One week became two. Two became three. Three passed and before any of them knew it, an entire month had gone by. Time passed by as though it were simply a figment of one’s imagination. As though it were so withdrawn from reality that dwelling in it was akin to living a fantasy. A dream they’d rather dodge by keeping their eyes open as the moon lingered overhead. A dream no one wished to dream.

Chen came back just like he promised he would. But, each and every night, he’d go to the Two Moon bar, coming back drunk on the atmosphere each and every early morning. Tao, with every chance he got, attempted to convince Chen to talk to her highness. He would deny the prospect each time, his refusal the same repetition of, “It would be useless to try at this point.”

Xiumin was much more distant, the only time he would interact with the Seeress being during breakfast and dinner – skipping lunch having become a habit for him. Sehun was a whirlwind of emotions every day to the point where the others feared he would mentally wear himself out soon; that he’d soon bend so much he’d break.

Kai was an enigma, his thoughts and his actions unreadable, though seemingly in line for the time being. Chanyeol had become a recluse, closing off much more often, smiling much less often, than he used to. Baekhyun catered to the Seeress’s every need, his attachment to the person whose body she claimed as her own too strong for him to simply turn a blind eye to her wants and needs.

And the others, Luhan, Kris, Suho, D.O, and Lay, had maintained their devoted forms of piety. They treated her highness as they would if she were her own person, someone separate from the one they used to know. They held neither grudges nor dissatisfaction for the time being. They simply held the idea that this couldn’t last forever.

This couldn’t last forever.

The same thought they had had three weeks prior.

And yet still, this couldn’t last forever.

Could it?

He never liked the idea of reviving that which has already outlived itself. It was within his power to do so, but he felt that prolonging life in order to avoid death would only cause more pain in the end. Wilting for the third time would be just as painful as the first. But, surely it was three times harder to endure. To know the end was upon you. To be powerless to stop it. To be at the mercy of fate. Of some other entity. Of himself.

That’s why he changed the flowers every week. That’s why he refused to simply revive them with a single touch of his fingertips. That’s why he sympathized with the woman who slept still in a bed that didn’t belong to her, waiting for a death that was certainly coming, but whose date was shrouded in uncertainty.

All things must end.

This would all end sooner or later.

Sooner rather than later, he had hoped.

But, then he felt guilty for such thoughts. He felt pity for the woman who labeled herself Cera: the title given to the first Seeress of Exo. It was hard not to as he stood still, watching her at her bedside, newly grown white roses in his hand with which to replace the blushing hydrangeas: flowers known for their grace that had wilted beautifully within their prison.

Plucked at the peak of freshness, when their roots could no longer provide them growth. When death awaited them, that’s when he would put them on display. He would show the beauty of their prime to the world, no matter how small it was here in the Hall, so as to give them one last sense of meaning. One last hurrah.

One last moment of greatness.

One last fluttering of an eyelash before deep, lost eyes stared back at his own.

He straightened his posture, gathering his filled hands in front of him, he himself so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed her stir. He hadn’t meant for her to wake before he had finished what he came to do. It was why he arrived here early every week for the past month. He’d clean up things a bit too if he was early enough, sleeplessness plaguing him just as much as he was sure it did the others. But, it was late now. And she had caught him, standing there. Watching over her. Waiting for the inevitable, as though he’d be able to catch the very moment in which her dull eyes began to shine. Waiting for her highness to return with a smile on her face.

Guiltily.

Pitifully.

“Lay?”

Not today, it seemed.

Today wasn’t the day for him to feel guilty.

“Did you come to change the flowers?”

His only reply was the act of nodding, her question asking for nothing more than an affirmative. She said nothing as she sat up in bed, braided hair disheveled, eyes lidded, yet lips curved upwards as she outstretched her hands to him, her eyes on that which he held in his arms. He obliged to her unspoken request, gingerly handing her the thorned white roses, noting this fact to her as he did so.

“The hydrangeas are very beautiful.” She said, her verb that of the present tense, as though speaking to herself.

He bowed deeply in thanks for her compliment, receiving it in the steed of the wilting life which could not. She carefully placed the roses in her lap, retrieving the hydrangeas from the vase on her nightstand. Lay’s hands went out to help her, but she was able to dredge them from their confines before he could manage a single word with regards to assisting her.

“What will you do with them?” Was her next phrase, her voice hoarse from sleep, and yet so clear it pierced his ears like a warning bell.

He proceeded, despite the feeling sinking to the pit of his stomach, to answer this question for the second time, “Suho, D.O, and I have developed a machineless way to turn them into a fertilizer for future generations. Through this method of drying and grinding, all of their nutrients go back into the plot they first bloomed from.” 

He had told her of the mechanics long ago, a week into her arrival. Because she seemed so intent to learn. Because she seemed so fascinated by the entire process. He made a promise he’d show her one day. A day that has yet to come.

She, on the other hand, merely hummed to herself in contemplation, hearing rather than experiencing enough for her. The subject was changed and done with as she held them out to him wordlessly. He bowed deeply for the second time, reaching out with careless hands after he straightened up once more. With clumsy fingers that, as he cupped his palms under that which he meant to take, the only thing he meant to take, brushed across the back of her hand. A caress that left him frozen, his feet moving to distance himself from her bedside at once.

A movement she prevented, gripping onto his calloused hands with her soft own.

And she stared at him with those lost eyes.

And she traced the joints of his immobile fingers; featherlike touches that had his saliva gathering at the edge of his throat, the trepidation causing it to stall in taking its plunge.

And she attempted to convey a message he was too startled, too inwardly frenzied, to interpret.

And when she called his name, as she coated it with her soft tone, embracing it briefly and longingly as it passed her lips, he could stay still no longer.

As she called out a breathy, “Lay,” he wretched his hands from her.

Wilted petals scattered across the floor.

Guilt welled up in his chest, pity but a fleeting notion, as he gathered up all that which had fallen at his feet and left in a haste, forgetting to bow a third time before doing so.

He made a mental note to visit earlier next time.

She sighed deeply, the lackluster conversation between them boring her to the point of annoyance. With eyebrows furrowed downwards, she played with the ends of her hair, weaving her fingers through each strand, twisting it as she casted slight glances here and there. She wasn’t entertained with him. She had exhausted the words she could use to begin an exchange with him. It was the fourth time now since she had.

A fourth time that had dried her patience.

That's how he saw her.

That’s how he saw her this sunny noon day. Summer already here. The flowers still fiercely blooming as they passed. Their effect still as strong as the first day the sprung from the ground. His adamant silence just as strong as the first day her highness stopping being her highness.

It was hot today, the reason he was wearing his thinner ceremonial robe out. Hood up. Hands together. The fabric might have been thin, but that didn’t stop the sweat from rolling down his face in beads when they’d hit a long stretch of sky without clouds. Beads that gathered at his chin like tears, pelting the searing concrete below his feet. Anxiousness arose from each drop, causing Goosebumps to form along each piece of his exposed skin.

Would she be angered by his appearance?

He must have looked unsightly, sweating like a man on his death bed at her prim side; the heat seeming to have no affect on her.

She was upset before.

Before they set off for the city.

Before, when Baekhyun had told her that once more, it’d be him who’d be escorting her today. For the tenth time out of over thirty days. And her exact words were, “Chanyeol? Again? Can you not come as well, Baekhyun?”

It was understandable.

He wasn’t the best of company for her. Especially considering how he’s been lately. He wouldn’t even want to spend time with himself. So, he couldn’t expect her to. He couldn’t expect anything from her at all when he had nothing to give in return.

He had drowned himself in thoughts such as these, walking just a step behind her this entire time. Letting her lead him as he had done each and every time they set off together. So, it was safe to say he had no idea where she was taking him now. So, it was safe to say he was surprised when they arrived at the park, his own legs unsure of how long he had been walking in order to reach this destination.

Green leaved trees lined the open field, blue skies reigning down upon them, the Exotians here enjoying the effects of the flowers in Sector A – as the park itself laid along the border of Sector A and extended on into Sector B of the city. She led him wordlessly onto the large patch of green, her flat shoed feet gingerly stepping down into the lush ground that welcomed her presence. He followed suit, though his own steps were loud, crunching down onto Nature’s brush mercilessly with each step, no matter how much he attempted to mimic her own noiseless steps.

She came to a stop at the base of a tree, the shade it provided causing him to breath a sigh of relief upon arriving at her side. He lowered his hood, wiping the sweat that had gathered on his temples with his sleeve, his fringe sticky, collecting against his forehead in damp locks. She sat down, bending her knees for a place to rest her hands. And she watched him patiently as he made himself comfortable, taking three good breaths in the end before he realized she was sitting at all.

“Sit.” She asked of him, even if it didn’t sound like a question, upon his eyes locking with her own. He nodded, gnawing down onto his lower lip as he found himself there in an instant, his eyes wrong when it came to judging the distance his current placement would put between himself and her. His black robed shoulder brushed against her pale chiffon covered own, sending a spark traveling from one nerve to the next like a fuse that had been lit.

A fuse attached to a ticking time bomb.

He cleared his throat, despite having nothing to say. The silence was unnerving when they were so close. When he could merely turn his head to the left and be face to face with her.

He had never been this close before.

His self-consciousness made him anxious.

His insecurities caused him to flinch as she finally spoke up, her eyes casted out towards the Exotians who decided to spend their morning here, despite her tone being akin to velvet.

Smooth and soft.

And kind.

“Do you know where the name hydrangea comes from?”

He honestly didn’t.

Though, voicing that was something he didn’t have to do.

She had read the words his mind had thought before they could make it from between his lips, “Its translated meaning is “water barrel.” The flower itself requires a large quantity of water to sustain. Its petals are shaped like cups to hold said water; all in order to preserve it for as long as possible. Thus, “water barrel.””

He didn’t understand what she was getting at, the meaning of her metaphor too far away for him to grasp onto properly. Her herself too close for him to look past in order to even attempt to do so.

“But, there’s only so much volume a barrel can hold.”

She turned her eyes to him now. And he felt as though all of his pores closed at once, holding back the remnants of the sweat that had covered his face with a layer of sheen. He gulped down, canines piercing through the pink flesh of his bottom lip, biting down hard, without mercy. The time bomb ticked, ticked, ticked in his head, warning him, warding him off. Telling him that straying towards that he didn't understand, to that he didn't know, despite its attractiveness, would in no way help his current internal debacle. But, it was mere background noise. It was only a low rumbling in the distance, his cares for it much, much too far away to focus on.

That is, until he understood.

Until, at last, her words contained within them a of sense. When they seemed the most apt to describe his predicament. When the fuse died out quietly, as though it were never lit in the first place.

“There’s only so long you can go holding back before you tip over. Before you spill it all without meaning to. Before you do so at the most inopportune time, burdening not only yourself but everyone around you.”

She had read his thoughts.

Why else would she be saying this?

Why else would she know that he had been remaining silent because he wanted to do the exact opposite? Because he didn’t know how to put it into words, all of it just piling and piling and piling up, ounce by ounce, liter by liter.

He had been retaining water.

Much more than needed to sustain himself.

So much that it had begun to threaten his very existence, the depth of the water he carried enough to drown out his static flame for good.

And, as though she were a life raft amidst the blue, she wanted to give him a chance to rise above it. To come back to the shore, the water never his element to begin with.

“You didn’t seem ready to say a single word.” She curled her fingers around her knees, as if she were cold, as if this entire time, this entire month, she had been sailing the seven seas in search of him, the cold air batting her face, the freezing rain failing to stall her in her quest, “So, I perchance thought having Baekhyun here today would at the very least put a smile on your face. You’d at the very least talk to someone, even if it wasn’t me.”

So, that was why.

It had nothing to do with her personal preferences.

So, that was why.

She continued on, unabashed by his lack of a response, of his eyes which stared at her blankly, lip free from the confines of his clenched teeth, “I’m neither angered nor embarrassed by your appearance. That you would even begin to entertain such an idea is–” She stopped herself, steadying her breath with a deep sigh before correcting the reprimanding turn her words were taking, “Nor am I upset at you or the others that you’re accompanying me today. I’m upset at myself, mostly.”

“What do you mean?” Was his immediate reply.

He was genuinely confused; albeit in a much different way than he was before. Because, for some reason, she was blaming herself. Because, for some reason, she was beginning to feel familiar to him. In a way that genuinely confused him. That left him staring dumbly at her, his outward appearance but an afterthought in the face of her pursing her lips before she answered him.

“Because it seems as though I’m not the person you want to heal you. Though, rather than heal, I suppose it’s not me you want to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

She laughed at her jest, running a hand through her hair, smoothing it back half way, letting Nature’s wind do the rest of the job for her. She connected glances with a young woman and a child passing by, the looks on their star-stricken faces plainly showing their recognition of her. She bowed and uttered a greeting, which the two Exotians returned, before they went on their way.

And, suddenly, she turned her body to him, her hair swaying unevenly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she whimsically inquired, “What’s your name?”

“Did you forget, again?” He mused out loud, the response so natural he hadn’t had time to catch himself, to make sure what he was saying was polite in all meanings of the word. 

“No.” She shook her head, saying nothing more. Waiting for his response. Eyelashes fluttering. Fingertips rapping against her pale shins. Eyes blindingly dazzling beneath the light of the sun which shone through the gaps of the foliage above.

“Chanyeol.” He gulped down, the action wetting his throat. The two words, the three syllables, much easier to swallow than he anticipated, “That’s my name.”

She nodded, looking away for a moment in contemplation, her legs swaying back and forth, her shoulders slouched, the character he was used to seeing seemingly not there anymore. His fascination with the new, the oddly familiar sights he was witnessing, had him hanging on her every movement. From the way her feet tapped the grass, to how she curled her hair behind her ear, to how her lips moved as she absentmindedly questioned him again, “Remind me again, who are you?”

“I’m Chanyeol.” He explained, his hand lifting to his chest on reflex, directing to himself by pure instinct.

And she smiled.

And, it was different from the one he had grown accustomed to.

And her response was different from what he had expected.

“And isn’t that all you need right now?” She gripped down onto her shins, rubbing at her chilled skin, her hands not making a single motion; not even beginning to entertain the thought of touching him. “Because are your experiences and actions not what determine who you are in the end? Not some static description of traits or list of likes and dislikes. Isn’t what you do from now on what defines you? Who Chanyeol is?”

And just like that, the puzzle pieces slipped into place. He had climbed into the life raft without even realizing it. Or, perhaps, he had been in it all along. Perhaps, he simply had to stop trying to sink that which so kindly carried him onwards, towards the shore. Towards the millions who relied on him, their expectations as high as the sky above, yet never as dauntless as they seemed now. Towards those who were like family to the point where they were, bloodless relations never seeming to thread twelve so strongly together. Towards the person who, although he couldn’t see her right at this very moment, wished – even before she flew away – that he wouldn’t join her.

“Thank you.” He spoke clearly, his mumblings gone. Done away with. Mere whisperings in the wind that he couldn’t hear anymore.

“Don’t thank the messenger.” She stood up by her own strength, wiping the stray strands of grass from her backside. And while glancing down at him, still sitting as he was, a smile lit her face; freely, playfully, boisterously, wonderfully, for a single second before it was gone. Before her shoulders squared themselves. Before the insides of her feet met together. Before she uncurled her hair from behind her ear, shifting it back into place. Before she spoke with a nod, her tone akin to velvet once more, “Let’s head back.”

And, as he watched her start off without him, he couldn’t help but question it.

Could it be?

Could she be?

It certainly wasn’t impossible, was it?

He turned the handle wearily, keeping his wits about him as best he could as he announced himself, “Luhan said you called for me, Cera.” The end of his sentence felt empty. It felt lacking. And, as such, he decided he’d call her the name she had chosen for herself during a breakfast that had occurred long ago.

It felt forced, in the end.

“Yes, please come in.” She ushered him with a wave of her hand, her silhouette dyed white by the moon that peeked through the very edge of her window, as though craning its neck in order to catch sight of her. As though enamored by the way she seemed so imperfectly perfect. So unimaginably unreal. So undeniably beautiful.

While he was unsure what she needed to see him for, he couldn’t help but ask his next question as he closed the door behind himself. A question he had been wondering since Luhan first contacted him. A question that left him apprehensive and, quite honestly, a bit put off. The question of, why did Luhan have to contact him in the first place? Why was information passing from her lips to Luhan’s instead of directly to him?

“Why did you not send for me using my Calling Stone?”

The main Hall was no long walk from her room. She could be there within a minute or two if she needed him urgently enough. Had she simply sought out Luhan’s aid because it was easier that way? Had the two been talking previously before she asked for him?

He didn’t like the turn his thoughts were taking.

But, he couldn’t help himself.

But, he could, at the very least, keep his selfishness contained, within his control, despite his frustrations.

She huffed, laughing to herself before lifting her arms from her side, gesturing incredulously to the nightgown she donned, “Well, I couldn’t exactly go walking around like this, now could I?”

But, if she couldn’t, then why would she so openly show him? If she couldn’t, why could she when it came to him? His fancies of her favoritism towards him were entertained for the umpteenth time. The absence of her denial that he was, indeed, her favorite, made his imagination go wilder than he’d have liked.

A lot of things were not to his liking on this particular night, it seemed. 

He hesitated a moment before responding, agreeing to disagree only in his thoughts, not in his words, “No. No, you couldn’t.”

“You must be wondering the reason I called you here.” She lowered her hands, beginning to pace slowly in front of the window, her features appearing and disappearing under the dim lighting, her expression escaping him for the time being. She didn’t leave him guessing for long, as she continued right after, as though she couldn’t wait to get out the words she had meant to say to him.

And, he understood why. He understood the urgency her pitch displayed as she turned to him, her fingers attempting to smooth her tone through their therapeutic motions on the back of either of her hands, “I had a vision this morning. When Lay was with me, I touched him briefly and, well, let’s simply say he wasn’t very open to the idea.”

And in an instant, it all made sense. Why she needed him in particular. Why she had waited until so late at night to call on him. Why she seemed as anxious as he, despite her expression not showing she was. Because, her body betrayed her.

Because he saw the way her legs trembled now.

Because he saw the stuttering of her fingers which massaged her palms.

Because what she saw this morning was far from a desired reality.

“So, you want to touch me?” He asked, as though he didn’t already know. As though it would give him satisfaction to see the change in her expression when he asked. And, it did.

No matter how selfless he attempted to be, he found one thing to be irrevocably true.

He could not reject her.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Yes.” She nodded, wallowing in her own shame yet bravely admitting the truth without hesitation, “Yes, please.”

The Seeress of Exo strives off of her interaction with the Guardians. Mentally and physically, the relations between herself and them have the ability to strengthen her visions for the future. Embracing one of them was akin to embracing the Sun or the Moon itself. Confiding in them was akin to growing closer to those otherworldly bodies that hung in the sky.

So, it wasn’t wrong for her to ask to touch him.

So, it wasn’t wrong for her to touch any of them.

So, was it wrong for them to dislike it? To abhor it as they did?

She simply hadn’t needed to do so often in the past. She simply didn’t know that it was normal. She simply made them conditioned to something far from normal.

Kai approached her, taking a seat by her side at the edge of her bed. He watched her, not saying a word for a few seconds. She seemed to be pondering where to start first with much more reluctance than she had in the past. A single month had served to make her less confident than she was before. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder if, but imagine if, she was only so meek in front of him. Because he was the only one who’d allow her to touch him. Because she didn’t want to ruin that now or in the future.

However, he wasn’t willing to wait. He gave his thoughts such free rein that, without much resistance at all, words came tumbling from between his lips, “It’s okay. Do what’s comfortable.”

He coupled it with an amused hoot that she didn’t react to, his statement that gave her the go ahead all she paid attention to. And he fought with all his might to keep back the smile that struggled to make itself known on his face at the sight of her visibly relaxing upon her hand grasping onto his own.

They stayed like that for a moment, her hand squeezing his, her current gauche expression something he wasn’t used to seeing from her. Because, usually, she knew exactly what she was doing. Because, usually, she was anything but awkward. She apparently heard his inner thoughts, taking offense to them as she quipped back, “I’m not nervous. I simply do not wish to be overwhelmed all at once should we progress too fast. I want to understand my vision, not merely see flashes of it.”

Kai nodded at her muddled, on-the-spot explanation, insufferable as his smile lit his face, wide and proud.

She must have felt the same whenever she peeked into the ambiguous future. But, she seemed to be okay with not understanding it all. With not seeing it all. She seemed to be able to interpret it as time passed. To adapt and change as need be. So then, she was different in this respect; something Kai had only noticed now as she tried to see everything all at once. To make sense of it all in one sitting.

Was that a good thing, though?

What was better in the end?

The entire picture? Or mere flashes of it?

For some reason, despite his biased preferences, he found himself leaning towards the latter. He found his empty hand shifting onto her own, clasping down, trapping her palm between his. Her eyes widened at the increase in contact, a spark flickering across them briefly before dying out behind the black of her irises.

And, he replied to her words, assuring her further, pushing her further, “Good, because neither am I.”

And as though all bets were off, her hand slipped from his grasp, both sets of fingers trailing up his arms, tracing wave after wave all the way up to his shoulder blades. She breathed out, minted breath running across his jaw. He wretched his head, the sudden breeze sending trills down his spine, his body being attacked on all fronts. His back. His sides. His face. His neck; bumps forming on his skin where her cold digits caressed his nape.

“It’s not enough.”

She mumbled, her hands running upwards, her body moving closer and closer, another set of whispers he couldn’t catch leaving her. She clenched her eyes tight, trying to force it. Trying to obtain that which she lost when Lay left before she could even begin to protest. He leaned into her, giving her all that he could. Not knowing how much farther he would have to go before she saw that which pertained to Lay in particular; the reason it was so hard for him to fill the gap.

She knotted her hands through his hair which fell against his temples, untying and tying and untying and tying, sending his mind reeling with each tug and twist. Ever closer they became, what she wanted still buried deep down, what he wanted staring him down, face to face.

And the opportunity had presented itself.

Flashes were just as well anyway, were they not?

He knocked his head against her own, causing her eyelids to slacken and open in mild surprise. She questioned him with her eyes, unshaking in their sockets. Her hands fastened to him. Her body pressed against his own to the point where he wasn’t sure where he began and ended. Where this all would end, its beginning clearly this moment.

Now, as he extended his neck, tilting his jaw upwards, his nose greeting hers. His fringe mixing with her fluttering eyelashes, pressed flat between them. He didn’t say a word, because he had none he found appropriate. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

What he wanted?

What he was doing?

He wanted to kiss her.

He was going to kiss her.

Nothing else mattered except the tornado that swirled in his mind, blowing away anything and everything in its wake. Leaving nothing standing. Tearing everything to bits. Reducing it all to nothing. Euphoria in its simplest of forms driving him on into the destruction of it all. Of his thoughts. Of his inhibitions. Of himself.

But, before his lips could brush against her own, she pushed him away; her fingertips drawing back, running through his blond tufts. 

And she promptly scolded him, blowing away the gust with a single sigh, warning him off like his own, personal, ticking clock.

His own, personal, ticking time bomb.

“Do not do that which you will live to regret.”

He retorted like a child, feeling deprived, feeling neglected, still feeling jealous, “Was it not you who claimed I like you?”

Her eyelashes fluttered over her dull eyes, her lips rising into that bittersweet smile, her eyebrows furrowed downwards, the wrinkles that formed above the bridge of her nose as finely drawn as the mountains which carved into the planet – though, by his standards, the picturesque mountainside did not even begin to compare.

With her features so close yet so far out of reach, she humbled herself, “The longer I spend awake, the less attractive I find it to insinuate and dream up imaginary pretenses.”

Her fingertips weaved further into him, taking that same upward path they had etched so deeply into him seconds before downward. Their distance lengthened until her hands laid to rest at his collarbones, a sensation of both hot and cold sending stars across his eyes. Or, perhaps it was his disillusionment. Perhaps he was simply seeing what he wanted to see. Perhaps it really was what he saw as he gazed on at her, ears memorizing the intonations of her voice as though she would slip away any second.

She shrugged, her eyes gazing back at his own, “Besides, even now, you’re not saying you do. You’re dancing around the question, what you want just as jumbled up as the thoughts floating through your mind.”

Validation. Affirmation. Assurance. All certainties he could not provide her. All words that got stuck in his throat, his body too loyal to allow them to come spewing out. Too selfless, even now, to allow him to ruin it all with his impulsive mutterings.

Whether she caught onto his feelings or not, he’d never be sure.

The reason?

She didn’t say anything more regarding them.

She changed the subject effectively, releasing him from her hold, clamoring into bed right after. She sighed deeply as she let herself sink into the comforts of the soft mattress below her. And, she turned to him again, thin fingers reaching out for his own, “Stay with me tonight. In sleep, my own thoughts should become clearer. And hopefully, my vision along with it.”

He pulled a chair over, obligation tying him down like a dog on a leash, holding her hand right after he placed it near her bedside, “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then,” she stared up at the ceiling, images he couldn’t see, possibilities he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, reflected in her eyes, “I must venture to pursue Lay’s cooperation at dawn.”

And he watched her eyelashes flutter, with eyes that forgot how to blink. With eyes that forgot the moon which shone upon his back. With his hand in hers, feeling as her pulse settled slowly, even breathes leaving her not soon after.

And, in the silence, he found his words at long last; loyalty and obligation mere sounds with no meaning when no one was listening.

“I—”

He didn’t regret his confession.

The emotion was nowhere near “regret,” as it were.

What Kai felt then was different.

What Kai felt as his words left him after so much forethought, afterthought, constant drowning, nagging thoughts, could be summed up succinctly in one unspoken word.

Because no matter how selfless he attempted to be, he found one thing to be irrevocably true.

He would not reject her.

Not now.

Not ever.

A/N: 

After posting the last chapter, I lost a few of my subscribers. I'm not going to pretend that didn't sadden me a bit. I just really do hope you all are enjoying this as much as I am writing it. But, I'm not going to dwell on this anymore because I don't like being all depressing and what not. I'd rather throw in a sarcastic joke here and there and laugh about it later. But, well, I can't exactly do that on an empty stomach. So, time to sit back with a ginger ale, popcorn, and some Downton Abby for a few hours. Because writing fanfiction and watching British TV shows is what I do in my free time. You could say I spend my days wisely. You could go so far as to label each one "The Best Day Ever."