💫 Lily of the valley - Ray of sunshine 🍎

"Oh, and another thing!"

You heard him laugh. "What's this other thing?"

You swiped through your camera roll, mouth opening to tell him all about it, but then you paused. Your thumb stilled over your screen.

You watched him for a second before you felt a felt an uncomfortable tug in your chest.

You were talking too much, weren't you?

Your eyes flicked over Caleb again, who was now moving something with his spatula.

Yeah, you were definitely talking too much.

Who cared about ladybugs or that cute heart-shaped leaves you found on the sidewalk earlier? It was such an irrelevant part of your day and you just wouldn't—

You pressed your lips together, phone going slack in your grip.

You should've stopped at the part where you mentioned that "older couple with the cute Dachshuns at the park" four minutes ago.

"Um, nothing, actually," you finally murmured, swiping out of your camera roll and scrolling through socials instead, decidedly done talking.

The silence stretched for a few seconds before Caleb looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed. "Nothing? Hellloo?? Did you get distracted again?" he asked. "I wanna know what your other thing was."

You didn't look up. Just shook your head. "It was really nothing."

"It was not 'nothing'," Caleb countered, flicking off the heat and turning around to face you fully, arms crossed. "Tell me what it was, Pips."

Your gaze flicked up. Barely. "Seriously, it's fine. It wasn't that important—"

"It's important to me," Caleb interrupted, taking a step toward the kitchen island where you were sitting. "I wanna know about your day." He took another step, his hands coming up on the edge of the marble now.

"Every single part of it. No matter how small." He paused, letting the words sink in. Then, more firmly, "So, tell me. What was that other thing? I won't finish cooking dinner until you spill."

You sighed. He was impossible. "C'mon. I honestly forgot."

"No, you c'mon." He reached out, poking your cheek. "I know you didn't forget."

You sighed. "Caleb—"

Before you could finish your sentence, your phone was floating out of your grip. Your eyes widened, trying to snatch your phone back, but it was too late. It was already in his waiting hand and of course, he knew your password.

"Mm'nope." He started scrolling through your phone, trying to find your camera roll. "And you never even showed me your ladybug. So, let's seee…"

"Caleb!" You lunged over the bar, aiming for your phone, but he held it just out of reach.

"Nuh-uh. You're gonna tell me every little thing while I look for this ladybug."

Zayne

Your schedule rarely lined up with Zayne's. It was a given; you were a hunter, he was a heart surgeon. It wasn't exactly easy to find free time together.

But on the rare occasion that you did, you spent the night at his, talking over take-out from that little place around the corner.

"—and she was telling me not go, but I was already there, so like, whatever," you mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I mean, how could I not go? People could've gotten hurt if I didn't intervene."

You still had a full box of food in your lap when Zayne stood up, and crossed the room to toss his plastic box in the trash.

The simple scene made you pause.

It made you realize that you'd barely touched your food, too busy talking. You hadn't even really noticed until Zayne stood up.

Zayne hummed in response to your story, slowly making his way back to you, sleeves rolled up to his arms, tie loose around his neck, eyes heavy with the exhaustion of the day.

He was tired.

He was tired and here you were, talking his ear off about your day.

You let out a small breath as he settled back in front of you.

"So… yeah." You quietly picked at your plate. "How was your day?"

Zayne blinked, brows giving the smallest twitch. "You… stopped."

You hesitated. Yes, you did, because if you didn't, you might never stop. It was both a blessing and a curse. But right now, you were leaning toward the latter.

"You usually have more to share," Zayne added, eyeing you carefully.

Your cheeks burned.

So, he noticed too, then—the way you talked too much. Or a lot—depended on who you asked.

The thought made something twist in your chest.

You glanced down at your food bowl, lips pressing into a thin line. "Not today. I wanna know about your day now."

That wasn't a lie. It just… wasn't exactly the full truth either.

Zayne was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, as if he was thinking. Then, with a shake of his head, he murmured, "I'd prefer to hear about your day."

You sighed. He was too nice sometimes.

"I've been talking for like, 30 minutes." You frowned at your own reminder. "Plus, I'm done."

Zayne let out a soft breath. "I know that's not true."

"Zayne… You just came back from a long day of work. I don't want to—" You trailed off, watching as Zayne grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips.

"Your voice calms me," he murmured, breath warm against your knuckles. "Listening to you talk isn't a burden. So, please keep going."

Sylus

The city life blurred past your window as Sylus drove the crowded streets, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh.

You were mid-story about something that probably wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you were making it out to be, gesturing wildly in the seat next to him.

His eyes occasionally flicked over, that signature smirk playing on his lips.

"So, I told her—"

Bzzt, bzzt!

A phone. Not yours.

Bzzt, bzzt!

Sylus frowned, glancing down at his screen. He sighed, something in his jaw ticking as he grudgingly drew his hand away from your thigh. "I have to take this, sweetie. Hold that thought, though."

You nodded, your gaze drifting back toward the window as he answered. You sat there listening to his voice and the low hum of the radio. And for a second, you were fine. You kept repeating the details of your story in your head so you wouldn't forget them when he got off the phone.

And then, you caught a glimpse of the time on the radio.

Crap.

Had you been talking that long?

Heat crawled up your neck.

He didn't even know half the people in your story. So, why were you still—?

You slumped slightly, propping your elbow on the armrest and resting your cheek in your palm.

After a minute, Sylus hung up and placed his phone in a small pocket in the center console. "Alright." He glanced over at you. "Sorry for the interruption. What were you saying, kitten?"

You barely looked at him. "What? Oh, um, I forgot."

Sylus raised a brow, hand finding your leg again. "You forgot? That's hard to believe." His eyes flicked back to the road, then to you, then back again. "You're lying," he stated, so matter of factly your cheeks flushed.

"Am not."

"Did the interruption sour your mood?" he questioned. "Should I have my phone on do not disturb from now on?"

You quickly sat upright. "No, no. I understand business—you had to take that call, I just—" You sighed. "I talk a lot."

Sylus laughed then. A low, rumbly laugh. "Don't be ridiculous." Before you could say anything, he continued, "You don't talk enough."

"What—? Sylus, I just talked for five minutes straight."

Sylus smiled fondly. "I don't think you understand, sweetie." He turned the car, pulling into an empty street before shifting it into park. He turned to you now, fully. "Your voice is the sweetest sound. I could listen to it forever."

You swallowed thickly as he leaned over the console, lips a hairsbreadth from yours. He looked at you, then slowly, he leaned in. His hand came up to cradle your head, holding you against him.

After a moment, he pulled back, smirking at the awed little look on your face. "Now, keep talking," he murmured. "I'm eager to know what you told this so-called 'Clara'."

Xavier

"She was so rude!" you ranted, fingers moving furiously over your keyboard. Xavier sat across from you at his desk, also typing. Definitely not as frantically as you though.

"Like, there's literal wanderers in the area? I'm sorry you've been waiting in line for an hour, but you have to leave."

You were supposed to be filing a report of what happened that evening on the field, but that stranger kept bursting into your thoughts. Because how the hell did someone have the audacity to get mad at you for trying to keep them safe?!

She could've died and she was busy throwing a fit over…—God, you didn't even remember what she was in line for anymore.

"I saved her!" you suddenly blurted. "And I tried to be nice—you know that, right?—That I'm nice?" You didn't give him a chance to respond. "But she was being so unreasonable! All 'no, I need to stay in line for my…' whatever the hell. Like, ma'am. You might die if you stay."

Xavier snorted, the sound finally making you look up. His eyes met yours briefly before they went back to his screen.

Shit.

How long have you been going on for? Way too long. That's for sure. You pressed your lips into a straight line, your uniform suddenly too tight. You typed slower.

"Anyway… that… yeah."

But Xavier looked up again, pausing. "That yeah? Why'd you stop?"

You kept your attention on your report. "What do you mean?"

"I want to hear what else she did." He waited a moment, leaning over so he could really look at you. "Well, I just want to hear you keep talking."

You frowned slightly. "That was the whole story." A lie. But it's fine. It was for his sake. And any other people in the office might've heard you. "Besides, I was being kinda… loud. And mean."

Xavier smiled fondly. "You're pretty when you're angry though."

Your eyes widened. "Xavier."

"It's true," he murmured, "You're pretty all the time. But when you're angry, it's a different type of pretty."

Your throat bobbed softly. "But weren't you like… annoyed at all? How long was I even ranting for?"

Xavier shrugged, his eyes flicking behind you toward someone walking by before going back to you. "I don't think you could ever annoy me. I want to keep listening to you." He shifted, his foot pressing against yours under the table. "Keep talking. Please?"

You stared, a small smile breaking cross your face. He wanted to keep listening. Like, actually wanted to hear you talk just for the sake of it.

"If anyone asks, I'm just helping with your report."

Rafayel

You were heated.

Or—okay, maybe heated was the wrong word—but you were definitely bothered. Why? One of your favorite shows was ruined. It was like the directors said "fuck it" and moved on.

You were animated, explaining to Rafayel bit by bit how it could've been better if the producers had ended it literally any other way.

"I just—" you sighed, sinking into his couch. "I don't get it. What made them think ending it like that would've been good?"

Rafayel sat in the center of the room, perched on a stool, a canvas in front of him. He peeked over the painting, brows pinched, like your frustration was his own. "Honestly."

You frowned at him. "You haven't even watched the show."

"No. But if you think it's dumb, then it definitely is. Simple."

Your lips twitched upward slightly. Just slightly. You were still on a rant though, mouth moving again as you told him what choices could've been made better, as if you had any directing experience whatsoever.

"And it got so repetitive! It just used the same tropes over and over, and—oh my god. You know what?" You leaned forward, looking at the back of the canvas as if you could see Rafayel through it. "We should watch it together. I want to hear alll your thoughts."

"Ugh. Watching a show that you've explicitly trashed on for ten straight minutes? No, thanks." His hand flicked over the panel. "I don't want my brain to rot."

You paused, blinking. Ten minutes? Is that how long you've been talking? No way.

You bit your lip, sinking back into the couch again.

After a stretch of silence, Rafayel suddenly looked over the canvas at you. "Did I say something wrong? Or—Don't tell me that's where the show ends." He pursed his lips into a light frown. "If that's it, it really is a crappy show," he huffed.

You tried smiling, but your mind was already reeling. Ten minutes, he said. Ten, uninterrupted minutes of you just complaining.

"Yep," you huffed. "That's where it ends. Pretty lame, huh."

"Very lame." He hums, stepping back from his canvas. "I hope you keep watching shitty shows though."

Your brows pinch together. "..Huh?"

Wordlessly, he gestured you over. So, you stood up from the couch and stepped over to him. You froze instantly. It was you. He was painting you, mid motion—hand up in a gesture that said "duh", mouth open (probably shit-talking), legs curled underneath you on his couch.

"You were painting me."

"Really? What made you think that? Was it the big painting of you on the canvas or…?"

You rolled your eyes. "So.. you liked my rant?"

Rafayel let out a soft breath. "Liked it? Look at it," he said, gesturing toward the canvas again. "You get so intense when you're talking, I can't help but get inspired."

He smiled at you before leaning in pressing a quick peck to your temple. "I like listening to you get passionate, even when it's about something you hate."