[A/N] - thank you SO much for 100k reads !! im so so honored that you guys like my book. thank you from the bottom of my heart <3
(also, for the photo above, i could find the artist for the ghost fanart, but i couldn't find the artist for the könig fanart, so if anyone knows who created it, please let me know !!)
-abi
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As dawn broke upon the horizon, you fumbled with your lighter, pulling down the wheel over and over again to get it to light; you furrowed your brows in concentration, sticking your tongue out the corner of your mouth (a habit you inherited from your father). The lighter was fairly old — it was a spare you carried in your tactical vest in the case you would ever need it for a mission, but you still felt frustration fester inside you the longer it took for the fire to catch. You now regretfully wished you had bought a new one on your walk to the drug store this morning.
And by this morning, you meant four A.M.
You slept well, for most of the night. In fact, it was the best you'd slept in a while. But because of your time spent in German Special Forces and the military in general, your body is simply accustomed to waking up earlier than normal people, no matter how exhausted you are. You're certain Kilgore and Simon would be up any moment.
You tried not to think of them as you sat on the curb outside the hotel, watching the occasional car rumble by. Lucky for you, the hotel was sort of strewn to the side, away from the heart of the city, so there were only a few law offices and fast-food restaurants around. Peace and quiet.
Your cigarette slipped from your mouth for a moment, but you caught it, and situated it back between your lips. You sighed through your nostrils, flicked the lighter once more, and it caught. You cheered internally, and lit your cigarette successfully after a few attempts.
You inhaled the smoke gratefully, and blew it away. The sky was watercolors of pastels, pinks, tangerine-oranges, and even a vibrant streak of red here and there. The sun peaked behind tuffs of clouds. You watched the smoke you exhaled swirl into the sky. For a moment, you imagined it was one of those clouds, fallen to the ground. You reached out to touch it, but the smoke dispersed and expanded into an entirely different direction.
Taking another hit, you bounced your leg and thought about the night before (though you swore when you woke up this morning and got dressed, you wouldn't look at or even think about the two naked men laying in the bed). It was amazing, to put it simply. You felt so happy last night, as you fell comfortably to slumber, but now, in your wake, you fear that everything is going to go horribly wrong.
Yes, Simon and Kilgore had miraculously joined forces last night and fucked you to sleep, but what's that to keep them from going back to hating each other today? Or at least, Simon hating Kilgore and Kilgore tolerating Simon (since he saved your life and all).
You worried, took a puff of nicotine, and then worried, blew out the smoke, and then worried again. It was a cycle for a few minutes.
You didn't want to lose either of them, especially not Kilgore. Not again. This time, it would be your fault, and you don't know if you could handle that.
"Hey," a voice grumbled, yet it cared a youthful drawl. You turned around in recognition, and before you could stifle it, a smile lit up your otherwise broody countenance.
"Hey, Gory." You turned back around with a mischievous grin, waiting for him to get angry at the old nickname. And he did.
"Ugh, seriously, [Y/N]?" he cried in exasperation, running a hand through his long, dirty blond hair as he sat down on the curb next to you; a flock of black birds sat on a power line ahead. "This again?"
"What?" you laughed.
"You haven't called me that since ninth grade," Kilgore groaned.
"Never too late," you mumbled with a shrug and a smile.
"That name is stupid," he jabbed a finger at you, "and ridiculous. I was right and you know it."
"You were gruesome, that's what you were," you rolled your eyes. "Dracula is fine as it is. Bela Lugosi did a fantastic job. Francis Ford Cappola did too. It was perfect, all things considered."
"It was nineteen-thirty-one!" he argued. "There could have been more blood, more violence, more gore. It was a vampire movie, for Christ's sake."
"And that's why I started calling you 'Gory,'" you pointed out with a triumphant smirk. "Other than the fact it's just fucking hilarious considering your name is 'Kilgore,' I've never seen someone so obsessed with the idea of gore in a movie. They didn't include all that shit for a reason."
"And what reason may that be?"
"Stylistic choice.." you said, feigning intelligence on the matter, but then breaking into a grin.
"Styl- Wha-..." he shook his head in disbelief. "Need I remind you again that it was a vampire movie?"
"Whatever," you said, waving a hand. You then slowly turned your head towards him, inch by inch, before jabbing him in the side, giggling like a little girl. "Gory."
He laughed as you started to tickle him, "St... Stop! Hahaha..! Stop!"
Eventually, you quit, retiring back to your cigarette, the tickle of laughter still remaining in your throat, and the buzz of cheer humming in your stomach. You couldn't wipe the grin from your face. It's like all the worry you had about Kilgore and Simon and you was forgotten about for a moment...
"...[Y/N]?"
...until it wasn't.
"Yeah?" you answered, the anxiety burning like a blue flame in your chest, prickling your nerves, making you twitch. You never really got anxious, it's never something you've really struggled with, or had time to struggle with, but today, it's decided to finally worm its way into your life.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"You..." he began, opening his mouth and unfolding his large hands to enunciate the words, "I... You make me feel..."
"What, Kilgore?" you said, your anxiety making you a little impatient.
"You..." he bit on his lip, hard, and then met eyes with you for a split second before looking away, "...I... I can't say it."
"Why?" you asked.
"I'm afraid."
"Why?" you repeated, shaking your head. He's never been afraid to tell you anything. Why now?
"I don't want you to... choose someone else," he said quietly. "I don't want you to.. not feel the same way."
"How about this..." you said, leaning towards him and putting your hands on his. His face, which was deprived of its usual mask, flushed with crimson. "...I'll tell you how I feel, and then you have to tell me how you feel. Deal?"
"That's so childish," he laughed nervously.
You raised your brows, amused.
He looked away in thought, a little worried as to what you would confess to him, and then pursed his lips and looked back to you, "Okay. Fine. Shoot."
You took the last hit of your cigarette, and then stomped it on the ground, grinding it under your boot. You then inhaled deeply, and then exhaled, taking your time before you finally spoke:
"Kilgore, as fucking corny as it sounds, you make me feel like I'm a kid again. Ever since you came back into my life, no matter how I acted at first, you obliterated the walls I had put up over the years. Just like that. You make me feel like I can do no wrong. You make me feel like I'm good. You do. You make me feel like all the bad things of done, all the murder, the lies, all the abuse I've been through, the pain I've endured... You.. You make me feel like it doesn't matter. Like it doesn't affect me. Like I can do anything. Be anything. Like.. Like I'm not tainted by the world I came into. Like everything isn't black anymore, but instead, it's bright, and white and pure and innocent and beautiful."
You stopped there, shutting your mouth. Heat rose to your face the longer you stared at him, his gaping mouth, his wide, emerald green puppy eyes... You then felt very embarrassed and ashamed. You knew that Kilgore had feelings for you. You knew you had feelings for him. You've known this for a while now. But to say it? After so many years? It felt so odd.
You remained in silence with him for so long, the cars humming by, the sounds of honking and traffic, wind filtering through tree leaves, the occasional bird chirping, distant thunder... The air became stifling, awkward, anxious, fearful, suffocating... Your throat tightened.
"...Kilgore?" you said cautiously, afraid that he would run away, or turn you down. His reaction was so frightening that all your certainty about his feelings for you had diminished, and had been replaced with incertitude.
"I love you," he said quickly; you barely understood him. Your heart leaped.
"..What?" You blinked.
"I love you, [Y/N]," he repeated, pressing his lips into a thin line, and trying his hardest to avoid your gaze. "There. I said it. And I mean it. I've loved you since we met. Since everything we've been through together. Through it all. I love you. I... love you."
"I..." you spoke, fumbling for the words, but you struggled to produce them for a moment. Then you felt it, a sureness in your heart, a sharp pang of fearlessness. You stared up at him. "...I love you too, Kilgore."
"But?"
"But?" you parroted his words in confusion. Why would he say that?
"But?" Kilgore said again. "There's more you want to say. There's a 'but.' Please don't lie to me."
"But..." you said, eyes trailing on the ground. "...I also love... Simon, and... and I don't know why."
He nodded slowly, licking his lips. You looked at the scars on his face, the black makeup smudged on his eyes with worry and pity. Was he upset? Was he expecting this? Surely he was, with what he and Simon pulled last night. Surely he knew. He's said it before. That you were in love with Simon. So why does he look like that?
Or maybe you're just overthinking it. Maybe you're worrying about him so much because you're so afraid to lose him again, after just getting him back. You wished in that moment you could take back what you said, even if it meant you were a liar — you would do anything to ensure Kilgore didn't leave you again. And you felt pathetic for thinking that way.
"It's okay to love us both," Kilgore said softly, finally regaining his composure. Your mouth fell open in shock, a sudden joy arising within you. "You met us during different versions of yourself, but both of those versions are still you."
He then reached up to caress your face, and you relaxed into his touch and shut your eyes, relief taking the weight off your shoulders.
"So it's okay to love us both," he continued, stroking his thumb up and down your cheek. "To accept both parts of yourself. I'm okay with it."
"You're sure?" you whispered, fluttering your eyes open to meet his gaze. He simpered.
"I would do anything for you. Anything to make you happy. And you can have us both, and I'll be happy, just so long as you are."
"I love you," you said again.
"I love you too," he smiled, and then dropped his hand from your face. He turned back to the road, and then raised and dropped his shoulders in a shrug. "Simon's not that bad, I guess. I think we can be friends.."
"I hope so," you said with a soft smile before kicking a pebble, watching it roll into the road.