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Staring into his eyes, I felt myself visibly recoil in his arms, not because of fear or disgust… But because I wondered how something so… Fragile, could exist in this world.
As I buried my nose in his neck, I could feel memories precious to me rush into my mind. That one time I nursed him back to health, how he refused to look at me and would flush for almost a week after he recovered, how we looked up at the sparkling night sky, the fresh sea breeze blowing against my cheek.
“Lena.”
I was quickly brought out of my stupor as Shin called my name.
“Y… Yes?”
I mumbled my response, my voice muffled by his skin as I nuzzled closer, refusing to move even an inch away.
Why did he have to ruin the moment by speaking? I could’ve stayed like this forever, just wrapped in his warmth, his arms around me like they were made to keep me here.
It was such a perfect spot, and yet he insisted on pulling me out of it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone soft but edged with that usual exasperation.
“Nothing,” I muttered, my words slurring slightly as I tightened my grip around him. “You’re warm, and I’m comfortable. Stop talking and let me enjoy this.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he said, though he didn’t make any effort to push me away.
“Maybe,” I mumbled, my cheek pressing against his shoulder. “But this is nice. And you’re not stopping me, so I think you like it too.”
I could practically hear him rolling his eyes, though the faint hitch in his breath betrayed him. He always tried so hard to act unaffected, but I knew better.
I'd known him for far too long to not be able to know what he was thinking
“You’re impossible, Lena.”
“And you’re too stiff,” I countered, shifting so I could rest more of my weight on him. “Relax. Let me stay like this a little longer. I’ve had a long day, and this is… comforting.”
Shin sighed, a resigned sound, but he adjusted slightly, pulling me closer.
Victory. I couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at my lips as I closed my eyes, breathing him in.
“If you fall asleep like this, I’m leaving you here,” he muttered, but there was no real threat in his voice.
“Liar,” I murmured, already feeling sleep tugging at me. “You’d never leave me.”
I felt myself being lifted before I could even argue, my arms instinctively tightening around Shin’s neck. He was always like this—annoyingly strong and endlessly stubborn, never giving me the chance to have my way completely.
“Shin,” I mumbled, half-heartedly trying to wriggle free. “I can walk, you know.”
“You’re practically a dead weight,” he replied, his voice as calm as ever. “Just stay still.”
Despite my protests, I didn’t put up much of a fight, letting him carry me into the living room. His steps were steady, his grip firm but gentle, and before I could get too comfortable again, he set me down—not on the couch, but directly onto his lap.
I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. “This is hardly any different.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes already wandering to the room around us.
The living room was quiet, save for the faint sound of the clock ticking on the wall. It wasn’t a large space, but it was ours. The cream-colored walls still had faint scuffs here and there, ones I remembered all too well.
There was a mark near the corner where Lena had knocked over a glass of wine during one of her rare, overconfident attempts to “decorate” the room. She’d insisted on moving the bookshelf by herself, determined to prove she didn’t need my help. Naturally, the result had been a minor disaster. I’d spent the next hour helping her scrub the carpet, all while she tried to laugh it off, her face flushed with embarrassment.
The couch we were sitting on—a deep, navy blue with slightly worn cushions—had been another point of contention. Lena had fallen in love with it the moment she saw it in the store, refusing to even consider any other option. I hadn’t seen the appeal then, but now, as I rested my hands on her waist, it felt like it belonged here. Like it belonged to us.
The coffee table in front of us had a faint scratch running along the edge. I’d made that during another one of Lena’s “bright ideas.” She’d suggested assembling the furniture ourselves to save money, ignoring my warnings about her lack of patience for instructions. Halfway through, she’d gotten frustrated, left me to finish it, and accidentally knocked a screwdriver off the table in the process.
Even the curtains—soft, light gray, swaying slightly in the evening breeze—had their own story. Lena had insisted on picking them out herself, claiming she had “a vision.”
When she brought them home, she realized they didn’t match anything else in the room. Her face when she admitted it had been priceless, though I’d reassured her they looked fine. Now, I couldn’t imagine the room without them.
Every detail had a memory attached, no matter how small. It wasn’t just a living room; it was a patchwork of moments, each one stitched together to create something uniquely ours. I let out a quiet sigh, my fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on Lena’s back as she settled against me.
“What’re you thinking about?” she asked, her voice muffled as she rested her head against my shoulder.
“Just… this place,” I said simply. “And how much trouble you’ve caused here.”
She snorted, though I could feel her smile. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I didn’t answer, but I knew she was right.
I couldn’t help but grin at his comment, leaning back just enough to look at him. His face was as calm and stoic as ever, but I’d spent enough time with him to catch the faintest hint of softness in his eyes.
“You love the trouble,” I teased, my voice light as I poked at his chest. “Admit it.”
He raised an eyebrow, not dignifying me with a response, which only made me laugh quietly. I shifted again, burrowing into him like a cat settling in the warmest spot in the house. His arms instinctively tightened around me, and I let out a contented sigh.
This place, this home we’d built together, was more than just walls and furniture. It was a reflection of us—of our shared struggles, our victories, and all the little moments in between. Each scuff and scratch, each imperfection, was a testament to how far we’d come.
But none of it mattered as much as the man holding me now.
He didn’t speak much, and he rarely showed how deeply he felt, but I knew. I felt it in every touch, in the way he let me cling to him like this without a word of complaint. It was in the way he’d carried me here, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“You’re mine, you know,” I murmured, not even bothering to lift my head.
“Am I?” His voice was quiet, almost teasing, but I could feel the truth behind it.
“Yes,” I said firmly, wrapping my arms tighter around him. “You’ve always been mine.”
I felt more than heard the soft chuckle that escaped him, and I smiled to myself, closing my eyes.
Here, with him in my arms, and I, in his. I know this is where I belong. Him, my Eternal Reaper, and I, his humble queen stained in blood.