#redacted x reader

He starts off slowly, moving his hand up and down his length. Eyes occasionally flickering from your face to your tits, though mainly staying focused on your face. You're so beautiful, he could cum a million times over again just by looking at your face. He speeds up his pace a little. "Fuck." He groans when he sees you smile at something on your screen. He loves your smile so much. He moans your name, imagining it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own scarred one. His pace has turned rough and fast now, the same pace you use when fuck yourself with your fingers, or the toys you own. He has watched you touch yourself a million times. He has hours upon hours of recordings of it saved and backed up on hard drives that he frequently uses, but there's something about watching the live footage from your cam that he hacked into. Watching you in this very moment, having no clue he's squeezing his cock to you just going about your day. Maybe he feels a little guilty about it, but he indulges in the knowledge that he's the only one who gets to see you like this.  

The hallway smelled like dust and something old, something settled. You wanted to say goodbye. Just a quick knock on Violet’s door, a small wave, maybe a half-smile if you were feeling generous. You didn’t even like her that much—she was just there, always outside her apartment smoking cloves, watching the world through heavy-lidded eyes like she already knew how everything would end. But she was nice enough. She was someone who existed in the same space you did, which had to count for something.

You shifted the box in your arms, fingers curling against the cardboard, and turned toward her door.

Then—

“Angel, are you okay?”

Ren.

You startled, nearly dropping the box, because you hadn’t heard him approach. He was just there, suddenly, like he had been waiting for the exact moment you thought of leaving him alone. Wide blue eyes peeking out from under the rim of a froggy hat—soft green, button eyes, covering every inch of his fluffy pink hair. Every inch. Not a single curl in sight.

You giggled. You couldn’t help it.

He tilted his head, smiling at the sound. But something nagged at the back of your mind. He never covered his hair. Ren was all about touch—he liked when you played with it, when you ran your fingers through it, when you tugged just a little and watched his lashes flutter. He liked being seen. But now it was hidden, every strand tucked away beneath thick fabric, like it was never there at all.

Before you could ask, he noticed the box in your arms and made a small noise. “I’ll carry that.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay.”

For a second—just a second—his lips curled, something smug flashing in his eyes before he laughed and ran.

“Who reaches first?!”

And like that, your thoughts scattered. You gasped, gripping the box tighter as he took off down the hallway, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Ren—!”

But you were already running after him, giggling as you tried to catch up, feet pounding against the floor. The weight of the box slowed you down, but Ren wasn’t even trying to win, just looking back at you with that too-wide smile, steps just fast enough to keep you chasing. He liked when you chased.

You didn’t realize you had forgotten to knock on Violet’s door. Didn’t realize you hadn’t said goodbye at all.

Didn’t realize that, maybe, Ren had planned it that way.

Outside, the air was cool against your skin, the last traces of evening pressing soft against the horizon. The world was quiet out here, the hum of streetlights blending into the distant chatter of a city that never fully slept. Ren slowed to a stop near the moving truck, turning to face you with a victorious grin, still cradling your box like a prize.

“You lose,” he teased, rocking on his heels. “That means I get a kiss, right?”

You rolled your eyes, breathless from running. “That’s not how that works.”

Ren pouted, but his eyes were still smiling. He tilted his head, the froggy hat slipping just slightly forward. “I carried your box. You should reward me.”

“You stole my box.”

“Carried.”

“Stole.”

He gasped, dramatic, clutching at his chest. “Angel, I would never. You wound me.”

You laughed, reaching for the box, but he shifted it out of your reach with ease, holding it high over his head. You huffed, stepping closer, and he took a step back, grin widening.

“What’s with the hat?” you asked, changing tactics. You squinted at him, stepping in just a little more. Close enough to touch. “You never wear hats.”

His smile didn’t falter, but something in him stilled for just a moment, just a breath. “I wanted to be cute for you.”

“You’re always cute.”

He blinked. Then laughed—soft, warm, delighted, like he hadn’t expected you to say it. The box lowered slightly. “Angel.”

“Ren.”

The space between you buzzed. He tilted his head again, letting you see just the faintest flush dusting his cheeks, exaggerated by the green of the froggy hat.

“…Do you like it?”

You hummed, reaching up to tug at the rim just a little. “I like you.”

His breath hitched. And then he melted, shoulders loosening, eyes softening into something devoted. Obsessed.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Your chest squeezed. “It’s been seven days.”

“So?”

You had no answer. And maybe that was an answer in itself.

You lost.

Ren beat you to the entrance of his building with that same smug grin he always got when he pulled ahead. He didn’t gloat, but you could feel it radiating off him, warm and sticky like honey in the sun. And you? You just huffed, breathless, grinning like an idiot as you caught up, half-wondering how he had the energy to sprint and look so unbothered about it.

Then he swiped his electronic key card.

WOAH.

Yeah, okay, you still said it. Loud, too. Like the first time. Like you hadn’t already visited this place, hadn’t already gawked at the sheer absurd richness of it. But come on—he had a whole damned foyer. In an apartment.

Ren laughed as the doors slid open with a soft, expensive-sounding click. “You really like saying that, huh?”

You shot him a look. “Well, sorry, not all of us live in a place where the elevator doesn’t creak like it’s about to collapse.”

“I’d save you if it did.”

His voice was light, teasing, but you didn’t doubt he actually meant it. And you? You just sighed, pretending to roll your eyes as you stepped inside.

Still ridiculous. Still overwhelming. Still unbelievably nice.

It smelled expensive in here, like something clean but not sterile, like whatever subtle scent they pumped through luxury hotels. The lighting was soft, the floors heated. Your shoes felt wrong stepping onto them, like you were dirtying something meant to stay untouched.

But Ren was already ahead of you, dropping your box by the entrance like it was nothing, then reaching into a small cubby near the wall. “Here,” he said, holding something out to you. A pair of house slippers, still neatly wrapped in plastic.

You blinked. “You… bought me shoes?”

Ren hesitated, his usual confidence dimming just a little. His fingers twitched on the plastic wrapping, and then, for once, he actually looked shy.

“You’re staying, so…” He cleared his throat, shoving them into your hands. “It’d be rude to make you walk around barefoot.”

What the hell.

What the hell.

It was still so insane to you. Not the apartment, not the foyer, not the money. Ren. Ren being this nice. Ren being so nice. To you. You had only known him for seven days and he was already like this, already so attentive, already ready for you, like he had been preparing for this from the start. It was a little weird. A little eccentric.

But you? You were an idiot. A dumb, lucky idiot.

So you took the slippers, sat down, and pulled them on. Bless this man.

Ren watched, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place, then exhaled, like he had just won some kind of internal debate. “Oh,” he said, suddenly fidgeting again. “And, uh. About that.”

You looked up.

Ren rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting to the side. “I, um. I gave you your own room. For now.”

For now.

You blinked again, slower this time.

“I just—” He hesitated, then smiled, small and careful. “I don’t want to overstep anything. Y’know, since we’re still figuring things out.”

…What the hell.

You stared at him, at this boy who had just beaten you in a race to his stupidly fancy apartment, who had already bought you house slippers, who had set up an entire room for you just so you wouldn’t feel pressured, and you just—

You didn’t know what to say.

So you did the next best thing: you thanked him. Earnestly.

Ren beamed. That stupid, boyish, sticky-sweet smile that made your stomach turn weird.

And then, finally, finally, you asked what had been itching in the back of your mind since he first popped up out of nowhere.

“…Why are you wearing that hat?”

Ren blinked. “Huh?”

You pointed. “The frog hat. It covers your entire head. I can’t see your hair.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, too quickly, he blurted, “I, uh. I kinda messed it up.”

You tilted your head. “Messed what up?”

“My hair.” He scratched his cheek, looking away. “Ordered the wrong batch of dye…” His voice dropped, muttering something too low for you to hear.

You squinted. “What?”

But Ren was already stepping away, already shifting the conversation like a well-practiced trick. “Anyway!” He clapped his hands. “You should change. The bathroom’s down the hall.”

You frowned, suspicious, but he only smiled.

Too easy. Too slick.

Ren sniffled. Just a little. A soft, barely-there sound, like he was trying not to make a big deal out of it, but you noticed. You always noticed.

“You okay?” you asked, eyeing him as he rubbed at his nose.

“Oh—yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand dismissively, his voice a little stuffy. “Just a little sick. Nothing serious.”

You frowned. “You should rest.”

Ren brightened, suddenly perking up way too much for someone who had just admitted they were sick. “Oh, but before that—” He rocked on his heels, looking almost nervous now. “I, uh. I wanted to tell you something.”

“…Okay?”

His fingers twitched at his sides. Then he cleared his throat, standing up just a little straighter, as if that would help get the words out properly.

“So, um.” He took a breath. “I already paid your rent.”

Silence.

You blinked.

“What.”

“For the whole year!” he added quickly. His hands shot up in some kind of panicked gesture, as if to soften the insanity of what he had just said. “I just—I thought it’d make things easier for you, and—”

“What.”

He stammered. Actually stammered. “It’s—it’s fine! You don’t have to pay me back or anything, I—”

“Ren.”

“I just—I want you to be comfortable! That’s all!” He was so frantic, so eager, so stupidly bright-eyed about it, like an overexcited puppy who didn’t quite realize he had just knocked over the whole table.

You just stared.

He paid your rent. For the entire year.

“What the hell,” you whispered, voice barely steady.

Ren flinched, and the sight of it broke you. He didn’t want you to be upset. He didn’t want you to think of it as a bad thing, didn’t want you to feel like a burden or anything other than happy. You could see it in the way he was fidgeting, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, his whole body practically vibrating with nervous energy.

It was too much.

And you? You almost cried.

You weren’t even sure what hit you first. The sheer weight of it, the overwhelming kindness, the way he was so eager to give, to do this for you, to take on something that wasn’t his responsibility just because he wanted to.

Ren made a tiny, startled noise when you stepped forward. He barely had time to react before you crashed into him, arms wrapping tight around his middle, pressing your face into his chest.

For a second, he didn’t move.

Then, suddenly, he almost jumped, body jerking before he practically melted into you, hugging you so tight, so fiercely, like he had been waiting for this.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled, voice thick. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He buried his face against your shoulder, voice muffled but earnest. “I wanted to, Angel.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deep. You didn’t deserve him. You really, really didn’t deserve him. He was too nice. Too nice. It almost hurt how nice he was.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face way too close, his arms still tight around you, warm and solid and real.

You kissed his cheek.

Ren froze.

A tiny, sharp inhale. A complete full-body reaction.

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his, barely able to see with how blurred your vision had gotten. “Thank you for coming into my life.”

He looked love-struck.

Actually, physically struck by love.

His lips parted, his pupils huge, his face so red it almost matched his usual hair color—except, well. You still couldn’t see his hair. Stupid froggy hat.

For a moment, you thought he might cry too.

Instead, he suddenly pulled back. Too fast. Too clumsy.

“I—I should—” He turned, stepping away only to trip over absolutely nothing.

“Ren!” You reached out instinctively.

He stumbled but caught himself against the wall, laughing—embarrassed, giddy, too many emotions packed into one person. “I’m okay! I’m okay.”

You frowned. “Be careful.”

He exhaled hard, shaking his head, still smiling like an idiot. Then, finally, he looked back at you, softer now. “Go sleep, Angel.”

You couldn’t quite place it, but something in his tone had shifted, as if there were a thousand unsaid things he was trying to hold back. You smiled, ready to retreat into your room for the night, the events of the day still swirling around in your mind like a fever dream.

Then, as you were about to close the door, he appeared again, holding your clothing box in his hands. He looked… almost nervous. His cheeks were tinged with pink, and there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he handed the box over to you.

“I—I almost forgot,” Ren said, his voice thick, like he was trying to control something. Something deep inside. He didn’t look directly at you at first, his gaze flitting to the floor, to the side—anywhere but your face.

“Thank you, Ren,” you said, still feeling a sense of warmth bubble up from the way he had cared for you, for everything he’d done. It felt… unreal, the way he had been so giving, so gentle. But then, Ren shifted again, stepping just a little too close. His breath caught, and you could feel his presence grow around you, suffocating in its quiet intensity.

“Angel…” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, almost like he was afraid to even say your name. He moved your hair away from your neck, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending an electric shock through you. You froze, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his touch, but there was something more there, something heavier, something dark.

“I—” He hesitated, and you felt a weird knot form in your stomach. He wasn’t looking at you now, his eyes downcast, almost embarrassed. His hands were trembling, the clothing box in his arms like it weighed nothing compared to what was running through his mind. “Angel, I—I just need to ask you something.”

You blinked, your own heart racing now. “What is it?”

Ren swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you… do you love me?” His voice cracked as he spoke, the words torn between desperation and something else—something you couldn’t quite identify. He looked at you finally, eyes wide with need, with raw, unfiltered emotion. “Do you love me like this?”

You stared at him, confusion furrowing your brow. “Like this?”

He was visibly shaking now, his fingers tightening around the box. His face was flushed with embarrassment, but his eyes were clouded with a deep longing. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t pull himself back. “Like this. Just… me. The way I am. All of me.” He winced, as if the words were hard to get out, as if he had to rip them from his own chest. “I—I just want to know. If I’m perfect for you… in your eyes.”

There was a moment where time seemed to stretch, where everything felt suspended in the air between you two. You couldn’t help but feel a swell of something warm and protective, something that ached deep in your chest at how much Ren wanted this—wanted you to say it, wanted to hear you tell him that he was good enough.

You opened your mouth, but words failed for a moment. The emotional weight in the room was too much, too overwhelming for you to properly process all at once.

And then, with a deep breath, you spoke. “I love you, Ren.”

His eyes widened, and then his face—his beautiful face—was overcome with something so fragile and pure, it made you feel weak in the knees. His cheeks flushed deeper, and he suddenly pulled you into a tight, almost frantic hug. You could feel his heart beating hard against yours, his breath coming in uneven, desperate gasps.

“I love you, Angel,” he repeated into your hair, voice barely intelligible as he hugged you tighter, like he was trying to hold you in place, like he was afraid if he let go, you might slip away. He was crying, though you could barely tell through the small, stifled sobs. “I love you so much. I—I didn’t think you’d—” He cut himself off, his emotions overwhelming him, making him speechless.

You felt your own eyes well up, the overwhelming sense of affection filling you up until it hurt. “Ren, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But you could feel his shaking, his entire body trembling with emotion. His hands clutched at you desperately, and he whispered, almost like a prayer, “Please, don’t leave me. Please… I can’t be without you. You’re everything. You’re everything.”

The desperation in his voice made your heart ache for him.

Ren pulled back slightly, his hands still on your shoulders, his eyes locked onto yours, that same intensity still burning. He smiled softly, though there was a hint of something frantic, like he was still trying to hold it all together. “I’m glad,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I’m glad you love me.”

He suddenly straightened, his posture almost rigid as he turned away, almost like he had just caught himself in something, a bit of control returning to his shoulders. “I’ll get the rest of your stuff,” he said quickly, trying to brush it off.

But you stopped him. “It’s fine, Ren. I’ve got it.”

“No, no. I—I want to,” he insisted, eyes shining with that same intensity. He gripped your hand in his, the small moment of affection making your stomach flip. “I’ll get it, Angel. Wait here.”

You nodded, but as he hurried down the hall, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

You entered your room, setting the clothing box on the bed. As you closed the door, you felt the faintest sense of unease gnaw at you, though it wasn’t something you could easily name.

Ren stood still in front of the mirror, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face, hiding the soft, self-loathing smile that spread across his lips. He was so close—so close to everything he wanted. To you. To having you. And now you were here. With him. You chose him.

You chose him.

In the quiet of the moment, his fingers traced the outline of his face, almost lovingly, as if to reassure himself that the person staring back at him in the mirror was truly who he had become.

The other REDACTED—the one who had never been enough—the one who was so weak, so pathetic—he was gone. Gone like the skin of an old, discarded self that no longer mattered. That person didn’t deserve you. That failure didn’t deserve a single thought from you.

The new Ren, though? The one standing before you, the one you called by name, the one who held your heart in his palm with trembling fingers? That Ren was the one you loved.

He closed his eyes for a second, letting the thought wrap around him like a warm blanket, soothing the gnawing, twisted feeling in his chest. No more pretending. No more hiding. He had transformed for you—because you needed him. You needed him to be strong. To be worthy of you. So, he became Ren.

A tiny laugh escaped his lips, soft but dangerous, like a secret only he would ever know. He could feel it. The ache in his chest, the way his heart swelled when he thought of you. The way he almost lost control at the thought of you being with anyone else. But that was all gone now.

He had you.

And you—oh, you would never leave him. Not now. Not after everything he had done. Everything he had become.

His fingers curled tighter around his face, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, as if trying to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to drown him. He was weak again, but this time, it wasn’t from lack of effort. No. This time, it was because he had finally given in—given in to the need to own you, to make sure that no one could touch you. No one could have you but him.

But then his thoughts twisted again.

He hated himself.

He hated REDACTED.

The one who had never been good enough for anyone, especially you. The one who never understood why anyone would care about him, the one who couldn’t even keep his hair the right color. That REDACTED was worthless. A failure. And in the pit of his stomach, he still felt that gnawing self-hatred, the reminder of who he used to be.

He didn’t deserve you.

He clutched the fabric of his clothes—his carefully chosen attire—and thought about the effort it took to craft this persona, this perfect version of himself. You wouldn’t love him if he was weak. You wouldn’t look at him the way you did now if you saw the truth beneath the mask. So he gave you Ren. This Ren. The strong, kind, loving Ren that you needed.

And somehow, it was enough for you. Enough that you would choose him.

The old REDACTED—the ugly, broken REDACTED—had no place in your life. That REDACTED would have only destroyed everything. But now, this new Ren—the one you needed, the one you loved—he would make sure you never left. He would make sure you belonged to him.

He lowered his hands, his reflection staring back at him, the soft pink hair still hidden beneath the frog hat, his body still just as delicate as ever. But beneath that surface was the raw, trembling devotion that would never let you slip away.

“You’re mine, Angel,” he whispered to the reflection, as if trying to remind himself of his purpose, his new self. “You are mine.”

And then the realization hit him: this was it. This was the moment.

There was no going back.

Ren gripped the edges of the counter, the dark, obsessive smile stretching across his face once more. He had crossed the line, and there was no one left to stop him. He had you now. And nothing would take you from him.

You leaned back against the cool, smooth surface of the couch, eyes staring into the nothingness of the wall in front of you as you spoke into the phone. Your voice was a quiet mix of frustration and fear, too many things you weren’t sure how to articulate.

“Yeah, Elenor… I’m still staying with Ren,” you sighed, your words coming out almost too tired. “I mean, I like him. I’ve always liked him… It’s just… it’s like he’s… always been there. So kind, so nice to me.” Your throat tightened slightly at the thought. “He does everything for me. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s like he’s… trying to make up for something.”

The weight of the last few days sat heavy on your shoulders. Ren’s soft smile, his gentleness, the way he watched you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked. It all made your stomach twist in both comfort and confusion. And it wasn’t just that. There was something else, something that made you feel like you were on the edge of a truth you couldn’t reach—yet couldn’t avoid.

"But…” you continued, almost whispering, your words faltering. “I think I’ve taken too much of him. He’s always doing things for me, always… offering his space, his time. It’s like, I don’t even know how to repay him, you know? And I don’t even know if I should be taking all of it. It feels wrong sometimes.”

The thought of too much—of overstaying your welcome in his space, in his life—felt suffocating. You had been around him for a week now, and it was intense. More than you could have imagined.

Elenor’s voice came through the phone, a soft but persistent murmur of concern. “Y/N, you’re not a burden. If you feel comfortable, then stay. But… what’s really bothering you?”

Your heart skipped, and you exhaled sharply. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, a wave of worry crashing over you as you thought of that other thing—the stalker. The person who had been creeping around, sending odd messages, showing up in places they shouldn’t be. It had been escalating, and it terrified you more than you wanted to admit.

“It’s just… Ren,” you said, barely believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “I mean, he told me he would keep me safe from them. That one word… ‘safe’… He makes me feel like I trust him more than anyone else. And I… I do. I trust him. I trust him more than I should.”

Your voice dropped off at the end, an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. That wasn’t what bothered you. What bothered you was the thought that maybe you shouldn’t trust him as much as you did. You had no real reason not to… but still, something gnawed at you. It felt like there was something more—something you weren’t seeing.

You stood, pacing slightly as the phone sat in your hand. “But… Elenor, it’s like… why do I feel like I’ve known him longer? Like I’ve been through this with him before? Maybe I’m just being dramatic, or it’s just a dream. But I can’t shake the feeling… that I know him—no, that he knows me in a way no one else does. It’s… it’s so hard to explain.” You stopped in your tracks, staring out the window with your breath caught in your throat.

You knew it didn’t make sense. You trusted Ren. You really did. He was so kind, so patient, but something about the situation felt off. You could feel it crawling beneath your skin, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

“God, Elenor,” you muttered, “Why am I even thinking this way? He’s just trying to protect me… and I’m sitting here, suspecting him? What is wrong with me?”

The guilt twisted in your chest.

You hung up the phone, feeling the weight of everything press down on you. The stalker. Ren’s kindness. Your growing trust in him. It was all tangled up in your mind, making it hard to think clearly. You wanted to feel safe. You wanted to believe in him completely. But there was that other feeling. That whisper in the back of your head, telling you there was something you hadn’t seen yet.

And as much as you tried to push it away, it was growing louder.

But you couldn't… You couldn’t doubt him. Not now. Not when he’d done everything to keep you safe, to make you feel welcome.

But still…

Why did it feel like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t control?

You decided to sleep..

The world around you felt heavy, like swimming through something thick and suffocating. You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but here you were—somewhere that felt both distant and too close at the same time.

You heard it first.

A voice. Soft. Gentle. A whisper floating through the void like a lullaby.

“Angel…”

Your heart squeezed. That name.

“Angel… where are you?”

You turned, eyes darting through the darkness, searching. Footsteps echoed, and you realized—you were running.

But why?

With every step, something felt off. Your body—smaller. Your legs shorter. The oversized sleeves of your favorite purple hoodie brushed against your hands, just like it used to when you were little. And then, through the haze of memories that weren’t quite memories, you saw him.

A boy.

His hair was black, not Ren’s familiar soft pink, and his blue eyes shimmered under the dim, dreamlike light. He stood there, small and hesitant, clutching something in his hands. He looked familiar—too familiar—but the name in your head didn’t quite fit.

Wasn’t this… REDACTED?

No.

No, it wasn’t.

Your breath hitched as you moved closer, feeling a weight settle deep in your chest.

“Angel…” The boy—who wasn’t Ren—spoke shyly, his voice so small, so fragile. “I-I… I have something for you.”

He lifted his hands.

A ring.

Tiny, gold, glinting even in the strange darkness. Not fancy, not expensive—just a simple little band. But he held it like it was the most important thing in the world.

“For tuu…” he mumbled, his voice laced with nervous excitement.

Something in your heart twisted. This moment. You knew this moment.

You reached out, almost touching his hands, when—

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A new voice.

Your head snapped to the side, and suddenly you weren’t alone with him anymore.

Another child. Taller. Leon.

His face was shadowed, unreadable, but you could feel his presence, his overprotectiveness. Even in the dream, even as a child, he stood between you and the boy like a wall.

He didn’t like this.

You knew before it even happened.

And then—he shoved him.

The tiny ring slipped from the boy’s hands, hitting the ground with a soft clink. His dark eyes widened in panic as he scrambled to grab it, but before he could—

Leon kicked it away.

“Stop bothering them,” Leon’s voice was sharp, almost possessive. “They don’t need weirdos like you.”

The boy froze.

Your chest tightened painfully, something screaming inside of you that this was wrong, wrong, wrong.

The boy stared at the lost ring, at Leon, then at you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t fight.

Instead, he bent down, picked up the ring with trembling hands, and held it against his chest.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear—

“…Okay.”

A whisper.

“…I’ll try again.”

His small voice cracked.

His shoulders shook.

And then—he was crying.

It shattered something deep inside of you.

You saw your childhood self hesitate, stepping toward him, but Leon pulled you back.

“Let’s go,” Leon muttered. “You don’t need to waste time on him.”

Your small hands twitched at your sides.

Your child self looked back.

One last time.

At the boy holding the ring like it was all he had.

At the pain in his eyes.

At his tears.

And then—darkness.

Everything twisted.

Reality snapped and distorted like a glitching screen, and suddenly, it wasn’t just the past anymore.

Suddenly—

You were falling.

Falling straight into those dark, familiar eyes.

A deep, obsessive gaze.

And then—

Hands grabbed you.

Clutching. Pulling.

“Angel.”

His voice.

“Stay with me.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“Angel.”

You saw his face.

The boy was older now. No longer a child.

No longer soft.

His black hair, his dark, blue eyes.

“You promised.”

Promised what?!

You tried to pull away, tried to run—

“Don’t leave me again.”

And then—

A SMILE.

Wide. Twisted.

Obsessed.

The dark eyes swallowed you whole.

And then—

You screamed.

You woke up.

Gasping. Drenched in sweat.

Your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

The room was dark, too quiet, too unfamiliar.

Ren’s apartment.

You were safe.

Right?

Your hands clutched the sheets, your breath shaking. The dream—the memory?—was already slipping away, but that feeling, that fear, still clung to your skin.

That boy.

That name.

Why couldn’t you remember his name?

But you knew—you knew.

This wasn’t just a dream.

It was something more.

Something you had forgotten.

Something you had lost.

And yet…

You turned, staring at the bedroom door.

Your breath was still uneven, the remnants of that dream gripping at your chest like unseen hands. You needed air. You needed… Ren.

Slipping out of bed, your feet hit the cool floor, grounding you back into reality. This was Ren’s apartment. It was safe. You were safe.

Right?

You cracked open the door, peering into the dimly lit hallway. The apartment was silent, but something in the air felt off. Heavy. Like it was watching you.

Ren’s room.

That’s where you needed to go.

Step by step, you moved, the floor quiet beneath you. His door was just slightly ajar, enough that the soft glow of a nightlight seeped out. But when you pushed it open—

Empty.

Ren wasn’t here.

The neatly made bed, the folded blankets, the plush frog sitting perfectly centered on the pillows—everything was untouched. It looked like he hadn’t even been here tonight.

Your stomach twisted.

Where was he?

And then—

You heard it.

A noise. Faint, muffled, but unmistakable.

A voice.

Ren’s voice.

But he wasn’t speaking.

He was panting.

Short, shaky breaths, almost strained. Like he was struggling. Like he was—

Your body tensed as you followed the sound down the hall.

To the one place he told you not to go.

The room at the very end.

You swallowed hard.

He had said it was just old stuff.

Things he didn’t want to look at.

Things that didn’t matter anymore.

And yet…

You stood in front of the door.

The sounds were clearer now, the sharp rise and fall of his breath, like he was working himself into something feverish. It was almost desperate.

Your hand hovered over the handle, but—

A password lock.

The glowing numbers blinked at you, blocking you from whatever lay beyond.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

Forget it.

Just go back to bed.

Trust Ren.

Trust him.

But…

Your fingers twitched.

Curiosity curled around your ribs like an eager whisper.

Why was he in there?

Why not in his own bed?

Why lock the door?

And why… why did the way he sounded make something in your gut churn with uncertainty?

You didn’t understand.

Your hands were clammy, your heart pounding so hard you swore it would wake Ren—wherever he was.

The keypad blinked at you, waiting.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the numbers. You tried something random—some goddess’s name, something mystical, something obscure. Nothing.

You exhaled, gripping your wrist, willing yourself to be rational.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But the dream still lingered like static in your skull, the boy’s eyes, the lost ring, the way Ren had always felt so… familiar.

You licked your lips, staring at the keypad, and then—

You typed in your birthday.

Just as a joke. Just to see.

You didn’t even know why.

It wasn’t like you’d ever told him.

Right?

And then—

Click.

The lock flashed green.

The door unlocked.

Your blood went cold.

No.

That wasn’t—

That wasn’t possible.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stood there. Frozen.

Because this was wrong.

This was so wrong.

You never told him.

You would have remembered telling him, right?

The thought sent a sick shiver down your spine.

How did Ren know your birthday?

You stepped back, every part of you screaming to turn around, go back to bed, pretend you never did this.

And yet—

The door, now slightly ajar, called to you like a mouth just barely parted.

A dark, waiting secret.

And from inside—

The sound of Ren’s breath, sharp, shaking, desperate.

You had a choice.

Walk away.

Or step inside.

Your breath was shallow as you stepped inside the dimly lit room, your fingers trembling as they pushed open the door just enough to let you slip in. The air was thick, oppressive, and something about it felt suffocating. Like you weren’t supposed to be here. Like the walls themselves were whispering turn back.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you took another step forward, your foot making the faintest creak against the floorboards. And then you saw them.

The pictures.

Lining the left-hand side of the room, pinned with precision, hundreds of them.

At first, they looked like ordinary photos—old, slightly yellowed at the edges. But the more you looked, the more your stomach twisted.

They were all of you.

You recognized some—pictures taken from your social media, old selfies, candid shots where you were mid-laugh or deep in thought. But others—

Your fingers clenched. Your breath hitched.

These were different.

A shot of you as a child, no older than five, in a park with a bright purple hoodie. A blurry image of you in middle school, sitting at your desk, eyes down, utterly unaware of the camera. You didn’t remember anyone taking these.

And worse—

They weren’t just old.

Some of them were before you even met Ren.

Your blood ran cold.

Your hand twitched at your side, fingers flexing, as if trying to ground yourself in reality. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe—maybe these weren’t what they seemed.

Maybe it was just a coincidence—

You turned, needing something—anything—to contradict the horror sinking into your bones.

But then you saw the right-hand side.

More pictures. More of you.

And these weren’t just old. They were recent.

You sleeping in your bed.

You sitting at a café, headphones in, oblivious to the camera.

You inside your own house, looking out the window, unaware you were being watched.

Your stomach churned. Your heart pounded, cold sweat forming at the back of your neck.

How?

You took a step back, swallowing thickly.

And then—

A sound.

Slow, ragged breathing.

It was coming from the farthest corner of the room.

Your head snapped toward the sound, your whole body frozen in place. And there, sitting hunched on the floor, shrouded in shadow—

A boy.

His back was facing you, his shoulders trembling slightly with every breath he took. His black hair fell in messy strands over his face, over his hands, over the bent curve of his form. It was long—longer than Ren’s. But the more you stared, the more a realization crept up your spine, slow and paralyzing.

The same eyes.

The same voice—when he had panted behind this door.

You felt your lips part before you even realized you were speaking.

“…[REDACTED]?”

The moment the name left your mouth, the boy flinched.

A violent, shuddering jolt, like you had struck him with a knife.

Slowly—so, so slowly—he turned his head.

And then—

You saw his face.

It was Ren. But it wasn’t.

The same eyes. The same face. But his pink hair—gone. In its place was jet black, stark against his pale skin, and his expression—

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t Ren.

It was raw. Wild. Desperate.

“Angel…” he whispered, voice hoarse, thick with something you couldn’t name. His wide, glistening eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps. His lips parted, but no more words came out—only small, broken sounds, like something inside him was fracturing, shattering before your very eyes.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

It was him.

The boy from your dream.

The boy who called you Angel.

The boy who once held out a ring for you, years ago, only to be crushed by another’s cruelty.

The boy who never stopped chasing you.

“N-No… no no no no…” he whimpered, shaking his head violently, hands grasping at his hair as if trying to pull himself apart. “Not yet. Not yet, Angel, it wasn’t—It was supposed to be perfect.”

You took a step back, your entire body trembling. Ren never stuttered. Never lost control. But this—this was not the Ren you knew.

And then, like a dam bursting, he sobbed.

He sobbed.

Not soft, not quiet—loud, broken, shaking cries. His hands clawed at his face, his breath ragged and uneven. His shoulders shook as he gasped for air, like he was trying to breathe you in.

“It was going so well…” he choked out, curling into himself. “You stayed, you were happy, you—you loved me. You loved me, Angel. It was supposed to be okay, it was supposed to be—”

His voice cracked. His hands gripped his arms, nails digging deep, too deep.

“You weren’t supposed to see this.”

A shiver ran through your spine, your feet frozen in place.

You tried to understand. Tried to process.

Ren—no, not Ren.

[REDACTED] had always been there.

Watching.

Waiting.

The sweet, gentle Ren you knew—the one who kissed your forehead, who held your hand, who laughed with you—that was him, too.

But it wasn’t.

Because this was Ren.

A boy who had shed his old self like dead skin.

A boy who had erased every trace of the past that Angel—his Angel—might not have loved.

And now, you had seen it.

Now, you knew.

His wide, tear-streaked eyes found yours again, and in that moment, the madness swirling inside them was as clear as a mirror.

He smiled.

Soft. Devoted.

His lips curled, his entire body trembling with emotion, and then—

He crawled toward you.

“Angel…” he whispered, voice quivering, thick with tears. His fingers reached for your ankle, barely brushing against the fabric of your pants. “Please… don’t run.”

You stumbled backward, your breath hitching as your vision blurred at the edges. Panic clawed at your throat. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Your body screamed at you to run, but your legs barely moved—jelly beneath you, wobbling as you reached for the door.

Your fingers fumbled with the handle. You wrenched it open. A burst of cold air, freedom, just a step away—

A force yanked you back, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud. You gasped, air cut short as an arm wrapped tight around your middle, pulling you flush against a trembling chest. His breath was hot, uneven, panting against the shell of your ear. The scent of him—familiar yet foreign—invaded your senses. His grip was suffocating, his presence engulfing, an inescapable cage.

Your phone clattered to the ground. No chance of calling for help.

His hand pressed over your mouth as you tried to scream. His whole body shook against you, but whether it was from anger or desperation, you didn’t know. You struggled, nails digging into his skin, but it only made him hold tighter.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice cracked, raw with something unreadable. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his entire body tensed like a string about to snap. “Angel, don’t—don’t run from me.”

You thrashed. You elbowed his ribs, stomped on his foot, anything to break free. His grip loosened just enough for you to twist away, for you to stumble toward the window, toward anything, anywhere but here. But he was faster.

A tangle of limbs, the sensation of falling. The impact knocked the air from your lungs as you hit the floor, a sharp pain shooting up your spine.

And then—

His weight pressed down on you, his knees caging you in.

His hands trembled as they found your wrists, pinning them above your head.

He was shaking. His breath hitched like he was trying not to sob.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You refused to look at him. You didn’t want to see whatever expression he was wearing—

“Look at me,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

You refused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

Slowly, hesitantly, your eyes opened.

His face was streaked with tears. His lips trembled, his expression raw, vulnerable, broken. And there, around his neck, a chain hung, glinting under the dim light.

A ring.

A ring you had seen before.

Your stomach twisted.

His hand curled around yours, and your breath hitched when you felt something cold against your finger.

Another ring.

It looked like a wedding band.

Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out everything else.

His fingers, scarred, burned, holding onto yours so tightly it hurt. His tattooed neck, the ink forming a heart, your name embedded in his skin like a permanent scar.

His lips trembled as he whispered, “You were always mine. From the start.”

You felt your world tilt, reality fracturing at the edges.

And then, finally—

You screamed.

Around his neck, dangling from a delicate chain, was the same ring from your dream. The ring that little boy—no, REDACTED—had once offered you, the ring he had picked up from the dirt after Leon had tossed it away.

“I kept it,” he choked out. “I kept everything. I waited. I changed. I—I became someone you could love. Because the old me—he wasn’t enough, was he?”

His fingers curled around yours, forcing them to touch the wedding band on his hand.

“But this time… I made sure. I made sure you’d stay.”

You gasped, your breath catching in your throat, but he wasn’t done. His entire body trembled, a shuddering breath escaping him before his hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists. His eyes darkened, an unhinged, broken sort of despair creeping into them as his lips parted. His entire frame shook.

“LOOK AT ME!” he suddenly screamed, his voice breaking apart, desperate, raw, aching.

You flinched, but he wasn’t stopping. His breath hitched, and then, like a dam bursting, he sobbed—loud, uncontrollable, a pitiful noise that clawed through the space between you.

“I ruined it! I—I ruined everything!” He collapsed against you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his body wracked with silent cries. “No, no, no… It was perfect, it was all going to be perfect, I just needed more time! More time to fix it, more time to be him! But you—You had to come here! You had to—!”

His hands gripped your arms like a vice, as if he were terrified you’d disappear the moment he let go.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he whispered, his voice raw, his words frantic. “I—I was supposed to be like Haruko. I was supposed to be good for you. Someone you could love. But I can’t—I can’t be him all the time! I can’t—”

He hiccupped between words, his fingers curling tighter. “I tried, Angel. I tried so hard. But it wasn’t enough, was it? You still found out. You still see me as that… thing.”

His nails dug deeper into your skin, and you winced.

“But I had to do it,” he continued, his voice turning frantic, desperate. “Because you—” He swallowed hard, his breath shaky. “You never loved me before. You never even looked at me.”

A trembling hand reached up, tracing the line of your jaw, down to your collarbone, resting against your hammering pulse.

“But you love Ren, don’t you?” His grip tightened. “You love the one I made for you.”

Your mind was screaming. Your body was screaming. And yet, your voice refused to come out.

“Say it,” he pleaded. “Say you love me. Say you won’t leave. Please, Angel—just say it.”

Tears streamed down his face, raw emotion cracking through every fiber of his being. His chest heaved with every shaky breath, his heart pounding so loudly that you swore it echoed against your ribs.

“I need you,” he whimpered. “I need you more than you could ever know.”

kept it,“ he choked out. "I kept everything. I waited. I changed. I—I became someone you could love. Because the old me—he wasn’t enough, was he?”

His fingers curled around yours, forcing them to touch the wedding band on his hand.

“But this time… I made sure. I made sure you’d stay.”

His voice cracked, the carefully constructed facade of Ren trembling at the edges. His breathing hitched as his grip on you tightened, not with force, but with a desperation so palpable it left you breathless.

“Angel, do you know what it’s like? To be invisible to the one person who mattered? To watch from the shadows, to shape yourself into something they might finally see?” His voice rose, frantic. “You see me now, don’t you? You’re looking at me now. You know who I am. Not just Ren, not just some stranger you met in a library—ME. The real me. The one who has always, always loved you.”

His expression twisted, the manic gleam in his eyes sharp enough to slice through you. His breath came in uneven gasps, hands shaking as he clutched onto you like a lifeline.

“It was supposed to be perfect!” he shouted suddenly, the sheer anguish in his voice sending chills down your spine. “I did everything right! I became someone you could love! Haruko, Ren, whatever you wanted—I gave it to you! So why… why do you l look so scared?”

Tears welled in his eyes, though whether they were of frustration or heartbreak, you couldn’t tell. His whole body trembled, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Angel,” he whispered, voice a broken plea. “Tell me it wasn’t all for nothing. Tell me you love me. Like this. As I am.”

His fingers curled around the ring on his necklace, the metal cold against your skin. And in that moment, you realized—you weren’t looking at Ren anymore. The mask had finally, irrevocably cracked.

You were looking at REDACTED.

Ren’s breathing was ragged, uneven. His fingers trembled as they curled into fists, then released, then clenched again. His shoulders shook, his entire body wracked with something dark and ugly that he couldn’t contain any longer.

“Look at me!” he sobbed, voice breaking apart like glass shattering on concrete. “Please… just look at me, Angel. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I ruined it… I’m sorry I’m like this!”

His face was twisted in anguish, an expression so raw it cut deeper than any knife ever could. His tears fell onto your skin, hot and desperate, as he gripped onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

But you couldn’t move.

Something cold and thick was creeping up your legs, winding around your ankles like tendrils of ink. It climbed, higher and higher, latching onto your waist, then your arms. Panic overtook you as you gasped, thrashing wildly, but the more you struggled, the faster it spread.

“S-Stop! Stop it!” you shrieked, clawing at the darkness consuming you. “This can’t be happening!”

Ren’s arms tightened around you, but it wasn’t a comforting embrace. It was desperate. It was suffocating. His breath hitched as he felt you shuddering in his hold, your sobs turning into choked screams.

His praise became a fevered mantra, his lips moving against your temple as he whispered worship, obsession, madness.

“You’re light. You’re everything, you’re perfect. I’m nothing without you. I’m nothing!”

The ink coiled around your throat. Fingers. Hands. Clutching, grasping, squeezing. It seeped into your mouth, into your lungs, and you gagged as the taste of rust and rot filled you from the inside out.

Your screams were muffled.

Memories—they came flooding back, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

A boy, small and quiet, his black hair hanging over his wide, fearful eyes.

A ring, tiny and glinting, held out to you with shaking fingers.

“Angel, it’s for you…”

A rough shove, a cry of protest. Leon’s voice, sharp and cruel.

“Get lost, freak!”

The ring, tumbling through the air, swallowed by the grass, lost.

And the boy—

[REDACTED].

He had picked it up.

He had picked himself up.

He had tried again.

But not as himself.

Ren collapsed inward, a hollow shell of the person he had tried to become. His hands trembled, gripping at his own arms as if trying to claw himself out of his own skin. “I didn’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words cracked and broken. “I never did. I never could. I’m filth. I’m nothing compared to you, Angel. You're— you’re light. And I— I was never meant to touch you.”

But he had touched you. His entire being had wrapped around yours like a parasitic vine, feeding off the glow that you barely recognized in yourself. And now, it was suffocating you. The air grew thick, tangible as black ink seeped into your skin, curling up your arms like coiling veins of tar. Your body twisted, recoiling, but it didn’t stop. It climbed higher, reaching your chest, your throat, your mouth—

You couldn’t breathe.

Hands. It felt like hands. Hands grabbing your limbs, your face, your throat, prying your lips apart. The ink curled inside you like a living entity, pulling, pulling, pulling. Your screams gurgled in your throat, strangled by the suffocating black.

“STOP!!! NOOO!!!” You writhed, thrashing against it, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. The hands held firm, yanking you down, burying you in a nightmare made flesh. You sobbed, fists slamming against Ren’s chest, clawing at him in sheer desperation.

Ren held onto you, his grip firm, but it wasn’t controlling. It wasn’t possessive. It was desperate. “Angel—” he choked, voice cracking as his forehead pressed to yours, his tears mixing with your own. “Please, don’t— I didn’t want this, I never wanted this—”

But you didn’t hear him. You couldn’t. Because suddenly, it wasn’t just his voice— it was another. A voice from a long, long time ago, buried deep beneath years of missing memories. A boy’s voice, timid and small.

“Angel, this is for you.”

A ring, held out in tiny, shaking hands.

The child’s black hair was unevenly cut, his eyes the same dark abyss you now feared. Your younger self reached out, almost hesitantly—

Until Leon’s hands appeared, shoving him back. The ring tumbled to the ground, lost in the dirt.

“Get lost, Don’t bother them.”

You gasped, your whole body convulsing as reality lurched back into place.

Ren— [REDACTED]— clung to you, his whole body trembling as if he were barely holding himself together. You stared at him, your vision blurred with tears, your breath coming in ragged, choking gasps.

“WHY DID LEON THROW THAT RING AWAY?!” The words ripped out of you, raw and furious and agonized. “WHY DID YOU BECOME LIKE THIS?! WHY?!”

His eyes widened, lips parting, but no words came out. Only a silent, broken sob.

Memories slammed into you like a wrecking ball, each one hitting harder than the last. The boy from your dreams— he wasn’t just some shadowy figure from the past. He was real. He had always been real.

And he had always been right there, waiting. Watching. Loving you in the only way he knew how—

Even if it ruined him.

Even if it ruined you.

You screamed again, but this time, it wasn’t just fear. It was grief. It was rage. It was heartbreak, the overwhelming weight of it all crushing down on you like an avalanche. Your body convulsed, your nails digging into the floor, into your own arms, as if trying to rip your own skin open just to make it stop.

Ren— or whatever was left of him— cradled you against him, rocking slightly as tears streamed down his face. “I ruined everything,” he murmured, his voice fractured. “I—I wanted to be perfect for you. I wanted to be someone you could love. But I was never enough, was I?”

You sobbed into his chest, your body shaking uncontrollably. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to run. But something in you cracked at his words, something deep and ugly and tangled with guilt. Because you had known him. Because once, a long time ago, you had been friends.

And now, both of you were broken beyond repair.

The ink around you dissipated, but its presence lingered, staining everything it touched.

Including you.

Including him.

He ruined everything.

No.

You ruined him.

He was never supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be someone else, someone whole, someone untouched by obsession and pain and a love so twisted it devoured everything in its path.

And yet here he was.

Crying.

Crying for you, for himself, for the past that could never be undone.

You screamed, throat raw, body trembling as you pushed against him, nails digging into his arms, shoving with every ounce of strength you had left. “GO AWAY!! GO AWAY!!” The words left you like a desperate exorcism, like if you said them enough, you could banish him, the ink, the past, everything that led to this moment. But nothing changed. He was still there. Still looking at you with that broken, pleading gaze. Still holding you as if letting go meant losing himself entirely.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…!” You sobbed, body wracked with uncontrollable shudders. The ink, the memories, the suffocating weight of it all crushed down on you until the world blurred, until your head spun and your breath stuttered—until there was nothing but blackness.

When you woke up, your body ached. The room was eerily silent, save for the faint rhythm of breathing beside you. You turned your head, heart seizing at the sight of him—[REDACTED]—asleep, curled up just inches away. His fingers were loosely laced with yours, gripping even in unconsciousness, as if even in sleep, he was terrified of losing you again.

You stiffened, breath caught in your throat. He looked… so different like this. Not the monster you had screamed at. Not the obsessive shadow that had haunted you. Just… him. His face, usually sharp with desperation and unchecked emotion, was peaceful now. Vulnerable. His long lashes cast shadows over his pale skin, and his lips—so often trembling with unspoken words—were parted slightly, his breath warm against your wrist.

A choked noise slipped past your lips before you even realized it. You had ruined him, hadn’t you? You had left him behind, and he had chased you into madness. If you had just looked back—if you had just seen him, really seen him—maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to carve out a new identity just to be near you again.

Your eyes drifted to his chest, to the thin silver chain around his neck. There it was. The ring. The one he had once held out to you with trembling hands, the one Leon had tossed away like it meant nothing.

You hesitated only a moment before reaching out. Your fingers curled around the ring, carefully sliding it from the chain. The metal was cool against your skin as you turned it over, inspecting the worn edges, the faint imprint of time. And then, without thinking, without knowing why, you slid it onto your own ring finger.

It fit.

Tears welled up again, burning hot trails down your cheeks as you laid back down, curling up beside him. Not on the bed. Not in the safety of the blankets. But here. On the cold floor, next to the boy you had abandoned.

You didn’t care anymore.

You had ruined him.

You wanted to fix him.

And maybe, just maybe… you could tell him what you should have said all those years ago.

He didn’t need to be Ren.

[REDACTED] was enough.

your lips pulled itself into a tight line, your face pulling a look of absolute disgust, keeping the thought of bashing her head into the brick wall at bay, but how long could you keep it in until you just gave in and did every horrible thing possible to her?

god, how much longer will she try? actually, why hasn’t ren said anything yet? your eyes shifted from her figure to his, catching every detail of their face snd engraving it into memory. it didn’t matter how many times you do it, they look better every time you do.

your mouth went to open before it shut when she let out an obnoxious laugh. your eyebrow twitched, clutching onto your boyfriends hand even tighter, biting your tongue back. please, please, please, you thought you were better than this. unfortunately, you’ve went back to your default settings.

“leave them alone, you tramp.” you muttered under your breath, letting her only hear it (not knowing he picked it up aswell) before you scoffed at her and pulled ren away. mind was racing with different ways to dispose of her, as ren could only stare at you with puppy eyes.

back to your shared room, you stripped yourself out of your clothes, digging through his clothes and putting them on. any sort of reminder of them as you kept going back to the girl who kept flirting with them. who the hell did she think she was?

ren saw the way you glared at her, saw the way you bit your tongue back to snap at her when she got a little close, they loved it. now, watching you mentally mutter insults to yourself about that unknown whilst in their clothing, all he could think about was you.

how your scent would linger in their clothing, how you were so willingly to strip in front of him and wear their clothing. you looked so small in it, compared to him. ren watched you turn your back away from them, a slight twinge pulled at his chest. were you mind at him?

“are you mad at me, angel?” one of their hands lifted his oversized shirt on, trailing their fingers up and down your back, feeling your smooth skins and the way you shivered from his touch. “i—i’m not mad at you.” the way you ended your sentence with venom made him smile a bit.

ren trailed their fingers over to your stomach until wrapping his arm around it and pulling you back to his chest, hearing you yelp at the sudden pull. from this position, ren could see the growing blush from your cheeks as you tried hiding it in your arm and pillow.

“did… did you think she was cute?” their real name slipped from your tongue, and he couldn’t help but pull a face of disgust when you asked. she couldn’t compete to you in any other way. ren kept a note in disposing her later once you fell asleep, they didn’t want you to think he was attracted to her.

ren placed small kisses onto the back of your neck, hearing you breathe softly each time he made in contact with your skin, “you’re all i want.” their voice was muffled against the crook of your neck, as you flipped around and placed a gentle hand on his cheeks, a soft smile on your face.

“go to sleep, okay? i promise to give you treat later. remember? poorly behaved dogs get not treat.” fuck, that was hot. once you say that, there was no turning back, the both of you would last hours. ren’s eyes widened until their lips pulled into a light smirk, his hand going to the back of your head and pulling you into a deep kiss.

your hand slid down to his chest, finding itself slipping underneath their clothing and resting it there. a light moan escaped your mouth when ren took control, his tongue slipped into your mouth, marking every inch of it until they pulled away, a string of saliva a reminder.

ren went back to placing kisses on your neck, sometimes nipping at it if he felt a like a tease, grinning whenever you would release a small whine. your hands played with his hair, waiting until he fell asleep to execute your plan. a devious smile pulled onto your lips, hearing the breathes of the one you love.

you pulled away lightly, making sure you didn’t wake them up as you placed a pillow to be a substitute for you until you came back. this will be the only time you’ll resort back to your old ways, dressing in all back, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and a box cutter. as much as you wanted to do worse, this will have to do.

finding her wasn’t hard to do, she was walking around clearly under the influence, and you couldn’t help but snort at how stupid of a bimbo she was. you dragged her back to a secluded spot, keeping a hand over her mouth as you tossed her to the ground and went to stab the box cutter deep into the side of her neck.

you stayed in that position, maybe pushing it into her neck deeper for safety measures (when really you just wanted to get in more stabs). you pushed her to the side, putting the box cutter into your pocket and pulling the black mouth mask down, a judging look on your face.

disposing her body was easy, killing her was easy too— everything was easy actually. you didn’t need to do anything extreme to get rid of her. you quietly sneak back inside your home, stretching your limbs and taking the gloves off. you opted to throw the box cutter away but decided to keep it as a reminder that you had killed somebody again.

a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to something as a half scream half yelp was muffled when a hand came to your mouth. you thrusted around… until a familiar voice whispered into your ear, “now where were you, angel? did’ya really leave me to solve my own problem?” you knew what he meant by problem but that didn’t bother you when you remembered you were covered in blood.

“ren— let me go—“ their hold against you tightened, they took a piece of your ear into his mouth and nibbled on it, “so, how’d you kill her? stab her? strangled her? come on— you could’ve left her to me!” the way he said it sent a chilling shiver down your spine; what the hell did they mean?

he turned you around, wiping off some excess blood on your cheek with a lovesick smile. god, you looked so good like this. “what are you talking about?” you whispered, ren’s lips inches away from yours as their eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes.

“y’know what i’m talking about.”

your eyebrows were pulled into a frown, why isn’t he finding this weird? “you’re not disgusted by me?” ren let out a sigh, his next words being muffled by your lips, “i can never be disgusted by you.” you pulled away slightly, lips parted and pupils blown out, eyes flickering from their lips to their eyes nervously.

“but i killed someone…”

“and i enjoyed every minute of it.” the way ren said it made butterflies flutter in your chest, but yet you still felt disgusted by yourself. you promised you wouldn’t resort back to your old ways, yet you couldn’t help yourself. the way she decided to flirt with him in front of you, made you want to feel the same feeling you’d get whenever someone decided to get too cozy with something that was yours.

ren noticed the lack of words, bringing you into a comforting kiss, feeling you relax in their hold as you slowly kissed back. knowing the extremes you’d take for him, he couldn’t help but feel flattered that you’ll do that for him.

“come on, how ‘bout that treat i’m supposed to be getting?” ren shoved the black sweater off you, lips still interlocked as they placed their phone on the kitchen counter,

… as photos of you stalking and killing the women appeared on his phone.

Ren smiled at the two of you, a fond but resigned expression on his face. “Rumi, come to Daddy,” he crooned, holding out his arms expectantly.

But Rumi only pouted harder, burying her face into your shoulder as she glared at Ren with all the fierceness her tiny frame could muster. “No, I want Mommy,” she declared firmly.

Ren let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. When he tried to lift her from your arms, Rumi clung to your clothes with surprising strength for someone her size.

Ren sighed in mild frustration, though his smile didn’t waver. “You’re making this difficult, sweetheart,” he muttered under his breath.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene unfolding in front of you—the playful standoff between your determined husband and your equally determined daughter.

“Good luck,” you teased, your voice still hoarse from the cold.

Ren shot you a mock-offended look. “I don’t need luck,” he quipped, though his tone betrayed his doubts.

As the tug-of-war continued, you gently stroked Rumi’s back, murmuring softly, “Rumi, baby, you can go with Daddy. Mommy just needs to rest for a little while, and then I’ll be here waiting for you, okay?”

Rumi looked up at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips trembling slightly. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you said, holding out your pinky.

After a moment of hesitation, Rumi finally hooked her tiny pinky around yours, sealing the deal. “Okay,” she whispered reluctantly, her pout still intact.

Ren let out a breath of relief as he scooped her up into his arms. This time, she allowed it, though she continued to glance over his shoulder at you as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. Before, she rubbed against Ren scent glands, covering herself in a mixture of mahogany and rose. 

“You’re raising a stubborn one,” Ren teased, adjusting Rumi’s scarf to ensure she stayed snug. 

You gave him a tired smile. “I wonder where she gets it from,” you retorted playfully.

Ren feigned a look of betrayal but quickly recovered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “We’ll be back soon. Get some rest, Angel.”

As Ren grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the rain, Rumi waved at you from over his shoulder, her tiny gloved hand flapping against his jacket. “Bye-bye, Mommy!”

“Bye, sweetheart,” you called back, your voice soft but warm. “Be good for Daddy.”

When the door clicked shut, the house fell into a serene quiet. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, sinking back onto the couch. Even as the chill of the rain lingered in the air, the thought of Ren and Rumi venturing out together to take care of you warmed your heart.

Meanwhile, Ren drove carefully through the rainy streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the car roof filling the silence. Rumi, bundled in her layers of clothing, sat snugly in her car seat, her tiny hands pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her wide eyes tracked a sleek black motorcycle weaving through traffic ahead of them, her small brows knitting in concentration.

Ren noticed her gaze through the rearview mirror and glanced briefly at the motorcyclist before focusing back on the road. “What’s wrong, Rumi?” he asked, his voice calm and curious.

Rumi didn’t immediately turn to him, her focus still locked on the motorcycle speeding through the rain. Finally, she murmured, “It’s Mommy’s boyfriend,” her small voice almost lost amidst the sound of rain tapping against the car.

Ren’s calm demeanor faltered for the briefest second. His eyes twitched at the word boyfriend, though his face remained carefully composed, a pleasant mask for Rumi’s sake. However, his hands betrayed him, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly through his nose to calm the growing frustration bubbling in his chest.

“Oh?” Ren said, his voice light but forced. “Why do you say that, Rumi?”

Rumi hummed thoughtfully, flexing her feet in her little boots as if trying to remember something important. “Because he gives Mommy roses, when we stopped at a red light” she said innocently, looking up at Ren in the mirror with wide, honest eyes.

Ren’s jaw tightened slightly, but he forced a soft chuckle. “Roses, huh?”

“Mhm!” Rumi nodded, her little hands forming a heart shape as she added, “Also sometimes he makes hearts like this too. Mommy said you knew.”

Ren’s grip on the wheel tightened again, the humor in his laugh strained this time. “Mommy said I knew, huh?”

Rumi didn’t notice the edge in his voice, too preoccupied with looking back out the window at the motorcyclist, who had long disappeared from view. She wiggled her feet again and added, “And he likes to call Mommy pretty.”

Ren bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he silently reeled from his daughter’s innocent words. He knew better than to jump to conclusions—this was a misunderstanding, a child’s misinterpretation of something harmless. Still, the image of some mysterious motorcyclist giving you roses and calling you pretty churned his gut.

He took another deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “Rumi,” he began softly, turning his head slightly to glance back at her, “are you sure you didn’t just see a friend of Mommy’s?”

Rumi tilted her head, her tiny face scrunching in thought. “Maybe…” she said slowly, then shrugged. “But he gave Mommy lots of flowers!”

Ren’s lips twitched into a faint, strained smile. “Well, that’s nice of him,” he muttered under his breath, though his tone carried an edge he didn’t intend.

Rumi didn’t notice, already distracted by the raindrops racing down the window.

Ren sighed, running a hand through his hair when they stopped at a red light. He shook his head, silently reminding himself to talk to you about this once he got home. Misunderstanding or not, he wanted answers.

Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you entertaining any so-called boyfriend. As if I’d let that happen, he thought.

“Rumi,” he said, breaking the silence as the light turned green, “how about we get Mommy some flowers too? What do you think?”

Rumi’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “Yes! Pretty ones like the boyfriend gives her!”

Ren winced but laughed softly, his grip on the steering wheel loosening at her excitement. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said. Let’s see how these ‘roses’ stack up against mine.

When they arrived at the supermarket, Ren parked the car and sighed, glancing at the gray, rain-soaked world outside. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the roof continued as he reached back to unbuckle Rumi from her car seat. She wriggled in her layers of clothing, her tiny arms outstretched for him to lift her. 

Ren realized that by the time they got home, it would be close to dinner, and soup would be the perfect choice to warm everyone up.

“Alright, Rumi, let’s make this quick,” Ren muttered as he hoisted her into his arms. She snuggled into his jacket, her small hands gripping his collar for warmth and comfort. “We’ll grab what we need for soup, get Mommy’s medicine, and maybe some flowers to cheer her up. Sounds good?”

“Pretty flowers!” Rumi chimed, her eyes lighting up at the idea. Her excitement made Ren smile, despite the lingering irritation from her earlier “boyfriend” comment.

Inside the store, the bright fluorescent lights offered a stark contrast to the rainy gloom outside. Ren maneuvered the cart with one hand while Rumi sat snugly in the child seat, kicking her little feet and gazing around the store with curious wonder.

“What do we need for the soup, Rumi?” Ren asked as they strolled down the produce aisle.

“Um…” Rumi tilted her head in thought, her expression serious as she pondered. “Carrots! And… green stuff!”

Ren chuckled at her enthusiasm, plucking a bunch of fresh carrots from the display and tossing them into the cart. “Good call. The green stuff must be celery, right?” He grabbed a stalk of celery and added it to the growing collection.

“Onions too!” Rumi added, clapping her hands excitedly.

Ren raised a brow. “Since when do you like onions?”

“I don’t,” she admitted with a cheeky giggle. “But Mommy does!”

Ren laughed, shaking his head as he picked up a yellow onion and placed it in the cart. “Smart thinking, kiddo. You’re gonna be a pro chef someday.”

Rumi beamed at the praise, her little legs swinging happily as they made their way to the meat section. Ren grabbed a small pack of chicken thighs, knowing it was your favorite for soup.

As they passed the bakery, Rumi’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Cookies!” she squealed, pointing at a display of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

Ren sighed, already anticipating the request, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, fine. One pack for you and Mommy. Deal?”

“Deal!” Rumi said with a big grin, watching as he picked up a small box of cookies and placed it in the cart.

Finally, they reached the flower section near the front of the store. Ren scanned the selection, his eyes landing on a vibrant bouquet of red roses. He hesitated, then glanced down at Rumi.

“What do you think, Rumi? Should we get Mommy these?” he asked, holding up the bouquet.

Rumi tilted her head, studying the roses intently like a tiny flower critic. “Hmm… they’re nice,” she said thoughtfully, “but Mommy likes those flowers too.”

Ren raised a brow in surprise. “ huh?” He turned back to the display and spotted a bouquet of delicate red chrysanthemum, which Rumi pointed to. He picked them up, holding them out to her. “So these then?”

Rumi’s eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! They are so pretty! Mommy will love them!”

Ren smiled, adding the red chrysanthemum to the cart. “Good job, Rumi. You’ve got a great memory.”

As they stepped back into the rain, Ren carefully adjusted Rumi’s hood, ensuring she was bundled up tight against the cold drizzle. With one arm securely around his little helper and the other balancing the bags of groceries, he made his way across the parking lot.

That was when he spotted the same sleek black motorcycle from earlier, now parked just a few spaces away. Its rider, likely the mysterious “boyfriend” Rumi had mentioned, was nowhere in sight, having already disappeared into the store.

Ren's lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk as his eyes lingered on the motorcycle. He didn’t slow his pace as he walked by, but when he was within reach, his foot subtly extended to the bike's stand. With a calculated nudge, he tipped it just enough to send it toppling to the wet pavement.

The crash of metal against asphalt was muffled by the rain, but it still echoed satisfyingly in Ren’s ears. He didn’t look back, his expression remaining calm and collected as he adjusted his grip on Rumi and continued toward the car.

“Daddy, what was that noise?” Rumi asked, her little head peeking out from her hood to glance behind them.

“Just the wind, sweetheart,” Ren replied smoothly, his tone light and unaffected. “Let’s get you warm and home to Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!” Rumi chirped, apparently satisfied with the answer as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Ren opened the car door, setting Rumi carefully in her car seat before stowing the groceries in the trunk. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, the satisfaction from his petty act still simmering beneath the surface.

As he settled into the driver’s seat and started the car, Ren glanced at Rumi through the rearview mirror. She was humming again, completely unaware of her father’s momentary lapse in composure.

Ren chuckled softly to himself, gripping the steering wheel as the windshield wipers swished rhythmically. “Mommy’s going to love the flowers,” he muttered under his breath, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And I’m sure she won’t mind if her ‘boyfriend’ has a little bad luck in the rain.”

With that, he pulled out of the parking lot, the faint sound of the fallen motorcycle’s alarm blending into the distance as they made their way home.

After you stepped out of the shower, warm steam followed you into the bedroom. You wrapped a soft towel around your damp hair and reached for a familiar shirt of Ren’s from the dresser. It was one of your favorite things to wear—oversized and soft from years of washing, carrying his comforting scent of mahogany and rose that always made you feel safe. Pairing it with a pair of shorts, you couldn’t help but smile as the fabric fell loosely over your frame, swallowing you in its warmth.

Ren’s shirts were a small indulgence you never felt guilty about, even if he teased you for "stealing his wardrobe." Truth be told, you knew he secretly loved seeing you in his clothes—it was written all over his smug yet fond expression every time.

With your hair still damp and loosely tucked behind your ears, you made your way to the couch, the cozy fabric of Ren’s shirt brushing lightly against your skin. You felt better after the shower, though the lingering effects of your cold left a faint flush on your cheeks, and you still felt a little drained.

Just as you wrapped yourself in the blanket and settled into the couch, the familiar sound of Ren’s car pulling into the driveway reached your ears. Moments later, the door opened, and you could hear Rumi’s excited chatter before Ren’s deep voice called out, “We’re home, Angel!”

Rumi was the first to burst into the living room, her little boots squeaking against the floor as she ran toward you with outstretched arms. “Mommy!” she squealed, her face lighting up like the sun.

You laughed softly, opening your arms to catch her as she practically leaped into your lap. “Hi, my little love,” you murmured, hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

Rumi nodded enthusiastically, her black hair slightly damp from the rain. “Uh-huh! We got soup stuff and flowers and cookies!” she announced, her voice filled with pride.

Ren appeared next, carrying the groceries and balancing a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His sharp features softened when his eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering on how effortlessly beautiful you looked in his shirt. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he walked over.

“Look at you,” Ren teased, setting the bags down on the counter. “Raiding my closet again, huh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing Rumi’s hair back as she snuggled against you. “I’d hardly call it raiding when you never even notice they’re gone,” you shot back, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ren chuckled, shaking his head as he approached with the bouquet of vibrant red chrysanthemums in hand. “Fair enough. Here—these are for you,” he said, his tone softening as he extended the flowers toward you.

Your breath hitched slightly as you took the bouquet, the fresh scent of the blossoms filling your senses. “They’re beautiful, Ren,” you murmured, your fingers grazing his briefly as you accepted the flowers. “Thank you.”

Rumi perked up at your reaction, her little voice chiming in. “I picked them, Mommy!”

You smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You did such a good job, sweetie. They’re perfect.”

Ren leaned down, brushing his lips against your lips as he whispered, “Glad you like them.”

He straightened and gave you a pointed look, his smirk returning. “So... about this ‘boyfriend’ of yours,” he began, his voice laced with faux nonchalance, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You froze for a moment, blinking up at him in confusion. “Boyfriend?”

Rumi, oblivious to the subtle tension in Ren’s tone, piped up excitedly. “The motorcycle man! Daddy and I saw him again!”

Ren crossed his arms, tilting his head at you with a raised brow. “Care to explain?” he asked, trying his best to appear stern, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a grin.

It took you a second to process his expression before laughter bubbled out of you. You clutched your stomach, unable to contain yourself as the realization struck you.

Ren’s attempt at amusement wavered, his brows furrowing as he watched you. His arms dropped to his sides, and a flicker of hurt crossed his face. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with confusion. “Am I a joke to you, Angel?”

When you finally noticed the look of vulnerability in his eyes, you quickly reined in your laughter, a soft smile replacing it as you reached for his hand. “Oh, Ren,” you said, your voice warm with affection. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just... you forgot something important.”

Ren raised a brow, skepticism etched across his face. “And what exactly did I forget?”

You grinned, gently squeezing his hand as you teased, “You love to ride your bike, don’t you?”

His frown deepened as he tilted his head in confusion. “What does that have to do with—” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened slightly as the pieces began to click into place.

For a moment, Ren stood completely still, and then he let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair as realization dawned on him. “Wait…” he muttered, almost to himself. “You mean I’m the motorcyclist boyfriend?”

You nodded, biting back a smile as you watched his expression shift from confusion to something resembling disbelief.

Ren blinked, rubbing the back of his neck as he pieced it all together. “I bumped into you and Rumi on the way home that one time,” he said slowly, as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I thought I was being... cute when I made that heart with my hands.”

You snorted, covering your mouth to hide your laughter. “And don’t forget the time you gave me that rose. You wanted to surprise me, but it just so happened that we were both stopped at the same red light.”

Ren groaned again, his hand dragging down his face as a faint blush crept up his neck. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but tease him. “So, what you’re saying is... you got jealous of yourself?”

Ren let out a long sigh, though his lips twitched with the beginnings of a sheepish grin. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled. “I really thought...” He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement in his gaze. “You could’ve cleared this up earlier, you know.”

“And miss that cute jealous face of yours?” you replied, leaning forward to poke his chest playfully. “No way.”

Ren chuckled despite himself, pulling you into his arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You love it,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

From across the room, Rumi looked up from where she was playing with her toys, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Mommy, Daddy,” she called, “are we talking about the boyfriend again?”

Ren groaned, burying his face in your shoulder while you burst into laughter once more.

“No, sweetheart,” you said, smiling at her. “Turns out Daddy is Mommy’s boyfriend.”

Rumi tilted her head in thought, then giggled. “Daddy’s so silly!”

Ren let out a defeated sigh, though the warmth in his smile betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, alright,” he said, straightening up. “I’ll take the teasing. But just so we’re clear, Angel...” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “I’m still your only boyfriend.”

“Of course,” you replied with a wink. “But you’ve got some stiff competition. That motorcyclist boyfriend of mine? He’s a real charmer.”

Their socks now wet and cold, [REDACTED] wishes to get this over with quickly, no patience for hours-long, cruel torture. He's done it all before: pulling off nails one by one, then painfully breaking his victims' fingers. Already before he'd gotten far, they'd be begging for sweet release. Seconds would span over an infinity as he drained their life force bit by bit. It is amusing to watch them descend into the depths of insanity, a pit they will never be rescued from.

In a way, this one is lucky to catch [REDACTED] on a day that left him with little energy and motivation.

Panicked, the unfortunate individual struggles to escape the dark confines of the bag, kicking their legs and yelling, almost uncertain in their movements.

How unlike them, to sound so scared, unsure and panicked. Though his face does not betray any emotion, a feeling of sweet revenge is already spreading across [REDACTED]'s body, anticipating what is yet to come.

To witness their confident visage crumble is only part of the fun, however. Rather, he does not only do this for fun. No, not even the ruthless, mysterious serial killer would pick his victims at random, for he is not a madman. They are handpicked from the very most deserving of the whole bunch. Their actions towards the only person he sympathizes with, the only one he could ever care for, are utterly unforgivable.

This one in particular has found joy in poking fun at his Angel, not showing an ounce of regret even as they'd teared up, escaping to a more quiet spot to cry in peace. The tears they shed are now in the past, yet they can never leave his memories.

Of course, they'd been shadowing Angel, watching the tears fall and therefore sealing the bully's fate.

"Waking up, I see. Tsk, don't break the bag."

Swiftly, the thin yet sturdy barrier is cast aside, forcing them to look into his eyes.

The devilish, murderous gleam in his eyes makes them flinch, hurrying to get up. Cold and calculated, [REDACTED] strikes them down with a sledgehammer, breaking a few ribs in the process. Hearing their screams is delightful, an addictive, familiar sensation bubbles up inside their chest. Delight is not the right word, however, implying a certain luxury and privilege in fulfilling the action. No, [REDACTED] needs to feel this. He needs to liberate his soul from the constrictive, piercing grip that takes ahold of his body when knowing his Angel is being hurt.

Nothing compares to the feelings Angel's happiness and mere existence blesses him with, but the satisfaction of punishing those that wronged his dear stands proudly in second place.

Far away is the high pedestal, crowned on top sits his wish to be their number one priority. Though still in the distant future, the thought is ever present, determining all aspects of [REDACTED]'s life, who hopes to reach the highest level of fulfillment through this sole way.

And proud he is, standing tall above the cowering figure as they hold a hand to their aching side, weeping and whimpering in pain.

"Are you not going t' ask what you've done? Maybe I'll let you off the hook."

It is cruel, so, so cruel to make them believe in redemption when there is no way for them to crawl out from the grave they've dug for themselves. That is part of the fun.

Face stone cold, they watch and listen to pathetic begging, promises to do whatever he'd ask in exchange for their miserable, measly life.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear, just tell me what I-"

A piercing scream echoes through the empty woods, not a soul around to hear.

"You're so desperate, begging for me to spare your pathetic life. Can't stand your voice, but it's tolerable when you're the one who's scared for once."

A terrible pain is pulsing through their thigh, a knife ramming through flesh; muscle and fat tissue alike as if it's butter.

Their mouth is agape, panting like a dog in the summer heat.

It hurts, the unbearable sting of his ruthless blade, but no more than the hell they would have continued to put his Angel through if he let them live.

Human instinct is strange. His victims, without fail, are often frozen out of sheer shock, pain and fear. It would be in their best interest to run away, to fight back, yet none of them have ever tried - at least genuinely. It is mildly interesting to [REDACTED], and all the more amusing. Perhaps, though, this is just proof that anyone who would stoop so low as to hurt his perfect Angel is nothing but a slimy, disgusting coward.

[REDACTED] feels his hand twitch and takes it as a sign to twist the knife, causing a fiery pain to shoot through their body once again. Thick blood oozes out of their wound, tainting the cool grass beneath. If [REDACTED] were in the mood to stream today, he'd have been tempted to make them taste their own blood, which would surely make the chat go wild.

However, they are not in the mood for a long and slow, torturous murder. Although the bully surely deserves such an ending, [REDACTED] does not have the patience to watch them die slowly today.

Their voice cracks, weak and broken already, though he is sure it hasn't even been a minute. It is so pathetic he could almost feel bad.

"You have made a mistake that does not allow forgiveness. You hurt the only most important person in my life. I cannot allow dirt like you to live on the same earth as them."

Bitter realization washes over them like a bucket of ice water, realization that their days have been numbered. Useless wails and shaky attempts to push their attacker off fail miserably.

"P-please, no, I'll do anything!"

A scarily calm and unbothered expression is on his face, lifting the heavy sledgehammer to unceremoniously bash it into their skull.

Limp and lifeless, their body falls back onto the grass, causing it to rustle softly.

Finally.

Now, the forest can return to its natural state. Quiet. Undisturbed.

[REDACTED] does not understand the term 'eerie silence'. Nothing about the absence of noise, whether the noise in question would come from the awfully loud cars, bothersome neighbors or bullies whose necks he hasn't snapped yet, feels the least bit intimidating to him. Unless the silence is suspicious, the opportunity to roam through his mind without disturbance, to think about the things he loved most, is truly appreciated, at all times.

Now, in the quiet of the forest night, they focus on each of their senses, one at a time.

While the faint smell of green, damp grass mingles with the pungent smell of red blood, earthy notes compliment the mix. Still, their keen nose notes that the bloody smell left a thick coat over the others, yearning to stand in the spotlight much like the person who it belongs to. Peaceful thoughts are interrupted by the disgusting smell reaching [REDACTED]'s tongue, lying heavy on the sensitive taste buds.

Much to his relief, though, that sickening voice no longer interrupts the beautiful view of the silver moon, or his perception of the more subtle noises such as the soft wind combing lovingly through the trees above and their hair alike.

Quiet times are an ointment for his scarred, disturbed soul. Nothing that could truly heal him, but it numbed the pain for sure.

He has to laugh. If only Angel's mind were as depraved as his, they may have come along to appreciate the romantic scenery together. However, the pungent smell of blood, not to mention the presence of a corpse, would ruin whatever they likely thought of as 'romantic'. Besides, for a shot at going on a date, he'd have to be noticed first.

“Here. Should be what you were looking for.” 

He barely looked at it while taking the item then nodded with a radiant smile. Oh I wish to see it more often, it really suits his face. 

“Exactly! Thank you, you really are an angel.

-What? 

-W…what?” Both our faces turned a sweet shade of pink while our eyes locked into each other.

A small silence took place, both seemingly stuck looking at each other. His lips were slightly parted, teeth shining almost as bright as his eyes. I blinked a few times before being able to look away, which he did immediately after I broke the spell between us.

I could die on the spot from how embarrassed I was. He tried to backtrack but the beating of my heart and the flow of thoughts wouldn't let me hear what he had to say.

“Y’can call me Ren”

Ah, I missed a lot. Again. I really should stop doing that… Hooking my hands in my pockets, gently nudging the fabric to keep my fingers occupied, I smiled back at him.

“Nice to meet you Ren, my name is Celest.

-Oh I know.”

Seeing my confusion, he pointed at the name tag pinned on the left side of my tank top before scratching his jaw again.

“Y…you have uh… good tastes in books. I started to follow your recommendations and couldn't stop. I'm sure this one will be perfect as well.” Slightly lifting his next companion, I could feel his eyes sliding on me. 

This felt like a placeholder for what he really wanted to say. Just like someone could pretend to be interested in something just to get to another piece of information that interested them way more. This said, I liked the compliment and a calm smile bloomed on my face, thanking him. I was not really sure what to add now. The reception didn't need my presence yet so I couldn't escape to catch my breath. Since when have I been lacking air? Come on Celest, you're at work!

“Celest?

-Ah, sorry…” Overthinking again urg… “What were you saying?

-I… asked you if you would like… I mean, if you were free after work? To thank you for helping me find that book.”

Understanding the rather obvious subtext for once, I could almost taste the blood pooling in my cheeks. And I made him repeat *that*?!

“Oh but you don't need to-

-Please?” Voice cracking like a puppy begging for attention, my eyes stopped on his hands for a second, just now noticing the scars wrapping his fingers. I’ll not comment on them, that was not any of my business but they made me feel a little worried as much as fascinated. My mind went in the back to explore theories, how he got them, why, if it hurt, if he was self-conscious about them or not…And also they looked pretty to me. If it doesn’t hurt, then I can find them pretty, right? Am I supposed to find scars pretty?

Either way, “thanking me properly” seemed really important for him. My hands wiggled in my pockets in search for the appropriate answer before I remembered something so important it bleached my cheek back to their usual tint.

“Urg I don't know.. I have to buy a new lock after work and I don't want to give you like… five minutes of attention at most because it’ll already be so late…” 

I could bet that he understood my attempt at innuendo because his eyes glowed like tiny fireworks while his face seemed…concerned? Weird mix…

“A new lock? That doesn't seem good… Can I ask why?” I talked too much though, a patron didn't need to know that…

“Yeah um…Someone apparently visited my home out of sale period and I kinda want them… not to. Especially after what's been happening in the news lately. Oh God, why can't I stop talking so much?!”

Pressing my hands on my face to alleviate the pressure of shame, I had to take them off when I heard a small laugh ripping from his lips.

“S…sorry, that's not funny. The visits I mean!” He shifted on a leg then the other, weighting his options. “Wouldn't catching them be more effective though? Maybe a good punch would make them stop entirely.”

I raised an eyebrow, not prepared to hear a giant cotton candy suggesting violence as the answer to my issue.

“I… would if I could at least see them but usually, I sleep at night. I don't wait for unprompted visitors… Also I'm not exactly the definition of intimidating enough in my opinion for them to care if I'll hurt them or not…

-Maybe I could help?”

Help? Like what? Beating the shit of a stranger for me or accompany me to buy a lock? My mind rushed toward the most attractive of both and I barely stopped myself from physically shake my head to make the thought go away. 

“I’m sorry Ren, I’ll have to ask you to clarify your idea.” His posture stiffened a bit, his hands fiddling with his sleeves. It's like he was enjoying me saying his name.

“M-Maybe…I could do it for you?” Back to confusion-world I was. 

“You…want to go to my place and stay up all night in case that person breaks into my apartment again?”

Seeing my discomfort and maybe the way I started discreetly leaning into the bookshelf behind me, he backtracked again. This felt like both of us were trying different dialogue options to see which one would stick better and as much as I like that game, it felt weird having someone playing it with me. I’m usually the only one trying so hard to make the other person comfortable…

“H-hey, or not. I was messing around, I-I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…”

His timid self was getting worse by the seconds I left between his answer and mine. But…would it really hurt to invite him over? I don’t know him really well but he also doesn’t seem like the textbook definition of danger. Even if he was, I get significantly less chances to have a stalker if a dangerous person is already here. What are the odds of having two criminals at the same place, at the same time? From my well known fucked up logic, Ren couldn't be dangerous. The odds were not big enough in my brain for it to scare me.

I shut my eyes for a second, feeling the pain pooling in my legs like an ex I didn't want to see again, and making me rush my decision.

“You know what? Yeah. I’d honestly feel safer with someone over even if we don’t know each other well yet. Could also spare me the walk to buy a lock alone just after a day at work AND you’d be able to thank me like you wanted. Seems like a deal?”

His smile bloomed like the prettiest flower, holding the book on his chest.

“That's a deal! I'll wait for you outside and-”

That's the moment Elanor decided to interrupt us and he couldn't hide his disappointment. Maybe anger? I can't really tell…

The conversation ended here and I waved in his direction before coming back to my desk, sighing in relief as my legs gradually stopped their tantrum. A bottle of water was waiting for me here and I took it to the back where I tried to enjoy a well deserved break. 

I barely noticed my boss talking to me, worrying about my coworker being missing. Knowing her, she must be busy somewhere anyway, I'm not worried for her. He went back to his research and I went back to my desk for the rest of the day.

A pink note was sitting next to my things and I took it gently, thinking it could be Elanor as she is the best gossip in town and most likely saw what happened with that patron. Especially after I yelped at his proximity…

But no, it was definitely a note from Ren. When did he leave that? More importantly, where did he find the sticky notes? Was it something he prepared? Would make sense as he apparently comes to the library everyday and Elanor implied that he was looking for me… Should I be flattered or weary? 

“if you change your mind, just keep walking, I'll take the hint ^^ Also here is my number, just in case” 

Signed with the most ridiculous nickname he could find for himself. That's cute. 

I entered his contact information on my phone and kept myself busy for the last hours. 

When it’s finally time to leave, I packed my stuff in my messenger bag, trying to fit the water bottle Elanor left me but deciding to leave it here in the end. I’m not that far from home and….oh… 

Oh yeah I made that decision earlier. Am I really inviting a random man into my home? One who definitely intimidate the fuck out of me, to make it worse? 

Fingers clutching at the straps and face already changing color, I take a big breath and walk outside, already looking around to see if I could see my guest before getting too close, crumbling in embarrassment. 

Luckily for me, he’s just waiting on a bench not far and only stands up once I’m close enough and definitely showing interest in talking to him.

“You worked hard today, you can finally rest now, huh?” I take a step back to let a little more space between the two of us, his eyebrows showing that he’s a little bit hurt by my action but respecting it anyway.

“Did you wanna head off now or do you wanna rest for a bit? Maybe sit down for a minute?”

As soon as I open my mouth to answer, my name being yelled from afar makes me silent and looking around to know where it’s coming from. 

My friends Leon and Jae appeared out of nowhere, almost jumping on me. I dodge Jae’s pathetic attempt at a hug with a laugh, Leon following him with a calm smile.

“Hey guys! What are you doing around here?

-We were just about to head over to Club Shoreline, but most importantly, who is with you?” Jae looked at Ren like he was already a new friend. His golden retriever energy will be the end of me.

“Ah, this is Ren. Ren, this is Jae-Hyun and Leon, my friends. Ren… borrows frequently at the library so we were meant to talk sooner or later.” Ren started fidgeting his sleeves at my words and I found that quite cute. Without knowing and because the pain coming back in my legs kinda forced me to, I leaned toward him, resting one leg and leaving all my weight on the other. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to come with you this time again, I have plans.”

The looks and grins of my friends made me blush so hard I could smell the heat.

“Not that kind of plan you dumbass!! Jeez, do I look this desperate?” Immediately regretting my words, I turned to face Ren with an apologetic face. “N-Not what I meant either! Arg I’m too tired to speak properly I’m sorry…”

Putting my head in my hands, shame crushing me, I feel Leon’s hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, Celest, you know we like to mess around. We’re just a little hurt that you decide to abandon us in favor of the new guy that's all!” 

My fist hits his arm without hurting him.

“To be fair, he asked before you do…

-Yeah yeah we get the hint. Don’t forget about us! We really should catch up sometimes.” Leon’s laugh healed my discomfort as I leaned on my other leg.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, the evening is not infinite. Have fun, you too!

-You as well. Hope to see you more often Ren!”

Jae immediately redirected his energy toward my childhood friend, making him sigh in anticipation of how much he’ll have to endure this time. I watched them go away, both groups barely waving at each other with laughs and teasings from the two friends walking away.

I let out a big sigh, looking up to catch Ren’s eyes, who have already been on me since god knows how long.

“S-Sorry about this…

-No problem! At all! Do you wanna head back home now?” His radiating energy came back just after the boys disappeared from sight and it made me feel a lot more comfortable. I didn’t even realize the vibe was tense a few seconds ago…

We make a little detour to the locksmith anyway because I know I’ll forget if I don’t do it right away then head home.

“You’ll have to excuse the mess, I’m not used to having anyone over…

-Hey, don’t worry about it, I know you’re not a messy person. I-I mean… from what I saw at your work, you’re always rearranging things so it must be the same at home, right?”

His logic was wonky at best but I couldn’t really tell him that he’s wrong. I tend to lose so many things that I somehow learned to have a semblance of organization. 

“You’d have to take the compliment back once you see the state of my place.” A small laugh accidentally greeted my neighbor, who perfectly chose her time to make an appearance.

Is a deity trying to make a fool of me? Is everyone in town forced to be informed that I’m inviting someone over for the first time in… oh wow that’s been years. 

“Hey, Celest! How have you been since this morning? Oh and who’s this?” 

Since this morning’s talk about the person crawling at my place without my knowledge, it might not be the best idea to tell her I’ve met him today… I cleared my throat and waved my hand toward my guest.

“Hi, today was exhausting, not gonna lie. This is my friend Ren, he’s helping me to change the lock since our landlord won’t answer my calls…

-Oh, lucky you to have friends who can do that! But…You never talked about him, did you?”

Here we go. I’m sorry Vi, I’ll have to lie a bit.

“Yeah, we… uh… found each other in town earlier. Like I needed to catch up with a friend, you know, and I mentioned the lock thing so he proposed himself to help. I promise the most noise you’ll have to endure is friends watching a movie after work!” She squinted and looked at him up and down. I added. “If that creeps come back, we’d outnumber him!

-Well…I mean…He certainly has the height for it.” Trust me girl, I know. 

Ren let out a laugh and scooped closer to me, making me stiffen involuntarily.

“Aha, I get that a lot. But don’t worry, they’re safe in my hands.

-Well, alright then. A friend of Celest is a friend of mine. But I have my eyes on you and I got a pretty good memory of facial traits. Just so you know! Alright, I’ll leave you now but no funny business, you two! Toodles!”

I just had the time to add a “I told you, it’s not like that urg!” but I’m not even sure she heard me. All my sights and heat from today could fuel a hot air balloon without any issues and I knew it was bad when I started tasting blood on my tongue. Damnit, I bit my lips again? That takes forever to heal!! 

Hiding the bottom of my face by mimicking biting my nails, I opened the door and let Ren inside.

“Make yourself at home, I have to check something real quick. Ah and don’t worry about the cat, she won’t bother you! She tends to hide when she meets new people.”

I hurry in the bathroom to check on that lip and clean it the best I could. Wincing in pain, I press a cotton on it until it’s not bleeding anymore, my mind quickly moving to my guest. 

So… I invited a total stranger. In a place where the lock doesn’t work well. When there is someone possibly already visiting the place as if I wasn’t there. The mysterious guy looks suspiciously like my current hyperfixation, is really nice but also seems to play the people pleaser game I usually do with others… For now, it’s not ringing any alarms but it definitely looks like destiny chose something for me without my consent. Or maybe I do want that? After all, I don’t have many friends and left the dating scene years ago… 

I exchanged a few texts with my internet friend Moth and informed Leon that I am, indeed, at home safe before leaving the bathroom to go back to my guest. I served two glasses of water and handed one to Ren before realizing that my cat was merely a few inches from him.

“She didn’t move when you sat down?” I looked at my princess, sitting there on a pillow, not minding the stranger’s presence for the first time of her life.

“I-I guess? I sat down, she looked at me… and that was it.”

I frowned and he took the glass of water, thanking me. 

The evening went smoothly, to my great surprise. I was prepared for some weird comments, actions or even just it being very awkward but apparently we got along very fast and before I realized it myself, we were sitting next to each other, trying to guess who would be the next person to die in a very bad horror movie I found randomly. With my studies, I could guess depending on the lighting or where the character looked but it seemed that Ren was focusing on something I couldn’t quite see. 

My eyes met his hands, staring at the scars for a few seconds before slowly following his arm, shoulder then face. I noticed the small holes on his ear and his bottom lip. Did he have piercings at some point? I looked at his hair. They looked so fluffy, the color was greatly done. Color gradients are quite hard to manage and it really was done like a pro. I wondered if he went to the hairdresser often to keep it fresh or if he was the type to change color every time the previous one faded. I looked up and our eyes locked together. Time stopped, floating for a moment before we both looked away, face red.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare!” I tried to not stutter or rush my words but greatly failed.

“N-No, you’re fine, you can stare. I wasn’t expecting you to-”

A silence fell while the girl in the movie screamed her lungs out. We both looked at the screen to the gruesome scene and pathetic plastic hand falling from the very obvious puppet supposedly being the victim. 

Then we laugh.

“This movie is so bad!

-I know! What was that?!” He laughed with me until the next scene where we looked at each other once again.

“I should head to bed soon, I’m exhausted… I probably have an inflatable mattress somewhere, or maybe you prefer the couch? Less…cold than a plastic mattress…” His face was composed but I clearly saw some disappointment in his eyes. “Or… Eh that’s weird but I have a large bed maybe? I bet your legs won’t fit on the couch anyway…”

My people pleasing clearly was working but he got very embarrassed very fast and I couldn’t blame him.

“I-I don’t want to be a bother! I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind!”

Oh no, here goes all my self-composure straight out the window.

“Yeah no, you’re not doing that. You’re free to make yourself comfortable in my bed if you feel like it, I promise I won’t try to kick you in my sleep.” Here comes the tiny fireworks in his eyes again and before he could answer, I added. “Yes I’m sure. I don’t want my guest to be cold and hurt in the morning. Got it?”

He nodded, baffled just as I am by my sudden assurance.

“I’m going to change, the bedroom is this way. I’ll be back in a second.”

Once the door closed, I looked at myself in the mirror, my glasses covered in fog once again. What am I doing exactly? The only thing I want right now is to get closer and I also don’t want that. I feel drawn to him and I don’t like that I don't know why. 

I cleaned myself a bit then put on the only pair of pajamas in my home, because it’s absolutely impossible to sleep like I normally do now. I’ll probably overheat but that’s better than being half-naked with a stranger. A nice stranger, but a stranger still.

When I entered my room, he was standing there like a puppy waiting for the next instruction. I put myself to bed, tapping the other side without even once looking him in the eyes.

“Here, you can have this side. Uh… Since Princess seems to like you, she’ll probably join us later. I suggest you to… protect what's valuable before she jumps on the bed.”

I heard a slight laugh from his nose and felt the bed sag with his weight. I turned away from him, already feeling way too hot in these clothes I’m not used to. 

“Good night, Angel” His voice, barely spoken, felt like a nice breeze and I finally let out a sigh when I felt him turning the other way so we’re back to back.

“Good night Ren.”

I don’t even know how I’ll fall asleep after this day…

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