Hailey

Michael 2 has finally been released in theaters and the press tour is just really starting to pick up. The last few days have been packed with red carpet appearances, interviews, photo shoots, morning shows, even more interviews. Just yesterday, you had an entire day dedicated solely to interviews, which you've never done before, especially not so many in a row.

You love every second of it. After all, this is what you have always dreamed of; a radiant, rising star on the path to success. Little you would be incredibly proud, and you, in turn, are proud that you were able to make that little girl's dreams come true and that you are well on your way to becoming something far greater than you ever dared to dream.

One reason you love all of this so much is definitely your cast members. Every interview allows you to get to know them anew and from a different side, even though you saw each other daily for months. Your face hurt from all the grinning and laughing during interviews yesterday when you had to collectively decide on your favourite Michael Jackson song. Colman, Nia, Juliano and especially Jaafar make this whole experience to what it is.

The fact that sparks are flying between you and Jaafar could potentially also be a reason why you're enjoying it so much.

Officially, you are co-stars. You are not in a relationship, but the numerous dates you've already been on (which have garnered considerable interest from the press) speak for themselves. Unofficially, you are more than just co-stars, yet neither of you is ready to take things public, especially not during such a stressful time. However, the feelings you harbour for one another are rather difficult to conceal, which is why rumours have already begun to circulate.

And the fact that you are playing none other than Lisa Marie Presley in the second installment of this global blockbuster certainly doesn't help to quell those rumours; if anything, it only fuels them. And the public hasn't even really seen your scenes together yet.

The sparks are burning hot, on and off screen.

You catch yourself looking at him, staring a little too long for your own good. There were several moments already when you thought to yourself that the press was going to have an absolute field day with it. Somehow, you get the feeling that this interview isn't going to help hide the obvious tension between the two of you. After all, it's the first interview featuring just you and Jaafar. Colman and Nia will be interviewed later on.

Speaking of which, as soon as you enter the room, the producer approaches you both with a smile and greets you.

"We're so glad you're here", she says and begins to explain the interview's format though you don't really need the explanation since you've watched just about every single one of them.

"We're going to ask you some of the internet's most burning questions", she explains and you look over at Jaafar beside you, who nods shyly and smiles back. You know that expression all too well, he is simultaneously nervous and excited. Even though he is already accustomed to it from the first film, it's still thrilling every single time.

Even more thrilling when you're the one at his side and he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand or looking at you for too long.

The producer motions for you to take a seat on the two chairs positioned in front of a white background. Jaafar lets you choose and then sits on the chair to your right.

"This is so exciting!", you say in awe, looking around with interest as you try to catch a quick glimpse of the familiar boards.

Jaafar, on his part, only has eyes for you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always makes you melt. "What?", you ask softly, smiling, doing your best not to blush.

"Nothing. It's just so sweet how excited you are", he whispers, resting his arm on the armrest in such a way that your hands brush against each other in the space between you. Subtly, he hooks his little finger around yours, a gesture that makes you grin.

When the producer suddenly announces that they are ready to begin, you sit up straight as if struck and let go of Jaafar’s finger. However, the producer’s gaze along with her knowing smile tells you that she definitely saw it. You glance down at yourself and smooth out your clothes, ensuring everything is in place for the interview. A man steps in front of the cameras, holding a clapperboard, and snaps it shut. The sound is music to your ears; for both you and Jaafar, it serves as a cue to slip into your professional roles as actors.

"Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N", you wave at the camera and smile sweetly.

"I'm Jaafar Jackson", he introduces himself, also waving to an invisible audience behind the camera.

"And today we're going to do the Wired Autocomplete Interview!", you both say in unison and not a second later, Jaafar is already handed the first board.

"What is Jaafar Jackson?", he reads out the search bar at the top and you can clearly see that he's not yet sure what to think about this interview. It's definitely different from the ones you've done before and he doesn't know what to expect.

"Yeah, what even is Jaafar Jackson?", you giggle teasingly, looking directly into the camera. Jaafar joins in your giggling and then reveals the first question by peeling off the white strip, holding the board between the two of you so you can both see it.

"What is Jaafar Jackson known for?", he reads out, obviously surprised these Google searches aren't as messy as he thought. "I'd say I'm best known for my portrayal of my uncle, Michael Jackson, in his biopic."

"Which is still insane when you say it out loud like that!", you laugh, waiting eagerly for him to reveal the next question.

"What is.. Jaafar Jackson's relationship with Michael Jackson?", he laughs a bit as he basically just answered that question already. "I'm Michael's nephew. My father, Jermaine, is one of his brothers."

"Did you spend a lot of time with him?", the producer suddenly asks from behind the camera as Jaafar was about to move onto the next question. He lowers the board onto his lap, lightly tapping on it with one hand while he puts the other one on his jaw in deep thinking.

"Not as much as I would've liked, to be honest. He was the King of Pop and even though he always took time for his family, it still wasn't a lot", Jaafar starts to explain, his gaze switching between the camera and his lap. "I remember how much fun we always had at Neverland. It was basically a paradies for kids and he would always play hide and seek with all of us. It's a very fond memory I have of him. Oh, and I loved watching him dance! I'd immediately go and try the moves myself."

You coo in response. Of course he has already had to answer countless questions like this. That is the price of portraying his uncle, yet you still hope that he will also get to answer questions about himself as Jaafar and not just those related to his surname. Nevertheless, these questions make perfect sense. Naturally, people want to know everything about the new talent from the Jackson family. And, after all, you are here to promote your film, so he is happy to answer these questions. Especially when faced with questions like these, you notice just how much all of this means to him.

You see the producer nod her head and write something down but not before motioning for Jaafar to continue. The next few questions are about his age, height and zodiac sign.

"What's.. Jaafar Jackson's workout routine?", he reads out next, immediately feeling a little shy about the fact that someone would even like to know about that.

"Oh, do tell! I'd love to know that one too", you tell him excitedly, leaning over to bat your lashes at him.

"You'd have to ask my personal trainer who I worked with for both parts. I just do what he tells me to do", Jaafar answers with a shy smile, preferring to look at you rather than speaking into the camera. You would be lying if you said you haven't already seen all the workout videos his personal trainer posted on his social media accounts.

"What I can say is that it was extremely exhausting. But only through such an intense workout do you stand any chance of even remotely learning Michael's dance skills", he explains further and you nod in approval. You know how hard he has been working for both films and there were days during filming when he wanted to give up. He would come into your trailer or take you somewhere quiet when you were watching him perform and you would comfort him to the best of your abilities. On some days, your words were all it took; on others, however, even those weren't enough. At the end of the day, much like his uncle, he is a perfectionist.

"I promise you will not be disappointed once you go see the movie!", you cheerfully say, wanting the audience to really know how much work and effort was put into all of it. Jaafar smiles at you, his eyes radiating so much gratitude before he reveals another question.

"What is Jaafar Jackson thinking? What am I thinking?"

"Yes, what's on your mind right now?", you help him, leaning back slightly in your seat, having realized that you were sitting quite close to him. You cross your legs so that you can tap your foot.

"Mhm, that I'm having a good time doing this interview and I'm glad to be here with my beautiful co-star", Jaafar says with a slight smirk on his lips. Yeah, so this interview is certainly not going to help dispel the rumours. It also doesn't help that the last question on this board is asking about his relationship status.

"I'm single", he answers truthfully after reading the question aloud. You are glad that he doesn't have to lie about it, which he's terrible at. Truly terrible. Every lie is written across his face before he even opens his mouth. Either way, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

It's the final question on his board and Jaafar glances around the set helplessly once he's done, still holding it out in front of him like someone is supposed to come collect it.

"You gotta throw it!", you chime in immediately. That earns you a deeply confused look.

"What?", he lets out a short laugh, clutching the board tighter. "I’m not throwing it."

“Yes, you are. That's part of the interview!” Jaafar looks around the studio like you've completely lost your mind. You laugh, reaching over and snatching the board from his hands before he can protest.

"I'm so sorry", you say directly to the camera with mock sincerity. "He's simply too chronically offline for this."

"I am not-"

Before he can defend himself, you fling the board dramatically across the set. Both of you watch as it clatters to the floor.

You turn back to him, trying - and failing - not to laugh as you see his jaw slightly dropping.

"See? The people love it", you mention, extending your arms to point to all the people, which, in this case, are the staff members that actually don't bat an eye on what you just did. "Me. I'm also people."

One of the crew members quickly hands you the next board, this one labeled 'what Y/N Y/L/N'. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jaafar pressing his hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to hide his grin, still far too amused by your dramatic board toss from seconds ago. His eyes crinkle as he shakes his head at you, clearly not over it.

He absolutrly loves doing interviews with you for that exact reason. Where he tends to be quiet, measured, and a little too aware of every camera pointed at him, you make everything feel lighter, easier. You pull him out of his shell without even really trying, turning his usual restraint into soft laughter and quiet confidence. You truly bring out the best of him.

"What is Y/N Y/L/N's age", you read out your first question after pulling the white sticker off. You playfully roll your eyes, clicking your tongue.

"How boring", you say, quickly answering it to get to the next, hopefully more interesting question.

"What is Y/N Y/L/N's favourite colour?", you read aloud next, fiddling with the peeled strip of tape between your fingers. You glance over at Jaafar. He's already looking at you, a soft, almost fond smile lingering on his face. "Do you know?"

His eyebrows lift slightly, clearly caught off guard that you're directing the question at him instead. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he instinctively straightens in his seat.

"Of course I know that", he says, sounding almost offended that you'd even question him. He names your favorite colour without hesitation. Quickly, you fire back his favourite colour.

He points at you immediately. "Exactly."

A laugh slips from your lips as you turn toward the camera. "See? We could probably answer all of each other's questions at this point."

Jaafar lets out a quiet laugh beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans back in his chair. "That just shows how much time we spend together", he adds, still smiling his beautiful smile at you. "Filming a movie really brings people closer together."

Your lips twitch as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. If only people knew how close.

Long nights on set that turned into longer conversations in his trailer. Quiet dinners after filming wrapped. His hand finding yours under tables. Stolen kisses far away from any flashlights. Close was certainly one way to put it.

"Next question!", you rip off the white strip a little too aggressively this time. The board nearly slips out of your hands.

Jaafar reacts instantly. "Here, let me hold that for you." He reaches out before you can fumble it completely, gesturing for the board. You hand it over with a shy laugh and he holds it in front of him so the camera can capture it. This gives you enough room to peel off the strips without struggling.

It's such a small gesture, but painfully domestic in a way that makes your stomach flip. You look at him and basically forget every coherent thought you've ever had.

He looks entirely too beautiful. His curls frame his face perfectly, his eyes warm and attentive as they flick between you and the card. Distractingly breathtaking. Dangerous, really.

"What music video is Y/N Y/L/N in?", he reads aloud after realizing you've gone suspiciously quiet. Your eyes snap back to the board. He's the one having to hold back a grin now.

"I was in 'I Feel It Coming' by The Weeknd", you answer quickly, hiding the sudden nervousness that took over you. "That was actually one of my first acting jobs."

You shrug lightly. "Acting is a bit generous though, really. I was mostly modeling."

That earns a quiet laugh from Jaafar.

"I was really young", you continue, settling back into a more professional tone. "And it's funny because back then, nobody ever asked me about it. No one recognized me and no one cared. Obviously, I mean The Weeknd was right there."

You glance at the board in Jaafar's hands, reaching for the next strip. "And now people are apparently digging through the internet and finding everything I've ever done."

"Naturally people want to know what you were doing before Michael", Jaafar nods in understanding, picking at the edge of the cardboard.

"Which is flattering", you admit. "And slightly terrifying." You peel off the next strip with far less aggression this time. Your eyes scan the question while you read out: "What movies has Y/N Y/L/N been in?"

"Ooh", Jaafar hums excitedly, his eyebrows lifting as he turns toward you. "That's a good question."

"Well, I was in Michael 2, obviously. Go watch it in theaters!", you add with an exaggerated promotional smile toward the camera, earning a laugh from the crew. "Before that, I did a lot of smaller projects. A few films like Do Revenge or Top Gun: Maverick, but they were mostly brief appearances, nothing huge. I literally was only in the background and maybe got to say one line."

You pause, mentally flipping through your résumé.

"Television is where I have a little more to offer, though. I had a recurring role on Grey's Anatomy for a few episodes and I also had smaller roles in Outer Banks and Daisy Jones & The Six. So maybe you've seen my face on there."

"So, this is your first lead role?", the producer speaks up from behind the camera.

You glance toward her, not being able to really see her because of all the bright lights, and nod. "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

"It feels like everything I've worked for", you admit honestly and feel a rush of emotion come over you. "It's what I've dreamed about for years."

Quietly, you exhale and if you didn't know any better, you'd swear Jaafar almost reaches for your hand, his body subtly shifting toward you before he seems to remember where you are. So instead, his hand curls tightly around the edge of the board and he offers you a small, grounding smile that somehow feels just as intimate.

"But it's also overwhelming sometimes. It's exhausting and there's definitely pressure that comes with suddenly having so many eyes on you. People start recognizing you overnight and your life changes really fast", you explain to the best of your ability, Jaafar nodding in quiet understanding.

He knows that feeling better than most. From the first Michael film alone, his entire world had shifted overnight. Sure, growing up as part of the Jackson family meant he was no stranger to public attention. But stepping into the spotlight himself, with the entire world suddenly watching him, was something else entirely and, additionally, he had such huge shoes to fill.

Fame had found both of you faster than either of you expected. And through all of it you had somehow become each other's safest place. Your anchors. The people you reached for when everything else felt too loud.

When you glance at him, he's already looking at you. And somehow, that steady look says everything neither of you can say out loud right now.

"I think people only see the glamorous side of achieving your dreams", Jaafar says thoughtfully. "They don't always see the pressure that comes with maintaining them or how isolating it can feel at times. But I think you've handled all of this with a lot of grace."

You blink at him, momentarily caught off guard as your chest tightens. God, he sounds so composed when he speaks like that, so intentional with every word. It's one of your favorite things about him.

How much you would like to kiss him right now. The fact that you can't is costing you a great deal of strength.

The silence that follows is brief, but warm until Jaafar breaks it with a small, almost teasing exhale.

"Alright", he says, tapping the edge of the board lightly. "Before we both get emotional on camera…"

"Next question", you laugh softly, grateful for the reset as you reach for the last strip. "What does Y/N Y/L/N love? What do I love? I love many things."

Unfortunately, saying Jaafar Jackson on camera doesn't feel like an option you're willing to risk today. So you settle for something safer.

"I love the cast of Michael", you say instead, smiling toward the camera. "I love how much fun we're having together."

Without missing a beat, you reach out and take the board from Jaafar, who had already been politely holding it out for you, and toss it backward over your shoulder. It lands somewhere off-camera with a satisfying thud. You clap your hands once, just as the crew steps in with the next board, this one for Jaafar again.

"Wait", you say quickly, reaching out before he can fully grab it. "I'll hold it for you, too." His fingers brush yours before he lets you have it, sending an electric tingle through your body.

"Jaafar Jackson", you read the search bar at the top, your tone slipping into something deliberately teasing. With a small, resigned shake of his head, he reveals the first question. It says 'What inspires Jaafar Jackson'.

He leans back slightly in his chair, thinking his answer through in his head for a moment.

"I think.. people who stay kind, no matter what they're going through. People who work hard even when nobody's watching", he states, his hand rubbing across his chin. "Music as well, of course. And my family. Always."

His eyes flick toward you for half a second and your heart makes a tiny jump that he looks at you specifically when he talks about family.

"Yeah, my family has been a very big inspiration for me as well as my co-stars", he finishes with a small smile and you nod in approval, waiting for him to reveal the next question.

"Jaafar Jackson.. favourite MJ song?", you read slowly, already letting out a small, dramatic huff before he even answers. "That's a tough one."

Jaafar immediately nods like he agrees with you. "Yeah, that one changes like.. every day."

"Every hour, even", you laugh.

"Favourite song, favourite song.. That's so difficult. Favourite music video would be easy, but song?", he murmurs.

"Your favourite music video is.. Smooth Criminal?", you guess and he immediately breaks into a bright smile.

"Hands down", he nods without hesitation. "What's your favourite song and music video?"

You pretend to think about it very seriously as if it's a life-or-death decision. "Favourite music video is definitely Thriller. It's iconic. The concept, the storytelling, the choreography.. everything. My favourite song has to be Dirty Diana."

With those words, you turn toward the cameras now, lowering your voice dramatically like you're sharing a secret meant only for them.

"If you weren't already convinced to go see Michael 2", you say, pointing straight at Jaafar for emphasis, "you need to go solely to see this man's amazing performance of that song specifically. You're going to lose your minds, I promise."

You're absolutely certain of it, because you definitely lost your mind the first time you saw it. You lost a bit of your mind at every take you saw recorded directly in front of you.

Jaafar lets out a small, shy laugh, ducking his head a little so the cameras can't capture the obvious red tint creeping onto his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, still slightly flustered, then looks back at the board in your hands.

"Right", he says, trying to regain composure. "My favourite song is probably Man in the Mirror. But that could change in a few hours."

"Solid choice", you nod in agreement, gesturing for him to move on to the next question.

"Jaafar Jackson..", he reads, peeling the white strip off. "Striped pant- Oh my god."

You immediately drop the board onto your lap, clapping your hands once as you burst into laughter. "Oh, finally! Finally, we're getting to the really good questions!"

Jaafar's head drops forward, shoulders shaking as he tries, and terribly fails, to keep it together. He mutters something that kind of sounds like 'Why is this here?', laughing into his hand.

You lean back in your chair, absolutely delighted. "No, no, this is important. The people want answers!"

"Okay", he says, rubbing his forehead, still smiling despite himself. "So.. the performance of Human Nature in the first Michael was honestly one of the most exciting things to film. Because it's such an iconic moment in his career and trying to capture the energy of it was a challenge in the best way."

You're still grinning at him, clearly enjoying how seriously he's trying to recover.

"And the striped pants", he adds, a little more shyly, glancing down for a second, playing with one of the rings on his fingers. "They’re definitely part of that. Actually, my uncle didn't even like them that much and gave them to my uncle Randy. We thought, however, that it's a cool look for the scene so we stuck with it. But it's really about the movement and the emotion of the performance."

"You are far too sweet for this world", you beam at him, your eyes sparkling as you desperately try to shove the mental image of him in those striped pants out of your head.

Lives were changed by that performance back then. And, quite frankly, lives were changed again when you watched him recreate it.

"We do need to bring back the pants though", you add, winking dramatically at the camera. Jaafar, on the other hand, just groans quietly beside you, dragging a hand down his face as the crew laughs. You lean away as he reaches for the next strip, mostly to remove yourself from the scene of your own crimes. Then, deciding you've embarrassed him enough for one day, you scoot back closer until your shoulder brushes his again, silently letting him know you're done tormenting him.

"What is next for Jaafar Jackson?", he reads, his foot tapping lightly against the floor as he thinks about his answer. "I don’t know how much I'm allowed to say. But what I can say is that I definitely plan on continuing acting.”

His voice softens slightly. "I really love it. It challenges me in ways I didn't expect, bringing out new sides of me, and I feel very grateful that people have connected with my work enough for me to keep doing it."

Your heart practically swells in your chest. You know far more than the public does: the auditions he left feeling unsure about, the roles he narrowly missed, the callbacks that kept him awake at night, and the ones that changed everything. His career is only beginning to accelerate and once they'll see him as a literal Disney prince on the big screen? It's over. For all of you.

You couldn't be prouder.

"Can't wait!", you say cheerfully, unable to hide your excitement. He glances at you with a knowing smile, already peeling off the final strip on the board. It reads 'Jaafar Jackson perfect'.

There's complete silence for a second, Jaafar obviously at a loss for words. Meanwhile, you blink at the board before looking at him like the answer is painfully obvious.

"I mean", you start slowly, turning toward the camera. "Have you looked at him?"

The entire crew behind the camera has to conceal their laughter. Jaafar immediately folds in on himself, covering half his face with his hand as his shoulders shake.

"No, genuinely", you continue, now pointing between him and the board. "Why are you googling that? The answer is right here."

Jaafar lets out a strangled laugh, wanting nothing more than to shut you up but also give you the biggest hug at the same time. Before anyone can protest, you snatch the board from his hands.

"And because I refuse to hear any opposing opinions-", you launch it dramatically across the room. It once again lands with a loud thud somewhere off-camera. Proudly, you dust off your hands. Jaafar stares at you like he doesn't know whether to laugh harder or hide under his chair. Or kiss you right then and there.

At this point with how the interview is going so far, you two will never beat the allegations anyway. So why should he even try to hide it any further? Kissing you in front of rolling cameras probably isn't all that smart and, above all, not very professional, even though he would really, really love to. It will just have to wait until later. Until you're alone and have a quiet moment to yourselves.

A staff member quickly steps in with the next board. This time, they hand it directly to Jaafar before you can weaponize it.

"This is the last one for the interview", the producer announces from behind the camera. "We still have to get Colman Domingo and Nia Long in here too."

"Oh, right", you laugh. "Wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting because we keep oversharing."

"We?", Jaafar repeats. You ignore him.

"Let's see what else people want to know about me", you sigh, straightening in your seat as you peel off the next strip. You reveal the question and read it aloud: "Who does Y/N Y/L/N want to act with?"

Jaafar's brows lift in interest, balancing the board on his knee.

"Ooh, I would love to work with Zendaya", you say first. "I think she's insanely talented. Or Florence Pugh, too! There's so many I'd love to work with."

"Those are good ones", Jaafar smiles beside you. He vividly remembers how excited you were when you met Zendaya. You wouldn't stop talking about her for days. He almost got jealous.

"And, this might be a very obvious answer considering our current situation, but working with Jaafar and also Colman and Nia has been incredible", you add quickly. "They make everyone around them better."

You grin before immediately turning the question around. "What about you?"

Jaafar exhales through a smile, already thinking as he leans forward, elbows on his knees but still in frame as he spins the board in his hands.

"I'd love to work with Morgan Freeman someday. Even though that probably sounds very unrealistic", he finally answers. "I admire how much presence he has on screen. Angela Bassett is also a strong contender. She's incredible."

"She is incredible", you agree in an instant and peel off the next strip, Jaafar angles the board slightly so you can read it more comfortably. "Who is Y/N Y/L/N in Michael 2? I play none other than Lisa Marie Presley."

Jaafar nods beside you. "And she's amazing in it, by the way."

You glance at him with a smile, patting his knee. "I paid him to say this, thank you."

"It's true", Jaafar says into the camera with so much conviction that your heart makes a jump. "You impersonate her really well."

"It was honestly a little intimidating at first. I really wanted to approach her with as much care and respect as possible", you tear your gaze away from Jaafar and realize that your hand has remained resting on his knee, so you inconspicuously pull it back.

"How did you get into the role?", the producers speaks up from behind the cameras.

"I watched interviews, read articles, studied her mannerisms by basically viewing any existing footage there is", you explain, glad to be able to share this journey. "And I was actually very lucky because I briefly worked with Riley Keough on Daisy Jones & The Six."

Jaafar leans back, turning toward you to give you his full attention even though he already knows all of this.

He absolutely loves the way you carry yourself. You are so self-assured in front of the cameras, literally beaming. But he also knows your other sides, all those facets that the public never sees: how shy you become when caught off guard, or how incredibly patient you are. Filming wasn't always easy, yet even when things between you blossomed into something more than mere friendship, you never pressured him. You waited, expecting nothing from him, until he was ready to give it of his own accord. You complement him precisely where his weaknesses lie. And he does the exact same for you.

"So I got to ask her a little bit about her mom", you explain, noticing how mesmerized Jaafar looks at you right now. "Not in an invasive way or anything. But hearing small personal things about how she carried herself or how people close to her remembered her was actually really helpful."

"That's really special", Jaafar says softly, but you're honestly not sure what or who he means with that.

"It was", you agree. "It made the whole thing feel a lot more human to me. I'll forever be thankful for this opportunity."

Jaafar nods, knowing perfectly well how it feels. The two of you are carrying a similar weight by portraying people who are no longer here to speak for themselves, balancing respect with authenticity while knowing the world will inevitably dissect every little detail. In the end, it's not up to you to decide whether you managed to do them justice.

"Who is Y/N Y/L/N's celebrity crush?", you read aloud next, absentmindedly crumpling the peeled strip between your fingers. Honestly, you're a little surprised people care about things like that. Then again, you understand it perfectly. Not too long ago, you were on the other side of this, searching up interviews of your favorite actors and wanting to know every insignificant detail about them.

"Currently?", you say thoughtfully. "I'd probably say Pedro Pascal." You shrug with a laugh. "Which is basically the entire world's answer at this point."

Jaafar slightly snorts at that and a staff member across the room can't hold back a chuckle. You're just too damn likeable.

"And as a child, I had the biggest crush on Robert Pattinson", you continue. "Like.. devastatingly bad. Peak Twilight era."

"Of course", Jaafar murmurs under his breath. You don't miss the way he shifts slightly in his chair while you explain yourself further, trying very hard to maintain his calm interview composure while you casually discuss other men.

Jaafar is very far away from being the jealous type. He's not jealous. Not really. At least not enough for anyone else to notice. But you do.

You notice the tiny flicker of jealousy he's trying so hard to disguise right now. The way he suddenly becomes very interested in the board resting in his lap, flipping it over once, then again, glancing around the room like maybe concentrating on literally anything else will stop him from hearing you praise Robert Pattinson.

It's ridiculously endearing.

"And Jaafar Jackson, of course!", you add sweetly, fully aware of what you're doing. His reaction is immediate. His eyes widen ever so slightly as he looks at you like you've genuinely lost your mind.

You bite back a grin as you reach over to place a hand on his biceps, attempting to tug him a little closer to you but he's not having it.

"Next question", he says quickly, cutting you off before you can make things worse for the both of you.

Trying not to smile too obviously, you let him move on while he peels off the next strip. A grin slowly pulls at the corner of his mouth as he reads the card silently to himself for an extra second, entirely on purpose.

"Jaafar", you warn.

He finally reads it aloud: "Y/N Y/L/N married?"

"No ring yet", you cheerfully say, immediately showing your left hand toward the camera. There are rings on your fingers, just none sitting on the finger everyone is currently searching for. Your answer is innocent, but it leaves just enough room for interpretation because does that mean you are in a relationship? Your media trainer is either going to love or hate you for this.

Beside you, Jaafar presses his lips together, very clearly trying not to react too much to your wording. He can't hide a little smirk though.

"Alright", you say brightly, reaching for the final strip. "Last question!"

But the second your fingers move toward it, Jaafar smoothly lifts the board farther away from you. You stare at him in disbelief and try to reach for it once more, but he extends his arm farther back with an annoyingly triumphant smile, teasing you. Clearly, this is his revenge for your teasing throughout the whole interview.

"Oh my God", you laugh under your breath. "You're impossible."

You continue to fight him for the board and lightly flick the tip of his nose with your fingertip, a fleeting little gesture so instinctive and affectionate that umistakably shows how close you are to each other. Closer than co-stars should be.

You can already picture the headlines this interview is going to create once it's released.

Barely holding back laughter now, he lowers the board again and gestures for you to continue.

"Thank you very much", you say pointedly, lightly shoving his shoulder as you take it from him. He barely moves, obviously far stronger than you, but he lets himself sway anyway.

"Y/N Y/L/N moonwalk", you read aloud before gasping theatrically. "Oh! So this is what the people yearn for. I understand now."

Before anyone can stop you, you jump up from your seat.

"You're lucky I wore sneakers today", you announce proudly. Jaafar is still sitting there watching you with the softest smile imaginable when you suddenly point at him.

"Come on, b—", you catch yourself at the last second. "Jaafar. You have to do it too."

His eyes widen immediately as he starts shaking his head.

"No."

"Yes!"

He hides his smile behind his hand, already laughing quietly. You know this about him by now. How shy he gets about things like this. He doesn't like showing off, no matter how naturally talented he is.

He literally played Michael Jackson, spent months mastering every movement and mannerism imaginable, and yet somehow still gets embarrassed doing a simple moonwalk in front of a camera. He knows he will do the moonwalk better than you so he doesn't want to expose you like that. Jackson genes.

As the two of you continue arguing back and forth, the cameraman quickly adjusts the angle to fit you both fully into frame.

Since you refuse to accept defeat, you grab Jaafar's hand and pull him up from his chair.

You look up at him, softly pressing his hand, and give a small, reassuring nod, one that silently says: It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.

"Please don't compare my moonwalk to his, though", you plead dramatically to the camera as you position yourself in the middle of the set. Then, with all the confidence in the world, you attempt your best moonwalk across the floor. It's not horrible - you made Jaafar teach you - but also not great.

"Your turn!", you say, turning to him expectantly, ignoring the applause from behind the cameras.

"There's too much pressure now", he complains with a smile, but steps forward anyway and casually does the perfect moonwalk. You could watch him do it all day long. It looks so smooth and the way he carries himself while doing it, with so much confidence, makes it even more attractive.

The crew in the room applauds him and so do you, jumping up and down in excitement. The second everyone reacts, Jaafar's demeanour changes back to his usual self and he ducks his head with a shy laugh, trying to wave it off.

"If you want to see more of these moves, then don't miss out on seeing Michael 2!", you announce, proud of the smooth transition you came up with on the spot.

"Thank you, WIRED, for inviting us. Michael 2 is now playing in theaters everywhere", Jaafar adds warmly, clasping his hands behind his back like he's seconds away from politely bowing.

With that, the interview is technically over. The crew has already started moving around the set, gathering equipment and talking amongst themselves. But then your eyes land on the abandoned board still resting on Jaafar's chair. Immediately, you grab it and hold it out toward him expectantly. The moment the crew notices what's happening, several people pause mid-conversation, not wanting to miss this interaction. The cameras, of course, are still rolling.

"You have to do it. At least this once!", you insist. Jaafar plants his hands on his hips, glancing back and forth between you and the board. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he tries not to smile. He studies your expression for another second, clearly searching for even a tiny hint that you might let this go. Unfortunately for him, you look completely serious.

Eventually, he exhales through a laugh and takes the board from your hands. With all the natural gentleness Jaafar seems physically incapable of turning off, he tosses it into the air behind him. The board clatters harmlessly onto the floor. The second he does it, a ridiculously proud grin spreads across his face.

"You were right", he admits, laughing now. "This is fun."

Your own laughter only gets worse. "You're welcome", you say proudly, like you've personally changed his life for the better.

You have absolutely no idea whether any of this will actually make the final cut considering the interview officially ended at least thirty seconds ago. But maybe they will put it at the end anyway. This is definitely a monumental moment the public shouldn't miss.

Still grinning, you wave toward the cameras in farewell. "Bye!"

Jaafar joins in beside you with an amused shake of his head. "Bye, thank you."

That finally seems to signal the real end of filming. Almost immediately, the room bursts back into motion. Crew members weave around the set adjusting equipment while the studio lights dim slightly overhead.

The producer approaches the two of you with the expression of someone who knows they may have just struck gold.

"That was great!", she says warmly, shaking both your hands. "Seriously, thank you so much for taking the time."

You exchange a quick glance with Jaafar. This interview might have spiraled out of control and did nothing to fight the allegations about the two of you having a thing. Who knows how the remaining interviews with just Jaafar and you will go.

After how this one went you can guarantee for nothing.

You briefly speak with the producer. She compliments both Jaafar's and your's portrayal in the film as she's already seen it before excusing herself, needing to check that everything is ready for Colman and Nia.

Jaafar and you thank the other staff members, say your goodbyes, and leave the room. An assistant escorts you to a lounge where you can wait until your next interview with W begins.

The lounge features two vanity tables with brightly lit mirrors, though your makeup artists are nowhere to be seen to touch up your makeup. At the back of the room stands a couch, along with a table laden with various drinks and snacks.

The moment the door closes behind you, the noise from the studio fades into something muffled and distant. Only then do you realize how much adrenaline is still rushing through your body, your skin practically buzzing from the interview and everything that came with it.

You exhale dramatically and walk over to the table to grab two bottles of water. Jaafar follows behind you, hands in his pockets.

"Thanks", he smiles softly when you hand him one bottle. Without even thinking about it, he twists the cap open and passes the bottle back to you before taking the unopened one from your other hand instead.

The gesture is so automatic that it makes your chest ache a little. Always taking care of him. Always being taken care of in return.

His smile right now is the same as the one he wore during the interview, full of love and affection.

God, he's beautiful.

"You need to stop looking at me like that", you giggle, placing a hand against his chest to playfully push him away. He doesn't budge. Instead, he simply places his hand over yours while taking a sip of water, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Like what?", he asks innocently, knowing perfectly well what you mean. As if he hasn't been looking at you like that for months now.

"Like that", you say, pointing an accusatory finger at his face as you pull your hand from beneath his. "The internet is definitely going to think we're dating now."

"They already think that", he shrugs, placing the bottle back on the table.

"But we shouldn't give them even more fuel!", you tell him, sounding more like both of your managers than yourself and not at all convincing. Because the truth is, you couldn't care less if people figured it out. If anything, some reckless part of you wants them to. Wants everyone to know that he's yours and you're his, even if neither of you has officially said it out loud yet.

Jaafar lets out a soft laugh through his nose and leans back against the table behind him. "You called me your celebrity crush", he states matter-of-factly.

"You were sulking!", you shoot back, grinning tiredly up at him.

"I was not", he denies, tinged with shyness because he knows perfectly well that you caught him.

"You literally started fidgeting", you chuckle. That finally pulls another real laugh out of him.

"You almost called me babe", he says in return, quietly. Your entire body heats instantly, redness rising to your cheeks. Jaafar's smile widens just slightly.

"I did not."

"You did."

You hide your face in your hands immediately while he laughs softly. "I saved it though", you mumble through your fingers.

"Barely", Jaafar smiles, finding your sudden shyness adorable. When you finally peek back up at him, he's looking at you with so much fondness it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. Somehow in private, you suddenly switch roles. He becomes much more confident because he feels comfortable while you feel comfortable enough to show your soft side to him.

"Don't act like you were so subtle", you counter now, regaining your confidence which is really difficult when he looks at you like you hung the moon.

"Maybe I don't want it to be subtle anymore", he mumbles, his eyes flicking down to your lips for half a second, reaching for your hand, fitting it into his naturally. "I don't like having to pretend and hide in front of the cameras. I don't like having to think about where I stand or whether I can hold your hand. I'd much rather everyone knew you belong to me."

Your heart skips a beat.

"I mean, officially I don't", you tease, gently squeezing his hand.

"Well, would you like to?", he asks sincerely and doesn't avert his gaze, his big doe eyes looking at your very soul. His thumb brushes across your knuckles.

"Are you seriously asking me this in the back of some random lounge?", you laugh nervously, not expecting him to just say it out loud like that. You weren't prepared. But that's what you love about him - somehow he manages to catch you off guard and it thrills you.

"I'm not, I just want to know we're still on the same page", he states, scratching the back of his neck while his other hand is still holding yours in a firm grip. "Once they know, they are going to go crazy about it. Everything will be about our relationship and nothing else. They won't back up. I know how relentless they can be."

"I know. But I think we can handle it. Because at the end of the day, it's us against all of that. Not the other way around", you say with firm determination, and Jaafar lowers his head, shaking it once with a smile.

"Okay", is all he says, gently tugging on your hand. Before you know it, you're standing between his knees where he's perched against the edge of the table. Instinctively, one of his hands settles at your waist. Like he's been stopping himself from doing it all day. Your own hand, in turn, finds his jaw, his skin soft and warm beneath your fingers.

"You wouldn't believe how much I wanted to do this in there", he murmurs, smiling sweetly like you're his whole world. Your stomach flips. He laughs quietly before finally closing the remaining distance between you, gently kissing you.

Your free hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, clutching the fabric as he pulls you even closer against him, his hand firm against your waist. Your heart pounds in your chest and you are certain he can hear it. It only goes to show what he does to you. And the thrill intensifies since someone could burst in and catch you at any moment.

That would definitely not fight the rumours.

Jaafar’s kisses eventually begin to wander from your lips to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. A soft, breathless laugh escapes you. He can't get enough even though he had you all night.

"Jaafar", you warn, but he doesn't react. "You’re going to ruin my makeup."

He immediately pauses as soon as you ever so slightly pushed at his chest. You lean back just enough to look at him.

"Your makeup artist can fix it later", he smirks and before you can argue further, he steals another kiss. You smile against his lips and let him cherish you some more.

When voices suddenly echo from somewhere out in the hallway, both of you freeze at once. His hand drops from your waist like he burned himself. You take a hurried step backward while he straightens quickly.

No one comes in. The voices continue past the room until all that's left is the sound of your own slightly ragged breathing. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you both burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"This is getting ridiculous", you glance up at him, mesmerized by the way the light hits his soft skin from all the right angles. He's so beautiful it's unfair.

"I know", he nods softly, smoothing down the front of his shirt where your hands had wrinkled the fabric earlier.

"Maybe after all the premiere stuff", you start quietly, getting a bit closer to him again as your body is not physically able to stay away from him for long. "After things calm down a little, we can make it official."

Jaafar reaches for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I like the sound of that", he admits with a soft expression on his face.

The smile that spreads across your face feels impossible to contain and Jaafar can't help but admire it.

"Can you imagine if somebody had walked in just now?", you murmur. "That would have been so awkward."

A grin pulls at Jaafar's lips. "Maybe."

"Maybe?", you raise an eyebrow.

"At least they wouldn't have to speculate anymore."

════════════════════════════

bonus:

youtube comments beneath the interview

headlines after the interview was released

Jaafar is exhausted.

There hasn’t been a second of his time that hasn’t been dedicated to working, not since he decided to take on the responsibility of portraying his uncle in his bio-pic. There was pre-production, which required hours of vocal training and dance lessons. There was filming – and it didn’t even stop there. 

There were promotional events, talk shows, and endless photoshoots. Truthfully, it was tiresome. He never saw himself as a movie star. There was that music career he thought of starting; the limelight never felt inviting enough for him. But he does love music, creating it, being able to transfer his feelings and thoughts into melody’s. Writing scores was enough – is enough; but brought with the new opportunity, how could he say no?

He knew his life was going to change, that was inevitable, but the rate it has in such a short amount of time is transformative, in a pleasant way, but almost disorganized. 

He needed something to ground him, a break from the questions and new found attention, he needed it. 

That’s how he found himself reaching out to you, catching up, for old times sake. He hasn’t spoken to you regularly in the years he’s been working on the film, and you, starting graduate school – just pleasantries of happy birthday texts, a quick ‘how are you?’, replying to stories from his finsta.

Both of your lives have been moving towards a direction that kept the both of you busy. But now he’s free, a small break until his next project. You’re in your final semester now, finishing up your thesis; he figures, why not be a part of it now?

There’s so much he’s missed, so much there is to catch up on, and he simply misses you.  

When he finally comes over, after endless scheduling conflicts, he is eager to read what you’ve been working on. Since he’s met you – he knew you loved reading and writing. In fact, your first conversation was about Audre Lorde, at a party that your roommate dragged you to. 

You were sitting on the couch, a red cup in hand, smiling politely and talking to those around you. There were times you would look down at your cup, barely taking sips, and sneak looks at the digital clock on the wall. When your friend left, to some room with people you don’t know – you stayed, sitting, observing more than engaging with the people around you. 

Jaafar sat next to you, and you didn’t even look up. You would just look at the clock in front of you. “You don’t want to be here?”

You finally - finally - see him, and give him a shy smile. You’re beautiful, he thinks the moment he really see’s you. You shift in your seat, putting down your cup. 

“Are you the host?” You ask, raising the bass of your voice so he is able to hear you over the music. 

Jaafar shakes his head no. 

You sigh, in relief, “I have to write a paper. But I couldn’t let my friend come alone. I promise I’m not boring, I just need the ideas to stay fresh in my head.” 

And Jaafar, a light inside him ignites, he feels seen. The thought of losing an idea by not being in the moment, being grounded, having tunnel vision on a creation - he get’s it. He gets it, and he likes that you get it too. 

That interaction, which seemed so small to you; you thought he was just a guy who saw a girl and decided to be polite – but for Jaafar, he felt like he saw you. He saw you and he knew with time, eventually, you would be able to see him too. 

And now, he feels your eyes burning into him. You’re watching, observing, every face he makes, you’re wondering what notes he is scribbling on your work. He thinks it’s funny, it’s cute, whenever he looks up you try to seem preoccupied. You look everywhere but him, as he silently critiques your work, you’re art. You don’t realize that he can feel the anxiety radiating off you, the bouncing of your leg, the way your nails make their wait to your mouth as you nibble onto them – at least, until you realize what you’re doing and you drop them. 

It’s astonishing, how even with the bags under your eyes, your clothes – wrinkled and baggy, your skin, that was once vibrant, now a little dull and shallow. All the physical proof of your tireless efforts at grad school, and you’re still the most beautiful girl he knows.

And your mind is just as beautiful. He’s amazed, at your work, at this craft you seem to nearly perfected. There are beautiful pro’s and metaphors all throughout the pages he’s been reading. The structure alone amazes him. You're so precise and technical about the way you write, (Which makes sense to him, remembering the times you’ve ranted how romantic and beautiful grammar can be). 

Your story is almost perfect. Almost. He notices that there isn’t much tension between the two characters. Yeah, there’s a plot. The guy loves the girl, he get’s the girl. But it’s so straightforward, so pragmatic. 

Jaafar knows if he was trying to win over someone’s heart, he would do it loudly. He would shower the woman he wants with attention, affection, he would make it his mission for the woman he desires to feel seen and adored. This guy, your fictional love interest, is quiet about it. He doesn’t yearn or fight for it. He just realizes it, and announces it. 

Jaafar wonders, is that what you would want? Is that how you would like to be pursued? Would that make you happy, would that make you fall in love? 

You have worked so hard on this project, he knows it and he can tell reading through it. He is proud of it, he knows you're proud of it, but it could be better. It could be better and he knows you can make it better. 

Against his better judgement, he tells you how he feels about it. And you’re defensive, as expected, but it could work. He knows it will work. 

A question pops into his head, one that he’s afraid to know the answer to. 

“When was the last time you dated? Any recent ex-boyfriends?” The question leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn’t want to know, but he needs to. 

You have never openly told him about your dating history or who you’re with. He would get sneak peaks into your dating history through instagram, and would find out if you broke up whenever all the couple pictures (that taunted him) were gone. 

You avoid the question, naturally; and it gives Jaafar an uneasy feeling. He can’t ask again, that would look weird. 

Jaafar offers to help, in his own passive way, and a sense of pride overwhelms his body when he notices you get flustered – that he has the ability to make you feel nervous and shy.   

He knew his offer was a bit ridiculous, what could he possibly do to help make the relationship in your manuscript better? He could just find romance books and share them with you, sure. He could help you do research, find some people in relationships and ask how they got together. There were actually plenty of logical, reasonable ways to help come up with authentic chemistry between two fictional characters. 

But, you technically didn’t say no to his help – and he rather do it the unpredictable way, (because romance is anything but predictable.) 

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:･:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･

Jaafar decides to start small. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you or himself with this idea he’s come up with. 

He begins by texting you, something simple – just to test the waters. He doesn’t want to scare you off before he pours his all into you. He wants to study your reactions to see how far he can go. 

Because, honestly, what if you do like the straightforward approach? Would you want him to just come out and say, “hey, I like you. Let’s date.” The thought itself makes Jaafar uncomfortable. You deserve more than that, he wants to give you more than that. 

The first time he showers you with affectionate, flirty texts throughout the day, you react to all of them with a heart. At the end of the day you reply to him with a selfie. Straight faced- looking into the camera. You caption it, ‘Working wonders, Romeo.’ 

He saves the picture, laughing to himself. Your makeup is done and you look more awake than you did when he was over. You’re wearing a lanyard and have on a yellow cardigan, he assumes you were just leaving your job when you took the picture. 

He sends a selfie back, smiling into the camera while laying on his bed. You heart it, replying, ‘Cute lol Goodnight.’ His face flushes.

The texting graduated to phone calls. He calls you in the morning to wish you a good day, he calls you at night to hear about it (and to remind you that you can do anything). He even started sneaking in calling you beautiful. You choke; the first time you hear it, muttering an awkward ‘thank you.’

He’s sure to write affirmations throughout your belongings when he comes over. He starts liking and replying to everything you post. Even if it’s simply a cup of coffee in the library – he asks what kind it is, and then buys it for you the next day. 

Anything that reminds him of you; the things he’d wish he could say to you – he sends them your way. Clips from his favorite scenes in Bridgerton, some books with quotes that said the words he wouldn’t dare leave his mouth, he even offered to listen to the Hade’s Town soundtrack with you (he remembers you saying how it was your favorite musical). 

Your reaction hasn’t been anything less than desirable – more unexpected, he didn’t think you’d get so flustered. 

Now, Jaafar doesn’t like to think about your exes or your dating history, he deludes himself into thinking that he was always the most important man in your life, even when you weren’t in constant communication. But, when he sits in reality, he feels a surge of confidence in knowing he has most definitely raised the bar when it comes to that sector of your life. 

He decides it’s time to bring it up a notch, and if met with a negative reaction, he’ll tone it down. 

He sends you flowers for the first time. He strolls around his home, anxiously, when he fantasizes about the way you’d react to it. The emails that need attending and projects he needs to be on top of make their way to the back of his mind.

When you, finally, give him the time of day; Jaafar’s attention fully goes to his phone. Picturing you, looking at the flowers, hoping you can interpret what he’s trying to achieve by now. 

Later, he finds it’s doing the opposite. 

Calling you just to find out you think he’s doing it out of pity, of all things, nearly breaks him. The over analysis of his actions has paralyzed him. Of all the things you could’ve come up with – you thought he pitied you? The amount of time and effort it has taken, the amount of courage for him to finally act on his feelings– it breaks his heart to know that you think someone would only do these things for you out of pity. 

This was Jaafar taking it slow, easing his affection towards you little by little. It is not close enough to the things he wants to do for you; to do to you. 

Jaafar scrambles to explain himself, to tell you; no, he doesn’t pity you. 

“I’m doing this,” he sighs out, “because I want to.” And even that is only a half truth. 

Yes, he wants to – but he needs to do it as much as he wants to. It has been years of him restraining his feelings from you. He has reached a level of success in his career that he would have never imagined for himself, and you – you are finally finishing up your studies. What better time than now, to finally shower you with the fantasies he has been keeping to himself this entire time? 

Both of you are going through milestones, trials and tribulations of your own goals, you two have grown as individuals. Jaafar knows, now, he wants to grow with you. 

Still – you push. It’s jokes, always jokes and dry humor covering any inch of vulnerability that may seep through the surface with you. Jaafar takes one step forward, and you, three back. Any distance he tries to close, like a determination, you leave it open. 

The worst part is, Jaafar doesn’t even think it’s on purpose. He doesn’t even think you know what you’re doing to him. 

Or, maybe, you do. 

Maybe you don’t want these things from him. Maybe – to you, this is just something that’s happening. A project, a test, of how much you can use your experience in your work. 

This is what Jaafar thinks, when he see’s you with another man. When he see’s you willingly touch skin, smile, laughing at what he say’s, looking into his eyes – like he’s a prize. 

Jaafar takes it upon himself to surprise you. It’s been a long week for the both of you. It’s Friday and he just wants to spend any free time he has with you. He plans a lunch date – buying you your favorite In-n-Out order and plans to eat it with you at the park. He know’s your schedule like the back of his hand now, so he knows exactly when and where to show up. 

The idea is cute, he thinks to himself, a surprise lunch date at the park. You’re going to blush, think it’s charming, and find a way to incorporate it into your book. 

He see’s you, walking to the bus stop. 

He honks a few times, and you don’t look up. 

That’s fair, he thinks, considering you have your airbuds in. 

He texts you, and watches you, waiting for you to reply. 

But you don’t – you get distracted. 

By, who Jaafar can only assume, is a 6’2 bronzed model who just happens to know you. Someone who happens to know you, and can make you smile. Someone who can distract you enough to get you to ignore his text – again. 

Jaafar’s body moves faster than his brain does. He grabs his closest face mask, his shades, and throws his hood up. 

He moves swiftly to where you are. He ignores the fabric sticking to his neck, the sweat that not only comes from the heat, but his adrenaline as well. The closer he gets, the more his stomach tightens at the sight. 

He hears you laughing, he can clearly see how this guy looks at you. He looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, this other guy is scanning your face, now he’s looking down at your lips – 

And Jaafar interrupts. He makes his presence known, makes it known that he’s here – and he see’s you too.

“See you later, Damien.” You say, awkwardly, apologetically – 

And it bothers Jaafar. The way you say goodbye, the way you wave at him, the way you say his name; Damien. 

He hates it. He hates all of it. 

He tries not to show it, but he can’t help it. Any form of rationality has escaped his mind.

“I was trying to get your attention –” he regrets it as soon as he says it, but there was no point in backing out now.  

“I think your friend might like you,” he continues, and he watches, seeing how your body stiffen and face flushes, fighting the small raise of your cheeks. Jaafar’s throat dries, it tightens; as you sputter out your explanation, how it would be impossible for ‘Damien’ to fall for you. 

But Jaafar knows that’s not true. Because he fell for you, and if he fell for you he knew it was possible for someone else to fall for you too. 

It makes him sick. Sick and frustrated – that you can’t see it. That you simply refuse to see it. 

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:･:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･

He’s nearly asleep when his phone vibrates on his lap. 

He’s on his couch; in his empty apartment wrapped in his blanket, Insecure playing on the TV – more as background noise than something he’s actually watching. 

He see’s it’s from you. His first instinct is to hope you’re safe. He remembers you telling him earlier that you were going out with your friends. 

He thumbs over the message, a sleepy grin forming on his face. You misspell the word ‘you’ and actually tell him your feelings, that you miss him. Only the surge of confidence that you could get from drinking. 

He calls you soon after. 

You speak slowly, say you like his voice, that you miss him, and giggle at nothing. Jaafar sits there, wishing he was with you; he should’ve invited himself, he thinks. He should have offered to pay for drinks, to help you unwind, to finally meet your school friends (and show off how important he is to you). 

These thoughts are interrupted by a voice heard in the back, “Do you want to dance?” 

Jaafar jolts up – awake and alert. 

He can’t let that happen, he won’t. The image of that guy, Damien, his arms wrapped around you, burns into Jaafar’s mind. He refuses to allow that to be a reality. 

“I’m coming to get you.” 

The situation he finds himself in is less than ideal. In another world, in another way, he would be thanking the heavens. But here, now, his nerves take over and he doesn’t know what to do. 

Drunk you is so different. You’re light, open, and ridiculously touchy. 

And now he finds himself here, laying in bed next to you. Your light snores fill up the room and he can’t sleep. You’re wearing his shirt and your underwear alone. The only barrier between the two of you being the pillow he cautiously put in-between the two of you. It was strategic – safe. 

The next morning, he can’t take it. 

It was so…domestic. 

You, making breakfast, catering to him. The two of you exist in a comfortable silence, a rhythm that comes so naturally – it becomes too much for him. 

But he can’t tell you. Not yet. 

“I’ll see you later,” he says. 

Jaafar has nowhere to be, but he knows he can’t be there, in your home, that he has somehow comfortably made his. 

Not when there’s so many questions he has now. 

Not when he isn’t as ready as he thought he was, to make himself known to you, to really open his heart to you. 

He plants a soft, unexpected kiss on your forehead before he lets himself out. It’s as close as he allows him to show you how he's feeling – for now.

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.

Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.

You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.

You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.

Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.

If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.

You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.

In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?

One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.

When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.

“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.

"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.

When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.

“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”

"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.

There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.

“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.

"I'm in a job and I need people"

Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.

"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."

"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.

“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.

“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”

"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."

"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"

"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.

You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.

"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."

"And risk him finding out and killing me?"

“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.

"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for" 

"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"

"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest. 

It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.

"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"

"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”

"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”

"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”

He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills. 

"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"

“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.

"If someone should make him pay, it's us"

Us, again. 

"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"

You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.

“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”

“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.

Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.

“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."

And then he left.

That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.

You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.

All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.

You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.

You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.

"Who are you?"

"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.

“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”

"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.

"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.

There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.

“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.

"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.

You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.

After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.

You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.

Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.

You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.

One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.

“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”

"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.

When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.

You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.

"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.

You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.

“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.

"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.

Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.

It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.

With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.

"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.

"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.

Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.

“Your pay will be ready soon”

"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.

You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.

"Your girl, did she leave?"

“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."

"She is"

"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.

"I think so," he said without much interest.

"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.

"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm"

"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.

He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed. 

"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"

You stopped.

“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”

"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”

You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.

"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.

"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”

"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"

"It is not?"

"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"

You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.

“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.

“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”

He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.

“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”

"I do. I trust you"

"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”

You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.

"And if it's too late?"

It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.

But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.

“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”

You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.

You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:

“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”

Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.

You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.

"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.

The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.

The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.

It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.

Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight. 

"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.

Silence reigned in the darkness.

You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"Thank you. For everything”

The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.

You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.

Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.

“Worry not, sir,” you reassure him with a polite smile on your face, “I will try my best not to spoil your criminal quality.”

His eyebrows furrow and he leans towards Inej. “Did… did she just call me ‘sir’?” he asks quietly.

“Don’t get used to it,” she answers half-heartedly, busy pondering something else.

“How do you even know each other?” Jesper points between you and Kaz but the moment his index finger is directed towards you, he quickly puts his hand down. “I doubt you’ve been to the Barrel before.”

To any passerby, the sight of you and the Crows standing next to each other must look like a skit. With your expensive, light-coloured dress and back about as straight as a broomstick, you really do stand out like a sore thumb. Are those lowlifes bothering a proper lady or is she perhaps noble enough to offer them a few coins?

“That’s quite right. When my father was fraudulently accused of conspiring against the crown, mister Brekker,” out of pure habit you vaguely gesture towards him, “had been so kind as to solve this perplexing hoax. It is only fair that I agree to help him when he asks.”

Kaz checks his watch. Then, his expression suddenly becomes stern, focused, and you know exactly what it means.

“We should go,” he states. His eyes have a strange glint of both coldness and concealed worry to them. “There’s no backing out now.”

Your polite smile doesn’t falter. “I wasn’t considering such a thing.”

The dearth path around the lawn in front of the manor is blocked with countless carriages - horses of one freight have their nostrils pushed against the rolling stock of another cart. It seems as though Lord de Witt has invited half of the continent to his exclusive banquet. Half of them, one might assume, came out of courtesy or simply because of the other guests sure to attend.

Mixing into the crowd of rich men and aristocracy, choking on the powder and perfume, you tell Kaz the basics of banquets like this:

“Let me do the talking. You’re accompanying me, which among socialites makes you akin to a show horse. Of course, someone might ask you a question but it will be pure courtesy. They don’t actually care, because they don’t know you. Answer shortly and politely.”

“Will it not raise suspicion that the ambassador’s daughter is engaged to a no-one?”

“Not if he’s a First Army veteran, wounded on the front lines by a Fjerdan savage,” you say in a theatrical manner. His perpetual frown elicits a chuckle from you. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m sure you can sell it. Besides, if you seem grim enough, which shouldn’t be a problem honestly, the guests won’t dare ask any more questions.”

The porter nods knowingly in your direction. Despite his old age, he’s quick to recognize the little lady you once were. You offer him the invitation but he waves his hand in dismissal. His fingers tremble slightly, making you wonder in all of your melancholy whether he’d still be able to do all those small magic tricks he used to entertain you with.

Following the mob of guests, you end up in a spacious ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflect candlelight, causing ethereal rainbows to dance across the frescoes painted on the ceiling. Some of the artwork presented landscapes, other battles and even Saints - all of them equally breathtaking. The hall is filled with a plethora of scents: vertigo-inducing perfume, imported fruits, freshly-cut flowers, braised meats. To Kaz, this is the smell of wealth but to you, the ballroom only smells of home.

Appearance-wise, Kaz falls a bit behind compared to the three-piece suits and cylinders but the difference is not stark enough for people to give him contemptuous glances. In all honesty, this will help you sell the yarn you’re spinning. After all, what veteran has enough money to buy a whole suit for just one evening?

“Come on, we should say our greetings to the host,” you say quietly while gently nudging his arm.

As though you are something of a Grisha yourself, the middle-aged man in question suddenly appears in front of you. His face has gained a few deep wrinkles since the last time you saw him but still, his prominent laughter lines are the first thing people notice about him. Considering what kind of person Lord de Witt is, it’s a reliable first impression - a rare occurrence among thieves and noblemen alike.

The man’s face beams with happiness when he recognizes you, his eyes nearly disappearing in a genuine smile. “Ah, принцесса!” he exclaims, opening his arms. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.” Holding your hand, he meaningfully leans down but never presses a polite kiss against your skin. Instead, he curtly nods while maintaining eye contact, uneasy at the thought of such a gesture.

“I thank you for the kind words, Lord de Witt,” you answer. “It is a pleasure to be your guest.”

He furrows his eyebrows and dismissively waves his hand. “Nonsense, you’re not just an ordinary guest. Tell me, how’s your father? Is our ambassador in good health?”

“The weather is terrible on his knees, I’m afraid. Only laudanum and nettle curb his pain enough to let him work. If I may inquire as to where Lady de Witt is? I haven’t seen her among the guests.”

Lord’s face grows brighter once again but this time there’s a sense of longing in his tired, grey eyes. “My dear Betty left for Novyi Zem just a few days ago. Ever since Lady de Serre expressed interest in her antique collection, she’s been eager to go back.”

Kaz, so far unnoticed by the aristocrat, glances between you and the man. You’re exchanging mere greetings and courtesies, yet he’s learned quite a few interesting things in just those few sentences. Nobility, as it seems, will say everything and anything as long as they think they’re talking to an equal.

His inquisitive thoughts must have pushed some Saint’s hand because Lord de Witt suddenly turns his attention to him, although continues talking to you. “The dapper young man is your husband, I presume?”

“Not yet, unfortunately,” you say with a bashful giggle - very ladylike, even if forced. “Igor Dreesen,” you introduce him. Kaz shakes the Lord’s hand without ever giving away that he’s never heard that name before. “He has fought in the First Army, on the front lines.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, gentleman.” Lord de Witt has an iron grip on Kaz’s hand, holding it significantly longer than Brekker is comfortable with. “May we all have your bravery and loyalty. Please, enjoy the evening.”

Kaz waits for the Lord to be out of earshot before turning to you. “He seems to know you well.” Maybe you’re reading too much into it or maybe there is a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“When I was younger, I used to come here every week. Valeriya de Witt, Lord’s eldest daughter, taught me embroidery. I know this manor like my own home.”

“Then you surely know where the safe is.”

“It could be in his bedroom or in his office.”

Kaz cocks his head. “So you don’t actually know.”

“I’ve met quite a few noblemen and state officials, Kaz. The older the money, the less we’re careful. De Witt’s office is next door,” you motion your head to the side.

Strolling through the ballroom towards the office door, weaving your way between gold-threaded gowns and made-to-order suits, you can’t help but wonder about the master thief by your side or rather what the world looks like through his eyes. You can recall so many gossip exchanges where a group of complete strangers would discuss their wealth and business, believing that their secrets are safe among socialites similarly to unaffiliated thugs discussing their commissions over a pint of watered-down beer. In a thief’s world, you’re something of an encyclopedia on fast enrichment. Maybe telling a secret or two could be treacherous of you but in the grand scheme of things, you think it’s not nearly enough to cover your debt.

You lean towards Kaz, speaking in a low voice. “See that lady with a scandalously huge hat? That’s lady Maria de Bouvier, harbors so much contempt towards her stepmother, she’d probably be elevated if some of the jewelry was to disappear.”

Brekker spares you a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything. 

“Or that retired soldier by the pillar? Next to the girl dressed in all-white?” you ask him. His keen eye quickly finds the dark green jacket with an obnoxious amount of medals attached. “Captain Geoffrey van der Greiss, earned most of his fortune from smuggling. Open any crate with fish at the Eastern harbors and the sides of the box will be filled with cash. Yours to take if you can bear the smell.”

Kaz suddenly steps in your way, stopping you. His usual frown appears more like a scowl now. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he spits out. “You’re so eager to point me towards easy wealth. It’s not just about returning a favor, is it?”

You look away for a moment - you should have expected that if someone was to notice your motive, it would be Kaz Brekker himself. His face is still contorted into an expression of contempt or anger when your stare returns to him.

“Have you ever, even for a single second, considered what would have happened to me had my father been found guilty?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“I can’t say I have.”

“I often do. He would have been locked up in Hellgate or simply killed. The family fortune would dwindle rather quickly as my mother and I would live off of it. Then one day the money would run out, we’d have to sell our house and live modestly if not on the streets. No one would employ us because of the scandal and soon we’d find our place in a brothel. All of that did not happen because of you, Kaz.” His expression visibly softens, even if he’s doing his best not to show it. “I owe you my life.”

“I don’t want it.” 

Without waiting for you to continue, he resumes walking towards the office door. Although off-limits to the guests, the manor staff is simply too busy to pay attention to anything else other than restocking drinks and food. On the other hand, the guards employed by Lord de Witt are so convinced drunk aristocracy doesn’t need nannies that they’re playing cards in some dark, isolated corner and drawing lots when someone has to go swipe some alcohol and lamb from the kitchen. Perhaps they are paid to complete much different tasks but if someone is familiar with de Witt’s banquets, they wouldn’t be exactly surprised - a scandal is yet to happen inside his manor.

You meet Kaz’s gaze but immediately regret it. There’s something both chilling with determination and burning hot with focus, making you feel rather flustered at the intensity of it all. 

“Make sure no one comes in here,” he says quickly before swiftly crossing the remaining meters and sliding inside the room. For a man with a limp, he’s exceptionally agile.

Minutes go by while Kaz is absent and you begin to worry. What if someone caught him? Or if he got injured somehow? He may be something of an atelier of theft but he’s still a man, after all.

Debating whether to go after Kaz or trust his expertise, you don’t notice a young man approaching you:

“Excuse me, my lady, but you are the ambassador’s daughter, are you not?”

Torn out of your spiraling thoughts, you look up at him with wide eyes. He has a kind face with strong features. His tanned skin is in contrast with his creme-coloured suit, creating a quite enticing sight. Warm, brown eyes study you with interest.

“I am, master…” you make a meaningful pause.

The man immediately picks up on your cue. “Tolkov Ilya Romanovich. My father is the legat of Ketterdam’s Merchants’ Guild.” Contrary to Lord de Witt, Ilya doesn’t hesitate to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Oh, I have heard about you. Horse racing enthusiast, is it not?”

He gives you a flustered chuckle. “My vices precede me, I see. As does your beauty, if I may say so.”

You feel your cheeks warm up. There’s something about Western men’s charm that really gnaws at a lady’s heart. “That’s very kind, master Tolkov.”

“Lord de Witt spoke of you with exceptional fondness. I thought it only appropriate to witness your marvel myself.”

At the same time, Kaz is slipping back through the office door into the ballroom. Judging by the lack of interest he attracts, none of the guests even noticed his disappearance. He is making his way back to you, when he catches the sight of a rather dignified man politely kissing your hand. Although you don’t look swept off your feet, there’s nothing akin to discomfort on your face either. Kaz feels sudden uneasiness in his chest like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be, while being unable to place his gaze elsewhere. He doesn’t even know his face has turned into a grimace of distaste.

“You’re finally back, my love!” you dramatically exclaim when Kaz reaches you and the stranger. His expression is rid of anything pleasant but you decide to play along for now. “Master Tolkov, this is my fiance, Igor Dreesen. Darling, this is the son of the legat of the Merchants’ Guild, Ilya Romanovich.”

Legat of the Merchants’ Guild? Finally someone worth knowing of.

Kaz shakes Ilya’s hand but that marks the extent of his politeness. “I do not take kindly to anyone descending on my lady,” he says in a stern voice.

“But of course, sir.” Tolkov nods curtly. Annoyed or not, he’s proficient at keeping his face blandly kind. “My sincere apologies.”

Ilya gently bows his head towards you before leaving the two of you alone. Your gaze follows him until the man disappears among coiffures and cylinders. Then, you look at Kaz with hardly hidden amusement:

“You play your part better than I was expecting.”

Kaz, however, completely ignores your comment. “The safe isn't here. It must be in the bedroom. Where is it?”

“Upper floor. There’s the grand staircase in the vestibule but we can take the kitchen stairs, there won't be many people in that part of the mansion.”

The presence of ground floor guards is revealed only by loud laughter from behind the door leading to the staff rooms. All of the guests could just leave at once and none of them would notice. Still, you’re exceptionally careful when sneaking between the tables that are bending under the weight of food - even a small misstep, nudging one of the silver platters, could cause a cacophony loud enough that someone might hear it, even if not the guards in question.

You’re leaning against the wall when walking up the spiral stairs. Cocking your head to the side, you’re trying to look into the hall on the first floor but there’s not much you can actually see. As it appears, theft takes a lot more faith than you had previously thought.

The upper floor guards are out of sight but you don’t let yourself give in to the sudden feel of relief - this is only the first step into this little big scheme. There’s still a safe to find and an exit to make.

There’s a long, red carpet covering most of the floor. Although it muffles Kaz’s cane, it also makes the steps of the guards hardly audible. If you do see one, you’ll have to rely on quick thinking and a certain level of stupidity accredited to aristocracy.

Left turn. Pair of doors. Two right turns. Another left and another right. And then - footsteps.

“Someone’s coming,” Kaz whispers. His keen eyes are scanning the long corridor to find anything remotely close to a hiding spot. Decorative cabinets could well work but only if the unwanted passerby doesn’t walk past them.

The idea, a true testimony of quick thinking and aristocratic carelessness, hits you like a bolt out of the blue:

“Push me against the wall,” you order him.

His head snaps towards you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. “What?” he stutters out.

“No one likes clingy couples.”

There isn’t any time to discuss and ponder as the footsteps grow louder. Visibly displeased, he puts his arm against the wall next to your head. At first you’re wondering just how enraged your father would be had he heard about this but then you smell Brekker’s cologne and suddenly one nervousness is changed for another, a more bashful one.

The footsteps, as one might expect, belong to a lonely guard patrolling the manor. His face is grim even before he notices the misplaced lovers. When his eyes do glance at you and Kaz, the soldier’s cheeks visibly raise and the frown quickly becomes more of an expression of disgust. Passing by the two of you, he grunts in distaste or irritation and continues walking farther down the corridor.

Kaz, to your surprising displeasure, wastes no time in putting more space between the two of you when the guard is out of sight. No words are exchanged like a collective agreement to pretend this little embarrassment had never taken place. But, it can’t really hurt him if he doesn’t know you’re thinking about it, can it?

With a confident push, you open the ivory-coloured door, their golden decorations glistening in dim lighting.

Lord de Witt’s bedroom is strangely dark compared to the rest of the house. At first glance, there is nothing that stands out as a possible hiding spot for a safe: a bed that could easily fit five people, a vanity with boxes of jewelry and cosmetics, a small desk with private correspondence, a cold fireplace, a folding screen. The artisan taxidermy hanging on the walls only adds a touch of grim macabre.

But a master thief is not so easily dissuaded. You watch Kaz in a slight confusion and interest as he walks through the room, gently knocking against solid wood or carefully. brushing his hand along some surfaces. More than once he tapped different parts of the floor with his cane, only to let out a short sigh as if the strange rite gave him some kind of information but not necessarily the one he was hoping for.

Then, as though he had known all along or played a secret magic trick, he pulls the base of a taxidermied boar’s head. The decoration, for a lack of better word, moves on hinges, revealing a strongbox - one of those that will survive explosives as the manufacturer promises. The safe has a dial and a handle, rendering any kind of traditional lockpicking useless. But Kaz Brekker, as you’re about to witness, is not much of a traditional thief either:

He puts his ear against the iron box, turning the dial a few times in one direction and the other. Then, he lays his other hand on the safe’s door, his whole body leaning against it. Kaz begins slowly turning the dial in one direction. A silence falls between the two of you.

You can’t be sure whether the tension you’re feeling is because of the hallway perplexity or because he’s so determined to open this strongbox but either way, you’re completely uncomfortable with that. “To be honest, I used to be intimidated by you,” you throw at him in hopes of some kind of conversation, no matter how pointless.

“What changed?” he asks in an absent voice. His hand stops turning the dial only to start rotating it in the opposite direction - whatever he’s doing, it seems to be working.

“You have turned out to make a rather lovely spouse.”

A loud click resounds in the room and Kaz immediately pushes down on the handle, opening the strongbox. He reaches inside, pulls out some documents and quickly reads through them. Some he puts back, others he stuffs between his waistcoat and shirt.

“Such nimble fingers you have. I know a market for that,” you joke partially expecting the thief to say something sultry enough to get you to be quiet for the rest of the night.

He spares you a glance and goes back to rummaging through the contents of the safe. In an unexpected act of goodwill, he takes only some of the cash. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Even a lady of my sort has her weaknesses.”

You wait for his answer but Kaz doesn’t as much as look over his shoulder at you as though he hasn’t even heard your words. Although awkwardly, you patiently wait for him to be finished with whatever selective theft he’s committing. That tense silence again.

After a longer while, he closes the safe and locks it again. When he turns around to face you, something glistens between his fingers - a string of pinkish pearls. They flow along the shape of his hand as he offers you the necklace.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips. “I don’t want a payback, Kaz,” you shake your head to accentuate the refusal. “You have helped my family tremendously, this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand, “is the least I could do for you.”

“This isn’t payment,” he states.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

His intense gaze bores into you for a minute or two before he slowly answers. “It’s a bastard’s inclination.”

None of the Crows dared to speak on the walk back to the Slat. The job had been a complete disaster, and Kaz was fuming. Not even Inej, who had never feared Kaz’s outbursts before, attempted to talk him down. This was going to be a fun evening.

When they finally reached the Slat, he didn’t even spare them one word before he limped up the worn staircase that lead to his office. They didn’t go after him. It was best to allow him to sort things out on his own, rather than giving him another reason to lash out at them. Instead, they huddled together in the living room area to assess and treat their wounds, also bringing a few bottles of whiskey into the equation while they were at it.

Half an hour later, they heard heavy footsteps accompanied by the clicking of a cane coming down the stairs. All of them readied themselves for the berating of a lifetime once Kaz would reach their floor, but the footsteps didn’t come closer. The footsteps started to fade and become barely audible until the front door of the Slat was slammed shut. The rest of the Crows just gaped at each other with questioning glances, only Inej silently slipping towards the window, trying to spot him in the colourful crowd outside. But he was already too far away for anyone to see him.

“Phew, that was a close one,” Jesper exclaimed enthusiastically, taking another sip from his drink. “I doubt that I could have dealt with another one of his tirades on gun safety or no gambling on the job.” His voice mocked Kaz’s stern intonation, but no one seemed to latch onto the joke. He only earned a dismissive look from Wylan, who was still busy dusting the soot off his jacket.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Nina asked, her head turning to the Suli girl still residing at the window. As much as the Heartrender wanted to be mad at him, she knew that Kaz wasn’t necessarily skilled at taking care of himself or knowing when to stop, so she still felt a certain sense of dread.

“He’s probably off to get his head smashed in because he can’t take a loss,” Matthias grumbled, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, a prominent frown on his face. Nina only gave him a jab to the rips in an effort to reprimand him.

“I have absolutely no clue.” Inej began with a huffed breath. “But I’m sure that he knows exactly where he’s going.”

“What does that mean?” Wylan raised his brows.

“He’s been secretly going out a lot recently. Specifically at night or when he thinks that no one is watching. I began noticing it three weeks ago and I didn’t think it was that odd. However, by now I’m starting to get a bit worried. He always leaves when something went wrong and I just can’t seem to figure out where he’s going.”

“And you’ve been keeping that from us the whole time?” Jesper questioned, a devilish grin settling on his lips. “That is perfect blackmailing material, Inej! Kaz Brekker, sneaking out in the middle of the night to do what? Does he have a second identity that he’s been hiding from us? Is he off to go on secret jobs? Or maybe he’s visiting his secret partner?”

“Kaz Brekker having a secret partner?” Nina snorted, very much enjoying the way this conversation developed. “You don’t really think that’s likely, do you?”

“That’s the thing that you hold to be the least likely?” Wylan muttered amusedly.

“Have you ever tried to track him?” The Sharpshooter directed his question at Inej again. He was determined to know everything and would not stop until he did. “I mean, we evidently all care about his well-being,” his tone was audibly sarcastic, even though everyone knew that he actually did care, “so it would be best to keep tabs on him.”

“I did once. Somehow he knew that I was there and he told me off. From then on I didn’t feel like it would have been appropriate. He obviously doesn’t want us to know, and I think we should respect that.”

“Well, I think we should follow him the next time. Just to check up on him, of course” By now Jesper was fully convinced of getting behind his friend’s secret nights out. He exchanged a devious glance with Nina, whereas the other three Crows just rolled their eyes. They would definitely tag along, though.

On the other side of Ketterdam, you were busy finishing your last exam of the semester. It had been quite the straining term, so you were glad to finally be done with it. Once you left the exam hall, the light of the day had already subsided, announcing a bleak evening.

Normally, you wouldn’t have gone straight home after taking an exam, but none of your friends had to take the same exam, so they wouldn’t have been down for your usual visit to the local pubs. And going out alone was absolutely not an option that you would consider. Well, you would have considered it if you had the chance to visit a particular club. However, walking around the Barrel at night as a young university student with basically no self-defence skills didn’t seem like the best idea if you plan on finishing your degree. Realistically, you also had only one good reason to drop by the gambling den anyway. A reason that you were way too invested in and that probably didn’t even like you back.

You bit the inside of your cheek as your mind was invaded by thoughts about Kaz Brekker. The friendship between the two of you was fairly unlikely to anyone else. The Bastard of a Barrel being friends with a plain university student. But after you had caught him red-handed while he tried to steal classified institute information, yet still decided to let him go, he became instantly interested in getting to know more about you. At first, you assumed that he only wanted to get close to you since you had easy access to quite a few institutes and libraries. Well, it turns out that that wasn’t exactly the case. Your small flat became something close to a retreat to him. Whenever things at the Slat started to weigh down on him, he would come to you. It was an odd picture, watching Dirtyhands, one of the most feared men in Ketterdam, sprawled out on your couch, ranting about his day, but by now it was almost like a habit.

For some reason, the young crime boss had managed to fully capture your interest. In other words, you were completely and utterly besotted with him. And it was humiliating to say the least. He would never be able to love you back. Not the way you did at least.

You had been so lost in thought that you hadn’t even acknowledged where you were going until you stood at the main entrance of your flat building. You were definitely in need of a nap. After climbing the mountain of stairs leading up to your door, that is. But when you were just about to pull the bundle of keys out of your pocket, you heard a chair scraping over the floorboards inside your room. Maybe you had to scratch that well-deserved nap.

With cautious steps, you crept towards the door, pulling out the delicate dagger you kept attached to your belt - of course, a gift from Kaz. Even though the University District wasn’t too far away from the Barrel, there never had been a break-in close to your flat unit before, so the prospect of a stranger currently rummaging through your belongings scared you greatly. Slowly you pressed down the handle, allowing you to see inside the cramped flat. As your eyes roamed the small space, they were met with another pair of eyes staring back at them. You were close to letting out a shriek until you realised who the stranger was.

The dark-clad figure stretched out in one of your armchairs, discarding the book he had been browsing through. He acted as if it was completely reasonable for him to be in your home without you knowing about it. You closed the door behind you, considering whether you should scold him or whether you should be glad that he was here.

“Put the knife down, love.” Saints, how you hated him addressing you with these damned cutesy pet names. “You’d be more likely to accidentally pluck someone’s eye out than to actually defend yourself judging by the way you’re holding it.” Bastard.

“I’d say plucking someone’s eye out would be a great way to defend myself.” You dropped your bag at the entrance, walked over to the living room and sat on the armrest of your couch to calm your aggressively thudding heart.

“Not if you do it by accident. That would probably count as aggravated assault if you’d ask the Staadwatch.”

“As if you care about that the Staadwatch has to say.” He chuckled in response to that. He didn’t laugh - you weren’t even sure if he could - but a chuckle from Kaz Brekker was enough to make your head spin. Pathetic. “On another note, please tell me that you didn’t break in through the window again. I’m running out of excuses for all the scratches on the window sill.”

“I promise that I didn’t break in through the window.”

“Thank you.”

“I picked the lock on your front door this time.” You groaned, whilst simultaneously biting back a grin. “And I would also advise you to get new ones. They are way too flimsy. Very easy to outsmart. Especially for people with ill intentions.”

“Aw, that almost sounds like you care about me, Brekker.” He didn’t have one of his usual cocky comebacks at hand, so he merely gave you a warning glare, knowing that you weren’t afraid of him. As crazy as it sounded, you fully trusted him to never harm you.

For the first time this evening, you allowed yourself to take a proper look at the man across from you. It wasn't unusual for him to look like an utter mess when he pays you a visit, today he seemed just a bit more burnt out than what you were used to. There were prominent bags under his eyes, a stark contrast to the marble-like paleness of his skin. His hair was slightly dishevelled and it didn't help that he continuously ran his hand through it. All in all, he looked like he should've retired to bed a long time ago. Instead, he was here.

“Didn’t you have a job today? Shouldn’t you still be off completing some teenage criminal business?” You inquired, not necessarily caring too much about the bloody details of his work, but wanting him to continue talking. He scowled and that already told you the reason for today’s visit. “Ah, it went well I assume.”

“Don’t get me started.” You got him started. In fact, his rant almost took one hour, only allowing you to give some sparse comments in between. You would have to lie if you said that you were actively listening to what he was saying. As soon as he started telling you about how his ‘Plan F’ failed, you had already forgotten the initial intent of the mission.

“If I had stayed at the Slat any longer I would probably have ripped somebody’s eyes out,” Kaz gnarled and judging by his expression he was being completely serious.

“Good to know that coming here calms your murderous tendencies, Kaz. Even though, I believe that a good night’s sleep would have done the same thing.”

“Are you implying that you would like me to leave?”

“I’m implying that you look like you haven’t had a proper rest in forever.” You pushed yourself off your makeshift seat, walking over to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol and grabbing one of the rather fancy wine bottles. “Actually, I’m quite glad to have your company. Drinking alone is always such a bummer.” A bit clumsily, you filled up two wine glasses and handed him the slightly fuller one, which he sceptically accepted.

“Are we drinking to celebrate or to forget?” He smirked, raising the glass to his lips and taking a brief sip from it. The eye contact between you never faltered as he spoke. It almost made you forget what you actually wanted to drink on.

“Depending on the exam results, we might have to be a bit ambivalent with our reasoning.” You mirrored his previous movements, the velvety alcohol numbing your throat. You didn’t expect him to remember the fact that you had an exam today, he had so much on his mind without your insignificant ramblings, but his muddled expression told you that he did know.

“You took your final exam for this semester and the first thing you do is go home with the intention of drinking alone?”

“And you just returned from a botched job that cost you a thousand kruge, and presumably a whole bunch of nerves, yet the first thing you do is walk from the Barrel to the University District to stay at a lousy flat?” You gave him a self-satisfied smile, which he only returned with an eye roll.

“Seems like we both tend to go for the unreasonable.” He replied, a foreign sense of sobriety clouding his usually stern and cold eyes. Something clicked inside him after that conversation, but he didn’t have the will to tell you. Not right now.

Kaz only left when he caught the way your head began to slump to the side every other minute and how the time between your yawns got shorter and shorter. When he strode through the streets, he was somewhat startled by the fact that the sun had already begun to rise. He had spent the whole night with you, something he had never dared to do before, the apprehension of becoming too close - too attached - to you constantly lingering in the back of his mind. Tonight felt just right, though. Maybe he could allow himself one more weakness.

Breakfast at the Slat was surprisingly calm. As of now. One Crow was currently still missing, much to the delight of his friends’ mental well-being. Nevertheless, it still made some of them feel uneasy. What did they have to expect once Dirtyhands would join them? Was his absence just there to give them a false sense of security?

“He can’t possibly still be asleep.” Wylan groaned, genuinely just wanting to put the whole situation past him. He hated confrontation, especially when that confrontation was coming from Kaz, but he also hated the uncomfortable tension that was emitting from every single one of his friends.

“I doubt that he slept at all.” Inej returned, her voice still heavy with slumber. “I didn’t hear him coming back yesterday, so it must have been pretty late into the night. He wouldn’t go to bed at that point.”

The firm shutting of the front door made their heads turn. Realistically, it could have been anyone, it’s not like the Slat was inhabited by the Crows alone, but they all had a sneaking suspicion about who it could be.

That suspicion was confirmed once they heard the clinking of a cane coming up the stairs. And this time, the noise approached them determinedly. Kaz entered the room quietly, acknowledging the presence of the others with a mumbled greeting. There was no malice when he spoke, none of his usual venom could be found. Perhaps it was the veil of tiredness that was visible on his features, but he didn’t seem to have the intention of berating them. He looked…at ease?

“Good morning, boss,” Jesper was the first to speak up, causing Inej to give him an alarmed glance. She did not want this to get blown out of proportion, especially not because of one of the Sharpshooter’s humorous comments. “Are my eyes deceiving me or is there a certain lack of a frown on your face?” Alright, here they go again.

Kaz, who had made a beeline to pour himself a cup of morning coffee, didn’t show the underlying discomfort questions like these evoked. It was obvious that all of them were suspecting that something had changed - Saints, it was a miracle that none of them had brought his occasional disappearances up earlier - but he couldn’t allow himself to feed their theories.

“That rang true until you opened your mouth, Jesper.” He groggily replied, deciding that it would be best to avoid them for the remainder of the day.

“He’s totally hiding something,” Nina whispered as they listened to his footsteps disappear upstairs.

“Oh, he so is. But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

To their dismay, Kaz’s secret trips stopped for the following days. But roughly a week after the uncomfortable breakfast encounter, Inej barged into the living room area, a devious grin on her lips - unusual for the normally holier-than-thou Wraith.

“He left! He’s on his way towards the Financial District.” Without wasting any more words, the Crows scrambled to their feet. It looked almost comical, five young adults that were barely done with their teenage years hurrying out of the Slat to stalk one of their friends.

Inej obviously led the party, tracking Kaz from a fair distance without eliciting his attention. Against her initial suggestion, he didn’t choose to stay in the Financial District, rather sternly crossing right through it. His target destination seemed to be the campus of Ketterdam University. But what kind of business would he have here?

They watched as he approached an outdated flat building, entering it without a second thought. Great, now they only had to figure out what room he would be in. They, meaning Inej.

“Am I dreaming or did Kaz Brekker just knock and act like a normal member of society, instead of breaking into my home as usual?” You quipped, beckoning him to come in with a warm smile. It was embarrassing to say, but even one week of him not coming by felt like an eternity of being deprived of his presence.

“I apologize, the next time I’ll just resort to throwing a brick through your window to not make you question your grip on reality.” It was a stupid joke, a terrible one even, yet you couldn’t help letting out a laugh. A laugh that made Kaz’s mind go blank whenever he heard it.

Today’s visit had no specific reason. He was starting to accept that he didn’t need a specific reason to come here, other than just simply wanting to see you. He wouldn’t say that out loud, and neither would you question it. It was enough to just be here. To hear you laugh at his dry humour. To listen to you talk about your day. Hell, even merely to enjoy the comfortable silence, as long as you were here.

Your usual routine was barely about to begin when one of the tiles on the rooftop next to your window crashed against the cobblestone a few stories lower. The sound of the tile coming down didn’t concern you. The rustling coming from right outside your walls did. You looked over to Kaz, who did not look particularly concerned. A knowing grimace graced the sharp lines of his face.

Without any warning, he pushed himself off the armchair, striding towards the window and forcing it open. You couldn’t see what he was searching for, but you spotted the exact moment when he found it. Judging by the way his jaw clenched you could only pray that he hadn’t gotten both of you into trouble.

“I know that you’re here, Inej.” Inej? The Wraith? What was she doing here? “I know that all of you are here.” His hoarse voice called into the darkness of the night. All of them? This made you a bit anxious. You joined him at the window, though you weren’t able to see anything since respecting his boundaries with touch also meant giving him enough space to move freely.

You almost jumped when a hooded figure appeared at the small platform in front of your window. The person pulled down their head-covering, revealing the apologetic face of a young Suli girl. This had to be Inej, Kaz’s unofficial second in command. He had told you quite a few things about her, but being face to face with her - well, sort of - was completely different. After she had pried her eyes away from Kaz’s menacing stare, she turned to look at you, and you could swear that the faintest hint of a smile flashed over her face.

“Kaz, listen, we’re terribly sorry for invading your personal affairs like that. We were just a bit-”

“You were what? Concerned about my safety? Or just way too curious for your own good?” His voice sounded dangerously low, a tone he had never used in your presence. “Leave. I’ll talk to you - all of you - once I’m back at the Slat.”

“Kaz, let them come in. It’s not a big deal.” Even though you weren’t sure who else the ‘they’ would entail, you didn’t feel like creating an argument over no harm done.

“They followed me here to satisfy their need for gossip and you don't think that's a big deal?"

"It's not like that." The Suli girl interrupted. "We were genuinely worried about you sneaking off in the middle of the night and just wanted to make sure that you were okay." He didn't completely believe that, but as his gaze turned to meet yours again, he let out a sigh.

"Fine." He lamented, audible enough for everyone to hear before trudging back to the couch in hopes to ignore whatever was about to happen.

Almost soundlessly, the Wraith slipped into your flat, looking around carefully as she took in her surroundings. She offered you her hand, in an attempt to at least give you the decency to introduce herself.

"Please forgive us for disturbing you like this, especially in the privacy of your own home. I'm aware that this isn't the ideal first impression. I'm Inej, one of Kaz's…friends." She was careful with her words, knowing that Kaz was listening in on everything she said. But you didn't care about his grudges. You had always wanted to meet his Crows, the few friends he was keen on telling you about, so their sudden appearance was actually quite delightful.

"Don't bother worrying about this. It's fine, trust me. There’s room for all of us, and some more company doesn’t hurt." You tried to reassure her, but a knock at the door announced the arrival of the others. Upon opening the door, you were met with the four remaining Crows, who gingerly shuffled into your small living space, greeting you with muttered apologies you didn’t pay any mind to. They were quite an interesting crowd, you had to note. The blonde mountain of a man entered first, accompanied by a radiant young woman, dressed in a red dress that fit her perfectly. Your mind immediately wandered to the many times Kaz had been talking about Matthias Helvar’s broody nature and Nina Zenik’s hatred towards his haircut - that had to be them. You identified the last two people as Wylan Van Eck and Jesper Fahey. The shy redhead, who had been the most apologetic out of the group was quickly pulled away by the charming Zemeni man, who only gave you a curt nod as he pushed past you to the seating area.

Even though Kaz was already on edge about your hospitality, you still went out of your way to hurry to the kitchen and bring out a few more glasses and a decanter of water. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen as a negligent host, especially when it came to the friends Kaz had told you so much about him

The whole group sat scattered around your minuscule living room area, occupying every seat but the empty space next to their boss on the couch. He noticed your hesitance and slid a bit further towards the armrest, wordlessly telling you that it was okay, maybe even a bit welcome to sit next to him. Without thinking too much about it, you accepted his offer, attaining some stunned glances from his team.

"I'm so pleased to finally meet all of you." You beamed after finally settling in and introducing yourself briefly, earning a pleading look from the man sitting next to you. A look you bluntly chose to ignore. "Kaz has been droning on about his Crows since I've known him."

The man who you had rightfully assumed to be Jesper shot a teasing glance at Kaz. Any intention of a comment leaving his lips was quickly extinguished by one of Kaz's muttered threats, which you couldn’t completely make out, but that seemed to be enough of a warning to shut him up.

“I wish we could say the same,” The Heartrender spoke up, her voice soft and pleasant as she gave you a calming smile. “But Kaz failed to mention that he had other…friends.” Her tone was reluctant and you could basically feel the man in question tense up next to you. The realization dawned on you that they were probably all thinking that you were romantically involved. A thought you had nothing against, in all honesty, but you didn’t intend on admitting that in the near future.

“Not that we would have believed him had he told us earlier.” Matthias’s thick Fjerdan accent added dryly.

“But of course, we’re very happy to hear - and see - that he isn’t the secluded hermit he makes himself out to be.” The Sharpshooter snickered, satisfied with the way this situation had turned out. “Even though we are kind of hurt that you didn’t think about introducing this gorgeous lady to us. Were you just going to keep her hidden away from us until you suffer a probable untimely death? You should have brought her to the Crow Club to meet us sooner. I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded.”

“You must be really lovely company if Kaz decided to keep you all to himself.” Nina directed her attention back to you. You felt your heartbeat pick up its pace. She was definitely insinuating exactly what you thought she was. It only got worse when you recalled that she was very likely listening in on the accelerated thudding inside your chest.

“Maybe I just didn’t think that she would enjoy your company, Zenik.” He retorted smugly, causing the Grisha to frown. I wouldn’t want her to be affected by your questionable influence.” His last sentence reeked of sarcasm and you knew it, yet the girl on the other side of the room put on her best offended expression.

“That’s rich coming from a man that doesn’t shy away from ripping people’s eyes out if they wronged him. Talk about enjoyable company.” You were no stranger to the Barrel’s brutality, even though Kaz didn’t necessarily talk that much about the bloody details of his job, so this information didn’t significantly faze you.

“If she gets along with Kaz this well, she’ll get along with us just fine,” Wylan added, enticing a chuckle from his boyfriend, who had one arm slung around his shoulder. You didn’t miss the faint hue of pink on Kaz’s cheeks after the Merchling put additional emphasis on the ‘this well’ part of his statement. Was he seriously flustered?

However, his theory seemed to ring true. The rest of the evening was spent chatting about your respective lives and a lot of jokes - most of them made at Kaz’s expense. The teasing about him sneaking out to meet you seemed to be ceaseless, and it affected him more than you would have expected. Maybe that was the reason why he was so reluctant to introduce them to you.

When the night gradually came to an end, you picked up the mugs of tea and coffee that had begun to accumulate on the living room table, moving to bring them to the kitchen. Inej, who had been rather reserved for the majority of the evening, was set on helping you. It seemed like she had something to get off her chest in private, so you blindly agreed. Your heart stung a bit when you thought about the possible discussion topics she had planned to hit you with. It was no secret that she and Kaz were quite close, but he never told you about the true nature of their relationship. For all you knew they could have been in a steady relationship for years now. However, you didn’t nurture that thought for your own good.

The two of you sauntered to the kitchen, putting all the glasses and mugs into the sink to be dealt with at some point later. She carefully closed the door behind her before she let her back rest against it. She really did want to talk to you. Mentally, you were already prepared for the worst.

“Y/N, I bit my tongue the whole evening and would really hate to pry, especially after the unlucky circumstances under which we had to meet for the first time, but there is a question that I just can’t get out of my head.” Shit, this was going to hurt. “Are Kaz and you, uhm, seeing each other?” Your cheeks instantly turned bright red. Nothing ever happened between the two of you, other than yearning glances on your part and comments that could be interpreted as flirty on his, but it had gotten painfully obvious that you weren’t entirely satisfied with that.

“Kaz and me?” You sputtered, trying to act like this was the most incredulous suggestion to ever exist. “Oh, we’re just friends - well, if you can call it that - I promise there is nothing to worry about!” Inej cocked her head to the side, mustering you with a bemused expression as you were still wrestling for the right words. You had expected her to be relieved or to not believe you and end up lashing out at you. What you hadn’t expected her to do was smile.

“What should I be worried about?”

“I mean, uhm, you and Kaz-”

“Oh no, absolutely not.” She laughed, throwing her head back as she realized what you were so unsure about. “There is nothing between me and Kaz. He’s my friend, but nothing more.” These words felt as if something heavy got lifted off your shoulders. At least you were not about to be stabbed by the Wraith for having a crush on someone she could’ve been with. Now, you would just have to deal with the feelings not being mutual.

“The same goes for me and Kaz. We’re just friends.” You tried to lie to yourself.

“I think he might be on a different page.”

“What?” Her way of speaking made you realize why she and Kaz were friends in the first place. Both of them would rather die than speak in coherent sentences.

“None of us believed that Kaz was seeing someone when we became aware of him sneaking out. To us, it would have been more likely for him to have a second identity. So when we followed him tonight, we didn’t expect…this.” She gestured around the room, her hands pointing up and down your body. “He seeks you out when he’s stressed - not because he needs to get away from us, he has his office for that and knows how to keep us at an arm’s length - but because he wants to be here. The six of us have been friends for so long, and I don’t think that he ever looked at any of us the way he looked at you. It may not be obvious to you, and I wouldn’t blame you, that man is more than emotionally constipated, but whatever feelings you harbour towards him, I’m sure that they are reciprocated.” Your head felt light. Could she be right? Could Kaz Brekker ever feel even slightly the same as you did?

“I’d like to believe that, Inej, I really would. But I promise that the feelings between us are merely platonic, and it’s better that way.”

“What a shame. It would do Kaz some good to have something consistent - something good - in his life.” With that, she pushed herself off the wood behind her, giving you an encouraging wink before she returned to the others.

Unbeknownst to you, Kaz had suffered a similar fate whilst you were talking to Inej.

The five remaining friends had waited for the door to close behind you and the Wraith, their heads snapping towards Kaz when they heard it click.

“So, Kaz-”

“No matter what you were planning to say, keep it to yourself, Zenik.” He wasn’t having this at all.

“Are you two dating?” Wylan asked eagerly, prompting Kaz to groan in displeasure.

“Y/N and I are not dating. And after all the trouble you five caused me today it’s bold to even imply that.”

“Come on Kaz, we may lack your skills in deduction, but we are not blind. We all see the way you look at her.” Jesper taunted his friend playfully, wriggling his brow suggestively.

“I look at her the same way I look at all of you.”

“I sure as hell hope you don’t. I don’t want you to give me heart eyes.”

“I’m not giving her ‘heart eyes’, Jesper.” There was audible disdain in his voice as he repeated Jesper’s words to him.

“If telling yourself that helps you sleep at night.” Even Matthias joined in on the teasing. He truly was done for.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Kaz rubbed his eyes with his hand, hoping that once he had removed it from his face, his friends would stop pestering him about this.

“That list would be too long for us to go through now. Especially if you intend on keeping your love interest.” Jesper was really playing with fire at this point.

“I’ll say it one last time. She is not my love interest. We are not in a relationship. The relationship we have is just as platonic as the relationships I have with you.”

“Because slipping out in the middle of the night just to see her is very platonic?” Nina grinned sheepishly. “Just admit that you like her and ask her out, for Saint’s sake. What are you so afraid of? Rejection? Being honest with yourself? Is that the way to defeat the mighty Dirtyhands? Should we send a message to Pekka Rollins?”

“That’s enough.” Kaz’s voice turned cold. Spying on his private business was one thing, but acting as if he owed them a heartfelt confession was too much. “This is none of your concern, it never was in the first place.”

Before he could add anything more, the kitchen door creaked open with you and Inej emerging from the room behind it. There was a shared understanding to not bring that topic up for the remainder of the night. They still hoped that one of you would make a move, but they couldn’t force you to, so they just had to drop it.

After an hour or so more of talking, they chose to leave you alone again. The Crows said their goodbyes, already inviting you to get drinks at the Club during the next week. All of them wandered towards the door, except for one.

“I’ll join you later. Go back home.” Kaz ordered, provoking Nina, Jesper and Inej to exchange giddy glances. But they still left without asking any questions. Once they were finally gone, he turned to face you, visibly wound up over everything that happened today. “I apologize for their behaviour. That was completely unacceptable, and them simply showing up with-” You silenced him with a simple hand gesture and a smile.

“Kaz, it didn’t bother me. I actually appreciated having them around, even if you didn’t- They are precisely the people that I would expect you to be friends with.”

“Fine. But I hope they won’t make this a habit.”

“Are you afraid of having to share my attention, Brekker?”

“No. I just don’t see the point in seeking relief from a headache just for the headache to follow you everywhere you go.” He replied sarcastically, relishing in the dizzy feeling your laugh gave him. Maybe he should listen to his friends for once.

“Oh, hold on a second!” You paused, hurrying over to dig in the drawers of the cabinet standing in your hallway. After a bit of rummaging, you pulled out something small and shiny. He couldn’t make out the exact shape since you kept it concealed in your fist, but he suspected that it might be for him. “Open your hand.”

“Why?”

“Kaz. Just do it.” He stretched out his arm, letting his gloved hand hover a few inches away from yours. In a matter of seconds, something long and partially heavy was dropped into his palm. It was a silver key.

“What is this for?” He questioned, pulling the gift closer to him to inspect it further. This caused him to miss the flash of embarrassment that rushed over your features.

“It’s a key to my flat.” You confessed meekly, his eyes snapping to meet yours. “I had a copy made after last week. Just so you don’t have to break into my flat anymore.” His face remained calm, but his mind was running wild. You gave him a key to your flat. A key that would allow him to see you whenever he wanted without having to risk getting caught whilst trying to pick your lock. “But you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to. I just thought it would make things easier. Even if your little headaches might stop you from visiting me that often since they know where I live now.”

“No, I, uhm, thank you. It will at least make me look less like a creep.” He chuckled. If there ever was a right moment, this would be it. “But we should probably consider a different place to meet each other once in a while. Just to keep the others off my case.”

“Oh? What are you suggesting?”

“I heard there’s a new waffle place opening up this weekend, so maybe you would like to see if it’s any good? With me, I mean.” Kaz prepared for the bone-crushing reaction that would follow his offer. You wouldn’t say yes.

“I’d love to.” Saints, he did not expect that.

“It’s a date then?” The words were supposed to be sarcastic, but his brain was just beginning to work through the implications of you agreeing to go out with him.

“It’s a date.”

When he eventually managed to force himself out of the comfort of your flat, he still held the little silver key in his hand, constantly turning it over in his palm. It would take him some time to work through what had just happened. You gave him a key and accepted his clumsy shot at asking you out. The Crows would never let him live that down.

And as if his thoughts had summoned them, they were already expectantly waiting for him at the entrance of the flat building. Jesper was the first to notice the key.

“Please don’t tell me that this is what I think it is.” The corners of his lips were pushed up as high as humanly possible.

“She gave you a key to her flat?” Nina squealed, resisting the urge to engulf him in a hug.

“Voluntarily?” Wylan added in disbelief.

“And I asked her out. Are you all happy now?”

“You did what now?”

Wylan was a good friend of yours and every once in a while you helped him with creating new chemicals and explosives. You knew he worked with the infamous Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker, but you had never met him until Wylan got completely stuck and needed your help. The only way to do that was to let you in on the specifics of the heist and Kaz wouldn’t let that happen unless he met you first. You knew that meant he was going to size you up like prey looking for any weaknesses to exploit if you betrayed his trust, but thankfully, Jesper trusted his boyfriend and Wylan trusted you, so Jesper didn’t let Kaz treat you too coldly. That, and Inej had probably managed to put together your entire life story for Kaz a long time ago.

When Kaz finally decided to let you in on a few details of the heist you immediately knew how to help Wylan and you two worked tirelessly to find out how to get the Crows in and out undetected. You two finally perfected an explosive that would be silent yet strong enough to get through the steel door separating the Crows from their target.

You waited patiently at the Crow club in Kaz’s office. The plan was for Inej to leave the city unspotted with the thing they were stealing (they hadn’t told you what) while Jesper and Wylan caused problems on the opposite end of Ketterdam to draw attention far from Inej. Kaz was supposed to come back to the Crow Club and act as if he had never left. Since you were somewhat in the loop, you were expected to stay behind incase anything went wrong and claim Kaz had been here the entire time. You weren’t entirely sure where Nina and Matthias were in this plan, but they were gone too. Apparently all six of them were going to break in and they would part ways after so you assumed Nina and Matthias had some sort of secret role after the actual heist like getting Inej out of town, but who knew what went through Kaz Brekker’s mind and what he had them doing, he certainly had no reason to tell you when he probably didn’t even tell them. All you needed to worry about was making it seem like Kaz was still lurking about crunching either numbers or bones and stall if anyone came looking for him. You were nervous to even meet Kaz and hadn’t even planned on being involved past helping Wylan with the explosive, but when Kaz Brekker gives you a task, you don’t question it if you value your bones or life.

Part of you thought he was really hot behind his cold, morally grey, and disinterested facade. You could tell he was a caring person even if he was Dirtyhands, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t take so much time planning the safe exit of all of the Crows and would just say every man for himself as most bosses like him did. Pekka Rollins sure wouldn’t elaborately plan a way for his people to get out like that. He had an odd way of showing it, but I could tell he at least cared about Jesper, Inej, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias. You didn’t really know Kaz well, obviously, but something else about him just told you he was deep down a good man, just deeply traumatized and stuck in a system that wasn’t kind to barrel boys like him. You couldn’t really believe it, but you had a soft spot for him, the bastard of the barrel. Others would probably call that clinically insane. You also just felt a little more comfortable around him in a city like this, while he may be the most dangerous man in Ketterdam, he did still have more morals than people like Rollins. You knew no one would mess with anyone associated with Kaz, especially after what he did to Rollins, and Kaz wore gloves too. Rumors floated around saying he wore them because his hands were permanently bloodstained, and while you didn’t know the real reason, it made having a bad immune system in a city like this easier. You at least didn’t have to feel like the odd one out for wearing your own gloves too avoid the gross surfaces you came in contact with and at least Kaz wasn’t the type to abuse someone’s personal space. Every other man in this city would breathe down your neck and be one of the many gross surfaces except for Kaz. Kaz already didn’t seem to like people in his personal space, but you had caught him staring at your gloves several times and he seemingly gave you even more space than anyone else after noticing you wearing them every time he saw you. It was as if you two had a mutual understanding to not breathe each other’s air and be suspicious of each other from afar. That all got thrown out the window when Kaz came in through said window bloody and barely conscious.

Your POV:

“Kaz!” I exclaimed.

“Got shot, everyone else is fine.” He groaned.

I then noticed his already bad leg bleeding profusely at the shin just below his knee. Whose aim was so poor they got him in the shin? Or was that calculated? Kaz stumbled to his chair and started pulling his pant leg up, but he had clearly lost a lot of blood and was struggling to even focus. I bit my lip. Kaz needed help, but that would mean taking my gloves off. My bare hands were much cleaner and wouldn’t risk infecting the wound as much. I took a deep breath and reasoned with myself. Kaz always wore long pants and I knew he was probably the safest person to be around since he broke the bones of anyone who tried touching him.

“Let me help you.” I said rushing over with the first aid kit that had been prepared ahead of time incase things went wrong.

I kneeled down and stared at my gloves and Kaz looked at me confused, “I can do it.” He slurred, clearly getting weaker as the blood refused to stop flowing from the deep wound and other smaller wounds he had acquired.

“No, let me, unless you want mourners and a funeral.” I sighed pulling the gloves off, “And you and I both know Jesper will have a lot to say at the funeral.”

That seemed to pull Kaz from whatever delirious state he was in and he frowned, “You can keep your gloves on.”

“No I can’t, they’re dirty, they’re just going to infect the wound and you’ll have bigger problems.” I said cutting his pant leg with a knife since they were already beyond saving and I started cleaning the area gently.

I was careful not to touch his skin or get any blood on me. Kaz seemed to relax when he realized I wasn’t touching him, he must have a thing with illness too, which was ironic given the fact that everyone thought he wore gloves because he was so covered in other people’s blood. I worked quickly and had his leg cleaned and wrapped in no time. His shin was the issue but I tightly wrapped the bandages all the way up to his thigh to keep his knee from being able to bend much and in turn force him to be easy on his leg. Kaz looked like he wanted to tear my throat out, but he didn’t have the energy to protest and I knew he probably wouldn’t keep his leg still unless he had no choice.

“Now I can’t move my leg.” Kaz grumbled.

“That’s the point.” I said rolling my eyes, “For a man so set on watching his enemies burn, you sure don’t act like you want to live long enough to see the ashes.” Kaz scowled and tried to stand but I glared at him. “Sit your ass down before I strap you to that damn chair, Brekker.”

Kaz looked taken aback, but he listened. I could tell it was only because he hadn’t slept in days and lost a lot of blood. He was probably already planning how he’d make an example of me when he had some coffee. I should be worried about that, but he looked awful. He needed to drink water, so I went to find him water when I realized just the tiniest amount of his blood covered my fingers. I froze and looked at my fingers. The blood had lodged itself under my nails and I swallowed hard. Kaz isn’t sick, I told myself, it’s not like he coughed in my face. I suddenly felt like I wanted to completely crawl out of my skin and I bit my lip. I was panicking but I didn’t want to give Kaz a reason to say ‘I told you so’, so I tried to steady my breathing. Kaz was complaining bitterly but I didn’t hear a word of his usual speech that was probably littered with threats and insults.

After Kaz took down Van Eck, he had gotten running water installed and I was immediately thankful for Kaz and his antics. I rushed to the sink as casually as possible and began scrubbing my hands relentlessly. Most of the blood was gone immediately, but a little remained beneath my fingernails. My breathing got heavier as I tried to get the blood from under my nails. I didn’t notice that Kaz stopped talking because I wasn’t listening to him in the first place, but I did notice when he started limping across the room.

“Don’t touch me.” I snapped. I immediately regretted it. Kaz Brekker of all people probably wasn’t hobbling over to hug and talk about feelings. “I’m sorry.” I sighed as I aggressively rubbed soap under my nails.

Kaz stopped in his tracks and I could feel him staring at me. I didn’t know why he wore gloves, but I no longer felt ‘normal’ around him. He wasn’t aggressively scrubbing his hands. I was. Tears started spilling from my eyes and I hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Your leg is fine now you can go take care of what you need to.” I said using every bit of control to avoid my voice cracking.

Kaz headed towards the door and I sighed with relief. It lasted about three seconds because all he did was lock the door. “Just breathe.”

I looked up at him expecting his usual scheming look. How can I exploit her weakness. Just as he told his crows, he found my tell. Instead he seemed to be expressionless which was almost worry for him. “I know this is your building and town even, but can you go away?” I pleaded while looking alway and wiping my tears on my sleeve. I couldn’t believe I had allowed myself to show him this side of me.

“Take a deep breath. If you don’t calm yourself down it makes it worse.” He said disregarding everything I had said, “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

As much as I hate to admit it, Kaz was right. I took some deep breaths and noticed there wasn’t a single trace of blood on my hands, but they were raw from me scrubbing them. When my breathing finally started to return to normal I shut the water off and dried my hands.

“Catch.” Kaz said.

I turned just in time to be hit in the face by my gloves and I happily put them on while Kaz remained on the opposite end of the room leaning heavily on his cane.

“Why don’t you sit?” I asked hoping to just avoid talking about what just happened.

“Didn’t want to breathe your air,” Kaz said smirking slightly and motioning to how close the chair was to me, “I don’t feel like getting my nose broken tonight too.”

“There’s no way you’re scared of me.” I snorted.

“You’re right. I just thought it would make you feel better than the truth and I don’t normally tell the truth anyway. I recognized the look in your eyes.” Kaz said finally sinking back into the chair.

“I’m sorry.” I muttered.

I knew how ridiculous I must look to him and I had never known Kaz to lie to save someone’s feelings, so if he had suddenly decided to pity someone, it must be awful.

“Don’t.”

“I know I—“

“Listen to me,” Kaz said bringing the crow head of his cane to my arm, “you only have a weakness if you let people exploit it and apologizing is the first step. You don’t strike me as weak. You clearly do a good job of hiding your tells. Keep it that way. Hide what you can and use what you can’t to make people fear you.”

“Tell me, how afraid were you to see my hyperventilating and scrubbing my skin off over some blood?”

“That’s what you need to work on. You’re good, but not good enough.” Kaz said finally taking his cane from my arm, “I told you I recognized the look. You looked like a caged animal. You looked like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin.”

“Wow, Kaz Brekker, you really know how to charm the ladies.”

“You’re playing my game in my house.” Kaz replied, “I knew the look because I have the look.”

“You?” I gasped.

“If you tell anyone I’ll choke you with your own intestines.” Kaz threatened, “But yes. I don’t wear gloves for aesthetic purposes. I don’t know why you wear yours, but I don’t need to. People fear what they don’t know, use that. Learn to hide weaknesses and when it comes through pick yourself up and remind them why they fear you.”

“So you’re suggesting becoming Dirtyhands.”

“You won’t be as good as me, but yes. A few lies and shows go a long way.”

“Why are you helping me? You don’t know me and last week you didn’t trust me.”

“Because as much as I love seeing people suffer, it’s at my hands, not their own minds. That fate is reserved for Rollins. Besides, you know too much and you fixed my leg, so it would be unwise to throw out an investment.”

“I hardly fixed it. You’re on a path to lose the damn thing if you don’t sit down for more than five seconds.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Why are you helping me?” Kaz said flipping the conversation back on me.

“Well, I like my intestines where they are for one, two, I don’t think you’ll like my other answer.”

“Try me.”

“Well,” I sighed, “I think underneath all of those layers, you’re a good person who has just been taken advantage of and grown a spine of steel. I think as much as you hate to admit it, you have confused the words ‘investments’ and ‘friends’. I think that anyone could recognize what happened to me, but it takes someone who has a conscience somewhere to care enough to help and respect boundaries like standing far away from me despite your leg.”

Kaz looked like I just called him every derogatory name ever. “Thats not—“

“Just take the compliment, Brekker. You can be a hard-ass on the street, but it doesn’t hurt to have a friend or two behind closed and locked doors.”

———

You hadn’t planned on ever meeting Kaz and when you did you didn’t want to remain involved, so how you ended up spending more time at the Crow Club than your house, you didn’t know. With help from Kaz a rumor had started about your gloves and you even found out why Kaz wore his. While his situation was far worse and tied to severe trauma, you realized slowly that some of his actions meant a lot more than you thought. From him realizing and respecting your boundaries without saying a word to him even trusting you enough to touch his leg after barely knowing him (blood loss probably had a lot to do with it), his smaller actions meant a lot more.

As the weeks went by Kaz sent you on jobs that could’ve easily been done by one of the Dregs, and frankly, you wish he had sent one of them, but you had gained a reputation. Similar rumors spread about your gloves and in turn Kaz gained even more fear and respect. People saw you wearing gloves next to Dirtyhands and thought for sure he was training you to be just like him so he could gain even more control of the city. Kaz wished he had thought of it himself sooner, because he could leave you at the Crow Club while he was out and people still acted as if Kaz were breathing down their necks.

“What did I tell you?” Kaz said one day.

“What?” You asked unsure of what he was referencing since he constantly gave his unsolicited opinions with little to no context.

“They fear you.”

“Because they think I’m another you.”

“They aren’t paying attention to your gloves and they fear that I have something bigger planned. Fear keeps the pigeons in line.” Kaz said shrugging.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” You said rolling your eyes and glancing quickly at Jesper who was grinning.

“Oh he’s a delight.” Jesper laughed.

Kaz was already gone, of course, but you and Jesper continued laughing and drinking.

“Well, well, well.” A man said approaching you and Jesper, “Dirtyhand Jr. isn’t so scary, are you?”

You tensed up and Jesper went to speak but instead started smirking and you glared at him. You suddenly realized why though. The crow head of Kaz’s cane hit the man’s shoulder and Kaz looked like a blood thirsty hell hound.

“Take your hands off of her right now.” Kaz snarled.

In his drunken state the man began to argue, but Kaz only sunk his cane deeper into the man’s shoulder. Kaz had a strict policy against violence on the floor, but in this moment it was clearly about to be broken.

“I don’t appreciate scum like you putting hands on what belongs to me. Leave before you lose your hands.”

The man left but Kaz whispered orders for Inej to trail him. Jesper raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kaz wordlessly brought you to his office and locked the door.

“I’m sorry Kaz, I didn’t mean to make a scene, you didn’t have to stop him, I should’ve just responded—“

“Are you hurt?” He said cutting you off.

“No? He barely touched me.” You replied.

“Then maybe I’ll only cut off fingers from his dominant hand.”

“Kaz, I swear, I was just overreacting—“

“I’ve made it clear that no one touches you. Clearly, some people need a hands on learning experience to figure out not to touch what’s mine.”

“Kaz, you don’t have to put that effort in for me. I probably could’ve gotten through it and just taken a bath if he coughed in my general direction.”

“I protect my investments.”

“Would you quit calling us that?” You snapped, “I get you don’t want me making a scene but—“

“That’s not what it’s about!” Kaz interrupted, “You think I care about a scene you cause? Your idea of a scene is firmly saying no. You tensed up and no one except me and Jesper noticed. You know what I care about? People who still underestimate just how far I’m willing to go.”

You stayed silent for a few moments before saying, “Then why? Why do you care?”

“Because you’re mine.”

“This again? I told you—“

“No. You’re mine.” Kaz said with more emphasis, “I know you don’t want them touching you, but it also makes me sick watching other men touch you so easily when I can’t.”

“Kaz, unless you plan on coughing in my face I don’t care.” You said softly.

“I can’t.” Kaz said barely audibly.

It suddenly clicked. Kaz had told you a few details about why he wore gloves, he said he had a brother who died from firepox and he had been left for dead with him. His touch aversion wasn’t because of the firepox, it was his brother. Kaz wasn’t afraid of getting sick, he was afraid of touching skin.

“Kaz, I didn’t realize— I thought you were afraid of getting sick too, I’m—“

“I don’t need your apologies.” Kaz said still clearly angry, “I need that man’s fingers on my desk.”

“Kaz is it really that big of a deal? He just touched my shoulders. It might help the club if you just let it go because people might come more if they think they have a chance—“

“Do you want them to?”

“What?”

“Do you want men to have a chance with you?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Then I’ll take as many fingers as I need to send a message.”

“Does it matter? I can act.”

“The club is fine. I won’t have you out there being touched if that’s not what you want. This isn’t the Menagerie.”

“Well, I guess I won’t object to you taking a few fingers.” You laughed, “That guy was a jerk. But how does that ‘help your investment’, don’t you have bigger problems?”

“I told you. It makes me sick seeing men touch you when I can’t.” Kaz said through gritted teeth.

You and Kaz were probably the most emotionally unintelligent people in the barrel, and that was saying a lot. It wasn’t until days later after a drunken conversation with Nina did you realize what Kaz actually meant. You woke up the next day completely panicked about how to talk to Kaz. Of course you had grown to like him, he was hot and willing to do questionable things to make you happy, but you never thought you’d have a chance with him. Kaz didn’t even like to admit that he had friends, so why would he ever want more?

Your POV:

I rushed into the Crow Club and desperately asked Jesper where Kaz was. He directed me to his office and I started knocking incessantly on the door. When Kaz finally answered, he looked annoyed, but changed his expression to mildly annoyed when he saw me.

“We need to talk.” I said pushing past him.

Kaz shut the door and walked over to his desk. “What is it? Did you and Inej find a way into the merchant’s house?” Kaz asked thinking this was about the recent job he had started.

“No. Kaz what did you mean when you said you didn’t like people touching me?”

“That I don’t like people touching you.” Kaz said frowning, “Why? Do I need to cut more fingers off or move to whole hands?”

“No, you’ve thoroughly scared all of Ketterdam.” I said dismissively, “Why don’t you like it?”

“Because you don’t.”

“Is that all?”

“I told you. I don’t like other men thinking they can touch you when I can’t.”

“But why?” I pressed.

“Why?” Kaz said scowling.

“Are you jealous?” I blurted.

Kaz’s whole expression changed and he sighed and like he did weeks ago, he wordlessly locked his door. “Am I jealous?” He asked coldly, “Am I jealous that other men feel entitled to put hands on you in my club so effortlessly when I can’t even touch your hand without feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin? Am I jealous that I rarely care for anyone or anything, but when I do, what Pekka fucking Rollins did to me stands in the way? Yeah. I’m jealous and I’ll keep cutting off fingers or hands until I feel a little better about it.”

“Kaz aren’t you Ketterdam’s biggest conman?” I asked, “Find a different angle. At the end of the day you’re still the one who has my heart.”

Kaz’s eyes flicked up and studied mine. “No.”

“No?” I asked hoping I hadn’t read the situation wrong.

“No. I can’t give you what you want and I can’t let people use you to get to me.”

“How do you know what I want?” I insisted.

“You may wear gloves too, y/n, but you can touch people still, I can’t. I can’t even touch your hand without my gloves. I can’t give you what other men can. I can offer you protection and a reputation and that’s it.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t need any of that? If I wanted a physical relationship I could go home with anyone, but I haven’t. For whatever stupid reason, I care about you. I want you. You think I don’t know what that comes with? If one day you don’t have a hard time with touch, great, but if that day never comes I’m perfectly happy right here with you. I love you.” I insisted watching him for a reaction. His expression was blank so I continued, “I love you Kaz. If all you have to offer is your love and a gloved hand, that’s more than enough… do you love me?” I asked.

“You’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind. Do you love me?” I asked again.

“No.” Kaz said firmly, “I don’t love you.”

I don’t know what I was expecting from Kaz, but his words still stung. Tears threatened my eyes but I would not let him see the impact his words had on me. “Then you shouldn’t miss me. I’m going out, I’ll be back tonight.” I said turning on my heel.

“The club—“

“Manage your own damn club Brekker.” I snapped, “I’m not yours.”

———

Jesper knew something was wrong when Kaz was pacing despite his bad leg that was clearly bothering him. All the crows had gathered in Kaz’s office for a meeting and the only person missing was Y/n.

“Pacing won’t make her get here. Just start without her, you start without me all the time.” Jesper said.

“Inej, what time did she get back last night? I told her this meeting was important.”

“She didn’t come back last night, I thought she stayed at her place.”

“She’s been staying at the Slat,” Wylan said frowning, “I pass her place on the way home, she clearly hasn’t been home in a while.”

“She never came back?” Kaz asked gritting his teeth.

You hadn’t. You stormed out and took to the streets of Ketterdam. You knew better than to show weakness in public, but it felt like Kaz had slapped you across the face. One minute you were crying into a cup of coffee that was too strong, and the next you were being dragged into an alley.

You instantly recognized members of the Dime Lions and sighed. Clearly these people had gotten one two many concussions and weren’t thinking straight.

“Let go of me.” You spat angrily.

You knew they wouldn’t but the goal wasn’t for them to let you go, it was to distract them. There were only two of them, they must have thought you’d go down without a fight. They each held tightly to one arm and you started to kick at their legs and they immediately started focusing on restraining your legs.

“Guess the rumors aren’t true,” one of them laughed, “Brekker didn’t teach his newest toy how to fight. Those gloves are for show.”

Your POV:

I just gave the most convincing helpless whimper I could and at the same time just before yanking my arms free. I placed them on their shoulders, and jumped up to kick my feet behind me into their stomachs. They both stumbled back, partly from pain, partly from surprise. One of them hunched over and I went for him first. With help from Jesper, I had put a thick layer of steel in the toes of my combat boots and I brought the toe straight to the Dime Lion’s face. It made a crunching noise and he was instantly knocked out falling backwards with a face full of blood. The second already had his arms wrapped around me pinning my arms to my body from behind. I quickly pulled my head forward and forcefully rammed it back again into his face. It probably hurt me just the same, but it surprised him, just not enough to make him let go. I turned my head and sunk my teeth hard into his arm.

“You fucking psychopath! You bit me!”

I wiggled one arm free and elbowed him and laughed manically. “And I’ll do it again!”

I broke free just as he landed a punch straight to my jaw. Immediately I tasted blood and stumbled to the ground. The guy immediately pinned me down and landed another punch before I wrapped my leg around his and used the leverage to flip him underneath me. He brought his hands to my throat to try to push me away and choke me but I began relentlessly laying punches. I used my non dominant hand to pin his wrists and kept punching until I realized he was no longer conscious.

Both Dime Lions were profusely bleeding but still alive. I slipped a small knife from my sleeve and grinned. “And you were worried about me biting you.” I said pulling the first guys shirt open, buttons popping all over the place.

I carved my name into his chest and did the same to the other guy before cutting X’s over their Dime Lion tattoos. I could kill them, but if they happened to not bleed out in this alley they would forever have evidence of being beat by me unless they found a good healer or tailor, which I doubted.

I knew I probably looked like hell but I couldn’t be seen like this and I had already thrown up from knowing their blood was on me. Instead of going home or going to the Slat I went to an old friend of mine. Baastian De Jong.

“Y/n?” He exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I need a shower.” I sighed.

“You need a medik! What are you doing here?”

“I ran into Pekka Rollins’ guys. I just need to get the blood off, please?”

Next thing you knew I knew, I was asleep on his couch and awake the next day with a major headache.

“They really did a number on you didn’t they?”

“Shut it, Baastian.” I groaned.

“Want lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“It’s practically noon.”

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, “Kaz is going to gut me like a fish.”

“You’re wrapped up with Brekker too? Ghezen, Y/n! He’s the absolute worst person in this country and probably the world! What were you thinking?”

“He’s not that bad.” I insisted as I quickly gathered my things.

“You said he’d gut you!”

“I’m too valuable of an investment, he’ll probably just threaten me.”

I left Baastian’s house and quickly made my way to meet with the Crows. When I finally got through the door all of them were yelling and agitated but they noticed me and quieted down.

“Y/n what happened? Where were you?” Wylan exclaimed jumping up.

“You should see the other guys.” I said smirking.

Wylan just looked horrified, “What happened?”

“Two of the Dime Lions made the unfortunate mistake of taking me for a damsel in distress. If they crawled their way out of the alley I left them in, it would be a miracle.” I laughed, “They did land a few good hits though so I went to Baastian’s so no one would see me.”

“Baastian De Jong? I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Neither have I, he wanted me to see a medik.” I laughed, “I specifically went there so no one would see me.”

“Why? You should’ve come back—“

“Right back where they expected me to be.” I sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Let’s get this over with, I have a migraine and I would really like about fifteen shots of espresso, give or take, right about now.”

“Who did this to you?” Kaz finally asked.

“Doesn’t matter Kaz, I take care of myself. Let’s get on with this.”

“Who?” Kaz said more firm this time.

“I don’t know their names. If they lived, they’re both probably sporting shattered bones and I carved my name into their chests and X’s over their tattoos with a knife. You’ll see ‘em comin’ a mile away.”

“You did fucking what?” Jesper sputtered.

“I bit one of them too.” I said grinning at Jesper.

“Where in a fight do you get to the point of biting?” Jesper laughed.

“Wanna find out?”

“Nope.” Jesper said quickly.

“Now, plans to pull this heist off.”

We were only about twenty minutes into Kaz’s scheming when Rotty burst in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you guys are going to want to see who me and Specht found.”

“This better be good.” Kaz sighed.

We all followed Rotty to an empty room where two men sat slumped on the floor. I grinned immediately.

“Hey boys! Miss me?” I exclaimed crossing my arms.

“Keep that psychotic bitch away from us!” The one guy yelled, “She fucking bit me!”

“Your nose is shattered and that’s what you’re still on about?” I snorted.

“Found ‘em in an alley not far from here!” Rotty said excitedly, “They were apparently tasked with taking Y/n hostage and she left them within an inch of life.”

“Clearly, Ghezen, land enough punches?” Specht laughed.

“She kicked me in the face!” The other guy corrected.

“And I’ll do it again, wanna keep talking?” I spat.

Immediately both of them were silent and Kaz raised an eyebrow.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Jesper said wide eyed.

“I do, all the time.” I said turning to leave.

“What should we do with ‘em?” Rotty asked Kaz.

“Let me talk to them alone. Then we let them free. Y/n intended on sending a message that I don’t intend on blocking.”

———

I sat on my bed drinking awful coffee silently. I was in deep with the Dregs now, which was never my intention. I never intended on falling for Kaz Brekker, having my heart broken, and making enemies. Now here I was unable to look Kaz in the eyes while slowly building a ‘psychotic bitch’ reputation. I had to admit, I saw the appeal. Seeing the fear in those mens’ eyes was a thrill, but it meant nothing in comparison to the impact a simple glance from Kaz had on me. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts though and I sighed.

“Who is it?”

“We need to talk.” Came Kaz’s voice.

No ‘Hello. How are you? It’s Kaz.’ I thought. Straight to the point as always.

“No.” I said refusing to get up and unlock my door

The knock was a curtesy of course. When Kaz wanted to talk he talked and something like a locked door wasn’t stopping him. Kaz quickly picked the lock and the door swung open. He limped in and shut the door behind him.

“We need to talk.” He repeated.

“Nice to see you too.” I grumbled looking away from him.

“Pekka Rollins sent those two fools after you and while you sent a pretty good return to sender, there is still the problem that you’re a target too now.”

“Wonderful.” I groaned, “I’m going to kill Wylan.”

“You could’ve left.” Kaz said.

“I could have but I didn’t. I didn’t because of you. I made my decision though and as you can see I can protect myself. Now if all you wanted to do was state the obvious, those assholes still landed enough punches to make my head feel like it’s going to explode so I would rather not have the same arguments over and over.”

“I shouldn’t have let you leave last night.”

“You don’t let me do anything, Brekker. The others may be willing pawns, but I don’t belong to you.”

“What do you want from me? Did you think it was going to be all sunshine and daisies here?” Kaz snarled.

“I wanted you to take your head out of your ass for five minutes to realize that sex and touch isn’t the only important thing in a relationship. I love you Kaz Brekker and there’s a million ways to show it without touching, but you think so lowly of yourself and me that you don’t think you’re worth the effort and you don’t think that it will be enough for me. I know who you are and I don’t want to change you. I want you.” I exclaimed putting the coffee on my nightstand, “Now I just want you to leave me alone. Stop calling me yours.”

Kaz placed a gloved hand over my gloved hand and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I am capable.”

I looked up at him and his whole demeanor had changed. “It’s easy. Don’t breathe my air, and tell me how pretty my eyes are instead.” I said.

I had been angry only seconds earlier, but the touch Kaz could offer changed that immediately. Kaz almost smiled and nodded.

“And we don’t tell anyone until it gets too hard to deny or I take care of Rollins for good. I don’t want him making the target on your back even bigger.”

“What a shame, I was prepared to go shout in the streets.”

———