion warred with something softer in your chest, and your brows furrowed.

You finally reached out and took it. The moment your fingers touched the box, your arms dipped downward.

"For the love of---what the hell is in this? Rocks?" you muttered.

Kaiser gave a faint chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching despite the heaviness in the air.

"Quality ain’t light, sweetheart," he murmured, then immediately regretted the familiar term and looked away. "Sorry. Habit."

You didn’t reply.

The weight of the box in your hands was nothing compared to the silence hanging between you both. You looked away, completely at a loss for words. Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came. There was nothing for you to apologize for.

"I…will get going. See you," he said, almost under his breath, before turning around.

"Bye…" you murmured, so quiet it barely reached the air behind him.

That wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you’d seen at the bar just a few days ago. There was no trace of that smug confidence, no heavy swagger. Just a tall, tired man with something you hadn’t seen in a long time, remorse. But beyond that, behind the eyes, behind the tension in his shoulders, you still saw the little boy you used to know. You didn’t want to think about that right now.

You turned back into the house, closed the door with a soft click, and looked down at the box still heavy in your arms.

"To my dearest Y/N," you read aloud from the small card tied to the ribbon. Your fingers brushed it once before tucking it against the lid.

Without letting your father hear the stairs creak beneath you, you made your way up to your room, step by quiet step. Once inside, you placed the box gently on your table, hands still unsure, then slowly pulled the ribbon loose.

You didn’t read the card first.

Instead, you lifted the lid and froze.

Shock hit you first.

Inside was a full set of art supplies. Not just a few scattered items, but a careful, curated collection. The canvas you had been saving up to buy today. Brushes, new ones, still bound in paper that matched the exact size and shape of the ones you needed most. A thick leather-bound sketchbooks that practically begged to be filled. Then your breath caught again.

A pair of earrings nestled in a small velvet pouch. Gold. Not plated. Real. Elegant, yet small enough to wear without drawing attention. You blinked.

Your gaze swept lower.

"Are you joking…?" you whispered as your fingers touched a pristine, untouched tin of Faber-Castell pencils. The real kind. Imported. The kind artists dreamed about but never got to hold in their hands.

And there, folded neatly at the bottom, was a single ribbon. Soft, sky-blue, with a delicate floral edge. You ran your fingers along it without thinking, unable to stop. The texture was smooth, almost like silk. So pointless and pretty. You couldn’t look away from it.

Your mouth had gone dry, but still you felt your focus pull in tighter and tighter. The longer you looked at everything, the harder it became to breathe evenly.

This was too much.

Far too much.

And somehow, exactly right. You finally looked over at the card, fingers hesitating only for a second before you opened it. The paper felt thick between your hands. And his handwriting, surprisingly, was beautiful. Elegant, almost aristocratic. A part of him you’d never seen before, like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

To my dearest Y/n,

I don’t know if you’ll ever want to read this, not after the way things ended between us today. Maybe you’ll tear it up. Maybe you’ll let it sit unread in a drawer somewhere until the ink fades and the corners yellow. But if there’s even the smallest chance that you’ll read it, then I have to write it, if only to stop myself from going mad.

It was stupid, all of it. The arguing, the way I snapped at you. I don’t even remember what lit the fuse, just the way the fire took hold and burned straight through us like dry brush in summer heat. You looked at me different after. Like you were done. Like you’d seen some part of me you didn’t recognize anymore.

And I hated that more than anything.

I’ve been carrying something heavy for a long time now, something I never dared lay down between us. I kept it hidden in my chest like a loaded gun, pointed inward. I figured if I never named it, it couldn’t ruin what we had. But maybe that was foolish. Maybe not saying it out loud is what ruined us instead.

Y/n, I think I’ve loved you since we were kids, long before either of us knew what love meant. You, with your grass-stained skirts and scraped-up elbows, telling me I was being reckless again. You, who always knew when to call me out, when to pull me back. You were the only one who ever looked at me like I wasn’t just wild trouble. You saw something good, even when I couldn’t.

Do you remember the time we raced down by the river, when the water was high and the wind near tore the hat off my head? You laughed so hard you could barely breathe, and I thought right then, God help me, I’d give anything to be the reason she laughs like that forever. I never said it. Never had the guts. And now I wonder if maybe I waited too long.

You were always meant for more than this dust town and the mess of boys who don’t know how to hold onto what matters. I was afraid of that. Afraid you’d outgrow me, leave me behind like boot prints in the dirt. So I kept my mouth shut and let the years pile up, thinking maybe someday I’d be enough.

But today proved I’m not. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know the truth before the silence between us sets in too deep. If this is the last thing I ever get to say to you, then let it be this:

I loved you before I even knew I was capable of it. I love you still, even now, with my pride cracked.

And if you never speak to me again, I’ll understand. But I’ll carry you with me, always, tucked into the spaces between all the things I never had the courage to say.

Yours, Michael Kaiser

You didn’t move. Not at first. You just sat there, the card resting on your thighs, the room silent save for the faint creaking of the old wood beneath your chair.

Your eyes had gone wide without realizing it.

Then, without any warning, a single tear traced its way down your cheek.

Your fingers loosened against the card as your gaze shifted toward the box beside you. You looked at it like it had changed, like the objects inside now meant something more than what they were.

"Michael…" you whispered.

You looked around the room, as if expecting someone to explain it to you. But no one came. And you didn’t know why.

You didn’t know why it hurt.

Or why it didn’t.

Not yet.

You stared back down at the card, unmoving.

It was hard to believe the same boy from your childhood, mud on his boots, reckless glint in his eye, always one bad decision ahead, was the one who wrote this. That’s what made it all the more difficult. That’s what turned your throat tight and your chest hollow.

Maybe that’s what made you feel like crying in the first place.

With a trembling breath, you folded the letter and stuffed it back into the box. You couldn’t deal with this right now. Not this. Not when the walls of your room suddenly felt too small, like they were closing in on you along with your thoughts.

You had no choice but to shove the box under your bed, out of sight. Maybe your father wouldn’t notice. Maybe you could pretend none of this ever happened, just long enough to breathe.

But the moment you stood up, your heart betrayed you.

No, you needed to see him.

Right now.

You didn’t care if it made sense. You didn’t care how badly he’d hurt you just days ago. All you knew was that if you didn’t see his face, hear his voice, something inside you might crack for good.

You bolted down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet as you made for the door.

But your father’s voice caught you like a rope pulling back.

"Y/n, can I talk to you?"

You blinked. "Hm?"

He was standing near the parlor with a faint look of concern etched into his brow. One hand rested on the back of the armchair, his shoulders stiff like he hadn’t quite figured out how to ask what he needed to.

"Just for a moment," he said, his tone gentle. "It won’t take long."

You stood still, torn between two kinds of weight, your past waiting behind you and your future galloping out the door ahead.

You swallowed.

"...Sure. What’s going on?"