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Seven was sitting at the island, on a stool, tinkering with the robocat when Olivia came out of the bathroom. It was in more pieces than it had been upon breaking the day before and she felt a pang of sadness that he was dismantling it.
“Good morning,” she said as she did every morning, but today was the first time Seven actually acknowledged it. Usually, he only paused in whatever he was doing, briefly, before going back to ignoring her. As a result, it took Olivia a full second to realize his eyes were on parts of her that were definitely not her face. Then meeting her gaze, his expression became a bit concerned, though his cheeks had tinted a slight pink.
“Olivia,” Seven said, kindly, but firmly. “What in the world are you wearing?”
Reflexively, she shot him a bemused smirk. “The same thing I wear every morning.”
“Shit,” Seven muttered, looking toward the window.
Chuckling to herself, Olivia padded over to see if the oven was done preheating. She hadn’t realized how effectively Seven had been shutting her out. Every morning Olivia washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then threw on her knee-length, jersey robe over whatever t-shirt and shorts she had slept in before getting something to eat.
“How did you sleep?”
Seven made a sound in his throat then shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“Oh. Well, then you must hungry?”
“I told you not to worry about me,” he said, tugging at the cord to his headphones as one corner of his mouth ticked up. “But that’s not going to stop you, is it?”
Seven had eyes that were hard to look away from. They were sharp, intelligent, and there was something so sad about them, until he smiled. It was the first time Olivia had seen him do so, and the sight sent a twisty, fluttering feeling through her chest.
She knew then she would do anything to have him look at her like that. Turning aside, Olivia tried to focus on what she needed to do and not on how her entire body had warmed through. Now that the oven was ready, all there was left to do was prep the dough so she could toss it in.
”You still want me to stop?” Olivia had never meant to fall for him and certainly didn’t want Seven to feel cornered or pressured in any way. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if the little time he had taken to consider accepting her only solidified the opposite.
“I never did, but I also didn’t want to involve you in all of this,” Seven said with a sigh. “I should be going through it alone.”
Taken off guard, she looked back over her shoulder at him. The way he held her gaze with a pained, uncertain fear made her frown.
“No one should be alone if they don’t have to be,” she told him.
He seemed to relax then, though his eyes continued searching hers as if looking for something she wasn’t willing to admit. “I’m sorry, but I have to say this: you deserve someone better.”
Chewing on her lip, Olivia joined him at the island and sprinkled some flour on the countertop a respectable distance from Seven’s workspace. She wanted to banish that thought from his mind. Somehow prove to Seven he was worthy of all the things he never dared dream of, but everything he was dealing with was so far beyond her realm of life experience. There was not much she could say that wouldn’t come off hollow or ignorant.
“Thank you again, for dinner last night,” she said, rolling out the dough. It had been a small gesture, sure, but one that highlighted his inherent kindness.
Seven set the screwdriver down. “I only ordered takeout,” he said, sounding puzzled.
“No, you ordered a feast, because you were too stubborn to just ask me what I like,” Olivia said, smiling at the memory of the time he had also made three separate sandwiches and put three different types of juice in the fridge for the same reason, even though he had vehemently denied it.
“That’s not it. I just—” Seven paused a moment, frowning. His hand was still on the screwdriver as if he was considering picking it up again. “You’ve lost weight because of all this. Because of me.”
All that did was prove her point more, though it seemed to be going right over his head. Using a cutter, Olivia began to cut circles into the dough. “And here I thought you weren’t paying any attention to me.”
Seven’s eyes snapped onto hers, a wry half-smile suddenly on his face. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I already have,” she said. “Or did you ignore that too?”
Shaking his head, Seven rubbed at his jaw, partially veiling his mouth, though she could see the grin that he was trying to suppress. “So fierce.”
Olivia chuckled. “But seriously, it’s nice seeing you take a break,” she confessed, moving the dough circles to a silicone mat lined baking sheet.
“I finally finished strengthening the alarm system. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to prevent—“ Seven hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been taking all my anxiety out on you and hurting you. I just— I wish I knew how we got here.”
Olivia knew self-blame when she heard it. Knew he was saying more than what he was saying and making it clear he was never angry with her, but only himself.
“Seven.” Her voice was quiet; hesitant to speak in her fear of crossing that ill-defined line again.
His eyes squeezed shut, and he shook his head before opening them again. “Are you finished?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“No. You misunderstand,” he said, standing and cautiously walking over to join her. “I meant with this.”
Olivia looked down as Seven plucked the silicone brush from her hand; his fingers skimming intentionally over her skin in the process. She opted not to react to it, feeling overwhelmed enough by his proximity alone.
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I am,” Olivia said, cheeks heating.
“Good,” he replied decisively and placed the brush back in the small bowl of egg wash. “There is something I’d like to show you.”
“Ok, just let me get this in the oven real quick,” Olivia apologized, then stepped around him to do just that.
“How long?”
She turned back around to find him fidgeting with the kitchen timer, seeming to regard the little plastic chicken with a quiet fascination. “Twelve minutes.”
“This is cute, it’s yours?”
“It is,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. For some reason, Olivia always felt her belongings looked out of place in the apartment, but she appreciated Seven found it charming.
He twisted the timer and then held a hand out to her. “Come here.”
Automatically, Olivia reached for him, even as she took a hesitant step forward. Once her hand was in his, Seven’s gaze changed. Cautious, but behind that reserve something lingered. He was so goddamned beautiful, and she felt her heart skip a beat due to the weight of his eyes as he studied her.
Eventually, he turned, leading her to the desk, and Olivia followed. Seven released her and took a seat. Then exchanged the timer out for his old, worn out, first-edition of Peter Pan. In the silence, she took deep, even breaths to calm herself. The thought Seven might be showing her a piece of him he walled off from everyone, that he would allow her to truly know him— Whatever it was that had broken him was a part of who he was, and she only wanted to help him find some peace in that.
“Olivia.”
“Hmm?”
“Come here. Please,” Seven murmured, retaking her hand and encouraging her to take a seat on his lap.
Once settled, Seven’s hand smoothed down the span of her back, a soothing gesture, and she made a conscious effort to relax her posture. His eyes flicked up towards hers then, meeting her curious stare with an intensity she hadn’t quite expected. This close she could see the intricate specks of umber and ochre at play, making the brilliant amber of his eyes stand out more than usual. It was uncanny, the way his focused attention turned back the days where he had been distant and cold, dismissing her as quickly as if she had been someone he’d never met.
“You can tell me anything. It’s not going to change how I feel about you,” Olivia told him. “You know that right?”
“I do now,” he said, letting his eyes linger on hers a moment more before leaning forward. A few clicks and keystrokes later and the central screen filled up with pictures of a young boy that looked a hell of a lot like Seven.
“This is Saeran.”
_______________________________________________________________________________
The timer began to trill, dragging Seven down from outer space and back into his own body.
Olivia must have clamped her hand around it almost instantaneously, because even though the ringing still sounded shrill, it also seemed far away, as though he were submerged underwater. Still, he continued to stare at the screen, at the lie he had eagerly accepted as fact. Seven had badly wanted to escape his own mind, put into words how this had all been set into motion, but now that he had—
“I promised him that I’d always be with him. That I’d protect him, but I broke that promise, just by trusting V,” Seven muttered to himself when the room went quiet again. He felt tears come unbidden to his eyes. “I’ve missed him so much.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Olivia whispered.
At that, he looked up at her suddenly. Her bright blue eyes were watery, and Seven shook his head, frowning at the concern on her face. It wasn’t unwelcome, necessarily, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
“Let’s stop talking about it,” he decided, looking away. “I only wanted to tell you a little bit, I didn’t mean to unload on you.”
Olivia shifted her position where she was perched on his thigh and then, just like that, she was embracing him. Tentatively, Seven reached up with his own hands and placed them carefully on her back. She seemed to radiate heat, and he drew her in closer, burying his face into her neck to breathe her in. Fresh, floral, and alive.
It was a small comfort. Perhaps even something mundane to most people. But Seven could count on one hand how many times he’d been on the receiving end of a hug, and no one had ever given him one like this. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her warmth that he could drink in like the sun.
“I don’t know why but talking to you... it makes me want to keep talking,” he told her.
“They say talking about things makes you feel better. Thanks for talking to me.”
Olivia eventually pulled away, looking deep into his eyes with a longing he’d never seen before, and he needed to soothe that from her as much as he needed air. His thumb idly trailed back and forth over one of her vertebrae.
“Thank you for listening.”
“I’m going to go get the scones out of the oven, ok?”
“Ya.”
She smiled, but Seven could tell she didn’t want to let go by the way her hand lingered on his arm while the other fidgeted with the cord to his headphones. Truthfully, he didn’t want to let her go, and when he did, losing that physical connection to her was strangely painful.
Alone, Seven dug his phone out of his pocket and tossed it onto the desk. Then took off his headphones and glasses. Stars speckled the black beneath his lids as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hadn’t slept in days, and all at once, it appeared to finally be catching up to him. But he couldn’t go to sleep, at least not yet.
By the time he made his way to the kitchen area, the island had already been cleaned up, and the scones were cooling on a wire rack. As Olivia finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher, he caught her eye. Then her smile came next, containing something he hadn’t seen from her since he used to watch her on the CCTV.
Seven was practically buzzing with the need to touch her, so he decided to attempt to keep himself distracted. He began putting the pieces of the robocat and his tools back in the small cardboard box he had been storing it all in.
“Why scones?”
Her lips tightened into a small frown as she uncapped a jar of preserves. “My mom used to make them for me when I was having a hard time.”
A pause as she sucked some jam off the inside of her thumb. “And I don’t know, I just thought you could use something like that? But Christ, that sounds so asinine, doesn’t it? I don’t even know if you like scones—“
He reached out to touch her, trailing fingertips lightly over her cheek to hush her. Neither of them looked away, and what Seven saw, he couldn't describe what it meant to him.
There had been pain between them. Too much of it for how long they had known one another. And he hated to acknowledge it, but there would probably be more, someday, because she had chosen him.
“I love scones,” he told her, stepping closer. “I love you, and I want you to remember me even if I disappear.”
The best part of her reaction was the way she smiled up at him, looking every bit as fond and vulnerable as he felt, and then she said, “I’d never forget you, but please, don’t disappear.”
She shook her head a little and added, softly, “Take me with you.”
“Olivia, if that’s what you want, I’ll keep you by my side forever. I’ll protect you; guard you with my life,” Seven began, but then she stood on her tiptoes, leaning into him, and pressed her mouth to his.
Her lips were even softer than her skin. Her mouth was sweet from the jam she had eaten, but Seven needed more. He immediately pulled her into him, tilting his head and opening his mouth wider to try and deepen the kiss. Sighing, she let him and slid her fingers into his hair. His tongue dragged against hers with a heavy exhale of air through his nose.
Already, he was losing himself in her touch; he hadn’t even realized until that very moment how much he wanted this. But she was so fucking perfect, and he wasn’t.
Seven forced himself back under some semblance of control. Slowing the kiss into what it should have been from the start as he moved his hands down to Olivia’s waist. There was no way to carve out tangible answers or make sense of whatever this was between them.
And for once he didn’t feel a need to.
Their path was set. They had moved past the rocky beginning, and now Saeyoung could enjoy what he could from the present, even if he feared what was waiting for him in the end.