Archive of Our Own

❝ The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for ❞

 Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Your world was devoid of colours. Day after day, week after week, it was always the same. Just as how you were always the same: a human, living and trapped in an unchanging room, contained in the mansion by the same dull gates. 

Words were repeated again and again. Each day followed the same exact method, the same exact steps. They were all constructed exactly the same. There was nothing that changed and nothing to change. The only thing that was never permanent was the outside. Sometimes it snowed and sometimes it rained, sometimes it was clear and other times clouds crawled over the sky. At first, it was fascinating to watch the way that the outside changed and altered over the course of the years, but soon the changes also became another part of your routine.

Boredom, sorrow, loneliness. Those emotions were all the same in your mind, just like how all the colours around were to you: a singular concept without distinction. When life turned into a meaningless hike, walking and walking without an aim, the days started to come to a halt, yet never fully stopped. It crept on, tethering on the line of a permanent pause. With each passing second, the hands on the clock ticked, louder, slower. Its sound echoed in the skull, rolled from ear to ear, and lingered in every second afterwards.

Every morning was the same. The dawning and rising of the sun changed nothing. Each day was still a copy of the previous. It was all a boring slug without purpose. When you woke up, you would always find yourself staring at the next day, at the same scenery. There would be white walls decorated with art pieces you couldn’t care less about and light peeking through the drawn curtains. 

What was the point of life? To eat, drink, sleep, and repeat? If life’s goal was just to survive, why still live through it?

Eyes empty, you looked into the mirror, scanning each inch of yourself.

Should you continue living? There was no point, was there? 

You blinked, slow and sluggish. If you strained your ears, you could capture the noise of the bustling cooks in the kitchen, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t imagine the footsteps of your parents. They were somewhere inside this house, somewhere in this labyrinth, so close yet so far away.

They said life always got better. They gave you everything you could want and told you to take whatever you wanted as long as you didn’t bother them. Everyone looked at you like you were the luckiest in the world. Social events, one after the other, make friends, smile, smile, more smiles, more, more, and even more. So fake. So unpleasant.

You could remember everybody’s faces you had met at those events but you couldn’t recall your parents’. How ironic. They praised you for your memory, praised you for the many skills you had picked over the years in pure boredom. Talented. So talented. Held so much influence in the upper social circles. 

Yet, in the end, it all amounted to nothing. 

Your gaze traced the scars along your arm and frowned. You were beginning to regret your choices now. Pain didn’t bring you much from the numbness of this life. It did a little at the start but it still turned out like everything else in this life. So pointless. So boring. 

You sighed. Maybe you should give yourself more time. Decide what to do another day. Just not today. It was your birthday, after all. 

Birthday… like it meant anything. 

What was the point of celebrating something like that? Just another excuse to show off how privileged you were, how rich they were, how much influence they held, how much they ‘loved’ you. There was no point, exactly like everything else. 

You wanted something in your life that urged you to live on and see the next sunrise—a vibrancy in your world that broke you out from the loop of repeating days you were stuck in. There was nothing in your life that made you want to sleep and wake up. Every day was dull, always the same, always painted in grey. 

Though, that changed one day.

You weren’t sure when exactly the greys were washed away and colour flooded into your life. It came slowly, trickling in little by little, started by just a single meeting with a man as drenched in grey as everyone else—except for his eyes. 

His eyes were violet-red, like amethysts and wine. He peered at you like he knew all your secrets and desires, held the ability to grant all your wishes, make them all come true in ways you couldn’t even imagine. His gaze was captivating, filled with a mystery that just pleaded to be unravelled, written with a story begging for you to read. 

“Hello, is the seat next to you taken?” 

You glanced to your side to see a man smiling softly at you. 

Ah, another fake smile. You have been seeing those a lot lately, haven’t you? You weren’t really in the mood to entertain another guest. It was something you thought you had made pretty clear with your actions but it seemed this one didn’t take the hint. 

Wait–

You peered at him closely. Strange. You should know everybody here so who was this? You might have to humour him for a bit. “I don’t think I had the pleasure of knowing you?” Sick, sweet, smile. So, so fake. So, so pointless if it wasn’t for the pressure from your faceless and voiceless ‘parents’.

“Hm, I don’t think so.” He hummed, sitting down next to you. “I believe this is our first meeting but I do know you.”

“How flattering.” You tried to keep the dryness of your tone but this conversation was so tedious. A lot of people ‘knew’ you due to your wide reputation. This wasn’t anything new. You contained your sigh. “Well, if you would excuse me. I just remembered something I needed to do–”

You looked over at him and froze. That smile and those eyes…

He tilted his head like he knew what you noticed, as if he predicted it, as if he had been waiting for this very moment. It was unsettling, yet… so very thrilling. 

You grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of effort like you had thought. “Hey, do you want to talk somewhere—” you pointed around you “—quieter?”

You no longer remember where or when you met exactly. What you do remember was that he came to you at a time when you had given up on this boring life and these repeating monotonous days. You were ready to end it all. After all, if life couldn’t give life meaning, then only death could. You tried to live from a child to a teen to an adult, waiting, just waiting to find something, anything to live for. However, in the end, there was still nothing. 

You had met his gaze that fateful day—

“Give me a purpose to live and I’ll give you my everything.”

—and he smiled in return, promising to grant your wish.

He brought you under his wings, into his organisation and gave you the very purpose you desired. He showed you a world beyond the normal that you knew, a world of supernatural abilities you had never known about despite living intertwined with it your whole life. Looking back, he must have known that even before the moment he met you, you would accept his offer without a beat of hesitation.

Rats in the House of the Dead—they soon became everything to you. 

You didn’t mind death, not when you had already come to terms with it. Meaning couldn’t be given in life but it could be given from death. You knew he wouldn’t kill you off without needing to and that was the only thing you cared for. Though, if he found you annoying, he probably would find a way to quickly send you off to the afterlife. That, you didn’t mind either. You were under no illusions that you held power. You were just a pawn in his eyes, not an ally or a subordinate that he needed to care for.

“Should I die in this mission?” 

“No.” This was the first time you asked this question but he would later get used to it to the point he would answer you before you even asked.

You stared at the sheet of paper in your hand a second longer. Huh, so this seemingly suicidal mission was something he trusted—scratch that, it was more like calculated—you would survive. That was quite flattering. Without missing another beat, you shrugged. “Okay. I’ll be back in a few days then.”

To be honest, a part of you enjoyed such dynamics. You held no responsibility for yourself, no power of your own when you were here. You could do whatever you wanted because there were no consequences that you were afraid of: ending your life, losing his respect, ruining your reputation and image. Nothing at all.

“Cake?”

He looked up from the computer screen, staring at you blankly. “What?”

You hummed, ignoring the fact that he was probably questioning why you just came into his workspace without knocking or a single care in the world at all. “It was my birthday so I took the liberty of baking a cake for everyone.” You placed a slice on his desk. “Here. You should try it. I’m going to split the rest of it with the others but I just thought that since you’re the boss, I should bring you a piece first.” You gave him a bright smile.

He scanned your face like he was trying to figure you out, see if you had any ulterior motivation. In the end, it seemed he found whatever he was looking for as he took a glance towards the closed door and back at you again with the same expressionless face he usually wore. “I see.”

“You’re welcome!” You bowed slightly and took your leave with a grin. “I’ll be going then. Hope you enjoy it if you choose to eat it instead of tossing it away!”

In his and the Rats’ company, you found yourself brightening little by little, found colours flooding into your life. The old you would never recognise the you of the current, but they wouldn’t be disturbed by that. They would love it. The change. The joy. The vibrant shades that surrounded you. They would relish in it all, just like the current you.

“Something interesting happened today,” you exclaimed as you perched yourself on the armrest of his chair.

He only responded with a small ‘hm’ and continued typing away. You clapped your hand in delight at the permission to continue. You started to recount your day, including the little things that amused you, spinning the story with flourishes yet never twisting the truth. He showed no sign of listening and kept working while you spoke, but you knew that he was absorbing everything you said while also doing his thing. 

You enjoyed having someone who listened to you. What you enjoyed even more than that was when the listener was him. Something about being in his presence soothed you while simultaneously never boring you. There must be something special about him but you could never quite figure out what it was. Or maybe… it was just you? 

You knew that many were not what they seemed in the Rats. The only thing that connected you all was how you were tethered to this organisation, although through different means. Many were criminals, taken in their most desperate times. Some were like you—promised to have their wishes fulfilled as long as they worked for the Rats. To the wider society, there was no way any of you would be labelled as ‘good’ with all the things you had done. However, none of that bothered you because, in your eyes, they were just humans. Humans twisted in some sense yet humans nonetheless. They were the ones you found belonging with. 

Some days, like this one, you would find yourself in his room, curled up far in a corner. Both of you rarely ever spoke and just enjoyed each other's company—or at least you enjoyed his company, not too sure about him though. He could be finding your presence annoying but found it too tiresome to chase you out for all you know. At the very least, he didn’t seem to mind you that much from your look at things. 

In the Rats, most viewed him either with reverence or fear, with the majority of the time being a mix of both. There were a few who seemed to think that they were taking advantage of him and manipulating him when it was the other way around. All of them quickly died after they expended their usefulness. 

You flipped to the next page of the book you were reading, taking a glance at what he was doing on his computer. Some words were on his screen but they were too small for you to make out. What you could see was that he was biting his fingers again. Blood was already trickling out.

It was at that moment, that his eyes flitted to you, a questioning look in them when he caught your frown. 

“It’s bleeding again.” You said as you walked over to him. Carefully, you took hold of his hand and examined the damaged areas. How he always manage to bite through his own skin and still move his hands with dexterity was a mystery. “Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“I’m used to it.”

Of course, it hurt. Of course, he was used to it. What did you expect from him?

You knew too much about pain. You could get used to pain and build up pain tolerance but the actual pain never disappears. Pain was the way your body told you that there was something wrong, that it was afraid of death.

How ironic that you were in such a position now and asking these kinds of questions. How many years has it been since you were last seen in that house?

You peered at him curiously. The man was a puzzle you couldn’t solve. He reminded you of something distant yet so close at the same time. He made you feel and think in ways you never before. Sometimes, he seemed to be far from human. And other times, like this one, you were reminded of truly how human he was.

The wounds were still bleeding. His fingers were stained with blood. Just looking at it made you want to frown again. He needed to clean and treat it properly to prevent infection. “Wait a minute. I’ll be back with something to treat the wounds,” you said before hurrying off. 

You couldn’t just tell him not to bite it, so this was the only thing you could do. It was probably a lot harder to stop than just someone telling you to.

You understood how hard it was to break a habit. 

It didn’t take long for you to come back with a plastic basin containing bottled water and various wound treatment supplies. You took everything out, sprawling them on the desk. His eyes followed your movement without saying anything. Taking his hands in yours again, you placed them above the basin and poured over the bottled water. The process was a quiet one with nothing but the splatter of water. You cleaned around the damaged area with a clean cloth and soap, taking care to avoid the wounds themselves. 

Just how much does he bite on them for it to bleed like this? You used things like scissors and blades years ago, but they had been sharp, made specially to cut through things stronger than skin. But then again, technically, teeth were also made to tear through things. 

You dried his hand, dabbling it with a cloth, before smearing ointment over the wounds. It should help soothe any irritation and lower the chance of infection. 

It was a strange thing. Taking care of someone like this when you never even did this for yourself. It was always others fussing when you couldn’t mind less. They made a huge deal about wounds and scars, not even because they cared, but because they were worried about what others would say. Worried that if they presented you like that, others would talk. 

You started dressing the wounds. It would do good to prevent him from biting again for a while. 

To actually care and be concerned for someone, just someone as a person instead of what they represented, was something you were unfamiliar with. If you were honest with yourself, he would probably be fine even if you left him and his bites alone. Even if it was bleeding profusely, you were sure he would be able to deal with it.

Maybe what you were doing was for you to feel better. Every time you saw his blood, saw the gaping wounds, you felt your heart ache. 

He blinked slowly, gaze ever still trained on your movements as you finished. A smile crossed your face when you met his eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” 

His words made you grin wider. 

While most of those in the organisation were eccentric and straight-out untrustworthy, you still formed unlikely bonds with them. It wasn’t fitting to call it friendship but it also wasn’t just co-workers. Of course, there were still some you would rather just avoid and some you never saw other than their pictures. The one who you could say was the closest to a ‘friend’ would have to be the one who recruited you. 

You blinked sluggishly. The room was dim, computer light already turned off. The book that has been in your hand lay neatly placed beside you on the couch. 

You shuffled, moving the blanket to the side. This wasn’t your room. It was his room. You frowned. The man that had been at the computer had left. He rarely ever left his room these days, working on something you didn’t care much for. He was always working and planning, never getting the obvious rest he needed. The growing dark circles under his eyes was concerning, to say the least. 

The last thing you remember doing was reading. White and blue light had flooded the dim room. It was already night and the lack of natural light didn’t help with your reading. You had to peer at the words on the page, straining your eyes. It caused them fatigue and at one point, you must have fallen asleep. You still remember the distant thud of your book as it fell to the ground—which, obviously, didn’t happen since the book was placed next to you, neatly and orderly, not like it fell from your hand at all when you drifted off. 

The door swung open and you snapped up. 

“You’re awake.” His voice was soft and smooth. He scanned your form. “You should go back to your room to sleep. It’s past midnight.”

“If it’s past midnight, shouldn’t you also be sleeping?”

“I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his computer. 

Of course this workaholic was going right back to his work. 

“Where did you just go?”

“Took a break.”

Right. You take back everything you said about him not taking breaks. He did take breaks, just barely. 

“When are you going to sleep?” you asked. 

“When I finished the next section.”

Your lips curled downwards. “Is it urgent?”

“The faster it’s done, the better.” 

He was already sitting down, reaching to open his devices again. However, you didn’t allow him. You stood up and stepped next to him, hands gently clasped around his wrist. 

“So it’s not urgent,” you said. 

“It’s not,” he agreed.

His eye bags were even more prominent under the terrible lighting. 

“Then, rest.” You tugged at him without much force. 

“I just took a break.”

You stared. “You know what I mean.”

There were a few seconds of silence. You almost thought he was going to kick you out instead of humouring you. 

Finally, he sighed. “Alright.” 

A victorious grin split your face the moment you heard those words. You were going to get this man to bed and make him rest. Because goddamn, his lifestyle was unhealthy. In the first place, he never had the healthiest body, yet he still lived like he did. He was destroying his it like it wasn’t his. 

He told nobody of what he was trying to accomplish but it was obvious he was working towards something. Only foolish people would think that everything he asked you all to do wasn’t building towards a certain goal. Whatever it was, even if it turned out to be world domination, you would unconditionally support him. It was probably because you didn’t care about much and were way too reliant on him and the Rats—not that you minded that.

“Another infiltration mission, huh?” you said absentmindedly to nobody in particular.

It wasn’t like you had any Abilities like the others. You just had funds, influence, and an array of skills. An Ability-less prodigy. He mostly used you for infiltration missions since you could easily blend into any role. Words, skills, actions, body language, habits, you could mimic it all.

“But… this mission…” You narrowed your eyes. Maybe he really wanted you to die this time? This wasn’t just ‘dangerous’, it was borderline impossible. Suicidal. Not just ‘seemingly’ suicidal. Acutal, fucking suicidal. Even if you managed to get out, it was guaranteed that you would injure yourself.

You sighed, knocking on his door.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open as you allowed yourself to enter. 

“You’ll be fine.”

You frowned. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

He turned around to look at you. “Was that not what you came here to ask?”

He wasn’t wrong but. Huh. Actually, it was kind of endearing the way he guessed what you wanted to ask. That sudden thought brought a grin to your face. “It is!”

This time, it was his turn to frown. He stared like he just caught you acting out of character. “I’m sure that you’ll pull this off so if there is nothing else, you should go prepare.”

“Got it!”

You knew you were going to die at some point. You knew. That knowing was twisted around your heart like a snake, weaved with acceptance. It was buried deep inside you, always attached, always lingering at the back of your mind when you went out to complete a task he had for you. 

“The boss has another mission for me?” You raised your eyebrows. That wasn’t normal. “He wouldn’t do that. I haven’t even finished my current mission.”

“No.” Their voice sounded so soothing, like a lullaby from a mother to her child. “He would do that and you have finished your mission.”

He never He did do that before. You had finished your mission. “I see.” You nodded slowly. “I will go to him right away.”

“No.” Their words had an enchanting quality to them, slow and deliberate. “You are to steal the item right away.”

“Oh.” You felt like you were being sucked in. That didn’t make sense and yet it made so much sense at the same time. Something was wrong It was just as they said. “Of course.”

“Though.” You narrowed your eyes. Something like an alarm went off inside you. “You aren’t a Rat so how would you know what I need to do?” You had never seen this face before. You knew everyone, even those new. You made an effort to memorise all their faces and names.

“No.” Their words lulled like the ocean waves drunk with moonlight. “You know me. I am one of the boss’ most trusted associates.”

That didn’t make any sense

Your mind seemed to hate whatever thought you were having. It pushed away any thoughts that questioned what she said. “Ah, that makes sense.” Everything felt so wrong and so right at the same time. 

Unlike the others, you weren’t oblivious to the fact that you would die upon becoming useless. You weren’t under any kind of illusion. It wasn’t like you wanted to live before he took you in, anyway, so it was the least you could do. It was what you promised in exchange for him granting your wish—your everything. You gave him your everything, your life, your soul, everything on that day.

So why… why was it when that time came for you to die, when you finally came face to face with Death again, you didn’t want to leave?

“A-ah, ah, what… is… this…”  

There was so much blood. So much pain. So, so much. 

You were going to die. You were actually dying.

No. No. No. No way.

You didn’t want to die. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way!

And yet, so much pain. So much scarlet. They were all pointing those weapons at you. In just mere seconds, your head would be rolling from your shoulder.

It only took mere moments when faced with death before the acceptance around your heart burned away and became nothing, not even ashes in the wind. It was replaced with a cold, aching fear that sunk its fangs deep into your flesh, soaked through every layer of skin, and chilled all the blood running through your veins. You wanted to claw it out, tear your body open to pull it out and toss it away. For the first time in your life, you feared death. Instead of seeing it as something that you could rely on to save you from the mundane and the dull, you saw it as something that would rip you away from life, from living. 

“Any last words?”

At this, you just laughed. You didn’t even register how strange it was for them to ask such a thing. All you could think of was how funny it was that you finally, after so many years, saw life as it was, saw what it meant to be human, what it meant to exist. It took you too long to realise, or maybe you did. You just couldn’t come to terms with it—the fact that you didn’t want to die anymore, that you wanted to live. He gave you a purpose to live for in this brief, fleeting time you had left as long as you gave him your life. This was what you agreed to. This was what you wanted before. No matter how you feel now, it would change nothing.

Crash.  

The person in front of you dropped to the floor.

How did a small stealing operation lead to such an ending? It was the simplest mission out of all you had done before. How was it that they were already lying in wake for you? Did he send you here on purpose to kill you off? Why didn’t you think about it before? He had no need for an expensive jewel in the first place. He had never been interested in that stuff. Why didn’t you question him at that time?

Ah.

You didn’t get the mission from him this time.

Why?

Your head was throbbing. So wrong. So wrong.

Everything around you seemed to be slowed down into frames clicking through. Was this how it felt to die? 

Your ears were falling off from the loud crash behind you. Was this the last drum before you headed to the afterlife? 

There were rubbles and screams. And more shouts and painful cries. Why was the opposition screaming?

Someone’s hand were wrapped around your limbs. You were floating in midair, or was it your mind floating away? Was your dead spirit ascending away due to someone’s Ability?

You couldn’t think. Your mind was blanking out on you. So many dark spots swimming in your vision. You were so tired. So, so tired. You were exhausted beyond anything else. Would it be alright if you just closed your eyes?

On the day you thought was your last, you fell. You fell into a darkness that embraced you. A darkness that hid you away from the cold arms of death. It was bandages over your scars and pain. It was a blanket that trapped your warmth inside. It was everything you ever wanted and needed without knowing. He was everything you wanted and needed without knowing. He brought both the first and last colours into your dull life. With a single brush, he painted your sunrise and sunsets, twilights and midnights. 

Your whole body was aching. It was screaming at you but still very much functioning and alive.

Alive?

You jolted up from where you lay. 

You were alive?

The sheet covering your body creased under your grip. Soft dim lamps lit the room, chasing away shadows in the corners. There was no blood, no weapons, and no ruined furniture caused by Abilities. Not only that, your body was also miraculously still intact. Other than the throbbing of your limbs, you were completely fine. There were no gaping wounds or scars, no evidence of the harm you had taken before exhaustion took over. 

Did you dream up everything?

But that pain and that fear had been so real…

The door cracked open and in came a young girl.

You knew her. She was a Rat with a rare healing Ability. However, she had a terminal illness that meant she was living on limited time. How ironic it was that she could heal wounds yet could not cure her own illness that was eating her alive. 

“You’re awake!” Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons, joyful but filled with fatigue. “I’m glad you’re fine now. I was so worried that my Ability was too late to save you.”

Ah. She must have been the one who mended all your wounds and broken bones. “Thank you.”

She smiled at your words. “You should probably go wash up and then see the boss. He said he needed to talk to you.”

“I see,” you said. “I’ll get to it then.”

It was unfair how he managed to give you a purpose in life and a will to live, something you had failed to find before he arrived. A part of you hated him for doing so. How could you leave this life now? When others talked about lingering attachments, you never understood. What was there for you to care about? What was there for you to attach yourself to? There had never been such things in this world. But then he. He came into your life like a falling star and granted all your wishes, even the ones you didn’t know were buried in your heart. He showed you how vibrant the world was without trying. Gave you purpose. Gave you life. Gave you the capacity to care. You despise how easily he managed to do all that. 

“Come in.”

You carefully opened the door and closed it behind you. “You called?”

He trailed his gaze away from his computer to you, purple eyes glinting under the dim light. You never had a favourite colour before. It seemed pointless and unnecessary, but after staying in his presence for so long, you had come to love the colour of his eyes—a captivating dark purple that left you breathless. It was a colour you could lose yourself in as he examined your form.

“I see you’re fine now,” he stated, his gaze flickering to yours again.

“Yeah…” 

No other words were exchanged. 

You felt like you should say more but what were you even supposed to say? He was just waiting, sitting in his seat and staring at you with no indication of saying anything else. You shuffled in your spot and bit into your tongue. “Um, so, how did the mission turn out?” you threw out randomly, unable to handle the awkwardness anymore. 

“That mission?” The change in his expression was so minuscule you nearly missed it. He almost looked displeased, angry even. “They gave you that ‘mission’ to lure you and ambush you. I already sent some people to take care of them.”

You furrowed your brows and frowned. “Why did they try to kill me?” Out of everyone in the Rats, you were the only one without an Ability. They wouldn’t earn anything by taking you out. 

“Who knows?” Despite his words, you could see he knew exactly why. Before you could pry further, his eyes locked with yours again. “You should probably rest up.” It was a dismissal as clear as day. “In your condition, you wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

After your near-death incident, you mostly stayed back in the base. Even after you had recovered, you were never sent out on another mission or were allowed out by yourself. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. They lulled by peacefully without so much as a hitch. You spent the majority of your time with him, wasting away by his side as he worked. Sometimes, when he was free, you would listen to classical music and share tea. You found the quiet days beautifully painted, filled with the sound of his cello and his gentle presence. Although nothing much was happening, the faint joy you felt just staying beside him was enough. You didn’t even realise how strange your days had become.

As the last of the cello note faded away in a vibrato, you brought up the question that had been plaguing your mind since long ago. “It's been three months already, when will I be getting a new mission?”

He gently placed down his instrument on the side and lifted up his head at you. “There hadn’t been anything you need to do.”

“Really?” He always seemed to have something for you to do. Your role in the Rats was rather flexible since you lacked an Ability. “Everybody else seems so busy these days though? I can’t find anyone to talk to other than you.”

“They’re needed for an operation.”

“Something to do with their Abilities then?” 

“Yes.”

As the days dragged on further, the longer you spent with him. It had crept up on you so slowly and unexpectedly that you didn’t even realise that you were spending more time in his room and office than in your own. Somedays, you would even find yourself falling asleep in his bed. He never seemed to mind that much but you were convinced it was just his usual poker face. 

Nobody ever pointed out how unusual the situation was. To be honest, that may also be because you hadn’t seen so much as the hair of anybody around for months. Even if you did, none of them stayed long enough to realise the bordering-on-strange amount of time you were spending with him. It had gotten so bad nearly a year in that you couldn’t just brush everything off like before.

“I swear you are doing this on purpose,” you started.

“I am.”

“There is just no–” You paused, registering what he just said. “Huh??”

He looked up from the book he was reading. “Are you not talking about the fact that you haven’t been given a mission for the past year while everybody else seemed to be busy?”

You frowned. “I am but–” How do you even begin to explain the bizarre situation on your hand? “You just admitted it that easily?!”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“It’s not, but– huh?” Your brain was failing to wrap around anything. You had thought he would never admit it and would just deny it. Hell, you weren’t even a hundred per cent sure he was doing this on purpose, but he just went and confirmed your suspicion that easily? “No, wait, why??” The questions suddenly popped into your head with urgency. What was the purpose and logic behind his action?

His expression was blank as he lifted his head to face you. “I need you to briefly disappear from public eyes for a job down the lane. As for the others, like I said before, there’s a large-scale operation that requires their Abilities.”

“Oh.” The answer was more logical than you expected. All your doubts, suspicions, and concerns instantly vanished. You were already beginning to forget why you had thought the whole situation strange.

Skilled with his words, deliberate with his actions, every move made finely-tuned—that was the man you made a deal with, a man more demon than human.

He would speak softly in your ears and look at you in such a way that melted you into pudding. Without you even realising until it was too late, he had you wrapped around his thumb and dancing in the centre of his palms. You would always seek him out, your thoughts flooding with him even when he wasn’t with you. It was a strange sensation that you had never experienced before. It made you want to curl up within yourself and trap the warmth bubbling in you, too afraid that it would fizz away if you didn’t. It was joy and happiness all mixed as a soda. 

His eyes, a hue bordering between red and purple, captivated your secrets and desires. Looking into them made you want to dig out your heart through flesh and bones to present on a silver platter to him. You wanted him to cradle it in his hands and cherish it like priceless art. Your soul was already his so what more was your heart?

If and after he accepted yours, a single, tiny, whispering part of you also wanted him to give you his, no matter how improbable the notion was. You wanted him to offer his own for you encased in a diamond box. You wanted his heart in your hand to kiss and worship, to embrace and adore, and finally to swallow whole so nobody could take it.

So, so close. 

You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was thudding so loud that it was a miracle that he couldn’t hear it. His breath tickled your ears, sending your stomach into a wild flutter, while his hands guided you in the bow’s movement. If he tilted his head a little more, his lips would be right on your ear and if he did, you weren’t sure you would survive. He was saying something about the bow hold but none of it registered in your mind. You were too busy trying to keep your grip on reality as he adjusted your grip, hands gliding across your skin and fingers curling around yours. Every place he brushed burned despite how cold his touch was. At this rate, you would need emergency medical attention because you were definitely overheating. 

“Do-” you stopped yourself, desperately trying to calm your nerves. You might just jump off a roof if he realised what you had been thinking about him these days. You pray that as perceptive as he was, he had still missed any signs you might have accidentally slipped. “Do you think it’s necessary to be this close?” 

His hands paused, still holding yours. A single gentle breath next to your ear sent your whole body shuddering. “Yes, why?”

Oh god, your mind was going on a tangent again, a very, very unhelpful tangent. You could see yourself lacing your fingers together with his and him bringing your hands to his lips, softly kissing them before dragging you into his arms. You tried to shake the image away and form a reply but your traitorous mind had other plans. Your hands were on the lapels of his clothes. His expression remained unchanging even as you pulled him into you. Your lips pressed against his–’

Nope. You were not going there again, especially with him here.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot these days.”

You didn’t notice when it had happened but at some point during your daydream, he had taken the cello out of your hand and placed it on the floor next to you. His face was right in front of you now, black hair framing his cheeks. Slowly, he moved in closer to you, and closer, and closer, to the point that there was barely any distance between your face and his, just one pull was all it took for you to kiss him. And you were sure he would do that if he wasn’t Fyodor Dostoevsky. Despite your thundering heart, you held no expectation that he would kiss you. He was probably going to put his forehead to yours to take your temperature or something. 

His eyes narrowed in amusement. “You know me well, hm?”

“Huh?” You blinked in confusion. 

In a split second, he moved to the side of your face, whispering into your ear again, “You should at least try to hide your thoughts.” Then, before you could react, he pulled away. “We’ll continue the lesson tomorrow.”

As he walked away, the sudden realisation hit you like a bucket of ice. 

That guy… he’d been doing this to you on purpose, hadn’t he? These past few weeks, he had constantly been doing things like this, teasing and pulling back, acting out of character yet so in character at the same time. There was no chance that he didn’t know what you thought about him. You had no idea if you should be relieved or not that he didn’t seem to be put off. Far from put off, he seemed to find the whole thing amusing and was fueling the butterflies in your stomach. 

Had you forgotten who he was? There was no way any of his actions were coincidental. Every single one of those fleeting touches and low whisperings in your ear was one hundred percent deliberate. Without a doubt, he was doing this to fluster you. Even his offer to teach you cello could only be part of his scheme. How had you only realised this now? You played right into his hand. You realised too late that your heart was already his. What you had thought was hidden and unreachable had long since been in his grasp.

He read you like a book and understood everything without much difficulty. What was a complex philosophical book was nothing but a simple fairytale to him. He didn’t bother to hide his amusement, playing with your heartstrings like they were connected to nothing but a marionette.

Deliberately chosen words weaved together intricately, each movement carefully performed to incite certain reactions. He made you want to rip into his flesh, dig through organs and veins, and reach between the ribcage to take his heart as a prize. Yours was already his through sleight of hand so why couldn’t you take his by force?

You clicked the door shut behind you with one hand. The tea swished around in the cup as you steadied your hold. The whole day, he had been cooped up in his room working away without a single break. If you had a say, you would call it unhealthy and pull him away from the screen. But unfortunately, you weren’t able to do that so you could only bring him refreshments every now and then to make sure he doesn’t forget to eat or drink. 

You walked up beside him, placing the teacup on the table before taking a seat on the chair’s armrest. He seemed to be a lot more relaxed than the last time you saw him. Things were probably wrapping up. “Any new development?”

His gaze flickered to you briefly. Dark circles stained the bottom of his eyes, standing out against the sickly pale colour of his skin. “I think we should go to Yokohama soon.”

“Yokohama? The port city in Japan?” You leaned back. “I haven’t been there before. It would be fun.”

He smiled slightly. Something in his gaze flashed. “Yes, I believe it would indeed.”

You offered a smile of your own. Things were going to become quite interesting. 

Now—onto the most important thing. 

From the look of things, he definitely completed whatever work that made him shut himself in his room for the past week. You tampered down a sigh. This man had been toying with you for the past few weeks and then proceeded to vanish into his room right after you discovered his ploy. He knew your thoughts about him and for some reason, took amusement in playing with it. 

Your smile became tighter and you leaned in closer to him. He’ll see that two could play the game.

“Fedya.”

He blinked slowly, eyes narrowing in both surprise and confusion. You had never called him that before. Seeing that expression on his face, even if it was for a split second, stirred satisfaction in you. Taking this man by surprise was a thing worth relishing in.

“Fedya,” you repeated again, eyes crinkling into delight crescents, “Is it fun these days? Because for me, it’d been very frustrating.”

He hummed, instantly understanding what you were talking about. Something unreadable crossed his gaze, bordering on amusement and satisfaction. “Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Really? The Fyodor Dostoevsky hadn’t noticed something? I find that hard to believe.”

“So what do you want me to do?” He tilted his head. He was playing along with you even if he knew.

“How long?” you asked without elaborating.

“For as long as you assumed.”

You thought as much but hearing it from his lips made you feel even more foolish than before. How had you missed those manipulative signs for nearly two years?

“Fedya,” you said again. The nickname slipped out easily, sweet and soft on your tongue. 

“Yes?” He wasn’t even trying to hide his enjoyment of this whole situation.

“I like you.”

His expression remained unchanged. 

“But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

If it had been anyone else, you would have deemed this conversation to be awkward enough that your feelings would have evaporated. However, this was Fyodor and you could only find yourself adoring him even more. 

Now that you had said the unspoken words hanging between you two aloud, would anything change? You were half-expecting him to send you away, far, far away on an insignificant job to kill you off. As for the other half, it held an expectation had stemmed from silly hope, a kind of hope that you only developed after knowing him.

“Can I kiss you?” The silence dragging on made you spout the first impulsive thought on your mind. Surprisingly, you didn’t find yourself regretting your words after they left your mouth. If you were going to die soon, you were going to take the risk. You were prepared for rejection but again, that silly hope rooted itself within you.

Fyodor doesn’t answer, instead he let out a low hum. When you leaned in closer, he didn’t move to pull away. His gaze was trained on you, taking note of your every movement. You took that as your permission and with one final questioning glance, you closed your eyes. 

Your lips brushed against his in a soft graze, fleeting and light. You couldn’t bring yourself to do more, afraid that if you did, he would push you away. Even though it was brief, you felt yourself drowning in europhia just by the mere fact that he didn’t reject you. Even if this was a one-time thing, you think you might be able to die happy.

You pulled away after a second, fluttering open your eyes again. However, you weren’t given much time to recover before you found yourself falling forward. His hands were on your back and head as he brought you close again. 

This time, when your lips met, joy fizzled up unprepared, threatening to explode and escape from the bottle it was contained in. You curled your hand into his clothes to steady yourself. It was dizzying and surreal, like a dream that was ending. The whole world felt as if it was fading from the tips of your fingers, leaving just him alone. This wasn’t something you could have imagined. Again and again, such scenes have played in your daydreams unprompted yet none of it measured to the real experience. So tangible, so pure, so real. 

You were so lost in the moment that it was only when you parted did you processed the fact that he had pulled you into his lap and kissed you again. The realisation sent you reeling. He acted so out of what you thought was his character that your brain couldn’t comprehend. All your past interactions with him were being run through, analysed and cross-examined again. 

“Fyodor…” His name left your mouth in a breathless murmur.

“Hm?” 

You met his eyes, unsure what to say until your attention latched onto his dark circles. Instantly, your thoughts were replaced with concern for his well-being. Everything else was quickly forgotten. He had been working with barely any rest for the past week. It had started to take a toll on his body. You were used to him doing such things—biting his skin until it bled, depriving himself of sleep—but it didn’t mean you approved.

You reached up and gently brushed the dark circles.“You need to sleep.”

Closing his eyes, he relaxed against your touch and let out a soft murmur of agreement. 

“Come on.” You peeled yourself up, gently tugging him along with you. He compiled without resistance. You took one last glance at the long-since-cooled tea on the desk and made a mental note to take care of it tomorrow.

There wasn’t much change in your relationship afterwards. It did, however, make you realise things you overlooked in the first place. The amount of time you spent together and the things you did made your relationship resemble that of close roommates, or more accurately, a couple—just without the sexual part. You found yourself in his room at night watching as he worked one too many times even before you kissed him.

It was a strange situation. You didn’t even know if his heart was in your own hand or if he just gave you a glass replica. You wanted to know but you also didn’t. The desires pulled and pushed at each other, both begging for you to give in to them. You could ask or you could wait for change, until he threw you away and sent you to your death or used you for whatever plan he had in mind. 

During the evenings as you lay in bed, your brain ran through hundreds of possibilities millions of times, overthinking and overworking. Maybe you should have pretended to be ignorant. Maybe you should have just stopped at your confession. Maybe you had been too impulsive when you asked to kiss him. It had been meant as a way to satisfy yourself and let go of your feelings but it only backfired on you. You had fallen too deep to ever be able to take your heart back without his initiative. You were stuck in your mind as the world kept on spinning. Each morning, the sun still rose from the east and at night, it still fell. Nothing really changed in this universe yet you felt like your whole world had flipped upside down. 

One thing you did conclude after spending all that time in your thoughts was that emotions were exhausting. It was so colourful yet so very tiring at the same time. It sent your heart and body on a loop up and down the roller coaster without a break. You didn’t want to return to how you were before but you also didn’t want to stay in the state you were in currently. You couldn’t even look at Fyodor without remembering that night. It didn’t help that his room was the exact location when it happened nor did it help that he had a habit of biting his fingers, drawing your attention to his lips way too easily. You couldn’t even avoid him. He would notice something was wrong and at this point, it felt like you were almost addicted to his presence. In an empty place with nobody around, with only the sound of your own breathing filling the void, it wasn’t easy to spend all your free time by yourself. You couldn’t even go outside without him (due to something related to his plan, he had said, but a part of you didn’t believe that).

It would have been easier to deal with staying in the same room with him if it was just daydreams, but memories were a completely different matter. It meant reality. And reality meant he also went through it. 

You stared at him from where you were huddled on his bed. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t focus. Every time you read a single line, your mind would drift to the memory of his lips again. Soft, gentle, and—

You wanted to hit yourself for your lack of self-control. 

Violet eyes met yours and you wanted to hit yourself again. It didn’t take a genius to guess that he noticed your blatant staring. His lips faintly curled up and his head tilted slightly, almost as if he was inviting you to come closer. You eyed him for an extra second before standing up. 

Screw it all. 

You already came this far, what was there to care about the nuances of it all? You were just going to live in the moment. Death could come for you at any moment. And there was also that quiet feeling inside you. The quiet feeling that told you that if Fyodor didn’t actually like you, he wouldn’t have allowed you to do the stuff you did. From what you know of him, he was a prideful man. A manipulative, distrustful man who was careful when it came to vulnerability. He was someone who simultaneously loved being in control and being surprised. A person many feared as a ‘demon’. And yet, there was something so innately soft about him. 

Gosh. You loved this man. 

“Fyodor.” You nestled yourself in his lap, feeling him freeze under you briefly before relaxing again. His arms wrapped around you, hands supporting your back. 

“What is it?”

Your eyes crinkled into crescents, a smile playing on your lips. “Should I die?”

Those words hadn’t come out of your mouth in a long time, not since he stopped giving you jobs to complete. Seeing him surprised was a gratifying sight you’d never be tired of, however, the moment only lasted a second. He quickly smoothed his own expression. 

You were half-expecting him to ask why or where such a question was coming from, but instead, he just answered, “No.”

You didn’t even know what to think. Was this unexpected or expected? Your feelings had always conflicted with each other. There were two sides within you whenever it came to a situation. Doubt and trust. Optimism and pessimism. Expecting more than just one thing. A delicate balance. 

“Then–” you paused. Dancing around the topic would only lead so far. He wasn't the type to make the first move, to take the first step. If you wanted something, you had to risk it, bare your heart in front of him and present it on top of a silver platter. You would have to give him the knife that could be plunged into your chest or nothing would happen. The everlasting dance would just continue. 

Your life before him had been a dull monochrome scheme. It was filled with shades of greys, all blending into each with the same similarity. They were different yet at the end of the day, they were but one and the same. Pain and joy. Tears and smiles. They meant nothing in the end, all part of a never-ending act. Champagne and party. Chandeliers and dances. Nothing could spark colours like he had. 

All it took was looking into his eyes, the colour of sangria, and a voice that spoke the most tempting words. He made you love and care, gave you fear and joy, and brought you emotions so foreign that you didn’t even know they were foreign. They were sensations you thought you knew but never actually did. When you walked within the glittering walls of high society, happiness meant smiling as you suffocated and sorrow meant words of pity without weight. They were all empty in the end—buckets and buckets of the dullest greys. 

Mirroring people’s emotions, fake tears and smiles, vipers in words and masks barely placed on—that was the world you were in before. Now, he showed you a world so bright and calm, filled with excitement and joy, yet so beautiful and tranquil. He opened a window and poured you new colours to paint with. 

Abilities. Crimes. And death.

A world in flames. And underground rats scurrying by.

Warmth. Tea. And cello melody.

Here, you continuously risked your life (before he placed you under some form of house arrest), tethering between the living and the dead, yet you never felt more alive. A purpose to live. A reality opened. Somewhere you escaped to. Somewhere you belonged to. 

Your hands brushed against his hair. It was soft to the touch and ticklish against your skin. You glanced at his face to weigh his reaction. When he didn’t show any signs of displeasure, you continued your action, gently curling your fingers into dark strands. He doesn’t move, watching, waiting. 

When you looked into his gaze, you saw one thing: home. A place to escape to. A place to belong to. 

You tucked a strand behind his ear before withdrawing your hands.

“Fedya.”

You were getting impatient. There was no way you would allow this dance to continue. If you went off from what you knew about this man, this whole time, he was probably just waiting for you to break. 

“I like you.”

You had already said it once before but the purpose was different. The last time you said those words, it was a catharsis, a breaking of a dam that could no longer hold on. This time, you were looking for an answer: rejection or acceptance.

Yes, last time, he kissed you back, but that could mean anything. As unlikely as it was, he could have been swept into the moment or was just indulging you. It could have meant nothing much to him. The line was blurred in between and you wanted a definite answer. You didn’t want to assume or overthink. You wanted something tangible to grasp on. 

“I know.”

Unwavering, you held his gaze. You knew he understood what you wanted. He was far from stupid. 

“You know that’s not the answer I was looking for.”

He smiled faintly. “And you already know the answer, don’t you?”

Indeed you did. 

You knew the type of person he was so you already had an inkling of what his answer was, but you still needed him to say it, to show you that your assumption was true. Right now, it felt too far away, too surreal, and you desperately needed it to be real, for irrefutable confirmation to clear all the doubts within you. 

—but you couldn’t say all of that so you just settled on a simpler alternative. “I want to hear it from your lips.”

“I see,” he said, one hand coming up to stroke your cheeks. 

You involuntarily shivered as the cold seeped into your skin, but you still found yourself leaning into his touch. He blinked leisurely as he watched your reaction and brought you closer to him. Your faces was barely touching. If you so much as lean in, your lips would meet. You weren’t sure if your heart could take such closeness. It was pounding against your ears and threatening to burst from its container. You couldn’t even move, frozen in place by his eyes. He was looking. Watching. Like he always did. 

Before you could make any move, he tilted your chin and closed the distance. His lips melted soft against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and a dizzying burst of emotions flooded into you. 

You would have thought that kissing him again would make the whole experience a lot less stressful on your heart but it turned out you were wrong. You would definitely need to kiss him a few more times before that actually happened. 

You pressed flush against him, hands reaching up and burying them into his hair. With your eyes closed, your other senses become a lot more noticeable. You could feel his hand against your cheek, his chipped nails brushing against your skin as they traveled to the back of your neck. His other arm was wrapped around your waist, supporting you as he pulled you further into him. 

Your mind was humming, a blank space of nothing but euphoria. Nothing mattered. Only him. The effect that he had on you was making you lose your grasp on reality. But you didn’t mind that at all. 

You parted for oxygen, eyes flickering open. His pupils were dilated and his gaze was soft. The gentle purple of it encaptured you wholly and completely. He looked at you with such affection you thought you were hallucinating. Again and again, you had to repeatedly tell yourself that this was him, the undeniably real, tangible him, not some made-up daydream in your head. 

“Is this answer enough, Любовь моя?”

Любовь моя. My love. 

The smile that came over you was uncontrolled. 

Undeniable, irrefutable confirmation for your traitorous mind. 

 “Yes,” you breathed, drunk on your affection for him, before closing the distance again. 

He was everything you wanted and everything you needed—colours and fireworks and everything nice. His heart was in your hold, cradled in your hands, pulsing against your fingers. Each moment with him was like satisfying a never-ending quench. Bubbling yet calm. Loud yet quiet. 

Day after day, week after week, the world continued to be filled with vivid colours. Seconds and minutes were weaved with hues you never could have comprehended back in your grey replica of reality. Sunset yellow and midnight blue. Twilight lavender and sunrise orange. The skies and clouds were painted vibrant and bright. Just as you were: a person who has their life coloured and lit up, brilliant and vivid.