𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄, like the ocean just after sunset, where the last few traces of gold sink beneath the surface, turning into something deeper, something heavier. his arm wraps around her frame, pulling her in, and ahra feels herself get swept up in the current. she feels herself gasp for air as she breaks the surface one last time, racing thoughts that had been clawing towards the light suddenly settling, finding herself submerged, surrounded, like her body was suddenly anchored and drifting towards the ocean floor. there's a humming underneath her skin, centering at her pinky where the flesh pulses as she sinks deeper down. it's warm, it's glowing, like sunlight filtering through water, and she feels her breath catch, a weightless sensation settling her stomach, but it's gone before she has a chance to name it.
she wishes, selfishly, hurriedly, in the seconds he pulls her even closer, tucks her against his side — his body bathed in golden light, all things tall, solid, and unwavering — that the sensation would linger against her skin, swallow her whole and pull her down to the depths, where it would leave no room for insecurity, for dread, for the apprehension pricking at her skin at the thought of a camera shutter sounding as she stood in her bedroom.
"you promise?" the words leave her lips in a quiver, eyes searching his, vulnerable, like she's aching to be reassured, aching to feel safe when it feels like she's the furthest thing from it. he looks at her with low, steady heat, like he's certain that nothing will happen while he's with her, and she feels fragile, like glass, perhaps from the first-time resonance, perhaps from being touch-starved, perhaps from feeling like she has no choice but to be strong when all she wanted to do was hide underneath the covers. but you can't hide there, can you? the devil chimes in, reminding her the startling truth of the situation. the realization has the carefully curated façade cracking, softly, slowly, spurred on by the warmth of his smile and the reassuring words leaving his lips.
the trembling arms that had been wrapped around herself fall to her sides, her one fist curving, tethering itself in the material of his shirt like he was the anchor keeping her steady amongst the waves of fear washing over her — her mind flits to the idea of kiho not staying with her, and where she stands alone in her hallway, listening for someone else's breathing, looking over her shoulder every time she walked into a room. she could lie, could insist that she would be fine on her own, but her heart lodges itself in her throat at the idea of someone looming over her while she slept, someone crawling into bed with her when she was sleeping, tucking themselves in beside her frame like kiho was now, camera pressed close enough to her face that they would be able to capture the essence of her most vulnerable moments.
"you'd really do that?" she asks gently, mirroring the softness of his voice, the notion that he's whispering making her eyes flicker around them for the briefest of seconds before returning to his own. "it sounds really nice," she admits, soft, sincere, leaning into him like his presence is the only thing keeping the demons at bay. "i would hate for you to not sleep though. you've been working so hard, you need some rest too," her heart flutters again, pinky finger pulsating as she is enveloped by kiho's warmth, the angel on her shoulder reminding her he is safe, he is secure, and he is the person with whom she can entrust her fragility with. something in her ribcage sings at the idea, something warm and hopeful, like she's understood in a way she doesn't need to explain. kiho has always had a way of making her feel like her guard can soften without consequence. "maybe we can take turns being on watch?" she tries to return to the light, because his smile is contagious, and ahra can't help but return it, feeling flightless, feeling like she's turning towards the sun, completely unaware of the dark figure lurking in the shadows just up ahead.
"i promise."
the words leave his lips like a prayer, eyes finding hers, unwavering and sure. the darkness hides so many things, but it doesn't hide the surety in kiho’s voice, doesn't hide the squeeze of his arm that tells her everything will be okay. the look in her eyes is addictive — the way her pupils are blown, how her eyebrows furrow so close to one another that she looks on the verge of crying if he doesn't tell her what she needs to hear. it feeds his curiosity about just how far he could push this: what letters in the mail about what she wore that day would do to her psyche, things inside her apartment left in blatantly incorrect locations, stones to her window, fake text messages to kiho warning himself to stay away from her if he knew what was good for him?
he can feel how her fist has moved to his shirt, grasping it in pure desperation in need of his proximity. this was the same girl that just a few years ago he'd only been able to share the proximity of from pre-sale ticket seats in the front row that she'd never taken notice of him in to transient bows in corporate hallways when the universe was kind enough to allow their schedules to overlap, even for just those few seconds.
but here she was now — defenseless to the fear that was caging her in, susceptible to succumbing to it at even the smallest things that didn't sit right with her. she would need to believe that everything kiho was doing was to protect her from the danger of the scary world that was inevitably out to get her — and he was. because she was the center of his universe, his goddess in all of her purest and most perfect forms — she could do no wrong in his eyes. and he could do no right, so he could rationalize to himself that he was exactly what she needed.
"of course i would," he murmurs, leaning down slightly to whisper it in her ear; she smells like ultraviolet and marbled cream and everything that is good in the world and wishes he could take her somewhere everlasting, somewhere where her career wouldn't matter, a place somewhere that doesn't demand her attention from anywhere else. somewhere he doesn't have to be like this.
her concern for him even when she’s in this state makes him chuckle, the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear. "you don’t have to worry about me, ahra-yah," they've never discussed actually dropping honorifics before, but seizes the moment of her vulnerability to break that last sheet of ice separating them. "just consider me yours for the taking."
his fated mark is burning now, but feels so good — a sensation he didn’t expect would be felt so strongly, and also one that feels borderline euphoric — kiho wonders momentarily if ahra has felt this before with somebody else. wonders if she's ever bothered to learn his hex code like the way he learned hers half a decade ago.
it almost pulls him out of the moment and go off script, almost forgets the time — until the flash and accompanied sound of a smartphone's camera shutter reminds him of the time. exactly on time.
"hey," kiho barks to him, feigning surprise and immediately turns his back to the stranger, just as they'd discussed everything would play out from that moment forward: he'd start by shielding ahra as a way to protect her from getting any pictures taken; would tell her to go wait behind a few parked cars in the lot while he approached the 'sasaeng' about his photos and demand he delete them, raising his voice just loud enough for ahra to hear, but not assertive enough to cause an actual disturbance in the apartment complex. the ‘sasaeng’ would exchange a few words with kiho that were sent as an encrypted script to him beforehand — and while it was made to seem from afar that kiho was demanding pictures of ahra's apartment be deleted from their phone, kiho would pay him the rest of what he was owed outside his deposit in cash. the 'sasaeng' would then leave, and kiho would come back to ahra again, jaw clenched and hands balled into tight fists. he runs a hand through his hair, turning to look back over his shoulder again until the stranger had clearly left the lot.
"ahra-yah," he says, immediately falling back into step of the protector role he was in before the encounter. kiho looks at her with all of the attention in the world and puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her. he wants her to break. "ahra-yah," he repeats again like he’s supposed to. "hey. deep breath. i'm here. he's gone. i'm not going to let anybody hurt you. he's gone."
a practiced pause.
"ahra-yah?"
