Mirage laid back down and sighed, running stressed fingers through his hair. To his instant relief, Wraith stretched and yawned. Mirage couldn’t help but smile.

She was so adorable.

After a little while, though, Mirage’s eyes grew heavy again. It was surely a rough night for Wraith, but it was for him, too. Within moments, he was knocked out again.

Almost just as soon as Mirage fell back asleep, Wraith slowly opened her eyes, half way. The room was dimly lit by the few sun rays that’d made it past the dark curtains, illuminating the room with a cozy warmth and hue. Dust slowly floated about like sparkles in the sun’s warm, motherly light, bringing a new sense of beauty and elegance to it. It was when seeing the room again that she remembered she’d spent the night with Mirage. Now, Wraith was never a morning person, and she was a pretty light sleeper. Her horrors and anxieties had never allowed her to get into too deep a sleep, but she’d slept, in her opinion, pretty decently. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Their legs were intertwined and his arms were snaked around her body, pressing their chests together. Her arms were laid loosely, but comfortably, about his shoulders, and their faces were just centimeters apart. She gasped softly as they shared a breath. Mirage’s eyes were still closed, and seemed to be sleeping soundly. Her heart sank a little when remembering the night before, and what she’d put him through. Hell, she couldn’t even handle her attacks, how could he? 

But he stayed. 

He didn’t run away.

He didn’t think she was crazy.

He wasn’t...afraid of her.

Tears pricked her eyes.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. She leaned forward ever so slightly, just enough for their faces to touch. Their noses and foreheads met, and she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly. A light blush touched her cheeks as Mirage brought her waist to his and interlocked their legs more. She tentatively raised a hand and brushed her fingers through the tousled locks that had fallen over his face, tucking them under his ear snugly. She then proceeded to let her fingers trail down his cheek to his stubble...to his lips. 

Her hand apparently having a mind of its own, it made its way down his neck, then to his chest. She gently began to stroke his sternum with careful fingers, when she noticed something. She undid a few of his buttons to reveal, as she thought, scars.

She blinked.

Wraith’s fingers grazed the buttons of his shirt and brushed against his chest, having no idea that this was making Mirage’s heartbeat increase by the second, so much that it hurt. Carefully, she undid a few more of them, revealing even more scars the further she went. Once reaching the bottom of his shirt, she brushed it over his shoulders. She placed her hand to his chest, inspecting each and every one, not letting one out of her touch. To her surprise, scars were sprinkled all over his muscular physique. “You’re just like me.” She said softly to herself. She then began to wonder where all of the scars, including the one on his face, came from. 

“Hard life.” Mirage said, reading the inquiring look on her face. 

Wraith looked up at him. 

Mirage grinned, “Good morning. Didn’t know you were this comfortable already.” 

Wraith blushed, “Oh, I wasn’t--”

Mirage laughed, “It’s alright, just pokin’ fun.” He shrugged. “Eh, they’re not too much of a pretty sight, but I have a ton of them, always have.” 

His scars, in her eyes, were absolutely beautiful. The ones on his chest, his face, his arms. They were part of him, and she accepted him for who he was despite his scars.

Would he feel the same about her?

It was one of the many things she loved about him.

There it was again.

That word.

Love.

“How did you sleep?” Mirage asked gingerly, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Oh, well...I slept alright. How about you?” Wraith asked.

“Great, actually.” Mirage replied. “Haven’t slept that well in awhile.” 

Wraith looked to her hands, “Mirage. About last night...I’m sor--”

Mirage kissed her forehead, the sudden affection shutting her up. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re feeling better and you got some decent sleep.” He smiled. 

A pit of frustration and anxiety began to formulate in her heart. She’d fought demons. She’d battled mental health. She’d been experimented on, tortured, isolated from humanity, and forced to recreate her sense of self and identity. Simply put, she’d been through hell and back...and she can’t even tell him how she feels?

Why was it so hard?

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?” 

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.” 

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly. 

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature. 

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory. 

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.” 

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.” 

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first. 

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell. 

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.” 

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.” 

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t. 

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!” 

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.” 

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch. 

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer. 

Her heart raced. 

There was so much she wanted to tell him. 

So much he needed to know. 

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible. 

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.” 

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--” 

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove. 

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why. 

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.” 

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks. 

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled. 

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.” 

Mirage sighed and left his room. He stuck his hands in his pockets and proceeded to the front door. Midway, he changed his mind, figuring he should make a quick stop by Wraith’s room.

Maybe she’s in here. He thought. 

He knocked. 

No answer. 

He knocked a couple more times. 

Still no answer. 

“I would leave a note but I don’t have paper. Or a pen...or a pencil...” He called through the door in case she was in there. “So, uh. I was here...is that what people say?” He asked to himself as he walked down hall. “Maybe I should just give her some space.”  

Wraith sat on the grass by the riverbank, which was starting to freeze over. She brought her knees up to her chest, rubbing her arms. She held her head in frustration and shook it vigorously in attempt to get the horrid voices and memories out of her head. She yelled in frustration, her eyes flaring and her body sparking with electricity.

“Hey--” Mirage said as he appeared next to her. 

Wraith gasped and threw her knife, going right through him and into a tree. 

Mirage faded away in a blue mist. 

“You got BOOZLED!” Mirage laughed from behind her, leaning against a tree with his leg propped up on the other, his arms crossed. Amidst his laughing, reality set in. His laughing ceased. “Wait…” He stared at the tree that could’ve been him. “You...you could’ve killed me!”

“I knew that wasn’t you.” Wraith said as she walked over to her knife, removing and sheathing it.

I hope he didn’t see or hear me. She feared.

Still in utter shock, his mouth gaped open. He playfully scoffed in disbelief, “Are you sure about that, though?” 

“What do you want, Mirage.” Wraith said, sitting back down on the log by the river. 

Mirage took a seat on the log next to her. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. Was just messin’.” 

Whew. 

Wraith sighed, “I know. I’m sorry for going off on you. That was my fault.” 

“Well, apology accepted and you are forgaven! Or is it forgaved? Or forgived…forsomething...anyways, it’s cool.” Mirage replied, playfully punching her on the shoulder. 

Wraith’s body moved forward from the punch. She’d usually punch back and they’d playfully wrestle or fight, but she continued watching the river. 

Mirage frowned. 

Something is bothering her.

Mirage was right, but Wraith didn’t look to be in a talking mood. In attempt to lighten the mood, he stood and grabbed a pebble. “Bet you can’t skip farther than this.” He threw the pebble, and it dropped completely underwater. “Bet you can’t skip farther than this!” He attempted again, the pebble again failing to skip. “Or this!” He tried another time, the pebble again getting fully submerged in water. 

“You’re terrible at skipping.” Wraith said.

Mirage waved a hand and sat back down, surrendering to the river. “Those pebbles were rigged.”  

Wraith scoffed. “Sure.” 

There was a small silence. 

Mirage looked to Wraith’s hands, which, to his concern, were clasped and trembling. Though her hands shook, her body remained completely still. He unbuttoned his coat and draped it gently over her shoulders. “There ya go.” He let his arms linger around her shoulders just a little, reveling in the feeling of her in his arms before removing them. 

She hastily removed the coat and gave it back to him. “This is yours.” 

Mirage leaned way and shook his head, “No, take it. You’re freezing. Least a man can do is give a woman his coat.” He said, repeating his previous action. “Take it, please. For me.”

Wraith stared at him, not knowing what to do, how to respond, or what to think. She grabbed either side of his coat and pulled it around her more. She said, softly, “Thank you.” 

“Here, let me help,” he said, helping her arms into the sleeves, which were adorably oversized, zipping up the coat, and pulling the hood over her head, or at least he tried to. “Hm. That bun’s gonna be a problem.” He reached for her bun, and Wraith pulled away. 

Stop it. She thought to herself. It’s okay. It’s Mirage. He won’t hurt you. You’re safe.

Tentatively, and to Mirage’s surprise, Wraith leaned forward again. Not only did she lean forward, but she turned so he had a better angle from which he could undo her bun. Mirage, not wasting a second of this seemingly unreal dream, started to undo her bun. He took a slow, controlled breath to ease his racing heartbeat. Just the feeling of his fingers in her surprisingly dense, soft, wonderfully scented hair as it fell from her bun was enough to drive any man crazy. 

Mirage knew to start off slow and be gentle. Once he’d finished undoing her bun, he let her hair cascade down her body. Her hair was surprisingly long and wavy, ending around the middle of her rib cage. He pulled the hood over her head. Gingerly, he placed his fingers under her chin to lift her face to meet his. 

A breathless “Wow.” involuntarily escaped his lips. The darkness that the hood’s shadow bore on her face made her eyes sparkle and glow brighter than any star. Mirage was absolutely entranced by her eyes, whose sparkle shone through her bangs like full moons in a winter forest. They were mysterious. Bright. Beautiful. 

Just like she was. 

Slowly, he attempted a hand to her hair. But, before he followed through, he stopped. “May I?” 

It’s okay.

Wraith, unable to break her gaze into his soft, innocent brown eyes, nodded.  

His warm palm tenderly cupped her cheek, treating her with the respect and care that she so deserved. She could feel the roughness of his hands and the scars that characterized them, but something about his touch was soft and reassuring. His fingers combed through her raven black hair, sleek and smooth, like a raven’s feathers. She leaned into his palm, his thumb caressing her cheek. She slowly closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh of contentment as she let her body grow to trust him. 

Gosh. Mirage thought. Her cheek is so soft, her eyes...just...amazing. And her hair down? Hell...why is she so perfect?

He proceeded to slowly and gingerly wrap her in his arms. With a conscious effort to relax, Wraith’s supple body surrendered to his protective embrace, letting his arms cloak her in the secure warmth she believed she would never feel. She was at peace. She could breathe. She could relax. She felt...safe.

It began to snow lightly. 

“Come on, let’s go to my place. Don’t want you to catch a cold in this...cold.” Mirage said through a laugh. He stood and offered his hands, beckoning her to him. Wraith looked up at him, then to his hands, which patiently awaited their other halves. Once taking a deep breath, she gently slipped her hands into his, and he raised her up. 

Their eyes locked again. 

A soft blush touched Mirage’s cheeks. “By the way...you know, just for the record, you should smile a lot more. It looks good on you...and to be frank, it’s my favorite thing about you.” 

Wraith laid her head on his chest, placing his arms around her, his arms obeying in a secure and endearing fashion. She closed her eyes and let out a content sigh as she breathed in his scent and nestled herself closer to his body. His warmth. His embrace. 

For the first time in a while, Wraith smiled. “Maybe I will.” 

Mirage scoffed. “Miss? I never miss. I just, uh,” he fought for words. “I just didn’t hit you.”

Wraith stared at him.

“You know, uh, like I tried to hit you but I didn’t. I would’ve hit you but you phased and like if you didn’t I would’ve hit you...how do I say this...” he rubbed the back of his neck, deep in thought and contemplation.

Wraith raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms, tilting her head. “...You mean you miss—”

“I missed! Exactly.” Mirage smiled proudly, then furrowed his brow. “Wait, that’s not right.”

Wraith fought to suppress the natural smile that so badly wanted to sprout from her lips. Her heart and mind continued to disagree, her mind continuing the battle of her reluctance to accept the fact that she loved when he was like this. While her heart, on the other hand, wanted to explore and embrace these emotions she hadn’t felt before. Or at least, not in so long. Or, more accurately, what she didn’t want to risk in trying again.

But she loved it. She loved when he was absolutely clueless and silly and had no idea he was being so. She loved the efforts he made to want to be serious, but instead comes off adorably dorky and cute.

How could he play it so well? How could he be that dorky, but still so...charismatic? And charming? And admirable?

And handsome?

It was something that she could never get to the bottom of, and it was something that intrigued her so much. Though Mirage was definitely a favorite amongst the ladies, she, undoubtedly, was his biggest secret admirer.

Secret admirer.

That was what she liked.

A secret.

Something she could covet and keep as her own without having to feel there was a potential it could be lost, mistreated, or broken.

Like her.

That’s where it was safe. But her confusion, her emotions, her fears, her insecurities, her thoughts...they were growing too much for her. But, for some reason, a very foreign and strange reason, when she was around Mirage everything seemed to be...okay?

Is that a thing? She thought.

Is there such a thing as being...okay? If so...do I deserve to feel it? Why am I feeling it? Should I be feeling it? Why does he make me feel so many things...this can’t be right, can it?

Suddenly, a warm feeling of reassurance and comfort washed over her heart and body at the thought of him again, like a mother cloaking her child in her safe embrace. There was just something about him that made her feel what she’s heard people describe as “happiness”.

Of course in all the time she was thinking, she had no idea the hints of a smile were on her face. She’d only realized when Mirage broke her train of thought.

“Is that a lil smile I see?” Mirage teased.

The hints that swiftly turned to remnants immediately dissipated to the cold abyss in which she lived. She stiffened and resumed her distant and cool demeanor.

“Open your eyes. There’s no smile to see.” Wraith said, and she turned and began to walk away.

Mirage smirked, “I’m pretty sure I saw a smile on that beautiful face of yours.”

Wraith stopped in her tracks. Her heart began to race and her cheeks burned from blushing so hard. She began to break into a cold sweat.

Mirage smirked and continued, “I know I saw a smile.”

Wraith responded, “You didn’t see anything.”

Mirage continued to pry, “Oh, come on, yes you did. I saw it. It was this big.” He smiled as widely as he could. “Well actually that’s a lie I could barely see it but hey, a smile’s a smile!”

Wraith said again, using everything in her power to keep her body from trembling, her struggle evident in her voice. “I. Did not. Smile.”

Mirage continued, walking over to and putting a hang on her shoulder. “Come on, I just wanna see you smi-”

Faster than Mirage could foresee, Wraith turned and tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms down with her legs and putting her knife to his throat.

They locked eyes.

Mirage stared at her.

Wraith stared back.

A small part of Mirage’s heart broke, and the rest of it ached. He had never seen her like this before. The look in her clouded and watering eyes broke his heart. He could immediately tell something was wrong. Really wrong.

Wraith and Mirage have had their playful banters to show who was a better legend than who, so he was used to being pinned and shown who’s boss. But this was different.

His heart told him it was.

And this one time, when he looked into her eyes, he could see another part of Wraith he had never seen. A part she never allowed him to see. Instead of seeing a squad mate in the Games, he saw a woman.

“Why?” She asked. “Why did you say that? Why did you say I had a beautiful face? Why do you want to see my smile?”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Why do you...why do you care?” She demanded, “Why do you care about me?” She fumbled off of him and staggered away, averting her face, confused by her emotions. “You’re not supposed to care...”

Mirage stood, reaching out to her, “Wrai—” Before he could finish, she phased. Mirage grumbled to himself and sighed, resting a hand on his hip and the other through his dark, wavy hair. “God, I hate when she does that.”