‧₊˚ ┊ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ: @tenderbeck
[ #LoveandDeepspace #Zayne ]
ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ, ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴀʀᴅɪᴏʟᴏɢɪsᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴀᴋsᴏ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ⁻ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴsʜᴀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ. ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇᴛs ʜɪs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs sʟɪᴘ, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄᴀʟᴍ, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇ's sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ. ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ ɪs ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴄʜᴏʀs ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ's ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ. ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴀꜰᴇ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ.
You shut the door behind you with a quiet click. Slipping off your shoes, you step into the stillness of your apartment, eager to shed the weight of the outside world and simply be alone. Lately, work is taking a toll on you. You tell yourself it’s the lack of sleep or the creeping self-doubt that keeps whispering in your ear – but for the past weeks, it feels like everything you touch turns to failure. And it’s no longer a feeling. Deep down, you’re convinced: you are doing everything wrong – being late for work, missing report deadlines, and taking multiple hits in battles against low-rank Wanderers.
Back in your student days, you always knew that being a hunter wasn’t meant to be easy. However, every setback, every challenge, only fueled your determination to protect the city you love and the people in it. There was nothing else you’d rather do – you loved, and still love, your job with everything you have. So why the change of heart?
Defeated, you drag your aching body to the bedroom. You don’t even bother removing your uniform; the fatigue is too heavy. The moment your body sinks into the mattress, a wave of release washes over you – followed almost immediately by a flood of buried worries. Your eyes sting with the threat of tears. You roll onto your back and stare blankly at the ceiling as warm tears begin to slide down your cheeks – each one carrying a quiet ache you haven’t dared to voice in far too long. You can’t stop the spiral of doubt. Every decision you’ve ever made feels questionable now, and every path you didn’t take looms larger in your mind. Part of you regrets not choosing a simpler, quieter life – one where keeping food on the table comes with less torment.
You sigh, but it catches in your throat – a tight, painful knot of regret, exhaustion, and disappointment. You try to take a deep breath, once, twice, but each time you exhale, it breaks into a sob. Covering your face with your hands, you try to hide from yourself, ashamed even in the company of your own shadow.
Suddenly, you hear the front door open – then shut.
In the chaos of your thoughts, you completely forgot that Zayne was coming home earlier today. Panic rushes through you. He can’t see you like this, red-eyed from crying, still in your hunter’s uniform, unraveling at the seams. You are a wreck, and the last thing Zayne needs after his week of long shifts at the hospital is another burden. He already gives so much of himself to others; you refuse to become another weight on his shoulders.
You quickly sit up in bed as footsteps echo down the hall.
“Darling, are you home yet?”
His voice, warm and familiar, calls out from the other side of the wall.
Heart pounding, you dart into the en suite bathroom and shut the door behind you with a soft but hurried slam. The lock clicks into place. You press your back against the door, as if holding in the emotions trying to spill out all over again – hiding them from the person you love the most. Because if Zayne sees you like this… if he knows you’ve been crying, it will break his heart. And that thought hurts more than anything else.
Zayne always carries himself with a composed, almost distant air – a consummate professional, the calm and calculating cardiologist from Akso Hospital. To everyone else, he is precise, untouchable. But not with you. With you, he’s different. With you, he is the warmth of sunlight on a cold morning – quietly comforting, effortlessly kind. With you, he lets his guard down.
“I’m just going to take a shower.”
You call out, trying to steady your voice, to hide the strain behind something casual.
Zayne knows you’ve been working longer hours; he knows the spark that once lit your work is flickering. He’s always been observant, especially with you. But you’ve never admitted how deeply disappointed you’ve become in yourself. You’ve blamed exhaustion, shrugging it off because you don’t have the time to process everything that is weighing on your heart.
You hear Zayne’s footsteps approaching the bathroom door. As if by instinct, you reach for the shower handle and turn it on, hoping the sound of the running water muffles your thoughts just for a moment. Just until you collect yourself – until the pressure in your throat eases, that aching scream curled inside your chest no longer on the verge of breaking free.
Zayne’s voice comes gently through the door.
“Yes. Of course, my love. I just need a shower. Today’s mission took the best of me.”
You force a smile through the tears still tracing silent paths down your cheeks, as if the act alone might convince you that everything is fine.
“You left your towel out here. Aren’t you going to need it to dry off”?
Of course you did. Of course, you forgot your towel – of all moments, it has to be now, when the last thing you want is for Zayne to see you like this.
You turn off the water, taking a slow, deep breath. As you lift your gaze to the mirror, what’s staring back at you doesn’t feel familiar. Your face – drained of color, framed by deep, shadowed circles beneath your eyes – looks like a ghost of the person you once were. For the first time, you see how far you’ve gone.
You crack the bathroom door open just slightly – just enough to slip your hand through and take the towel from Zayne without revealing too much. However, as you reach out, the door swings open in one smooth motion.
Startled, you freeze, eyes wide as you stare at him. Zayne stands in front of you, his expression calm yet laced with concern.
“The clean towels are in the bathroom’s cabinet.”
He whispers as his mind tries to understand the meaning behind all of this.
Zayne’s voice isn’t accusatory. It holds no anger – just quiet confusion and genuine worry.
You can’t look away. Your gaze locks with his hazel, soft green eyes. His intense stare carries a quiet depth, making you feel seen down to your soul. Though you open your mouth to respond, no words come. Your mind scrambles for an excuse, anything to explain yourself. Yet it feels hollow, your thoughts abandoning you entirely. And then, without warning, the tears begin again. Silent at first, spilling freely down your cheeks, with no sign of stopping.
You collapse to your knees, clutching Zayne’s arms, dragging him down with you, desperate for even the smallest anchor – afraid that if you let go, you might vanish into the floor. Tears pour from your eyes like a storm-swollen river, rushing out with no clear direction, only the need to escape. Your forehead presses against his chest, as his arms wrap around you, shielding you from the world as if even the air might shatter you. His heartbeat is calm but strong, a quiet lullaby that resonates with your own, gently reminding you that it no longer beats alone. Your cries rise from within, raw and primal – more screams than sobs, like the torture wail of a soul caged in silence for centuries. Weeks of tension, fatigue, and silent suffering break loose all at once, flooding through you indefinitely.
You lose track of time, crumpled on the floor. Your knees throb from the impact against the wooden floor, your nails curl into Zayne’s shirt as though you can hold yourself together by gripping him hard enough. Your body trembles uncontrollably, too frail to move, too broken to do anything but cry.
Zayne doesn’t say a word. He simply holds you silently. He strokes the back of your head, fingertips gentle as they move through your hair, massaging your scalp with a tenderness that only makes the ache inside you worse. His quiet comfort only deepens your sobs, pulling you closer, anchoring you in his warmth. How can someone so kind, so good, care so much for someone like you? You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him.
Zayne rests his chin on top of your head. He isn’t going anywhere – not until you’re ready to let go.
Eventually, your sobs begin to slow. You focus on steadying your breath, shaky and uneven as silent tears trace down your face. A pounding headache blooms behind your eyes – crying and screaming drains what little energy you have left. Leaving you empty.
The words break through the fog in your mind, faint but certain. They make you jolt. Stunned, you look up at Zayne, his shirt soaked with your tears, your shame, your sorrow. Looking at his face sends a sharp ache through your already fragile heart, like a knife digging deeper, then twisting, widening the wound that hasn’t ever truly healed.
“I-I’m sorry you have to see me like… like this.”
You whisper through hiccups, the remnants of your hurt. Your voice is small.
“I don’t want to worry you.”
Your eyes start watering again, and you feel pathetic as Zayne looks at you.
“Worrying was on my job application as your boyfriend. No need to overthink that now.”
His voice is gentle and soft as velvet. You let out a breathy giggle, the response catches you off guard. His dry humor was one of the things that made you fall in love with Zayne at first. And even in your frantic state, comfort envelops you like a warm blanket. Around Zayne, you always feel safe.
He lifts you, fluffs up the pillows, and lays you in bed. Without saying a word, Zayne leaves the room to pick up a glass of water and a painkiller for your headache. Although Zayne is a very accomplished doctor, it always amazes you how he persistently seems to know what you need, without you having to tell him. He hands it to you as he sits down on the bed.
With your mind racing a hundred miles a minute, you barely register how chapped your lips have become or how your head feels like it’s been through a warzone. You place the painkiller on your tongue and down the entire glass of water, draining it dry. Handing the empty cup to Zayne, and as if you two are speaking telepathically, he rises from the bed and refills it. You drink the second glass in one long gulp, this time setting it on the bedside table.
You wrap your arms around your knees and stare blankly at the foot of the bed. You don’t look at Zayne; you’re too embarrassed to face him because you’re too ashamed of having caused a scene in front of him, spilling out all your emotions like a storm.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, at least not now. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
He says, and every word is like that knife again, twisting and twisting.
You stop, feeling your body trembling again. You hide your face in your thighs, feeling even more ashamed of how tough it is to talk about your worries and hardships with your boyfriend, the person who will always understand and will always be by your side. You raise your head, taking a deep breath.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t want to be a burden when you already have so much on your shoulders.”
Tears start filling your eyes again. Automatically, Zayne moves closer to you and hugs you once more. This time, you hug him back, holding on to him as tightly as your body lets you.
“You could never be a burden to me. You’re quite the opposite, actually.”
You freeze, your breath caught in your throat. The warmth of his arms around you, the calm steadiness of his heartbeat beneath your ear… It all feels too tender, too undeserved. Before you collect your thoughts to say something, Zayne speaks again.
“You are what I look forward to every day. When I’m at work, I sit in my office wishing I could see you for just a few minutes on my busiest days. When I have to stay all night in the hospital, all I can think about is if you got home safely, if you had dinner, and if you are sleeping peacefully. I dread every second that I can’t be with you. So…if anything, the last thing you are is a burden to me.”
Zayne pulls back just enough to look at you; his eyes are gentle but unwavering.
“You ground me. You’re the reason I do what I do. Even on the worst days, when everything feels like it’s unravelling, just knowing you’re here, that you exist… it brings me peace.”
You blink rapidly, unable to stop the new tears from making their way down your face.
“But I’m falling apart, Zayne. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
“I know. But you don’t have to face that alone.”
He brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away your tears.
“But…but I don’t know how to fix it. What if it can’t be fixed? What if I can’t be fixed?”
“You don’t have to know how to fix it. Not right now. You are allowed to fall apart sometimes. That doesn’t mean things can’t be fixed. It doesn’t make you weak… it makes you human. Let me be here for you. Let me carry some of this with you.”
Something inside you cracks open at his words – not in a painful way, but like sunlight breaking through a storm. Zayne presses his forehead to yours, the smallest sob catching in your throat, and this time it’s not from pain, but from relief.
You take a deep breath once more, your voice barely a whisper.
And for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe again.
⟢ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3
