#ockiss17

When he sees her next, she’s smiling again, gesturing vaguely and widely as she talks to the two girls she’s walking with. Ryuu doesn’t recognize them; he’s not too well acquainted with the other people she associates with. He’s lucky that Kage tolerates him; Ryuu is well aware that his asshole personality doesn’t sit well with most people. She’s different, and somehow, though he’d never admit it, he’s grateful. He watches silently as Kage seems to realize her apparent friends are not paying attention, and her smile slowly fades.

She looks so tired. His heart aches.

(He catches her later and touches her shoulder, searching her expression. But she only gives him a worn smile, and her dark, sad eyes give nothing else away.)

She’s absent the next day, texts him with a vague excuse about a cold. He finds her later, at the bridge again, precariously close to the edge. She’s got this white knuckled grip on the ledge and her eyes look dead, shoulders slouched as though the weight of the world has come down on them. Ryuu doesn’t ask what happened; he already knows. He just sits down next to her, reaches out to touch her wrist. Kage’s reaction is delayed, gaze slowly shifting up. Registering his presence, she scoots back away from the edge, as though suddenly realizing just how close she is to it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ryuu asks simply, gazing out at the sky.

Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon and he hears the distant, low rumble of thunder. Kage will probably stay out; there’s something about rainstorms that seems to absolutely transfix her. Her dark eyes flicker, following his gaze briefly, before the weight of her head comes down on his shoulder unexpectedly. He reminds himself to breathe; this is not the time for his strongly suppressed feelings to make an appearance. He brushes his ponytail aside so it doesn’t bother her, pale eyes flickering only briefly to her.

“I hate her,” she says finally, gaze distant.

He wonders, once more, just what she’s thinking.

Ryuu keeps a close eye on her the next week, but she appears to be her cheery self again. Nobody else notices anything off. Ryuu is doubtful, somehow. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It’s confounded well enough at two-thirty-seven in the morning on Friday, when his text tone for Kage wakes him up.

What if it isn’t enough, she’s asking.

He can imagine her staring at her ceiling, clutching her giant panda plush with that white knuckled grip. She’s not crying, he knows that. Her dark eyes will be unfocused, staring blankly at the dreamcatchers she hangs over her bed. The one he got her for her birthday two years ago is directly over her head, iridescent beads refracting the little bit of moonlight that seeps through her windows. It’s a vivid image.

It is, he tells her, you are.

She keeps him up for the rest of the night, questioning her reason for existence. Ryuu doesn’t know why they exist.

He only knows that they are.

When he sees her again at school, the bags under her eyes are worse than usual. He isn’t the type to worry about people - he’s not a people person; it really is just something about her - but there’s a twinge in his chest. He’s tired himself, but he doesn’t regret staying up with her. Ryuu feels needed; he knows that Kage wouldn’t message him if she wasn’t overwhelmed with too strong emotions, too much sadness, too much numbness. She bottles up her emotions until they explode and overflow - they’re alike in that respect. She’s just better at holding it back than he is.

Ryuu is all rage and dark skin and silver hair and detention slips. Kage is all three a.m sadness and pixie cuts and too much feeling and smiles that never quite reach her eyes. But she’s stubborn, and even though he’d been an asshole to her initially, she knew - she knew - that they were alike in the strangest ways.

Even in the beginning, he could never hide from her and her dark eyes.

A part of him is convinced Kage is intentionally avoiding him. She doesn’t take her usual routes to classes. He doesn’t find her at the bridge that evening, but he sits there anyways and watches the sunset, ignoring the gaze of curious onlookers as they walk by. Kage doesn’t show; Ryuu doesn’t know what he’s waiting for anymore.

(That’s a lie; he does know. He struggles to admit to himself that he’s in love with her. It’s a strange sensation. Her, he’d kill for, if she ever wanted him to. But she never would; she doesn’t burn inside like he does.)

You’re avoiding me, he texts her later.

It’s nearly one-thirty in the morning, but Ryuu is concerned, dammit, and he can’t sleep. Sure enough, Kage is awake. She doesn’t reply until he sends another message informing her that he’s receiving notifications of her reblogging things on tumblr.

I’m not, comes her reply.

Bullshit, he says, you walked different routes to class, skipped lunch, and didn’t go to the bridge today.

So? The reply is quick; he can almost hear her saying it.

So, he shoots back, exasperated, you’ve been avoiding me.

Kage doesn’t respond after that. His notifications for her social media go silent as well. Ryuu tries twice more to get her attention, but she’s ignoring him. Finally, he just claws long fingers through his hair and turns his phone off, flipping over and closing his eyes. Briefly, he recalls something about not going to bed angry, but it’s the least of his concerns.

(When he wakes up and boots his phone back up, he finds an I’m sorry, waiting, and any bit of lingering irritation from his restless sleep and the prior conversation immediately dissipates.)

It’s okay.

She seems happier that day, talking about a new musical she’d heard about in her theatre class. Ryuu knows he’s wearing an odd expression - it’s soft and relaxed, not at all like him - but he can’t help the rare smile. It really is something about her. She’s so beautiful to him.

He’s happy. For once, there is no rage, no sadness; he is genuinely happy. It won’t last, they both know that, but he enjoys it while he can.

(He catches her humming the tune to one of the songs, Words Fail. It’s one of the sad songs on the soundtrack - he knows; she made him listen to it - but she almost seems content. Ryuu makes a point of listening to the rest of the soundtrack upon arriving home. There’s an unfamiliar prick of tears behind his eyes by the time he finishes.)

They make it a weekend before things begin going bad again. It’s a cycle, he supposes. Kage skips lunch again, but Ryuu finds her in the library. She’s reading Amity again; after Wonder Show, it’s one of her favorites. He isn’t sure how many times she’s read it. She’s engrossed, though, so she doesn’t immediately notice him. There’s sprawling black ink on her forearm. He hadn’t seen it earlier, but her hoodie sleeves are pitched up now.

I could live where others merely breathed, but now I’m suffocating in my own words.

Ryuu sighs, and just silently sits beside her, resting his head back against the wall. They sit like that well through the lunch period. He doesn’t see her again the rest of afternoon.

Come evening, the temperature drops. Ryuu tugs his jacket on and slips out of the house, making the trek to the bridge. Sure enough, there’s Kage, nose and ears and cheeks tinged red from the cold. She’s not wearing a jacket, but it’s really not too surprising. Her dark eyes flicker and shift and she suddenly comes alive when he sits, turning to look at him.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he says, reaching up to let his hair down. It’s too cold to have it up.

“Oh well,” she replies mildly, shrugging.

Goosebumps riddle her arms, but she doesn’t seem too fazed by the cold. Regardless, Ryuu takes his jacket off and forks it over. Kage accepts it, wrapping it over her shoulders. Now he’s cold, but better him than her.

“I’m sorry,” Kage says suddenly, drawing his attention back.

“For what?”

She huffs a breath of air. “I don’t know. Everything? Being me in general? I’m always in these moods and it must get irritating for you to bother with.”

“It’s not like you can help it,” he says, rubbing his arms in a rather futile attempt to warm up.

Kage shuffles closer to press just in front of his arm, draping the jacket back over him, just enough to have a bit on her as well. Her skin is cold to the touch.

“I could see help about it or something,” she responds, “but I don’t want to.”

Ryuu fixes his gaze on the sunset. He can see his breath in the air, coming in little puffs of white. Kage is starting to warm up. The weight of her head comes down on his shoulder again - he almost dares to let himself wonder what this would be like if she was his. The sky is streaked with reds and oranges, the clouds dark against the colors.

“What’s it like?”

It’s not a question he’s ever asked before. It isn’t to say that he hadn’t been curious, but he knows Kage. She’s secretive and private and if there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about, she isn’t going to talk about it. Kage is silent for a long while, and Ryuu is quickly convinced of just that - she isn’t going to talk about it. He probably shouldn’t have pushed. But then she exhales curling wisps of white into the air.

“It’s like… you’re drowning, but you can see everyone around you breathing. It’s not always three a.m thoughts. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the day with friends and halfway through a laugh. It changes you, Ryuu,” she straightens up, jacket falling away, “I remember liking things, I just no longer remember why I liked them.”

Her dark eyes focus on something distant and he sees the change in her. Something in her closes and she is suddenly withdrawn, anxious, on the edge, almost as though she wants to claw out of her own skin but doesn’t quite have the nails to do it.

“I remember not wanting to die. I remember having friends and not being paranoid that I don’t belong with them. I remember not feeling gray and faded and invisible and washed out. But now I feel like there’s a world on my shoulders. I want to be happy, but something inside me screams that I don’t deserve it.”

Something in his chest twists and he winces; that isn’t a familiar feeling. He wants to tell her. Oh, god, he wants to tell her. You do deserve it, he thinks, desperately, god, you deserve to be happy more anyone else.

But his words stick in his throat and Kage turns fully to face him, suddenly looking very, very tired. Her eyebrows pinch together and her lips tug downwards. Ryuu can see it, the weight on her shoulders. He wants to take the burden for himself, but he can’t. When she speaks again, her voice is small, choked.

“I’m trying to love myself. But Ryuu, how am I supposed to hold my ground if everyone I know keeps trying to bury me beneath it?”

Oftentimes, Ryuu is the type to rely on instinct before rational thought. Such is the case when the twist in his chest becomes impossible to bear and he reaches forward, fingers curling around Kage’s arm. Her breath hitches and he only briefly sees shock and surprise cross her expression before he’s kissing her. She freezes, lifts soft and cold against his rough ones.

And suddenly she reacts.

Fingers lace through his hair and Kage seems to lean into him, shoulders trembling. Some rational part of Ryuu tells him he’s taking advantage of her weakness and there’s that twist again. He pulls back, lowering his head to rest on his shoulder. Shit. He feels bad, but he can’t force himself to deny that he’d enjoyed it. A shaky exhale escapes Kage’s lips, and Ryuu can just see the white from her breath through the curtain his hair creates.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice rough, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“How long?”

He hesitates. “What?”

“How long have you…”

He lifts his gaze. There’s still a trace of surprise behind her eyes, but she’s watching him intently. Ryuu drags his tongue over his lips, meets her gaze.

“Been in love with you?” He dares.

She swallows, gaze flickered down to his lips. “There’s a difference between love and in love.”

“I know.”

Kage holds his gaze, dark eyes searching, but Ryuu isn’t going to look away. It’s all out in the open now; he sees no point in trying to hide it. He won’t pass that off as heat of the moment. She nods.

“Okay.”

The said batarian whipped his head around, six four eyes boring murderously at him as he temporarily forgot about the human singer. “About what?” came the snarl.

“You know of a Miss Seveej? Received a loan from you and later paid you back, including interest. And yet, you claim she still missed a fourth of the payment?” There was no way Miss Seveej neglected to pay in full, she documented all her finances carefully and was known to be meticulous—if her small bonsai plants were any indications of her great attention to detail as well as patience.

The loan shark shrugged. “She made an error with her numbers so she still owes me 4000 credits. And that salarian is lucky I’m not ratcheting up the interest rate.” He gulped down another shot, continuing to keep a few eyes on him. Kyle then noticed the singer hadn’t let and was watching them both, curiosity etched on her fair, sharply structured features. “And what is all of this to you? The arrangement between me and Seveej is none of your damned business!”  

“First of all, Miss Seveej is my neighbor and a good friend of mine so when she became my client, your deal became my business too. Secondly, it’s common knowledge you’re involved in other illicit activities, which I am certain the Ilium authorities would love to hear about if they caught wind of your hidden behavior.” Tulk was a man of vices and besides alcohol, he was also fond of dealing with stolen property on the black marker and illegal gambling—mainly centering around two people duking it out on a fighting ring.

The lines in the batarian’s visage deepened as he scowled, a tic starting in his jaw. “Careful there, human. You’re treading on dangerous territory, threatening me like that. Who do you think you are, Commander Shepard?”

At the opening, Kyle had to grin amusingly. “Well, my last name is Shepard and I’m good terms with the Commander Shepard. Maybe I should have to stop by and see how everything is doing around in Ilium.” Out of the corner of his eye, the dark haired singer smirked, evidently pleased to watch Tulk be outplayed. She even shot a thumbs-up while mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. He smiled back in returned.

The enraged, crossed glower was immediately dropped and a more nervous, serious expression flashed on Tulk’s ridged visage, all four eyes a little bit wider than they previously were. “Wait, you actually know that Spectre? And you’re related to her too?”

Technically. He just so happened to share a last name with Ivy, Ivan, and Izzy but that was irrelevant at the moment. So Kyle continued to smile, unsettling the loan shark even more. He didn’t need to utter anything, the silence alone was enough to provoke Tulk to reconsider his offer. The batarian quickly rummaged for his datapad and once found, punched a few buttons before sliding the holographic pad over to Kyle for him to view.

“See, your friend Miss Seveej is off the hook now. Full payment to me, just like she claimed and you asked for.” Kyle would have been skeptical if he wasn’t witnessing the proof with his own two eyes and there was slight tremor in the thug’s voice when he spoke. Guess he didn’t have to go hard on the criminal after all.

“Good,” he replied, feigning indifference. “And if I hear you’re bothering Miss Seveej again, I’ll come back and next time, I won’t be so nice. Are we clear?” There was an edge in the last part, his dark eyes narrowing as a warning signal towards the rather anxious batarian.

“Crystal, as you humans say,” came the sullen reply. And without another world, Billian Tulk finished his remaining shot, paid his tab, and fled, not before shooting a lecherous fleer at the singer, who scowled in response.

“I’m so glad you chased him off,” she told Kyle promptly once Tulk was gone. “He has been an annoyance to me and all of the singers for about a week.”

“If he returns and continues to harass you or anyone else, let me know.” He handed her his business card and she took with an intrigued look, studying the glossy words imprinted on the front.

“Nice to see people doing good these days.” She ran her thumb over his card, brown eyes peering curiously up at him, as if searching for something. “So Kyle...Shepard, want to stay a little longer and watch my performance? I guaranty you haven’t heard a voice like mine.” The way she uttered his name seemed like there was a private jest between them but only she remembered it while he was in the dark. The corners of her lips tugging up into a playful, witty beam and despite his reservations, Kyle had to admit she had a lovely smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything special and bes—”

She snapped her fingers at a server nearby and flagged him down. “Get this man a drink. It’s on the house. He scared Tulk shitless.” She then turned her attention back on Kyle. “What do you usually or prefer to drink?”

Rather reluctantly, Kyle sat down and answered. “Gin and tonic, please. Nothing too fancy.” The waiter departed briskly to fill out his order, rendering Kyle and the singer by themselves once more. “And I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name, Ms.—”

“Olympia.” She gifted him another smile, this one completely charming and purely arresting. He wondered why she was spending so much time with him, a virtual stranger who just so happened to shoo a thug and loan shark away? Surely simple goodness or kindness weren’t rare in Ilium, of all places. Or maybe he was reading too much into her behavior and getting him a drink was her way of saying ‘thank you’.

Once his drink arrived, Olympia excused herself to get ready for her shift, all the while telling him to enjoy the shower. After about ten or so minutes later, Oympia appeared on the stage, dressed in a stunning purple and white sequin dress with a matching flower tucked behind her ear.  While her arrival brought on countless of cheers, puckish hollars, and woohooing, all chatter and noise ceased instantly when Olympia began to sing and weave her melodious spell on them all. The song was peppy and sassy, matching her lively, upbeat, and straightforward voice and words, fitting the tone of the song oh so well. She didn’t portray herself as ‘the girl next door’, a sultry temptress, a rowdy, spunky rebel, or a force of nature who destroy you and everything you hold dear should you cross her—simply a young woman who wasn’t perfect nor pretending to be. He liked her style so much to his surprise, he ended staying until her warbling act was over and she had a break. Almost immediately, she made a beeline for him.

“I see you decided to stay longer. Was it just my singing?” Olympia bantered, sitting down across the table from. She flagged down a waitress, muttering her drink to them before returning her sparkling gaze at him. “If so, I’m flattered.”

“I’ll admit, I’m not one for music but I didn’t want to leave while you were still singing. I guess your voice entranced me.” Kyle chuckled, swirling the liquid around his glass prior to taking another sip. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed music like that.”

“Now I am even more flattered.” When her drink arrived, she thanked the waitress and took a huge gulp of champagne, a gasp of relief escaping her as she swallowed and savored the alcohol. “Nothing wets a dry throat better that this club’s champagne. You should try it.”  

“Maybe next time. I already had two drinks of gin and tonic and that’s my limit for today. Besides, I have to head back to Miss Seveej and deliver her the good news in person.” Olympia’s face softened when he mentioned his client’s name, an appreciative gleam in her chocolate brown eyes.

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding, “don’t let me stop you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to learn she’s no longer under that slimebag Tulk’s thumb.” She went back to drinking her champagne as he asked the server from earlier for his check, receiving the bill on his omni-tool. He paid promptly and started to rise from his seat when Olympia swiftly got up to sit down next to him, holding her arm out and halting his actions. Without explaining right away, she simply plucked the white and violet flower from her hair and secured it into his front jacket pocket, tucking the stem of the blossom firmly inside. “A little token to remember me and this club by, in  case you want to return for some fun instead of business.” Flirtation rang coyly in her tone but her winsome, genuine smile was what struck him more and seized him fully. And before he could even reply, she leaned in, hesitating at first, and brushed her lips against his cheek, the kiss light and soft like butterfly’s wings.

When she pulled back, there was a different impression flicking her unwavering gaze, one Kyle couldn’t place but decided not to dwell on the notion right now. The kiss was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. He was more surprised than anything else. “Well, thank you, for the flower and er, the kiss too,” he managed out, feeling his face flush for no reason at all. Why couldn’t he been smoother and in control, like he usually was? He never blushed at a kiss since he was a teenager. “And no worries, I’ll be back. Wouldn’t want to miss any more of your singing.”

Her assertive, amiable, and charming self reappeared, immensely pleased by his words. “I sing on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays and usually in the evening and nights until closing. I hope to see your face this Thursday.” She sent him a little wink and picked up her champagne flute, departing to converse with the singer who was proceeding her prior to waving him farewell as she sauntered away.