#ayafay

Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said "Be true," I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

In the world where everyone was going crazy with finding their soulmate, you have been one of the cursed ones. You’ve meet your soulmate, more to say, you’ve been next to him ever since. You just weren’t with him. Sure, he valued you and your skills, but he never really got to know you outside the job field. Let alone, be in love with you or anywhere near this state.

So as time flew by and he did no steps towards you, you’ve become more and more upset, which resulted into one night, which has been full of sorrows, cries and tears. That’s when the first blue petal fell out of your mouth and your existence’s clock’s speed accelerated, turning the whole world of yours into rushed motion.

You knew well enough what was going to happen to you and you didn’t like it one bit. So when you found yourself itching with flowers, that were slowly creeping its way into your skin, you decided to talk to Victor. Needless to say, the talk has gone less than thrilling.

Being a heartless bastard he is, Victor turned you down completely, going as far as even assuming you would cut the flowers out of your system completely, making yourself unable to love, which you for obvious reasons couldn’t really do.

He wanted you to follow in his steps: to get rid of the flowers, just like he did years ago, for the reasons unknown to you and too deeply hidden for him to find and brought them to the daylight.

But no matter what Victor thought or did, in the end, Victor was the only man you’ve ever loved and even the possibility of being unable to feel these kinds of emotions ever again made you want to vomit.

So, taking all the strength you’ve had, you promised Victor to never talk of it again and completely focus on your job, he was giving you.

Never did he mention your flowers again.

Neither did you.

Everything was blue.

Blue walls, blue floor, blue world.

Blue. Blue. Blue.

You even were pretty sure, that your veins turned into thin blue lines, full of blue blood.

At some point you turned to hate the color so much, you even asked your brother not to put them anywhere near you once you’re gone.

As time flew by, it has become more and more difficult to leave not only your house, but your room. Your room has become your gloomy shelter where even your only relative - your brother – didn’t come often.

The room used to be the only place you loved and now it was the only place you let yourself suffer at. The wallpapers’ color has been changed into darker shade since the light one has been accidentally ripped off by you during particularly painful flower attack on your lings. You simply tried to get hold onto something so strongly that the wallpaper has been glued off.

Another reminder of your state was constantly bloodied blanket, that you now kept well hidden inside your closet, far away from the prying eyes of your brother, who might have accidantally step into your room. A bottle of water was also your best friend nowaday as it helped you to suppress flowers inside your throat.

Another row of heartbreakingly bad cough made you bend in half, coughing out those damn flowers that seemed to only grow in numbers as time flew by.

Slowly, feeling how choking attack has been crawling up your way, you reached the bathroom and went to the sink, coughing up the remnants of flowers and washing your face from droplets of blood.

Looked up into shabby mirror you tried to look at yourself, but darkness made your reflection hardly be seen, so you walked out of the bathroom towards another mirror, which has been placed in the hall.

You looked around your body slowly taking in the mirror’s image you’ve been so used to face now. It seemed like your skin has become even paler than it was before, but you could not really tell. Your fingers’ bones have definitely begun to stand out just as all the bones in general due to you being unable to eat properly for quite some time. Dark circled under your eyes has turned into dark bags and the reason for it was your insomnia. It usually happens when you have to get seizures happen almost every hour. Blond hair seems to have become darker and longer, which you loved, but couldn’t get use to.

Walking closer you saw how tattoos on your arm has been slowly, but surely destroyed by the flowers, which simply stood out, not leaving any time for lying to yourself. You knew well enough, that once your flowers became visible and not only growing inside your lughs, you were screwed. You’ve been dying. And you’ve been dying fast.

You sighed and turned away, not really in the mood to take a closer look on your now spoiling body. But the moment your gaze fell upon your wrist, where the flowers grew itself, you wanted to scream, but could only do as much as raise a hand and in one swift motion break the glass, before slowly sinking in onto the floor, before your brother finding you motionless, watching the fragile wrists with careful glare.

“You can’t keep doing that to yourself, love.” Oswald mumbled as he handed you a glass of water, which you hurriedly devoured in vain attempt to keep the flowers at bay. “You have to tell him at some point. Your flowers are already too hard to keep inside and you know that sooner or later he will find out the truth behind our charade.”

You nodded at Oswald’s obviously logical reasons, and you wished he would be right. You wished it could be that easy except for the obvious reason that it wasn’t. It wasn’t that easy, because Victor has already known the truth and he rejected it. He did reject you.

You took a deep breath, trying to block out the memories, before walking out of the room, leaving your brother puzzled and guessing what really happened there.

But as you were about to walk out onto the streets, you found yourself unable to move as extremely agonizing attack shot through your  chest, making you fall to the floor and gasp in silent cry.

Oswald didn’t hesitate to call Victor as soon as he saw the state you’ve been in.

He just wasn’t ready to deal with Victor’s usual bratty behavior, so he left him no other option but come.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

When Victor stepped into old warn out flat, the sun has already disappeared, making old building look especially gloomy. He came as fast as he could after Oswald’s call, when his formal boss shouted at him like he has never shouted before. He knew he must have found out about Victor’s reaction to his little sister’s illness, but Victor could do nothing. Not anymore.

He did the only thing he could – he came to stay. In a way you cut him too deep, leaving him scarred. You’ve been his best mercenary after all.

Oswald was sleeping in an armchair, close by the bed, the woman was lying in. She was lying on the bed; her whole body was covered in bandages, hiding her now broken skin. Her pale skin was translucent, and her face was partly soiled in a red liquid. He tried to call for her calmly, but she did not answer. The woman was lying in her bed without any movement, barely alive.

As if feeling his presence, you opened up your eyes, finding his hand with your weak one, making his stop his movement and stare at you. You could have sworn you’ve seen him smiling.

“How do you feel?” – Victor’s question is hanging in the air between you two, sounding so absurd that you would have laughed if you could, but you cannot as the flowers squeeze your lungs in vise. The only thing you mastered is squeeze out something remotely resembling a smile.

“How can you feel yourself being on the verge of death?”

Victor frowns and guiltily lowers his eyes. He didn’t expect you to be so truthful. “You just look awful, so I asked. I feel our partnership was broken after our last conversation.” Victor looks at you and squeezes your hand a little. “I could never take back the things I said and I definitely can't save you as I got my flowers removed years ago. But I will stay with you until you decide that cutting them off is an option.”

You watched Victor’s watchful eyes roaming your form before setting on your disfigured wrists, and before you could say a word, he took one of your wrists in his hand, gently removing the bandage from it, before he completely stopped and stare at your flowers, that imprinted there.

Despair and determination were written on the man's face in a second and before you could really protest, he gave your hand a squeeze and lifted you up, making his way through your bedroom, towards the entrance.

“I make this decision for you. And I care less than anything about your opinion.” He whispered so feverishly, that you weren’t really sure if you did hear it. You wanted to protest, to tell him that even if he magically get you on operation table in time and you will be able to breathe freely again and there will be no more painful coughing; If the flowers had magically disappeared from your lungs, despair would never have disappeared, it would only flared up with renewed vigor or so you thought.

You didn’t remember Victor’s sprint to his car or how dangerously close to creating a few car crushes he has been when he accelerated his car’s engine on its way to the hospital. You didn’t know how much it cost him to get you a doctor, who has been able to cut the flowers on such a deep level.

And you definitely didn’t hear how your brother smacked Victor across the face once he learnt about his rejection and how loud his weeping was when he found out about your inability to love anymore.

Waking up was hard, yet so easy.

No more painful coughing, no more pain.

No more feelings were involved.

Everything was so simple - do not suffer, do not choke, do not feel that the heart was ready to stop beating. After the operation you found yourself being able to act normally, without being suffocated by the deadly beauty; nothing felt like your bones has been breaking all at once, no thorns held your breath anymore.

And as the familiar figure stepped into your hospital ward it was easy to force your lips to stretch out in a friendly and happy smile before embracing the man in a hug, before examine his bloody, disfigured face. And it was easy to watch his face, which simply smiled before hoarsely whisper cut the silence.

“I’ve got a murder to commit. And I need my best partner with me.”

You watched Victor with careful gaze before reaching your hand to shake his.

The darkness slowly crept into an empty room, illuminating it with headlights of the rarely passing by cars. Every passing headlight made the emptiness much more visible. Every time the car passed by, the room lighted up with brightness, making the figure inside of the room look further down, covering eyes with an injured hand.

The memories he tried to bury deep within his memory lane turned up uninvited, haunting him, making him fear for his sanity. The crooked figure that was sitting on the unmade bed was of the man, who has never been seen as broken. But today he had every reason to be broken. Today was the day he has lost something he never thought he would have. Her.

It’s so hard to concentrate on something positive, when the darkness surrounds the empty room. Another flash of brightness lights up the room for a few seconds, revealing another figure, who is standing close to the broken one.

Both figures seem to be out of their place. The only difference is that this woman figure is leaning on the wall, folding her arms over her chest, covering herself and bending one knee, which can be seen through the cut in her jeans.

Victor, the man who is sitting on the bed didn’t really notice her yet. He never does.  

Instead he got consumed by the dark thoughts inside his mind that never seem to let him loose.  He just smokes his last, almost smoldered cigarette, repeating his usual moves every time, as if it is smoothing his tense nerves.  

She is watching his every move, with a keen eye, disapprovingly shaking her head, but not ready to be seen yet. He is not ready to face her yet.

He brings thin veiny hand to his lips, biting the cigarette with his teeth, breathing the toxic smoke inside his lungs, while playing with the lighter in his other hand, moving it up and down through his fingers. And then, a few moments later, he will lost any interest in it and with a lazy movement, he will take the cigarette aside, slowly killing it inside the near placed ashtray.

He was memorizing the moment he got the order. An order he was not ready to fulfill, yet not ready to go against the boss. He closed his eyes, remembering the moment when everything went south.

You’ve been sitting alongside with your fellow officers, listening to their endless line of questions about your family, friends and how your unmarried life was too weird for them. That was exactly the reason you hated GCPD’s women officers: they would kill for the opportunity to spread rumors.

Watching their faces turning red at the absence of your reply, you simply got up and took your leave for a smoke. God knows you needed it as much as it seemed.

Walking out of the precinct, you turned the corner of an old building and leant against the dirty wall, not caring about the impact of this dirtiness on your new leather jacket. Your mind has been too occupied with the man you’ve been developing feelings for. Uncalled and unnecessary. But more of all – dangerous. Not only was he dangerous, oh no, his job was completely out of the ordinary and went completely against yours.

All in all, your emotions took the best of you, getting you into emotional roller coaster towards one of the most vicious criminals you’d encountered lately. The criminal, who spared your life and gave you much needed kick towards the well being, not the depression circle you’ve been drowning in before you’ve met him.

Your clouded gaze shifted towards the dark silhouette, which swiftly moved towards you leaning form, completely unfazed with how your eyes studied him. His eyes found yours, making you wiggle uncomfortably under his dark gaze.

You would never let it be known how aroused his presence made you.

So in attempt to shrug off the sudden haze you found yourself in, you smirked and pushed yourself off the wall, taking a drag of a smoke in and walking a few steps towards Victor, but not leaving the safety of the building’s shadow. It will do you no good if someone as much as takes a glimpse of the two of you standing on the same street, let alone standing a few steps apart.

"We have to stop meeting like this" you said, smoking out the cigarette smoke into Victor’s face. "People might think something". You giggled, watching in amusement how fast his face changed itself from being neutral to being surprised and then to being angry.

“Don’t play games with me, little girl” He said, coming closer, making you gulp when his hot breath tingled on your skin. Up that close he looked exactly his age, neither younger nor older. “As it is the game you won’t win.” He whispered in your ear, hot breath burning your skin.

“Don’t know what you are talking about, Victor...” You whispered, watching his every move from the corner of your eye, wanting nothing more than to kiss the bastard. “I know how to play games you yet have to find a way to play…” You smirked, walking away, while Victor was watching your figure, knowing well enough that it’s gonna be the last time he saw you. Just as your figure started to fade, the bang sounded and the next moment your body hit the concrete floor. Victor put away his gun and walked away, not being able to stand in one place for too long. Not having a right to stay anymore. Being sure you were gone seconds before the first policeman turned up to check the sound he heard.

He took another cigarette, moving his hands in a ragged manner, dragging another smoke as soon as he could.

“The regret’s gonna kill you one day, Victor.” Woman’s voice interrupted his loneliness, making him jerk his head up so fast, the muscles in his neck crunched in silent protest. He looked at her with wide eyes, not sure what kind of cigarettes he’s been smoking lately. He wants to say something, but all words are stuck inside his head, not making sense anymore. “Do you feel regret or fear of yourself?” Voice mocked him, while Victor still had no voice to use.

“Y/N?” He moves towards your silhouette, lightly touching your hand with his shaking one. And in that moment you wish for another car to pass by, so you would see Victor’s shaken expression on his usually stoic face.

“Are you afraid, Victor?” You whisper in his ear, moving closer, killing the distance between the two of you. Victor’s hand is moving slowly to your neck, finding the pulse in it while yours are moving to his, easily tightening your fingers around it, making man’s breathing harder. “Are you afraid, Victor?”

Before Victor could react, the hand on his neck is gone, but the pressure on his laps are growing as you positioned yourself in it.

“How?” He asked, concern for his mind is slowly rising up inside his head. “How did you survive?”

“It’s Gotham, dear. Nothing stays dead for long.” You said, finally being able to see Victor’s face for the first time since the incident. “I missed you.” You confessed, slowly moving your hand down to his chest, sliding it under his t-shirt, and moving it over his solar plexus and clavicles, before finally resting it on his heart, feeling how Victor’s skin started covering with goosebumps.

“Why come back now?” Victor finally asked, removing your hands from his body, standing up and watching you with big eyes. He watches your figure, not understanding any of tonight’s events. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” He finally cracked, not recognizing his voice.

“No. I knew what was about to happen. I felt too afraid to not be close to you. I never felt afraid of you.” You said, turning away from Victor, not ready to see his reaction and looked out of the window, still standing close to him.

“Why come back now?” He repeats his question. The answer is too important to not be heard.

“Because you are losing your mind, darling.” You whispered, afraid to say it too loud for Victor to realize what really was going on. The car finally appears, lightning up the room with its headlights, showing the emptiness of the room once again. “And I cannot let it happen to you, dear.”

The window creaks in the dark room, and this sudden noise made Victor wince against his wishes.

The moment his eyes are open again – he is alone in the room and the photograph on the bedside table is the only thing he had as the reminder of the girl who just second ago stood next to him.

Taking a deep breath in and exhaling a ragged sigh back, Victor quickly took off towards the door.

Out of the flat and this damned house.

Tomorrow morning he will start digging information about her sudden appearance and as sudden disappearance.

But today he is too tired to do it.

He will find out the truth.

Just not today.