to right a wrong
**
when a misunderstanding causes both you and Valko to walk on eggshells, Em becomes the voice of reason.
TW: implications of depression/mental health issues, implications of low self worth, implications of past self harm, implications of fear of abandonment
**
He never found out why you were sad.
You refused to tell him, for some reason, but it had been weighing on him ever since he left your apartment. The apartment you had nearly refused to let him into the first time you met, but had somehow managed to become more of a home than his own place.
“You alright?”
He perked, peeking at the woman beside him. “Em,” he murmured, wondering how long she’d been there. “I, uh, yeah. Just thinking.”
She didn’t make a snarky comment or joke as usual, frowning slightly in a way that somehow reminded him of you. There were certain things about you both that had him at a loss sometimes, but the main difference was that while Em did smell nice, you made his head spin.
You were addicting in every sense of the word, actually.
Your smile, as rare as it was, always managed to stun him into silence. The way it gently touched your eyes before retreating behind closed lips that pressed thin.
Your laugh had a similar effect. The sight managed to invoke something ugly in him—possessive and raw. He wanted the image and sound of you laughing to be just for his eyes, his concern mixing with greed and making something that would probably terrify anyone who wasn’t you.
Because despite the wall you kept between the two of you, never had you rejected him.
Open arms would be a stretch, but you’d given him food. Shelter. Concern hidden behind exasperated sighs and rolled eyes.
So could anyone blame him for being so damn worried?
“Is it about her?” Em questioned curiously, tapping him in the head with the file in her hand to get his attention. “The girl you’ve been visiting at night?”
Valko didn’t deny it, canines digging into his lower lip.
Em sighed. “She still down in the dumps?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, dropping all attempts at professionalism. “Something is wrong and I know that…but she seems…”
He trailed off, unsure of what you seemed.
You weren’t happy. That much was clear from watching you when you thought he wasn’t. You weren't entirely sad, either, though. It was almost like you were in a constant state of walking along a tightrope, unsure whether to continue across or remain where you'd managed to maintain balance.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, crossing his arms and deflating slightly.
“Maybe ask her outright what’s going on? Or I can if you want?”
“No.”
A raised brow.
“No?” she questioned, reminding you an awful lot of that doctor she was currently engaged to.
“I don’t want to pry.”
“Maybe she needs you to.”
He squinted. “I doubt that.”
He’d grown up with too many women to believe that could be the solution to this issue. Space was important…more than anything else someone could give to a person attempting to make sense of the world around them.
“Trust me. Just ask.”
He did trust her. More than most people.
“What if I push a boundary?”
“You could never,” Em snorted. “You once felt bad for weeks because you ate my last piece of candy by accident.”
Valko heated in the cheeks. “You were so bummed about it and almost cried….”
“And now I have a year's supply because of a certain someone,” she chuckled with a smile. “Well, a month, if I’m lucky. Hubby loves them, too. But back to the topic at hand…she probably wouldn’t mind sharing what’s wrong with you of all people. You might still think you’re practically strangers but she trusts you to a certain degree if she lets you into her apartment.”
“You give me too much credit,” he sighed, sure his ears would have gone flat if they were visible.
“What’s her favorite food?”
“Empanadas with her mom’s homemade sauce on the side.”
“Favorite thing to do?”
“Listen to music and rain sounds.”
“Any hobbies?”
“She really likes researching flowers and arrangements,” he said with a slight smile at the thought. “But she has the worst luck with keeping them alive if not at the shop.”
Em gave him a look that he couldn’t quite understand.
He pouted. “I’m confused what any of this has to do with helping her, Em.”
“Of course you are,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My point stands. Ask her. Be straightforward but sensitive.”
Deciding that maybe a change in approach was indeed the way to go, he stood, palms pressed against his desk as he removed his glasses and began to remove his white coat.
Em stood as well, eyes narrowing.
“Where are you going?”
Valko folded the coat, placing his glasses on top of it. “To be straightforward but sensitive,” he said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, Em calling to him about the deadline but only receiving the most infuriating answer in return.
“I trust you!”
**
Just ask was a lot easier to say than commit to.
He’d been pacing outside your door for five minutes now, wondering how to approach the topic.
Would asking right away be too much? Should he make small talk first? No, that would seem insincere, wouldn’t it? He should just be honest and–
“Valko?”
He paused in his pacing, turning to see you with a grocery bag in one hand, and a dripping umbrella in the other. The bottom of your jeans was still somewhat soaked, but you, thankfully, seemed bone dry.
“Hey,” he whispered, walking toward you and talking the bag out of reflex.
You let him.
“What are you doing here? It’s pouring out,” you said with a frown. “You’re lucky you didn’t get caught in the mess.”
Your concern was enough to make his heart flutter. Valko cleared his throat so it wouldn’t fly up and out of his throat.
“I wanted to talk. To you.”
You scanned his face for any reason to be worried, but when you saw nothing but honesty, you nodded once.
“And this couldn’t have been a text or phone call?” you joked lightly, pressing your thumb to the touchpad and opening the door. Valko grabbed it for you to let you go first, following you in and removing his shoes at the door.
“I prefer face to face communication.”
“Well…I suppose this is an improvement,” you said with a smile. “From you attempting to break in via my balcony.”
Valko let out a breath of disbelief, his free hand resting on his chest.
“I have never broken in.”
You squinted at him, but you let it go for the time being in favor of dumping your umbrella into the kitchen sink. That last time you’d opened it and placed it in the bathtub, Valko had nearly had a heart attack. You had found it adorable, apparently, while he was trying to think of all the people to call to reverse your bad luck.
“Want anything to drink?”
You didn’t wait for his answer, seeming to be moving on auto pilot which was parts impressive and parts concerning. Exhausted wasn’t the word anymore…whatever you were feeling was obviously much deeper than that.
“Whatevers easiest,” Valko said as he moved closer, leaning against the kitchen island as you boiled milk. In his cup was hot chocolate–the one with no marshmallows because it ruined the chocolate taste. He had expected you to call him childish the first time he mentioned it, but instead, you’d hummed thoughtfully and mentioned how you’d never paid much attention to the difference in taste. It was more something to do than something for enjoyment.
In your cup was the opposite of his own…coffee.
He hated the stuff, but with you, he found that the smell had become tolerable. It mixed perfectly with your scent even if he would prefer you not drink anything with caffeine so late into the day.
He watched as you grabbed the handle of the pot, pouring the perfect amount of milk into each mug.
He tried not to focus too hard on the fact that they were matching, in a way.
“So,” you started as you moved to the island and placed his mug in front of him. You leaned against it as well, staring up at him curiously while cradling the mug in your hands. “What did you want to talk about that you would visit in such nasty weather?”
Oh, right. His reason for showing up at your place and actually using the front door.
Valko picked up the mug, sloshing the liquid from side to side as he forced the words he needed out.
“Well…I just…I was curious about something.”
You nodded once, egging him on with a patience he didn’t feel he deserved.
He was stalling and you probably knew that. Yet here you were, blowing on your coffee and waiting anyway.
“I’m worried about you.”
There was no explosion. No rage or smashing of the mug at his feet. No warning about minding his business.
Instead you straightened up and looked at him with wide eyes.
“...pardon?”
Your voice was softer than he’d ever heard, his heart clawing at his chest and throat to leap out of him and run off.
“You always look so…tired. Or sad. Or like something is weighing on you. I didn’t want to ask at first because I was scared you’d think I was overstepping, but I found I felt more scared that you’d think I didn’t care at all.”
Valko cleared his throat, tugging on his tie slightly.
“So I’m here because I want you to know that I do care. And I’m prepared to listen if you ever need or want me to.”
He’d said it. He’d said it out loud and now all he had to do was look up and see what sort of expression you were making–
“Val…?”
“Yes.” He snapped his head up while he answered, noting the look on your face was much more neutral than expected.
“If I told you that you were partially right…would you still want to hear me out?”
“Of course.”
“And if I told you that what was weighing me down might involve you….even then?”
His eyes widened. “Me? Did I do something?”
“In a way,” you murmured, and he felt his heart shoot up to his ears. "but it is mostly my fault."
What the hell had he done to make you feel such negative emotions? How could he ever make up for it?
“I’d…want to know even more, if I’m being honest.”
You chewed on your lower lip, placing the mug down and opting to wring your hands instead.
“...okay.”
You held out a hand to him, amber eyes tracing over it and committing the sight to memory: the small scar across the lines of your palm. The one that matched just a bit lower on your wrist.
He took it as carefully as he could manage, allowing you to lead him to the living room so you could sit on the couch. You didn’t let go of his hand even once both of you sat down, but he squeezed your hand in reassurance that he genuinely didn’t mind.
In fact, he was nothing short of malfunctioning at the fact you didn’t hate him enough to avoid his touch entirely.
“First things first, I was sad…but not because of anything you did. I don’t think you meant to do it which makes it all the more…embarrassing.”
He noted how your voice wavered, as if a wave of shame hit you the moment the words escaped.
“So…” Valko began, but you cut him off.
“I've fallen for you.”
He froze. You let out a shaky exhale, as if in shock that you’d actually said it.
“So much that I was scared you’d avoid me if you ever found out. So I kept it a secret. Lately. though, it has been a lot harder to hide. I don’t want to hide it. So I haven’t wanted to talk much because I might do what I'm doing now.”
Valko waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.
“You like me.”
A bashful nod.
“And you were scared I’d stop coming by if I knew?”
Another nod.
"So when you were 'sad' that was...?"
"Me trying very hard not to fall into some daydream that you might for some reason like me back," you said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "So please don't feel like you have to return my feelings."
He could hear how your hear slammed into your ribs in the same unforgiving rhythm as his own, skipping each time he got anywhere near your pulse.
You were pulled into his arms before you could fully finish your sentence. He felt how you stopped breathing against him. He wondered if you were comfortable in his arms. If his warmth provided comfort. If how large he was made you feel safe rather than suffocated.
“Oh, sweets,” he sighed as he scented your hair, your neck, your cheeks.
“What’re you–?” you choked out, chewing your lower lip to keep quiet.
“I like you, too. So much that I was going a bit crazy trying to figure out why you weren’t talking to me.”
Your nails dug into the front of his dress shirt as you processed his words. It was a feeling he’d love to get used to, but he tried not to get ahead of himself.
“No bullshit?”
He chuckled and pushed you back just enough to meet your eyes, inwardly pleased at your partially unfocused gaze.
“No bullshit,” he promised, pressing his forehead against your own. “So tell me if this is too much too soon but I would really like to kiss you right about now,” he whispered.
You nodded once, stiff and awestruck but more than willing.
He leaned in, starting with a quick peck on your lips to test the waters. You repeated it back to him, eyes fluttering closed before opening to scan his expression for signs of discomfort. It was almost like a game, in a way, with each of you taking turns until the timing between kisses grew shorter.
Before the hesitation was replaced with mutual desperation.
One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, thumb pressed to your pulse and guiding you gently. The other rested on your lower back, moving to your hip and squeezing in a way that made you whimper.
He pulled away with a small curse under his breath, noting how your eyes took longer to open, half lidded and dazed.
“Fuck, you’re cute,” he said before leaning in again, this kiss fueled by every emotion that had prevented you both from doing this weeks.
“Val,” you whispered weakly, pressing your lips to his again as your palms slid up his chest so your arms could loop around his neck. He groaned, your world tilting until you were on your back, staring up at him with a look that was practically begging him to keep going.
And you both might have considered it if not for your stomach choosing that moment to let out a small growl of protest.
Your face heated for a different reason as Valko turned his head away and snorted.
“Shut up.”
“Sweets…”v
Valko’s tongue swiped over his canines in one of the greatest debates of his life, but care for your needs far outweighed the need to claim you.
“Valko,” you warned, smacking his chest with one hand before habitually rubbing the area in a soothing motion. Even while pouting, you didn’t want him actually hurt.
For now.
Leaning down to press a kiss to your nose, he shoved his face into your neck again and let out a deep breath to calm himself. You shuddered at the feeling.
“Food first. You need to eat.”
A grumble of agreement that had him smirking.
You sucked in a breath when he bit you: enough for you to feel him but not enough to leave any marks just yet.
“And when you’re done…” he started, licking the area to soothe it and enjoying the strained noise that left you.
“my turn.”
