'échelon –' was written in sync for a 'valentines challenge,' with (and in dedication to) Ashe Corinthos.
this is probably a sixshot and i'm hoping i actually get to complete it instead of constantly making mistakes with my life.
This is pretty much 'Len Is a Jerk who is still a kid but finds out he has a younger Kid'.
the french is done last-minute and I harassed a few of my friends into confirming/translating for me so if whatever's written down is wrong, please feel free to point it out?
Disclaimer: fingerguns
Warning: the only reason this isn't a m-rated fic is because i don't want anyone to judge me.
also there 's seks in this
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闇に咲く可憐な花を
徒に手折っては慰む日々
癒えない傷を慰めあって
抉られてるのは
俺の方
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.
"Hey, hey, Len- it's me, oh no, don't hang up! Not yet, atleast.. geez, thank god you've finally managed enough guts to toughen up and accept the call, I've been trying to reach you for hours."
"You're still there, aren't you? Come on, say something. Is this about the gathering last week? Look, I'm sorry I dragged you over to attend it. I know you've already said you were busy before and I'm in the wrong for forcing you to go in the first place. It's just.. it's been years since you've been in a stable relationship and it's just not right to me. What happened to that kid who smiled at every single second of the day and had enough confidence to dream about having his first child with perfect golden hair and bright blue eyes? Don't you dare debate about those girls you lead to fancy hotels and restaurants, that's not what proper relationships are."
"You're not still hung up about your last relationship, are you?"
"Len, it's been five years. You're already nineteen. I'm worried about you, y'know? Gumi, Kaito–.. we all are."
".. Okay, I understand that you don't want to talk, especially with me – so I'll let you off, just for tonight.. however, this is still important, and we are going to discuss this. It hasn't been the same since.. and I'll confess, even though you were even more than irritating and sometimes unbearable to withstand, I kind of miss having a little brother to joke around with."
"That's settled, then.. night, Len."
Beep.
.
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Kagamine Len had always felt as if there was something missing in his life.
Or, rather, he'd known there was.
It was unmistakable.
That nagging, irritable pounding against his chest.
It always came at the time before he slept at night and it's the first thing he feels whenever he wakes up in the morning right after seeing the framed photograph on his left, settled across the smooth dark mahogany of his small bedside table. He'd graze his fingers over the image, dreaming of his past, and then mustered whatever he had left of a smile.
.
.
.
He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
At first he had thought it an average day: not too pleasant, but more bearable than the others.
The rest of last night was spent deleting all of Miku's messages and clearing his inbox. Since he saw that it started as a peaceful friday morning, he made the false assumption that it would end as one: so instead of worrying, the blond carried on with his usual classes and went to work his shift at his grandaunt's coffee shop, purely for the sake of helping 'family' out. It wasn't that he was that desperate or truly needed to, his tuition fees were well covered and so were his living expenses; both of his parents made sure to send their only son a monthly allowance of a thousand dollars each.
But he needed to work there for an excuse.
If he wasted his time away, that monster would find another reason to drag him out to another mixer or party, despite his constant protests that he already had to focus on his studies.
Len was already stressed enough as he is.
And although Miku cried the other night into the phone claiming that she wouldn't force him into another outing, he still couldn't find the will to believe her.
Especially when right as he changed out of his uniform and went to leave the shop, a familiar tealette stormed through the glass doors and snatched a grasp onto his wrist.
"I've been looking for you everywhere."
"Oh."
"What, no – no, not 'oh', and don't even try to make an excuse on avoiding me anymore, you little freak. I saw you hanging around the corridors in between classes and you didn't even think twice about hanging up on my calls."
"Well, I've been a little preoccupi– hey!"
And without further ado, he'd already been onto the front passenger seat of her car and watching as she strapped herself into a seatbelt and allowed him the full view of what she was truly wearing underneath her coat: tight high-waisted shorts and something that looked more like a skirt than a top, yet it's laced with a band across her chest.
It was, in Miku Hatsune's sense of fashion, 'party-clothes'.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
Oh, he wanted to argue.
Debate, scream, complain that he's had enough of all the crap she'd made him go through the years. But instead the male did nothing more than press his cheek against the window, watching the moving scenery outside and grunting about how she's wasting another one of his nights' – right before the weekend came by to bring him peace, too.
If there was one thing he'd regretted and wished he could turn back time for, it was meeting Hatsune Miku.
For more than one reason, at that.
"Don't look so glum, come on, freshen up. We're still young, the night is still young and you're wasting it all on studying," Her grip on the steering wheel is loose and he wonders how much of a risk it is just to be inside the same car as her. "Anyways, since we haven't had a good heart–to–heart conversation for a while, let's talk. Have you been meeting any new girls lately, flirting, gotten any numbers? Gumi's single too, you know,"
"Gumi? Yeah.. don't you like her?"
"What the..? No, of course not, I'm over her, those feelings are long gone–" Unlike his.
It's pathetic that she's even considering Gumi as a potential partner for him. Gumi, who comes around every Christmas Morning to storm into his flat with Miku so they can bother him on his day-off from studies. Gumi, who despite him groaning that it's a holiday which he doesn't even celebrate, decides to come over and baked him a special apple pie after hearing Miku's false claims that he'd decided to adopt a new vegan lifestyle.
Gumi, who's more that of an older sister -who's–not-really–related-to–him but still comes around to try and make the best out of his 'miserable' (as Miku deemed it) university life.
Lord, no. Does she really think he's that desperate?
When he didn't speak further, she spoke up again.
"So, assuming that you're a precocious little brat who doesn't like Gumi at all, any other girls?"
"Are you searching for yourself?"
"No, no, of course not. Don't get mouthy, my love life is completely out of this." She shoots him a nasty look through the rearview mirror, her usual ritual– which he gags at before shooting her a stern glare as if warning her to focus on her reckless driving. "Weren't you the one who said you'd love to live as an elderly man with your beautiful wife in the countryside – rearing six grandchildren and nine goats whom you'd raise with tender-loving care?"
Not now, when he doesn't even have that 'beautiful wife' within reach of his fingertips.
Len stifles a laugh. "Not anymore."
"You used to be such an amazing kid, what happened to you?"
"It's been almost half a decade. Miku, I can change. Right now the only thing I want to focus on are my studies. Besides, I don't even like children so there really isn't an option for me to have any babies of my own. I'll stay out of your love life, so you can stay out of mine."
".. that isn't exactly an option, here."
And she'd parked inside the middle of somebody's driveway and practically lugged him out of the car.
He's not even in the right attire, damn it – a warm woolly cardigan and tight sweatpants that he'd worn with the intention of completely stripping himself off the moment he got back home.
Now he's stuck here.
Great.
Miku seemed to give absolutely no shits about seeing the displeased look across her junior's face, and the instant he stepped inside the dorm, a college dorm at that, he was struck with the overwhelming instinct to puke.
It wasn't.. wild. Although the girl was, in his mind, a complete sociopath, most of her friends seemed normal enough even to fit his own standards. There weren't any frightening motions of people dancing along to the music like there was no tomorrow, it wasn't like there were screaming or police sirens in the background despite the generalization of usual parties he'd see on television – it's strangely quiet. Not that he hasn't attended his own parties before, but still.
He supposes he could appreciate Miku just this once for leading him somewhere he wouldn't feel too out of place.
But the alcohol.
Oh, god.
Thick, thick, alcohol. Len had never gotten along too well with liqueur.
After a smooth round of greetings the girl had forced him to go around on, her hugging her friends and introducing him while at the same time not letting go of her grip on his wrist (because apparently she thinks he's a child who'll wander off on his own if she ever dares take her eyes off him for a single second), she'd pulled him towards a quiet girl sitting in the corner and forced him to initiate a conversation.
"Len, come over here for a moment.. right, okay, this is Miki!"
Len wrinkled his nose – Miku really is trying her best to match him up, isn't she?
Too bad her efforts are for naught; he's not at all interested in this girl, with her cherry-red hair that proves she's obviously trying too hard to stand out and her lips looking far too glossy as if she'd bought dollar-store lipstick and applied nineteen coats. She's got a cute nose, a nice figure, and there are small freckles on her cheeks, but there just isn't that interest.
There isn't that spark.
The blond broke into an awkward smile, his voice cracking a little: ".. hello."
Miku did well in pinching his side: apparently the demon was no longer accepting one-word liners as a greeting. God, she'd heightened her standards from the last time they'd done this, he even did two syllables instead of one. The more he gives, the less she appreciates.
"I'm Len."
Smooth.
Fist-bumping inside his mind, it isn't until he remembers that Miku already introduced him by his name does his small smile falter.
The other girl – Miki– didn't seem to mind however, instead returning the greeting with a polite nod.
"Miki's an author, she wants to publish one of her books some day. Isn't that right?"
There's a moment as the redhead compliments a moment, and Len internally prays she decides against speaking, just nod, nod, and then he'll find an excuse to run off and they'll both be on their merry way.
But instead, she spoke. "Um.. yeah... I'm still trying, I suppose."
Nooo. . . .
"That's great! Len loves books too so you'd both get along nicely."
No, no, shit, no.
And that traitor, Miku, left without more than a single glance towards him.
Needless to say the entirety of his friday night was spent with him talking to this one girl and trying to make her seem even the slightest bit interested with his words although she looked like she wanted to cry throughout their entire conversation; they'd went from speaking about her favourite books and questioning whether she'd rather live as a boy wizard or founding one of the most successful corporations of all time. And then it went deep into their personal lives and he's left with a girl he barely knows weeping into his shoulder because she accidentally brought up the subject of her ex-boyfriend's cat.
He'd awkwardly stroked the top of her head, trying to whisper that it's alright, she'll find a new one soon.
"You – you don't understand, he – he can't go to sleep without cuddling me at night!" The girl bubbled, tears spilling out to wet his shirt (and he doesn't want to be rude, but he does mind having his clothes become spoiled.) "And – and Yuuma, you know Yuuma.. he won't even let the poor kitty sleep on the bed during the cold season..!"
"Shhhh.. that's fine, maybe he does now. Maybe he installed a new heater inside the house, you never know."
"But – but – what if he doesn't?!"
Well, that's none of my business now, is it?
It took a moment before Len realised he'd accidentally mused that out loud.
Shit.
And then, like a weakened dam collapsing after being pent up and nudged by a small wooden twig, she broke into louder sobs and he's left there staring at the blank wall wondering where he went wrong in this life.
Although, despite it all, he can't help but feel a little nostalgia, patting a girl's head like this and trying to comfort her while his own knees threatened to buckle up and collapse. Feeling someone depend on him, use him as their only strength, their sole comfort. It's sweet.
He can almost remember it, flaxen strands twining along his fingers as if he spun gold.
Soft, soft, a waft of citrus in her scent.
And, before he could hold himself back..
. . "Shh.. don't cry, it's alright, Rin.. hey, I'm right here, don't cry.."
.
.
.
Saturday morning hit him like a tonne of bricks.
He doesn't know the reason behind his terrible migraine. He hadn't drunk, and he definitely didn't immerse himself in anything else. There's a rap at his door and he's glad to see that it isn't Miku when he looks through the peephole and finds a particularly chirpy older greenette, holding the weight of a plastic tupperware in her left hand, while a cardboard tray with cupped beverages on top balanced on her other.
Len unlocked the door and allowed the girl entry, and she streamed gladly inside.
"Morning, sunshine. My heater's broken, mind letting me crash in your flat for a while?"
"Your water heater or..?"
"Both."
"Oh. Go ahead and wash up here if you need to, I won't mind." He eyes the female as she settles her packages on his island counter, and although he had tried to resist, he couldn't help but go over the temptation and ask, "Gumi, you didn't bring over anything weird again, did you..?"
The greenette blinks a moment as if surprised.
She opens the lid of the tupperware and the delicacy of warm steam emits into the room just a few moments later.
Len can't help but catch the distant scent of melted mozzarella cheese, along with a dust of cheddar and alluring strips of meat.
Oh, it's a taste he'll never forget. "You made some more lasagne?"
"Hm..? Yeah, there's your usual frappe too.. I had a feeling you'd have a headache this morning after that party Miku dragged you along to yesterday.. she'd already told me about it. I thought it might clear your mind a little if you had a home–cooked meal as breakfast for once. I was told you met a nice girl, though." The girl finds comfort in taking off her jacket and draping it over one of his sofas, just before sitting cross–legged onto a stool and leaning across the counter. "I'm assuming you didn't."
Before anything, he reached over for his vanilla frappucino, taking a quick sip for his morning intake of caffeine.
".. well, somewhat. I guess so. Shit."
"What happened?"
The blond ruffled a hand through his bangs and didn't even bother to stifle a bitter laugh, "She ended up crying on my shoulder about her ex–boyfriend's kitten the entire night."
The disgruntled groan that escaped from Gumi's lips was followed immediately after.
She shifted a little to make room as the younger male plopped down onto the other stool beside her, reaching over for two plates, forks, and slicing a sharp knife through the meal to create perfect squares into the cheese.
Len scooted it into their plates a moment afterwards.
"Miku's still adamant about finding you a partner, huh..? Sorry about that, do you need me to tell her off?"
"No.. there really isn't a need.. she'll crack soon enough," He lifts a fork and cracks it down onto his slice of lasagna, bringing the heated moisture close to his lips. "Thanks for this, for coming over, and bringing me your cooking. This really smells good."
Gumi takes a whiff of the pasta– "Does it?" She breaks into a small smile, "That's nice to know."
There's a moment of silence as they eat the meal in shared comfort.
It doesn't last too long when the door breaks open a minute later, revealing an ecstatic tealette who waved her copy of spare keys to the flat through the air, and brought her arms down when she saw the food on the marble counter.
Her mouth fell into a perfectly–rounded 'o'.
"Lasagne! I want some!"
"Get your own."
Pouting, she stood across from them and leaned her elbows atop the table. "Gumi, you sucker. That's fine, I can just watch you both eat. Anyways, Len! My man, my main male friend, brother, little brother– come and share your tales with us a little, I heard that you got some action from a certain Miki Utatane yesterday night, am I right?"
Wink wink, nudge nudge.
Gumi couldn't help but roll her eyes.
Being the bearer of bad news, the girl pushed her short hair out of the way while she ate another piece of her lasagna– and then spilled the words out easily, "Nice pairing, Miku. That girl you set Len up with ended up wailing about her ex-boyfriend to him the entire night while you wasted your time partying. What are you even trying to do?"
Miku couldn't help but gape in shock, her hands flying to clasp over her mouth. "Miki?! No way, she's always so well-reserved."
"You probably chose her because she's eyecandy."
Len hummed in agreement, nibbling onto another bite of cheese.
Someone's fighting his battles for him – that's a first.
Instead of screaming his head off like he would've done a few years ago, the blond only watches as the events unfold with an edge of amusement, seeing the tealette huff her cheeks and cross her arms, looking very much like an overfed rabbit
"Well, a little bit," she definitely can't be compared to his own ex, however.. "mostly because she was interested in writing. Len's interested in books, she's interested in books, d'you see where I'm getting here?" no, not at all. "But do not fear, my friends."
Do not fear?
At the mention of that, Len immediately perked up.
Oh, lord, now he's definitely in fear – don't tell him that she's already had a back-up plan incase his most recent 'courtship' had failed.
"Since I already knew that our little buddy over here," Miku gestured towards Len, accentuating 'buddy', while she made circles in the air, "wouldn't ever dare to ask a girl for her number because he's an arrogant arsehole.. I went ahead and made an arrangement for a blind-date tonight between him and this senior I met at our university."
Yep, she'd already planned this.
His jaw hung open, dropping his fork and hearing it clink loudly as it fell to the floor. "What– wait, I can't go on a blind date. Miku, you can't just do this, I had– wait, no, I already made plans today!"
"Not anymore," The tealette smiled sweetly. "I sent her a link of all your social media accounts."
A gleam in her eyes proved that he didn't have a choice.
This demon has already claimed all control over his life.
And then she picked up a new fork from his utensil set, happily digging it into his plate of lasagna and placing it through her own lips.
.
.
.
.
You'll like this one, I promise!
Don't be so nervous, she's just your type, I made sure that she was: she's very pretty, hates life most of the time, enjoys morning coffee but definitely dislikes home-brewed, doesn't want children – really hates kids, this one. Somewhat blonde. Oh, and she has commitment issues, just like you. Don't dare mention anything about marriage!
Alright, that's it.
Oh, and keep me and Gumi updated. Good luck!
Miku's five–minute prepping was the only information he had of this girl, and he's left squirming in his seat for a little longer while he awaits this girl, a notebook in his hand and a cup of coffee in his other.
It's best to get this over with.
He's stuck inside this 'french cafe' with an inside that's decorated with wooden antiques and ornaments that hang along the walls. The smell of fresh pastries swishes into the air and plenty of the food are more Italian than French, but he supposes it's the multiple miniature sculptures of the Eiffel Tower that adds to the spice.
On the table there's a small plate of biscuits, and a single rose is set to the side.
It doesn't take long with a few coffee refills from a blonde waitress (who'd smiled when she saw aforementioned rose and complimented the shade) before his 'date' finally arrives, long hair clung firmly to her body and her cheeks were huffed with small amounts of sweat. Parts of her light strands are folded into wary curls and she plops down onto the seat across from him, forcing an odd smile on her face.
Len coughed awkwardly, pushing his book aside and straightening his back.
"Kagamine Len, nice to meet you."
His arm is stretched out, and she grasps his hand with her own for a firm shake.
"Mayu Asaka." The girl nods curtly, and then leans back into her seat. "You're Miku's.. younger brother?"
"Colleague." Len corrects, offering a bit of a smile in return, observing her firmly. "We attended highschool together."
When the same waitress from earlier hands them a menu, Mayu scanned through the pages and scoffs lightly underneath her breath, a finger trailing underneath the line of words.
The boy can't help but raise a brow.
"Sorry, it's just– what is this," She says in mock–disgust, a light smirk on her lips as she voices her opinion out at him, ".. all this french. I can't help but find it pathetic, really.. I'm assuming that none of the workers here can even speak a single word, much less a sentence, of the language yet they're trying so desperately to act westernised."
Well, oookay then.
Someone hasn't had their morning coffee.
Deciding that he didn't want to stir up any fights, Len only cleared his throat and averted his gaze, about to place his own order when the waitress that had been waiting to take their order began to speak: "Ah, Madame..! Je vous prie de bien vouloir m'excuser; je ne comprends pas, parlez–vous français?"
Oh.
Len shot a gaze up at her, watching as this girl – the blonde waitress from earlier – recovered from her red cheeks of irritation and her glare. She blinked a few minutes in embarrassment once she noticed his gaze on her, and the girl hangs her head low enough for her bangs to completely shield her eyes.
"Ahh.." Mayu looks just as surprised, and she gulps down some saliva before nodding her head, "Un.. un peu."
"Je vois. Qu'est-ce que vous voulez commander? Est-ce que vous voulez quelque chose à boire pour commencer?"
"Un moment.. ce que vous recommend..? Anything light?"
".. oui; du thé vert et de la Brioche."
The woman sitting across from him looks dumbfounded for a minute, and then.. "Oui.. then – then I'll have that. Those."
When the waitress jots her requests down onto a notepad and turns to ask him whether he'd like a refill of his coffee (or atleast, that's what he assumes she's saying. She'd spoken clear english just before and now she's sticking firm on using a language he doesn't even understand,) he only waved a hand dismissively and shot her a weak smile.
Yet this.. woman .. sitting infront of him looked less than mildly pleased.
It took a moment before she noticed the rose across the table.
"How nice." She picked it up, twiddling the trimmed stem along her fingers. "Never been too fond of flowers, myself.. it's still a nice ornament to hang around with."
Mayu crossed her arms and leant back in the seat, giving him a good view to make his careful observation of this girl. She was small with a good build that could mean she has a routined exercise regime, and there are coloured waves in her calf-length hair which gives him the confirmation that she wasn't a natural blonde. Her eyes shone with a blinding gold and the small knitted patterns along her irises note that she's wearing contacts.
Her clothes were strict, a pencil skirt that fit her form just a tight bit oddly, and a nude silk top which meant to show off her figure.
There's nothing more to say about her personality.
Miku had said that she was just his type, and that's wrong.
His type of girl is cute.
She's petite and slightly chubby around her edges; would complain about the fat but would never bother to change how she is. His type of girl is blonde, but not any shade of blonde – not the darkest or fairest, but that perfect shade in–between that only she can pull off. His type of girl is childish and absurdly stubborn, she'd puff her cheeks whenever she's irritated with him but crack just a minute to pamper him in her kisses.
His type of girl loves to cuddle, prefers wearing warm cardigans or his oversized tees rather than having body hugging clothing or garments that dawn her figures. She loves sniffing his clothes and skin, his heat, and absolutely hates the cold. She loves flowers, roses, more than anything.
She's compassionate, and enjoys hearing nothing more than the soft coo of a baby and a kittens' purr.
And his type of girl is someone who'd– "–and you're not even paying any attention."
Finally, Len snapped up in realisation.
Before he'd noticed it, his gaze had been staring intently on the blonde waitress across the room, now tending to an elderly couple who were holding hands above the tabletop. "Sorry, what were you saying?" The boy questioned softly, his voice meek.
Mayu narrowed her eyes into a glare and shook her head while she took a slow sip of her drink – he hadn't noticed her order had already came, and it might be safe to assume that she's been trying to talk to him for the past twenty minutes, only for it to have been a complete one–sided conversation.
An empty plate is beside the rose, and he assumes that's the leftover of the brioche that had arrived earlier.
The young lady scoffed, standing from her seat.
"I see how it is. Alright then, have fun daydreaming, I'll be taking my leave."
Before he could hold the woman back, she'd already gotten her part of the bill and left the boy to sink further into his seat, enjoying nothing more than the heater burning warmth across his skin and comfortable silence.
Miku's going to love hearing about this later.
Len pulled his wallet out and went to the cashier, tucking the rose within the clench of his palm. It surprised him to see that the same waitress came to tend to him, a teasing smile on her face. Right as he was about to pass over his card, she made him gulp on his dry throat with a few words, "C'était votre petite amie..?"
The blond blinked. What. ".. um, sorry?"
"Petite amie." When he didn't respond, she only giggled underneath her breath and shook her head, ".. that girl, your girlfriend. Are all women you date like that?"
Oh, so now she's speaking english.
"What – what, no. That wasn't my– she wasn't my girlfriend." His cheeks flare in obvious embarrassment. ".. She isn't exactly my.. type? Yeah. I mean, I suppose she's alright, but I prefer a little.. more." Now that he's this close to her and they're having an actual conversation, he can't help but ogle at this girl.
With those gentle cornflower blue eyes and that little quirk of her lips that formed an actual smile.
"You adore french women, it seems."
His mind is a blur and he's focusing so hard on the way her mouth moves, separating and moist and– god. He can hardly comprehend any of the words she's speaking, nor even his own bare thoughts.
".. french...?" The boy's words are slurred now, and his cheeks heat an unbearable red.
"Oui," She winked, and before he can realise it, she's already leaning halfway into the counter, in towards him. "You've been ogling at me since the beginning of your date, haven't you? That's not very nice, chéri.. you should pay careful attention to your lady friends, she's probably harbouring a death wish towards me right about now."
And, before he could hold himself back: "– When do you get off your shift?"
The girl didn't falter her smile.
And, when she took the debit card from his hands, allowing him the smallest flicker of her touch.. he couldn't help but feel a strong sense of familiarity, looking directly into her eyes.
"Non, that's a secret."
"..."
When she'd handed him the receipt, he couldn't help but be just the slightest bit offended at that firm sugary smile that never once tried to leave her expression. "Merci!"
.
.
.
.
Harsh wind blew against his cheeks and the blond did nothing more than tighten the scarf around his neck.
He waited there, standing still until he heard a familiar honk and a vibrant red sedan being parked by the curb, signaling the arrival of his pick-up. The male straightened his shirt before walking along the pavement until he'd finally reached the vehicle's door, opening it non–too–gently as he slipped into the front passengers seat and relaxed into the warmth of the heater.
What the male had expected once he closed the door was a soft greeting from Gumi beside him, her usual politeness in the morning almost always being the first thing he hears on monday morning.
Instead, he's greeted with the voice of another. More pitched, loud, and obnoxious all in all:
"God, you look horrible."
Ofcourse he would.
He'd just been outright rejected saturday night by the first woman he'd been interested in for the past five years, and she didn't look even the least bit apologetic about turning him down. Sunday was spent and completely wasted with mourning about his nonexistent love life; he hadn't worked on that due assignment until hours after eleven'o'clock at night.
Len merely closed his eyes and threw his head back with a groan.
And Gumi just had to bring Miku along, didn't she?
It didn't help that the tealette had been bothering him the entire day with her repetitive phone calls, urging the blond to give them a little bit of information from the date he had the previous night, A snicker underneath her breath, and the girl sitting in the backseat piped up again, her nasty face visible through the corner of his gaze. "Oh, scratch that, my humblest apologies.. apparently that's just your face."
It's surprising, really, how she can go sounding all sincere when he doesn't respond to her voice on their phone calls yet when he's right here, merciless under her gaze, she pulls out all of her insults and uses them with glee.
Gumi, much different from Saturday morning, didn't seem supporting him either. Instead she pulled down the gear shift and settled both of her hands on the steering wheel. Her green hair was pushed from distraction and she began reversing the car, "Don't mess with the grinch, he hasn't had his daily intake of caffeine yet."
"You need caffeine in the morning? My bad, I'd forgotten and ordered de–caf for you."
Giggling, Miku landed a freezing cup between the gaps of his thighs, making him squeak from the ice and hastily lift the drink between his own palms.
When she noticed the sour look on her junior's face, the girl threw a neatly–kept braid over her shoulder and leant across his seat enough for her chin to practically rest ontop his shoulder. "Lighten up, Lenny darling. I was only joking."
He lifted the cup up with suspicion–
"Caffè Vanilla Frappe, just the way you like it – Oh, come on, don't look at me like that!"
" .. hm."
Len took a careful sip.
And then he settled back, easing into the seat and fixing the seatbelt along his waist while he observed the moving scenery beyond the windows.
"You're giving me the silent treatment again?" The tealette questioned irritably. "You've already done enough of that a while ago, can't you just let go of things for once or are we really going to dwell on this forever?"
Silence. "Look, I get that you're still bummed out about being dumped by your old girlfriend but that was half a freaking decade ago."
He didn't bother to speak a word.
Another long, long sip of his drink, and she only fumes.
"Every single time, I swear. All I'm trying to do is help but what do you ever give me in return? Nothing! Instead you ponder your hours on thinking about that pathetic puppy love you once harboured in high-school and decide that you never want to move on. Have you ever considered what she's done, she left you, she's probably married by now and definitely not bothering about you. Are you hoping that if you wait for her long enough, she'll end up coming back just to cry at your feet? Wake up then, because Rin's gone and she's never coming ba –"
"– Stop the car."
His voice is cool, although demanding and the blond's cold glare is enough to freeze up her tongue.
Gumi blinks a moment, loosening her grip on the wheel. She hesitated. "Your classes are starting early today, right? It's only a few blocks, I can drop you off closer to the university."
"I'll be fine, just need some air."
".. no, you just want to leave because I mentioned her name." It wasn't easy to get Miku to shut up for long however. Just as easy as she deflated, she came back to life, a flame lit in her eyes as she grasped at the hem of the leaving boy's collar. "You're scared of a name now, is that it? You're scared because of a bloody name–"
"Miku, knock it off." The other girl finally defended.
Before they could hear any more shouts of her protests, he'd escaped the car, slamming the door loudly behind him and walking ahead, away from them.
Going his own way.
.
.
.
.
To say he wasn't exhausted would be a complete lie.
He'd spent the entire day running from one class to another; declining Gumi's offer of dropping him off directly infront of the building was a huge mistake, but the stubborn part of him insists that he'd made the right decision instead of spending the entire day with Miku Hatsune's jaws snapping at his heels, trying to bite at every step he takes so she can finally bring him down.
It was a given for him to be late, and that only takes more from his freetime, forcing him to self-study.
German lessons have taken a toll on his heart, and his mind has completely punctured from writing five essays in three different languages.
And he couldn't take his mind off her.
That girl, with her dimples and her thick, blonde lashes fluttering against her cheeks. He couldn't keep the image away from his thoughts, her uniform.. a knee-length dress which smooths an elegant black over her body, followed with little white intricate patterns of dandelion seeds along the material. Her hair tied into a tight bun with her fringes pushed to the side to fit the shape of her gentle chin.
That was enough to make him come back.
So now he's sitting alone in the corner of a crowded french themed coffee–shop, waiting to catch atleast one glance of her.
Just once, and he'll try to sate himself forever.
Once.
He'd kept glancing back and forth between the cashier, trying to spot that waitress. All the staff waiting the tables were male, and there wasn't a single sight of that slender figure. Maybe she had a late shift tonight, or she just didn't work here anymore. Maybe not today, or maybe not ever, he'll never see that smile again.. her image is still burnt fresh into his mind.
Deciding not to waste on his time, he'd pulled his laptop from his bag and typed on the open keyboard of his laptop, trying to get the last of his studies finished instead of working on his distractions. Len took a slow sip of his green tea.
It didn't take long until there was a presence beside him.
A soft giggle, and she leant closer on her stool and tapped on his shoulder, enough for the male to turn around in bewilderment; She wasn't wearing that black dress he last saw her in – instead draped in a warm thick beige coat and leggings that reached long enough to stop just above her thin ankles.
"Studying?" She leant in, a teasing tone.
Oh, she came.
Len felt himself heat up just a little, ".. yeah. Yes. I'm in my second year of university."
Not that she'd want to know.
"Ah, je vois. I see. You're still rather young.." The blonde hums, pushing her stool closer towards him and leaning in, "You've got a nice face, too.. have you got a girlfriend, or are you one of those virgins that rather focus on their studies prominently over the more punctual way of life? Then again.. I can't help but assume that the reason you're here is for me. Is that right?"
Her gaze captivates him, and he can only manage to whisper a breathy "yes".
And that smile.
Lord, her beautiful smile. Reaching each corner of her lips and blessing him with the opportunity to see it once again. He can't help but feel his heart quiver. "Not even denying it. How cheeky of you."
A gentle snicker underneath her breath.
"It's too bad you didn't know I don't serve here on weekdays. Although I can't help but wonder.. what could a young man like you possibly want from someone like me. Hm.. could it possibly be.. faire l'amour avec moi?"
Len felt his throat dry up and he gazes at his laptop screen a moment, noticing now that he'd been spending the past five minutes writing complete gibberish on his notepad while she'd entranced him. Clearing his throat, the blond erases up his mistake and taps a finger across the empty keyboard before turning to the girl.
He can't help but let his curiosity get to the best of him, ".. that is?"
"Sex."
The male immediately felt dry in his throat.
".. Excuse me?"
"Isn't that what you want, Len? You're craving it, you lust after it, you've been so deprived.."
With that, the young woman leans closer, her fingers just barely gracing the definition of his jawline and her knees practically sitting between his own in perfect relaxation. She's close enough for him to breathe in a nostalgic waft of citrus, and he can't help but notice how the image of her cleavage is visible through the front of her top.
But he isn't low enough to stoop to that level.
"No, no," He's frantic to deny, eyes wild. "That.. that isn't it! It isn't what.. what I want from you. Atleast, it isn't just that.." His bottom lip trembles from the embarrassment, easing back on his stool to get further from her. A moment later, it seems as if a shot of lightning strikes him, ".. hold on, where did you hear my name? I never told you my name."
A smile, and she giggles underneath her breath. "A woman has.. many ways.. intuition, you might assume.. ah, but..."
"What's your name?" He says suddenly.
The young woman across from him broke into gentle laughter, her palms cupping beneath her chin. "You're rather fond of interrupting me, aren't you? Especially in regards of speech.." Her breath fans against his cheeks, and he's trying his best to seem to avoid the very redness that crept up his heated skin.
"Your name." He insists.
Len's left to frown in dissatisfied terror when she stood from the stool, gulping down the last of her hot chocolate – he hadn't noticed that warm cocoa smell from earlier: but now that it's already gone, he can't help but ponder – and then threw him a careless wink as if he hadn't asked her a single question.
".. the mystery is what spites lust."
And just like the stream of air bursting into the cafe whenever the glass doors flew open, she floated along with her presence, leaving nothing left of her trace. Just like the wind.
.
.
.
.
He sits cross–legged across the television, thumbing through layers and layers of pages and trying to find something worth enough for him to waste time on. A stack of books, biographies, photo albums – are all piled high beside his lap and he's trying his best to find something to focus on.
Sometimes, as he searches through his journals, an occasional chipped photograph would slip out.
An image torn by the edges and dusted with age, with her arms wrapped tight around him and grinning at the camera.
He'd stare at it for a moment, and then tuck it back inside the pages.
Miku's been harassing his inbox for the past nineteen hours, and he's sitting snugly, bundled up inside his warm blanket and sipping onto a mug of hot cocoa as he tried to search for a recipe he was sure that girl had left him once before. She'd failed at making an apricot and cinnamon tart that she planned for the week before valentines' day, but still ended up giving him her own written instructions after a few compliments on how the charred crust didn't taste bad at all.
Valentines' day..
He hasn't celebrated the occasion in a long time.
Thumbing through an album filled with images dating back from more than six years ago, where he was in his fourteenth year. She'd still been flustered about the thought of holding hands with him in public, and he'd only ruffle her hair before slinging an arm around the girl's shoulder with complete ease.
Len can't help but bring his mug up, sniffing at the warm chocolate.
That girl.. the waitress, she was drinking this too, wasn't she?
Rin's always loved cocoa.
And he'd been so pathetic for knowing it all along, knowing it from ever since the first time he saw her, yet pretending to find her a stranger while she acted oblivious enough to 'seem' as if she had absolutely no idea who he was, hoping, wondering possibly, whether he hadn't recognised her in the first place. Rin's a brilliant actor, really, he's always admired how she could fake her tears just so she'd be able to make others bend to her will, sometimes giggle even through her worst days. She's like a witch spinning the purest of gold along her fingers, recklessly, as if it had no worth compared to her wit.
But she's never been able to lie to him.
French women, she says. . . she really should've tried to fake her accent more.
Len grunted underneath his breath when he held up a picture from five years back.
A few days before she'd gone. It's unmistakable, everything he'd seen in her reflecting the same image as that irrelevant waitress who'd just taken his order that one time; same dimples, cheeks, those lips that he'd kept pressed against his own on colder nights.
Oh, and those blue eyes.
It's faltered from the last time he saw them, the usual spark in her childishness gone. Her smile didn't hold the same mischievousness as it had before, either, and he silently mourns the loss of her previous youth. When he flips further into the book, he finds more hidden treasures, her hairclips, cards and poems they'd written for each other from before.
He can't help but brush a thumb fondly across the text on one of his cards.
Written by her own hands, dipped in perfect ink and a quill she'd gotten from an antiques' store, she'd gotten so excited when she saw it and he was left chiding her the entire evening for wasting her money on an over–priced product that they could've gotten for cheaper online.
But still she'd pout and claim that it just wasn't the same, instead pushing him to take a seat across from her on the table as they tested out the ink.
How childish.
Perhaps that's why he's attracted to her in the first place.
'you are my number one
❥ –rin'
Her number one? If he asked her whether he still was, would she answer with a yes?
Tucking the note away, Len stared up at the ceiling.
His own thoughts are blank, and he can't help but wonder what's happened between them, whether their relationship was a childs' play right from the start and emotional investment was never a part of the deal. (Or just hers, atleast.)
He'd missed sneaking kisses onto her lips in between classes, her quick embraces being his daily greeting every morning, or even the midnight calls they'd exchanged on cold nights whenever they'd caused a fight and she wouldn't feel particularly settled about heading to sleep without at least parting on good terms at the end of the day.
She'd always done that.
She's always had, until the last time. Until he'd waited until late in the evening infront of his school gates, waiting for the moment she'd come bouncing over to make him encase her in his arms. He'd already planned the entire day out: mapped everything he'd do inside his mind. He'd been excited that day, ready to get everything over with, wanting it all to just end.
And she'd left.
It was almost nine when he realised she wasn't coming; the schoolgates were locked up and he'd made the pact to visit her school instead the day after, instead of allowing the girl to waste her time in coming to his.
She wasn't there.
She didn't visit his school even a hundred days after that and no matter how long he'd waited outside the compounds of hers, counted down every single person that left the gates and marking that she wasn't among them - she never arrived. Her house was empty and she no longer took the occasional long route home just to spare even fifteen minutes to spend with him.
And he hadn't once thought of her.
Silently tucking the books back into a cardboard box – one filled with items he hadn't bothered to assort since the time he moved into his flat – Len only frowned in irritation when a slip of paper escaped from one of his books.
He held it between his fingers, lifting it up to examine the written script.
.
.
.
.
No normal young lady would expect that right after her shift on sunday evening, she'd be greeted face–to–face with a blonde 'stranger' who'd latched his grip onto her wrist, breath hazed onto her cheeks and his blue eyes blinding her with that same gaze he held to make her his prisoner from all those years before.
But Rin had expected it.
She knew he was going to realise it soon enough.
And maybe he'd chase after her, scream apologies in her ear because he knew she'd stumbled in on him that day, he knew what went wrong and he easily let her slip through his fingers. It's like she's a worthless dime within the arms of rich gold. He hadn't loved her, and she had been led on as if a dog foolishly trailing her master. And he's here, after five years, he's here.
He'd lost all of the gold, and now he's come crawling back for the dime.
The girl couldn't help but choke back a laugh, feel as she was limply pulled out from the safety of the corner cafe, and held against a brick wall.
"So you know."
"Your name," He mumbles, bringing back bitter memories from days before.
"It isn't all too proper for a man to have a young lady, a stranger no less –– pressed against the wall of a narrow alley during broad daylight, do you not think?"
A laugh, and she tries to wring herself from his grasps.
But he tightens his grip, leans in further and gets in enough to trail his lips across her neck, exploring every nook and cranny he once had before. It's familiar, the smooth skin he'd once marred with his own marks were now pure yet still tattered and stained by the years. Her innocence had been lost, and he can see that it's been taken in more than one way.
"Your name.." Len tries again, his voice reaching higher in pitch.
But she laughs again, she laughs and laughs, because she knows it's the only thing that will get to his head.
Her happiness; he wants to take it, doesn't he?
Wants to hold it within his very own palms and give her the hope of a happy ending. He'll scatter her in love, show her all those little quirks of him with his smiles and his grins.. and like the idiotic dog she was, she ran after him, chased him while she prayed that he'd give her more. But he's vile, twisted, sick.
The only reason he wants her is so he can crush her at the very last minute.
"You already know it, you already do," Her head is shaking and golden strands are fanning into his gaze. She grins again, and another laugh escapes her throat – but this time, it's pained. "Don't act as if you don't, stop – stop acting as if you don't know everything, as if the entire world is a bloody game to you."
"Stop it," He hisses. "That isn't what I asked you."
"Have you ever asked me anything? You're cruel, disgusting.. I'm just another irrelevant piece in your puzzle, the pawn on the chess board, your little rag doll."
"I told you to stop it."
"And you think you're so smart, as if everyone is meant to bend at your very fingertips. Bastard. Your own mother left you, she hates you, and you used me. Admit it, you used me. Me. You know who I am, don't act as if you're so oblivious when–"
"Rin."
Silence.
His heart skipped a beat when he'd finally said it, muttered her name after so many years of treating it with great disgust, as if it were taboo. Days, weeks, months, even years of keeping her fresh inside her mind, wishing for the embrace of nobody else than her. Her warmth, her sugary sweetness on the worst of his days. Comforted himself, touched himself while imagining that it was her who kissed him, savoured him in that way he'd always craved somebody to.
And he could tell her breath hitched too.
He's leant in closer, burying himself into her neck and taking in her scent. This warmth he hadn't felt for too long before, and now that he's gotten a little taste he's far too desperate to have the entire package.
But this.. isn't her.
This isn't his Rin; his princess who would lighten up his days even through the darkest of nights.
Her cold words are distant and separated, and he feels it's as if she's lost touch of herself, her warmth. "Rin," Len repeated, his hands moving from her wrists and instead circling his arms around her waist, pressing their bodies closer together. He can't help but let out a weak sob, ".. Rin. My Rin. Rin, Rin, Rin.."
His Rin? You're disgusting.
Let go of me.
Let go of me. . . !
She's revolted. Knees threatening to buckle up and fall.
"That's right, you have my name. Get off." Rin tries to push him back, nose wrinkling.
When he looses his grasp and stumbles off a little, she notices that his eyes are red, sore, and she can't help but feel not even a single ounce of pity for him. He deserves this, he deserves this so badly, he should be shot, chained, kept somewhere far away where he'll never be able to see her again, find her. "Now that's done, it's over. You have my name, you've got it. Now just leave, don't ever try to find me again," She fixes her dress and holds back that elegance of grace, "I don't want this. I don't want you."
His breath hitches.
I don't want you.
She can't, she can't, she's the only one he's wanted. She's the only one he craves, she has to want him, she has to crave him in the same way he's lust over her. Len moves back enough until his back hits the wall before rummaging into his bag, pulling out a warm container – sealed air–tight and still withstanding an extreme amount of heat.
The blond takes a deep breath. Smiles. ".. okay. I'll go – I'll leave you alone.. but I wanted to give this to you.."
It's forced into her grasps, and she narrows her eyes at the sight of the glass container.
"Apricot and Cinnamon tarts.. your recipe... you wrote it a few years back, I couldn't get it out of my mind–"
Funny, really, how she's never before been in his mind on the first place. She's never his first priority. Rin lifts the lid, and narrows her eyes into a small glare, staring at the burnt crust around the edges and the perfect cream in the center.
She bites back any horrible retorts, wanting this to be the very last time she'd have to see him.
"It's charred around the edges, isn't it?" A moment passes. "I don't want it."
".. hm?" He looks as if he hadn't heard her correctly, lips turned into a prim smile.
"I don't want it."
CRACK.
She drops the bowl to the floor and watches as it cracks, scatters across the asphalt, tinted cream and crust flying by her heels and glass managing to scrape the open skin of her toes. He'd jumped back in shock and he could only risk another glance up, trying to look at the girl directly in her eyes, meet that terrible gaze.
"Anything from you, anything at all. I don't want it."
And she moves.
Her heels click against the ground, and she's glaring at him without moisture in her eyes.
". . . You're leaving?" Len says, halting her a moment. "You're going, just like that..?"
He'd spent the entire night reading up on theories, rules, what to cook and how to make everything completely right. He'd done it just the way he had seen her do before, made it charred around the edges because he wanted her to feel a significance, to know that he's been thinking about her every single night.
And she'd broken it, left the glass shards to pierce across the ground like the broken pieces in his chest.
She doesn't answer.
Her silence is enough to make him crack, and the blond reaches out for the lady's wrist – tugging her along with him despite her shrieks and loud protests. She's hitting at his arms and he's sure that if she takes anymore, she'll break down and cry – but he wants that. He wants her to scream and bawl and wail until there's nothing left for her to do other than to jump into his arms, beg for his comfort.
Their feet slam against the asphalt and glass shards fly everywhere, threatening to scratch.
But he tugs her away, forces her along with him and opens up the front seat of his car, forcing her in.
She's practically stumbled on the seat and he pays no mind as he clicks the lock to deny her escape and buckles up his own seatbelt, working out the little quirks to tighten the girl into her own seat.
"Let me out. Len, let me out–"
"No," He's stubborn, shutting her up with a glare. "Don't speak a word. Don't speak a single word."
"I've got something to do. I'll have to report you for abduction, you can't take me away like this – like – like you own me. Like I'm your idiotic little play doll. This isn't what I want, you're not allowed to do this,"
A scoff.
And, to shut her up:
"Maybe I do own you."
.
.
.
.
"You're a bastard, I don't want this –"
"Maybe you don't, but have you ever given a damn about what I wanted?"
She's trailing behind him with her bare feet padding against the carpeted floor; her other hand is holding onto her heels, deeming it far too tiring to wear after having to be dragged around by him from one place to another. He's holding a deathly grip on her other hand, enough until there's a forming bruise around her wrist. He won't let her go now, not after an attempt of her trying to jump out of the moving car in her desperate attempts to escape from his grasps.
Does she loathe him that much?
She almost collapsed when he forced her into his apartment, door locked behind him.
"Let me out," The younger woman cries, "Let me out, let me out – you can't keep me here like this!"
He'd confiscated her phone, locked it up inside his bag and taking it far out of her reach.
"You're hurting me.. you're always hurting me..."
Her voice is soft now, and he can't help but feel his heart ache at her words. Taking his own shoes off, he'd pressed her against a wall again, watching as she'd gasped a little in surprise and turned her head the other way – the blonde dug her fingers into his waist in preparation to push him away if he'd done anything she didn't want.
A step closer, another, until their bodies are pressed together.
"Look at me," A soft whimper. " .. please."
"I've only looked at you, I've wasted my entire life looking at you," She snaps in retort, her eyes visibly hazed. "I won't waste any more. Let go, let go of me. I have plans, I'm late.. I need to... go. Mmphn..!"
His lips ravage her mouth, and she almost screams. He's stealing her breath, taking her lips and exploring it, tasting her. It's amazing, fresh, and oh so delightful. He hasn't tasted her for so long, and now he's finally gotten it, felt her mouth forming, melding against his own and the tendril of her tongue choke against the back of her throat. When he parts, a waft of steam and a trail of stray saliva still connect from between their lips, and he only resumes his actions to latch onto her neck, kissing a trail up, reaching her chin.
Rin can feel his breath against her skin. It's heated.
She can't help but crave it – in her own way.
".. Alright. I'll let you go."
He finally slackens his grip, taking a step back, and she's left stirring in confusion, staring at their feet.
But he holds onto her again.
".. one last time. I promise that I'll let you go, just.." Len mumbles, glancing at her lips, and then to the floor. "Make love to me one last time."
.
.
.
.
"Don't... don't look at me like that."
"H-haah... like w-what?"
"Like... that. Like you're disgusted with me, like- hnn – like you want.. nothing more than my existence to fade away."
.
.
.
.
The first sight she met in the morning was something she hadn't seen in too long before.
Nor something she's felt.
A larger presence encasing her, wrapping her up in her own warmth. A nude body, tangled up in his own sheets and barely covering up his skin.
An arm is wrapped around her and she's snuggled into his figure as well. It's disgusting, revolting. Last night he'd dragged her to his flat, stripped her down to pieces and devoured her body as if a young boy merely enjoying his treat. He'd taken her, taken her over and over again and she's left to scream on breathless cries before she was forced to reach her own assent. Yet, like the traitorous wench she was, like a pathetic whore, she enjoyed it.
But she doesn't forget.
She notices that, right beside them on his bedside table, there's a firm picture of her standing up, a grin on her lips.
The picture is already aged, about seven to five years at the least and she briefly wonders whether it's on purpose that the first thing he wants to see in the morning is an image of her, and it's the same during nights. But it may be that he's already planned this, maybe he'd already realised who she was weeks before and she was the only oblivious one not to see.
It doesn't take long after her to realise that he's awake.
He blinks, once. Twice.
His eyes, calming yet bright blue, always luring her deeper. (But she doesn't want to fall anymore, not now, not ever.)
It's like there's a spark setting off in his eyes when he looks up and notices that she's there, right beside him, and her marred body is proof of what they'd done.
What he'd done. "I'm going.. let me go, it's late.." She adjusts her body to the side and grunts underneath her breath once she'd found his clock. He only tightened his grip on her waist, his nose finding way to breathe in her delicate scent and kiss her neck. "Let me go, haven't you already taken enough?"
But he wants more, he wants to savour each and every single piece of her.
A gentle ringtone began to sound.
Once she's wriggled her way out of his arms, she went to retrieve her items from the floor and slipped on her strewn clothing, taking them onto her body layer by layer while she conversed on her phone.
".. so he's alright? Oh, thank god."
"... I'm so sorry, thank you for taking care of him, this won't ever happen again - yeah.. yes, three hours at most."
"Ah, I don't think . . . yes, take care of him for a little while longer, please.."
Len groans softly.
When she's finally off the phone, he sidles back up, crawling to the side of the bed while he watched her every movement like a hawk admiring its' prey. She's covering up her decencies and he's still laying down in bed, watching as she'd prepared to leave. "You're going already..? So soon, just like.. that..."
He'd been foolish to hope that one night with her would give him a chance.
She'd fixed her shirt in place, flipping her locks over her shoulder and turning around to look at him while she tied her hair up into a smooth bun.
"I am." Rin breathes, massaging her cheeks in place while she'd stared back into a mirror, trying to fix up the best of her appearance. "I suppose we won't be seeing any of each other after this, yes?"
It hurts.
It hurts how she's acting as if nothing ever happened.
As if nothing between them has changed.
"You haven't had breakfast yet, you could take a shower at the least.. I've got a heater, I know you enjoy warm baths.. don't you?"
"You don't know a single thing about me." The young woman snaps, before fixing her fringes in place and locating her bag, hung up in the distant corner of his room. She supposes he'd moved it there earlier when she didn't realise. ".. It's fine, I'm running late for something. I could just grab breakfast and dash to a stall afterwards."
"... could I drive you, atleast?"
"Len."
"I'm sorry, just once. I know I'm pushing it too far." First this, and then that - with her, it's never going to be enough, is it?
He finally settles on standing up, retrieving his own clothing.
The younger blonde doesn't bother watching him dress, instead staring outside the window absently and admiring the grey skies beyond. Her fingers dig into her own waist and she only stares at him once she's sure he's fully clothed.
He opens his mouth as if to say something– only to shake his head and move towards the door.
.
.
.
.
"You didn't have to send me off."
"But I want to," He murmurs a little in return, his grip on the steering wheel slacking and him pulling over to a curb, watching as the girl straightened her back and fixed her appearance in the mirror. "You're being awfully persistent with your looks this morning, aren't you?"
As if he'd know.
Her neck is dotted with faint bruises and her lips are swollen beyond relief, but he looks down and averts his gaze.
"Alright, I'll head off here.. don't – don't look for me ever again."
".. I've got it already."
"Goodbye, Len."
Before he can utter any words in reply, she's left the vehicle and slammed the door behind her, legs moving at a frantic pace as the female did her best to escape from his sights. He's sat there for a moment, his head pressed against the glass of the window as he contemplated on finding something else for him to focus on, watch her fading silhouette, know that he's already gotten his fill and he shouldn't ponder on this matter at all.
She's made her request, and he'll do his best to fulfill his end of the deal.
After, he'll throw away all of her images, burn them down to ashes. He feels like it's crucial to do so now that he's seen the look on disgust that flashed across her features after seeing her photographs dangled along his walls.. But he can't help but pry.. after a minute of hesitation, he contemplated on whether to leave the vehicle or to follow her in tow; she's far in the distance now and he doesn't think she'd even be able to realise if he'd decided to chase her down the pathway wearing party heels or blowing a horn into the air.
Don't look for me ever again.
They're still moving the same route out, however, so the least he can do is watch her in the final moments. The very last time he's allowed to think of her, dream.
He began moving the car, slowly trailing it by her side, just a little behind.
She'd walked a long way through some rows of stores and near a highway just before reaching what he'd assumed was her destination – a building in the distance, painted in gentle shades of yellow and being surrounded by a garden of flowers, bright red roses and gentle shades of pink.
A nursery..?
But–
Before Len could let his mind wander further, he could only watch as a young boy streamed out from the doors none–too–excitedly, eyes clenched tight and his curled golden hair strewn behind him in the wind. The child latched himself along Rin's leg, and he could see the young woman giggle as she bent down and lifted the youth into her own arms, scattering kisses over his cheeks.
But that wasn't it.
That wasn't what he saw - focused on most.
It wasn't until the child opened his eyes did he see – bright, cobalt blue eyes that reflected his own, chiseled along the narrow slit of his iris, a knowing grin over his small lips.
The child had his eyes.
.
.
.
.
Happy Valentines Day!
This is the longest chapter I've ever written, a ha ha ha a.. . .
I posted an incomplete version of this, if anyone from before noticed. It's finally done and the first chapter is complete now. I might still making small edits here and there to fix up any grammar or spelling errors. I apologise for the mistake if you happened to be among one those that stumbled upon the unfinished doc.
Here's a (possibly 70% wrong) translation dump:.
"Je vois"
"I see."
"Ah, Madame..! Je vous prie de bien vouloir m'excuser; je ne comprends pas, parlez–vous français?"
"Ah, madame. Please excuse me, I do not understand. Can you speak french?"
"Un.. un peu."
"A little."
"Qu'est-ce que vous voulez commander? Est-ce que vous voulez quelque chose à boire pour commencer?"
"Are you ready to order? Would you like to start off and choose a drink first?"
"Un moment.. ce que vous recommend..?"
"One moment, could you recommend..?"
".. oui; du thé vert et de la Brioche.."
".. yes; green tea and Brioche."
"C'était votre petite amie..?"
"That was your girlfriend..?"
writing this took an unbearably wrong time and i pretty much postponed actually writing anything down until the last minute, binging on dark chocolate and candy canes. i actually missed valentines' day in my country and i was extremely pissed until i was reminded that it's still valentines in other countries so . . . i am not a complete failure ha ha ha!
still, happy valentines to all.