𝐊𝐀𝑳𝑶𝑷𝑺𝐈𝐀

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆

"Pardon? Home?"

His pupils tremble, and you find yourself growing uncomfortable under his confused and flustered expression. "Well, yes. I am your client after all, am I not? Shouldn't you know.. where I live?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He laughs shakingly, bringing a hand to his face as his shoulders tremble.

The corner of your mouth perks upwards. Yes, Tommy was still surely young and just entering adulthood. While still apparent of his youth, you'd forgotten he had only been a teenage boy just a few years prior.

Plus, this formal conversing tone you had with him was rather odd considering you were of older age. Although, you couldn't stop yourself in speaking in that manner. It came almost instinctively. As if speaking to one in higher age or power. You shook your head at the thought, and continued on the streets of the SMP with a sigh.

ʚ ❂ ɞ

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑. It's quiet, yes. Eerily so, and you cannot seem to remember how you ended up woeful. Tied in your bedsheets, interlocked with the thin shuffling fabric and staring ahead at the depth of lacking emotions in the marbled sky that bore at your figure with pretentious sneers.

The darkness laid thick and the crickets that normally played an interlude of sorrow that wept of your exhaustion seemingly remained unheard in the midst of the night. Even the moon has waned to nothing, no presence of the gods above that spat out silver tears.

The second knock resonates. However, this time, you grudgingly push away from the warmth of your bed. A low groan escaping past your chapped lips, the drowsiness lingering. Turning towards the wall, you lean forward as your feet kiss the wooden floorboards. It creaks only slightly under your weight and your eyes crinkle, wincing at the sound.

It's okay, you think to yourself, paranoia easing into your mind. It's okay. Your fingers twitch, stealing away at any warmth.

The third knock sunk in like a last warning before you can cast uncertainty at the sudden frigid coldness of the room. It's firm, but the remnants of the sound are reluctant. Hesitant and doubtful in it's response. "I'm here," you call out, clearing your dry throat, "just.. give me a minute."

Before your confidence can flicker out like a dying light, you swing the door open.

"[name]?"

There he stands, the devilry of the night bypassing the body of a man, avoiding even a single graze of his skin. Stark crimson leaks into the budding pond of blue, his changing colored gaze sweeping by in a flitting second before you can question it.

"Tommy," you breathe out, a huff of laughter releasing into the sullen air. Your hand that remains on the brass knob curls against the object tightly, swallowing down the rising suspicion of the boy in front. "You scared the living hell out of me, I was about to kill you."

He raises an eyebrow in mock surprise, proceeding forward. "Yeah?"

You glance to his moving presence and at the prelude of darkness that bounced against the hallways, "Yeah."

In all truth and finality, you'd forgotten about the boy. You assumed that for the visit towards your home, he'd leave shortly after. In contrast, he'd announce his stay informally and you could find no complaints in hopes of appeasing the embarrassment of declining.

"You never know, hell hath no fury to a woman scorned."

Tommy laughs. His knuckles stroking against your bed's frame with a softness that would rival even the sounding of a virgin's sigh. You instinctively leaned backwards, an uneasiness coiling in your stomach at the scene of his touch. It was only the smallest of movements, but you'd taken notice of the hum of satisfaction rumbling in the male's throat.

For fuck's sake, he was seventeen. Why must he carry himself as if of older age?

"I thought you were someone who was gonna hurt me," you joked hesitantly, covering the nakedness of your skin with your arms. By no means were you truly naked, but in the gaze of a male and especially amidst midnight, surely one would be wary.

The bodyguard pulled his hand away, "I would never let anyone hurt you."

You gulp. The solemnity of his tone prevents you from responding. Like a bloody mouth with shaking hands, he stood in front of you with a burning fever. A heaven's glow that rivalled prophets and worshippers.

"You shouldn't be coming at such a late time," you whisper, changing the subject at hand.

Silence sits between the two of you like an unwanted third part. You could not consider yourself bewitched by his mystifying presence, and despite this eagerness to understand more of a man who had laid at your feet that one sudden afterness, there'd been an overwhelming crave to protect yourself.

He did not respond. The same flash of crimson countered against your halting gaze, inclining you to look further and find the nightmares of cities falling and war rising.

Perhaps, had you been younger, you'd been enamored at the sight of meeting such a foreign being with peculiar eyes. However, with age, the soft glow you once mentioned could truly be distinguished as aflamed barbed wire.

A seventeen year old boy with a craving mouth and a restless hunger. Such danger forged in fire and raised in halcyon winter would only result in walking devastation. You worried for his lover who'd encounter obsessions of a wannabe god. For now, you could only wait until the night is over to decline Schlatt's proposal of a bodyguard.

Surely, it wouldn't be too late to submit your resignation papers?

ʚ ❂ ɞ

Believe what you will about what happened that night. That is up for you to decide.