Rain, Flowers, and Tender Hearts Ch.1 -Ray x MC
Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Mystic Messenger fandom with yet another Ray fanfic. (I hope this fandom isn't dead <3) This was meant to be a oneshot BUT I simply couldn't help myself and um I may or may not have written a few parts of extensive fluff, angst, and smut that need some heavy editing. Anywayyyy buckle up pookies, heres chapter one
Synopsis: Consumed by suffocating self-loathing and bound by his role as a mere developer, Ray believes he is nothing more than a broken tool undeserving of warmth. But when MC, the bright, trusting player of his 'game' steps into the freezing rain to gently shield him, the rules of his darkness begin to unravel. Tags: YEARNINGGG, MALE YEARNIG ALERT (very fluffy and cutsie), Ray is a marshmallow cutie patootie as always, some self deprecating bcs its Ray, slow-burn touches, nervous and shy teehee Word Count: 6.8k
Chapter One
The sky tore itself open to weep a steady torrent of ice, shattering against the unyielding cobblestones with the deafening crackle of a dead radio channel. There was no rhythm to the storm, only a relentless, punishing assault on the delicate petals of the outer courtyard.
Ray stood motionless in the center of the deluge.
He was a ghost anchored to the mud. The heavy fabric of his magenta suit, his uniform, his brand, his collar, was soaked through, clinging to his slender frame like a second skin and leeching the residual warmth from his marrow. It pulled at his shoulders. A sodden, suffocating weight. It mirrored the invisible chains wrapped tightly around his lungs, the digital tethers that bound him to the servers humming beneath their feet. Water sloughed off his white hair, tracing the sharp, pale angles of his face before dripping from his chin to join the rising flood below.
He didn't care about the cold. The numbness was a familiar friend. It was safe. It asked for nothing.
He only cared about the blue delphiniums.
They bowed under the violent weight of the downpour, slender stems vibrating with sheer strain. Close to snapping. He reached out, his pale fingers cutting through the freezing air to cup a cluster of bruised petals. The velvet texture was slick. Ruined.
A hollow cavity expanded beneath his ribs. He was exactly like them. Pliable. Rooted in toxic soil, desperate to hold on while the sky tried to wash him away entirely. A fragile thing waiting for the inevitable snap.
If he were stronger, he could protect them. The oily whisper of his own worthlessness coiled tight around his windpipe. It was the same voice that echoed in the dark corners of the server room. Defective. Replaceable. If he were better, he wouldn't have to trap her here.
A static shock spiked through his freezing veins. MC. She had been in this facility for only a few days, diligently testing his "game," smiling at him with bright, trusting eyes. Eyes that looked at him as if he were a person. As if a soul resided beneath his ribs instead of a rusted motherboard. She didn't know the rot festering beneath the polished marble floors of Mint Eye. She didn't know the screams trapped within the soundproofed walls, the encrypted chains binding the network, the sheer, crushing volume of lies required to keep her locked safely inside her assigned suite.
She didn't know the sweet, smiling developer who delivered her meals was a hollow vessel built solely for utility and obedience.
What would she say if she saw the rot? What would she do if she knew how violently he wanted to lock the heavy iron doors of this compound and swallow the key, just so she would never look at another living creature again? The greed inside him was a breathing thing. It clawed at the walls of his stomach, begging to consume her light until there was nothing left for the rest of the world.
"Ray?"
He flinched.
The voice was soft, barely a ribbon of sound cutting through the tempest, but to him, it was louder than a thunderclap. It shattered his dark reverie.
He turned. Water sloughed into his eyes, blinding him for a fraction of a second.
MC stood at the edge of the stone pathway, clutching the plastic handle of a clear umbrella. She was out of breath. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow hits, brow furrowed in a way that made his stomach twist in a sickening, wonderful knot. She was looking at him. Not the Savior. Not the believers. Him.
"Ah..." Ray forced his blue-tinged lips to curve upwards. The default expression snapped into place with the sickening efficiency of a loaded spring. A sweet, harmless smile stretched tight over his frozen skin. His voice shook uncontrollably, the tremor betraying the plummeting temperature of his core. "MC. What are you doing out here? The weather... it isn't very accommodating today. You should be in your room. Where it's warm."
She didn't nod, turn around, and obey the developer's gentle suggestion, but stepped off the manicured stone path and into the flooding mud.
Her boots squelched against the ruined earth as she closed the distance. Panic flared hot and bright behind his ribs. No. Don't look at me like this. Don't ruin your shoes for me. Before he could step back, before he could command her not to soil her clean clothes for someone utterly worthless, the shadow of the clear umbrella fell over him.
The world shifted on its axis. The deafening roar of the rain abruptly muted to a steady, rhythmic patter against the stretched plastic above his head. The sudden shelter was intensely intimate. Claustrophobic. Breathtaking.
"You're soaking wet," she said.
No judgment. No disgust at his pathetic, drenched state. Only a raw concern that made his breath hitch painfully in his throat.
"You're going to catch a cold standing out here like this."
"I... I was just..." Ray looked down at his trembling hands, suddenly aware of his ruined appearance. He saw himself through the lens of her pristine eyes; a shivering mess. A broken boy standing in the dirt. "The flowers. The rain is too heavy. I thought if I stayed here, maybe I could shield them a little. But I'm too small. I'm useless even at that."
He squeezed his eyes shut. He braced himself for the correction. He waited for her to laugh, to call him foolish for leaving his station unattended over a few dying weeds. To remind him of his place at the bottom of the hierarchy. That was what he deserved.
But the world fell away as a sudden heat hit his cheek.
Ray’s eyes flew open.
MC had reached out with her free hand. Her soft palm rested against his freezing skin. The contrast was so sharp it made his vision swim. The heat radiating from her fingertips burned through the ice in his veins. She smelled like clean linens and the sweet tea he had brewed for her that very morning.
"You aren't useless," she said softly. Her thumb shifted, brushing away a streak of cold rainwater that had settled under his eye. "You have such a kind heart, Ray. But you have to take care of yourself, too."
Kind? Me? His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone. He was a monster. Still, he leaned into her touch like a starved animal given its first taste of honey.
"MC..." he breathed. His voice cracked into a pathetic, broken rasp as he raised his own trembling hand. He hesitated for an agonising second, terrified his touch would contaminate her, before wrapping his cold fingers over her wrist to hold her hand in place against his cheek. "Are you... really worrying about me? Someone like me?"
"Of course I am." Her eyes, wide and earnest. No hesitation. No deceit. "I don't like seeing you sad. Or freezing."
An ache spread through his chest, melting the thick sheets of ice that had settled over his lungs. She was looking at him. Just him. Not the obedient disciple, not the brilliant hacker, but Ray. It was intoxicating.
If he let himself drown in this impossible warmth, what would happen when she inevitably realized the truth? What would happen when she finally saw the iron bars of the cage he was dragging her down into?
"I'm sorry," he whispered. A watery smile finally broke through the artificial mask. He took a hesitant step closer, invading her space beneath the umbrella, entirely unable to stop himself from chasing her gravity. "I'm so sorry for making you worry. You're... you're an angel, MC. You're the most beautiful thing in this entire garden."
He didn't look at the dying delphiniums anymore.
As he stood there in the filthy mud, shivering under the small plastic dome, holding onto her delicate wrist as if letting go would trigger the end of the world, he knew with absolute certainty that he would do absolutely anything to keep her looking at him like that forever.
He knew MC felt the violent tremor traveling through his slender frame. The cold radiated off the soaked fabric of his magenta suit, seeping into the narrow pocket of air between them. His grip on her wrist was achingly fragile, his long, pale fingers feeling like solid ice against her flushed skin.
He stared at her with wide eyes, looking more like a terrified child than the competent, smiling developer who had been testing the game with her. MC rotated her wrist, slipping her soft palm away from his cheek. The instant the connection severed, she felt him tense violently. His breath hitched, a soft sound of panic, but before he could pull his hands away in shame, before he could stammer out another breathless apology, she slid her hand down and threaded her warm fingers through his shivering ones.
Ray gave a sharp gasp.
He stared down at their joined hands as if he had never seen anything like it before in his entire life. His chest heaved with jagged breaths. His mind struggled to process the incoming data: a touch freely given. A grip meant to hold, not to drag.
"Let's go inside," MC murmured. Her voice was remarkably steady as she gave his hand an encouraging tug. "You can't stay out in the mud, Ray."
For a fraction of a second, he resisted. His wet boots remained planted firmly in the earth. He stood rooted, emulating the broken flowers bowing under the storm beside them. He belonged out here. In the cold. In the dirt. It was his assigned place.
Then, with a slow, defeated exhale that shuddered through his entire frame, he yielded.
MC led him away from the ruined garden. Their boots squelched softly on the flooded pathway, a wet, rhythmic metronome accompanying their slow retreat. She kept the umbrella angled carefully, tilting the dome over his damp hair to shield him from the relentless downpour, taking the brunt of the mist against her own shoulder until they finally crossed the threshold into the building.
The abrupt transition from the violent courtyard to the dry corridors of the facility was jarring. The silence inside was thick. Oppressive. She closed the umbrella, the mechanism clicking loudly in the empty hall, and leaned it against the wall.
She purposefully did not let go of his hand.
Ray followed her in a daze. His gaze locked rigidly onto the pristine marble floor. He moved like a shadow, entirely submissive to her gentle pulling as she guided him toward the sleek metal elevators. He watched her press the button to take them up to her assigned floor. He did not speak. He barely breathed. He was afraid that exhaling too loudly would shatter the illusion and send him waking up at his desk.
When the heavy doors to her private room clicked shut behind them, sealing away the rest of the sprawling building and the storm outside, an isolating silence settled over the space. The welcoming scent of clean linens and the sweet tea he had brewed for her lingered in the stagnant air. It smelled like her. Safe. Ray stood awkwardly near the center of the room.
Water dripped steadily from the hem of his ruined suit, pooling onto the expensive hardwood. Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound was agonizingly loud. He didn't seem to notice the mess he was making, the physical evidence of his contamination spreading across her sanctuary. His attention remained fixated on her hand, which was still tightly gripping his. He stared at their interwoven fingers as if he truly believed that the exact moment she let go, the fragile illusion of her care would vanish into the ether.
The silence stretched.
MC watched the rapid, panicked rise and fall of his chest. She could feel the frantic, bird-like pulse of his heartbeat echoing through their joined fingers. He looked entirely out of place in her room. A phantom dragged from the storm, shivering uncontrollably.
Why is he so terrified of a little kindness? The question tugged painfully at her mind as she studied his hunched posture.
"Ray," MC said gently.
He blinked rapidly, finally tearing his wide eyes away from their hands to look up at her. His drenched hair clung in messy spikes to his forehead, framing a face that was devastatingly, sickly pale.
"Y-Yes?" His voice was a thin, trembling wire. "Are you... are you angry about the floor? I can clean it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come in here--"
"I don't care about the floor," she said. Her tone left no room for argument. She gave his freezing fingers one last reassuring, firm squeeze before carefully pulling her hand away.
His breath hitched as his fingers curled inward, making a loose fist, instinctively chasing the fading ghost of her warmth against his icy palm.
"I'm just going to get you a towel," MC said, taking a step back toward the en-suite bathroom. "Stay right there."
He simply nodded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. His hands gripped his own shoulders as if trying to hold his fracturing body together.
When MC returned a moment later with a thick, dry towel, Ray hadn't moved a single inch. He stood in the exact same spot, obedient to a fault, water steadily expanding the puddle at his feet.
She stepped back into his personal space, raising the towel to drape it atop his head. Her heart twisted into a sickening knot as his shoulders hiked up to his ears, but despite whatever harshness he clearly expected, she began to dry his hair with slow motions.
"You have to take off the jacket," MC murmured. She rubbed the rough terrycloth gently against his scalp to generate friction. "The fabric is just going to keep you freezing."
"I..." Ray opened his eyes, peering up at her from beneath the fringe of the towel. The mint-green of his irises swirled with a chaotic mix of fear and disbelief. Why was she doing this? "You are so good to me, MC. Too good. I don't... I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything," she replied softly. She paused her rubbing motions to cup the sides of his towel-wrapped head. Her warm palms pressed over his ears, forcing him to meet her steady gaze. "Just let me help you get warm."
He leaned into the pressure of her hands.
For a fleeting, impossible second, he allowed himself to exist solely in that heat. The Savior, the elixir, the endless lines of code, it all seemed to mingle and dissolve in her warmth. It was a dancing thread that wrapped around his exhausted mind, lulling him into a profound, hypnotic peace. But then, the thread unraveled. It twisted into a spiked collar that yanked tight around his throat. You are leaving your post. The system is unmonitored. You are useless.
Ray jerked backward. The erratic movement sent the towel slipping from his damp hair, tumbling down to pool around his shoulders.
"I--I have to go back," he stammered.
The tremor returned, completely overwhelming his vocal cords. This time, it was driven by a spiking panic rather than the physical cold. He scrambled backward, wet boots slipping slightly on the wood, putting desperate distance between himself and her comforting reach.
MC let her hands fall to her sides. A frown of concern creased her brow at the sudden shift. "Ray? You're still shivering. You haven't even taken off your jacket."
"It doesn't matter!" he blurted out. His volume rose sharply before he caught himself, shrinking inward, terrified of his own voice.
His eyes darted erratically around the room, tracking invisible threats, landing anywhere but on her face. "The... the game. The network. I've been away from my terminal for too long. If I don't monitor the system, there could be a bug. The messenger might crash, and then... then you won't be able to play. You'll think I'm a terrible developer."
He began to tug anxiously at the hem of his soaked magenta suit. His freezing fingers were clumsy and uncoordinated against the heavy fabric. His breathing grew shallow and rapid. Jagged breaths that offered no oxygen.
"I have to show that I'm useful," he whispered to the floor. The words tumbled out of him in a frantic rush. "If I don't work, I'm nothing. I have to make sure everything is perfect for you, MC. I have to keep coding. Please... don't look at me like that. I need to get back to my computers."
Without waiting for her to argue, he turned toward the heavy doors.
His boots squelched against the floorboards as he practically fled toward the exit. But before his hand could even brush against the brass handle, MC stepped forward. She firmly caught his wrist. Her warm fingers slid down with ease to tightly envelop his trembling hand once more. The sudden contact stopped him dead in his tracks. The spiralling rush of his words abruptly died in his throat, choking off into a pathetic whimper.
"Ray, wait," MC said. Her voice was a steady resolute.
He didn't fight her grip, but his shoulders remained rigid. Locked with tension beneath the sodden fabric. He kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on the intricate wooden panels of the door, terrified to turn his head and see the disappointment he was certain resided in her eyes.
"MC, please... you don't understand. If I don't work, I'm nothing." His voice was a fragile whisper. "I have to keep coding."
"The coding can wait," MC replied, her tone brooking no argument.
She moved closer, stepping into his line of sight so he could no longer hide his face. She squeezed his cold fingers, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles into the back of his hand. "I don't need a perfect developer. I just need you to be okay."
Ray finally looked at her. His eyes were wide and shimmering with a thick layer of unshed tears. The iron-clad certainty in his mind, the programming that dictated he had to perform perfectly or face scrutiny, seemed to fracture under the weight of her gaze.
"You don't have to earn the right to be warm," she murmured. She pulled gently on his hand, a slow, insistent pressure guiding him away from the exit. "You don't have to prove you are useful. Let me just take care of you for a little while."
The rigid tension began to drain from his slender frame, seeping out of him like the rainwater from his clothes. Defeated by an algorithm he couldn't counter, Ray gave a small, shaky nod. He allowed her to lead him back from the precipice of his panic.
With the immediate threat of flight subdued, MC stepped back just enough to create a safe pocket of space between them. She purposefully did not let go of his hand as she led him slowly across the expanse of the room until the backs of his knees hit the soft edge of her mattress. He sank down onto the bed without a single word. His movements were stiff, hesitant. He half-expected the mattress to reject his contaminated weight.
Now that he was safely seated, MC reached forward. Her fingers grasped the wide lapels of his ruined jacket. The heavy fabric acted like a sponge, radiating a freezing cold that immediately seeped into her own skin. She gave the lapels a firm tug, a command for him to shed the sodden layer.
His pale, shivering fingers rose to clumsily assist her. He shrugged his shoulders, peeling off the ruined suit jacket, letting the heavy garment drop to the floorboards with a wet thud.
Beneath it, his white dress shirt fared no better. The translucent material clung completely to his torso, doing absolutely nothing to preserve his plummeting body heat. He wrapped his long arms around his waist, shivering as the comparatively cool, air-conditioned musk of the room hit his damp skin through the thin cotton.
"You're going to make yourself sick if you stay in that shirt," MC murmured. Her gaze lingered on his frame before peeling away to pick up the thick, dry towel that had previously slipped from his shoulders. "Can you take it off?"
Ray’s breath hitched. A furious blush rushed to his cheeks, painting a stark contrast against his devastatingly pale face. He looked down at his lap. To strip down here? In front of her?
"I... yes. I can."
He reached for the top button of his shirt, but his fine motor skills had completely deteriorated. His hands trembled far too much to manage the slippery plastic closures.
After watching him fumble fruitlessly for several agonizing seconds, his frustration visibly mounting, MC swatted his hands away. "Let me."
His breath caught painfully in his throat as her warm fingers deftly worked the buttons free, slipping them through the wet holes one by one. The brush of her knuckles against his chest sent lightning down his spine. She peeled the damp fabric away from his skin, tossing it aside onto the pile before draping the large towel securely over his bare shoulders.
She sat down next to him on the mattress, shifting closer until the fabric of their knees brushed.
Taking the thick edges of the towel in her hands, she began to briskly rub his arms and back, generating much-needed friction to combat the hypothermia. The rough terrycloth scratching against his skin, combined with the rhythmic, caring pressure of her hands, slowly coaxed the rigid tension out of his frozen muscles.
"MC..." he whispered, his voice impossibly small. It was muffled slightly as he bowed his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes. "You shouldn't be doing this for me. You're the guest... I should be the one taking care of you."
"It's not a transaction, Ray," she replied. She reached up with a dry corner of the towel to gently dry his hair, massaging his scalp with soft motions. "I want to do this. I want you to be warm."
He closed his eyes, melting into the sensation. The suffocating words that usually screamed in his mind like static on a broken television were finally rendering quiet, overwritten by the simple action of her sitting beside him, keeping the cold away. The steady rhythm of the towel became a hypnotic lullaby, pulling Ray further away from the storm raging outside the window. The tremor that had traveled through his frame subsided into occasional, shallow shudders. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, leaning his weight incrementally into her side.
"There," MC said softly.
She lowered the towel, ensuring it remained securely draped over his shoulders. Her hands lingered for an agonizing moment, smoothing the terrycloth over the sharp jut of his collarbones. "Are you feeling a little better?"
Ray nodded, though he didn't pull away. He shifted his hands from his lap. His pale fingers hesitated in the air before resting incredibly lightly against the fabric of her skirt.
"Much better," he murmured, his voice fragile and raspy. "It's... it's so quiet in here. I can barely hear the rain."
"Good. You don't need to think about the storm right now."
MC stood up slowly. The loss of her touch caused him to reach out, his hand grasping empty air for a fraction of a second before he caught himself and pulled his arm back. She offered a reassuring smile. "I'm just going to hang up your clothes in the en-suite so they can dry. I'll be right back."
Ray watched her bend down to retrieve the ruined suit jacket and clinging dress shirt from the floorboards. A sharp pang of guilt pierced through the warm haze in his mind. He was making her clean up his mess. A guest, doing menial chores for a developer. It went against everything he had been programmed to do, everything he desperately needed to prove to secure his existence.
But she smiled at me, he thought, pulling the edges of the towel tighter around his chest. She touched my face. She doesn't look at me like I'm a failure.
When MC returned from the bathroom, she reached across the bed and grabbed the edge of the thick comforter, pulling back the heavy duvet. "Come on," she said, patting the soft sheets. "Get under the covers. You still feel like ice."
Ray blinked, a residual trace of panic flaring momentarily in his eyes. His mind scrambled for the rules. "In... in your bed? But MC, my clothes are gone, and I'm--I'm not clean, I was stepping in the mud--"
"You're freezing, Ray," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I'm not taking no for an answer."
The authority in her voice made his heart flutter wildly against his ribs. He obeyed without another word, sliding his legs beneath the blankets while keeping the large towel wrapped tightly over his shoulders.
MC sat down on the edge of the bed near his waist, resting her hand over the heavy duvet right where his arm lay hidden beneath the covers. "See? Isn't this nicer than standing out in the outer courtyard?"
"It's heaven," Ray whispered.
He turned his head on the plush pillow. His wide, earnest eyes locked onto hers, stripping away every mask he had ever worn. "You're heaven. I... I wish I could pause time right now, MC. I wish I could keep you right here, just like this, so you never have to see the rest of the world again."
MC sat perfectly still.
His words were beautiful on the surface, poetic and devoted, yet laced with an isolating possessiveness that made her chest ache with pity. His belief that the only way to keep something safe, the only way to ensure it wouldn't be taken away, was to lock it away from the rest of the world had her eyes wrinkle at the edges. Her voice came soft and gentle.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ray."
He turned his head on the pillow. Merely looking at her from the isolation of the mattress seemingly wasn't enough for him anymore. The distance was intolerable.
With a slow, hesitant shuffle, testing the boundaries of her permission, he shifted closer. He dragged the heavy duvet with him. Before she could ask what he was doing, he closed the remaining distance and pillowed his cheek against her thighs, resting the heavy weight of his head in her lap. For someone who had just been utterly terrified of dirtying her floorboards, he knew he was testing his luck.
"Please stay with me," he whispered, his voice muffled against her leg. "Just... just until the rain stops. Or forever. I won't ask for anything else, MC. I promise I'll be good. I'll be the best developer for you."
He curled his body inward beneath the blankets, pulling his knees up to his chest in a fetal position to make himself smaller.
MC looked down at the boy resting in her lap. Her heart twisted as she took in the fragile way his pale fingers maintained a desperate, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the covers. The faint, purplish shadows of sleep deprivation bruising the delicate, translucent skin beneath his closed eyes. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as the ambient warmth of the bed finally began to thaw the ice in his blood.
She slowly lifted her hand and let it rest gently atop his head. Her fingers threaded into his damp hair, continuing the deliberate, soothing motions she had used with the towel. The soft linens enveloped him in the faint scent of the sweet tea he had brewed that morning, mingling now with the fresh, crisp smell of the rainwater he had brought inside on his skin.
Ray let out a long, shuddering sigh. He leaned his weight completely, trustingly into the soft pressure of her hand. The steady, peaceful rhythm of his breathing filled the quiet room.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Outside, the downpour had settled into a muffled, persistent drumming against the glass pane. Ray kept his eyes tightly shut, focusing entirely on the tug of her fingers threading into his hair. Every slow stroke sent a shiver of pure warmth down his spine. It was a feeling so entirely foreign, so completely undeserved, that it made his throat ache with the urge to cry. He was nothing but a broken tool. A monster playing pretend in a sick, twisted game. Yet she was holding him as if he were something precious.
"MC...?" he whispered. A cracked sound, breaking the fragile silence.
"I'm here," she answered, her thumb dropping to gently brush against his temple. "Try to rest, Ray."
"How long...?" he breathed, his voice trembling as he forced the words out. He opened his eyes, peering up at her through the wet fringe of his white hair. "How long am I allowed to stay like this? Before you send me away?"
The question hung heavily in the warm air. He braced his muscles. He waited for her to look away, to check the digital clock on the bedside table, to give him a strict time limit. He waited for her to remind him that he had to go back to his glaring terminal eventually to monitor the system. To serve his purpose.
Her hand paused in his hair, yet she didn't look at the clock. She only looked at him.
"As long as you want, Ray," she said. "Until the rain stops. Or even after."
He squeezed his eyes shut again, burying his face deeper into the heavy duvet to hide his breaking expression. He tried to hide the muffled sound of the choked gasp that escaped his lips, but even then, he knew MC could feel the slight shudder traveling through his shoulders.
He shifted his weight, turning his face inward until his forehead rested fully against the curve of her stomach. The fresh smell of the rainwater clung to him like a fading memory, slowly being replaced by her grounding warmth. Slowly, MC resumed the repetitive motion of her hand, her fingers threading back into his hair.
Ray let out a long, shaky breath. He carefully uncurled one of his hands from its desperate grip on the edge of the covers. With agonizing hesitation, moving as if expecting to be struck, he reached up. His pale, shivering fingers hovered just inches from her waist for a long second before finally settling gently against the fabric of her skirt.
It was a devastatingly small gesture, a microscopic touch. Yet for him, it felt like a monumental leap of faith.
"MC..." His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and incredibly thick with unshed tears. "If this is a dream... if the network crashes and I wake up back in the cold... please don't let me forget this. Don't let me forget what it feels like to be held."
A sharp ache bloomed in MC's chest. She leaned down, closing the remaining distance between them, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of his damp hair.
"It's not a dream, Ray," she whispered. "I'm real. This is real."
His fingers tightened slightly against her waist as he pulled himself just a fraction closer. For now, the storm outside did not matter. The echo of her kiss sent a cascading wave of warmth down to his very fingertips. Ray had never known a touch that asked for absolutely nothing in return. Every interaction he had ever experienced in his entire life was a transaction, a cruel test of his utility, a measure of how well he could serve. Yet here, wrapped safely in the heavy duvet and shielded from the storm outside, the fundamental rules were unraveling.
He wept quietly. The sound of his small, fractured sobs was muffled entirely by the fabric of her skirt. He did not cry with the violent, hyperventilating panic that usually accompanied his failures at the terminal. The suffocating fortress in his chest was cracking, weeping out of him in hot, silent tears that soaked deeply into the cotton of MC’s clothes.
MC did not shush him. She did not tell him to be a man, or to stop being so pathetic. She did not demand he dry his eyes and return to work. She let him fall apart in the absolute safety of her lap, her thumb occasionally dropping to brush away the moisture gathering at the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry," he managed to choke out. He tried to pull his face away, suddenly intensely ashamed of the wet spot he was leaving on her skirt. "I'm ruining your clothes. I'm making a mess of everything again."
"You aren't ruining anything," MC murmured. Her voice carried easily through the quiet room. She shifted her hands, cupping the sides of his face just as she had done when she dried his hair earlier, and guided his face back down to rest against her thighs, refusing to let him hide. "You must have been holding onto so much for so long."
Minutes bled into one another.
The persistent drumming against the glass served as a natural metronome to the gradual slowing of his erratic heartbeat. The exhaustion that had settled deeply into his bones began to heavily drag at his consciousness.
"MC?" he whispered, his cheek still pillowed against her thighs. He kept his eyes closed, terrified that looking at her would break the spell.
"I'm still here."
"Why... why are you so kind to me?" His voice trembled violently, the question torn from the deepest, most agonizingly insecure part of his soul. "I'm just a developer. I'm not... I'm not special. I'm nothing but a broken tool. If you knew... if you really knew how dark it is inside my head, you wouldn't be holding me. You would be terrified of me."
For a terrifying, heart-stopping second, Ray thought he had ruined it. He had pushed too far. He had confessed too much of his ugliness, and now she was going to push him away in disgust and demand he return to the cold corridors of the building.
The matress shifted as she slid her legs out from beneath him with careful, deliberate movements, causing a spike of panic to flare in his chest until she immediately laid down beside him on the sheets. She pulled the heavy duvet over both of them, completely closing the distance until they were facing each other in the dim, grey light of the room.
She was so close. He could see the individual lashes framing her eyes, the soft curve of her lips, the apprehension radiating from her.
"You are not a broken tool," MC said. She reached across the small space between them, her warm fingers finding his icy hand resting on the mattress. She intertwined them securely, anchoring him to her. "You are a person, Ray. And you have the kindest, most beautiful heart of anyone I have ever met. I'm not afraid of your dark thoughts. Everyone has shadows. I have shadows, and desires, and needs."
"Not like mine," he argued weakly. His thumb unconsciously began stroking the back of her hand. "My shadows... they want to consume everything. They want to trap you here. I get so jealous, MC. When you talk to the characters in the game... when you smile at their messages... it makes me want to delete their code entirely. It makes me want to be the only thing you ever see."
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing his muscles, waiting for the disgust to wash over her face. He had confessed his greatest sin. His overwhelming possessiveness. He wanted to own her.
"Then look at me," she whispered.
Ray’s breath hitched. He slowly opened his eyes. MC had moved closer, her forehead resting gently against his. The physical intimacy was dizzying.
"I'm looking at you, Ray," she murmured, their noses barely brushing. "I'm right here. I'm not looking at the messenger. I'm not looking at the AIs. I'm looking at the man who stood in the freezing rain because he wanted to protect the flowers. I'm looking at the man who brewed me sweet tea this morning."
"Thank you," he breathed through her skin, his voice cracking. "Thank you for looking at me."
The tremor that had previously traveled through his slender frame was entirely gone, replaced by the limp weight of complete relaxation. She studied his face in the dimming light. The faint, purplish shadows of sleep deprivation bruising the delicate skin beneath his closed eyes seemed starker now that his pale skin had regained some of its natural colour from the warmth of the bed.
He had been pushing himself to the absolute brink for her, monitoring the system tirelessly to ensure her happiness, completely neglecting his own basic needs for sleep, food, and warmth.
"When was the last time you slept, Ray?" she asked quietly, her fingers lightly tracing the sharp line of his knuckles.
He hummed, a low, contented sound vibrating in his chest. "I don't know," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly. "A few days. Maybe more. Sleeping is a waste of time... I have to make sure the network doesn't crash. I have to be useful."
"You are going to sleep now," she commanded gently.
"No..." He forced his heavy eyelids open, fighting a losing battle against gravity. "If I sleep... I might wake up alone. I want to stay awake. I want to feel this for as long as I can."
"You won't wake up alone," MC promised. She shifted her free arm, wrapping it securely around his torso, pulling his frame flush against her. "I'll be right here when you open your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."
His breathing was impossibly shallow, as if to pretend he didn't exist. He let out a long, shuddering sigh as MC lay there for a long time, listening to the rain drumming against the windowpane and the quiet, steady beating of this heart.
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hii pooks u finished the first chapter, next one's a lil freaky sorry not sorry teehee <3
