𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐙 kafka x fem!reader
one dance to celebrate the last, a final moment to honor a love that cannot be.
tags: 1.3k, violence, death, lots of angst
with a firm pull of the trigger, the final bullet of your gun embedded itself on the head of your last remaining opponent.
in the silence of the grand corridor, your bloodied body slouched from fatigue as you heave the sigh you’ve been withholding ever since you entered the large residence. from the near distance you can faintly hear the sounds of classical music. a distinct contrast from the deafening sound of your pounding heart.
you steel yourself and head towards the ginormous wooden doors. even through your blurring vision, you can still make out the intricate patterns of glimmering gold and elegant flowers.
you enter the hall and suddenly the prowling grasps of death were replaced by the lively air permeating the ballroom. the lifeless guards nowhere in sight and instead your vision was filled with lively guests, each presence commanding sophistication and grace. no more was the smell of metallic blood, just the aroma of champagne and expensive perfume.
even though your suit was soaked with blood from head to toe and blood drips from every step you take, nobody batted an eye your way. you take it as a sign to head to the middle of the vast room.
you down a glass or two of expensive wine and the taste of iron and lavish flavor burst on your tongue. and before you know it, you’re under the biggest and brightest chandelier in the center. where she agreed to meet you.
you don’t look around, just silently tuck your gun away. she’s here and she’ll come when she deems its the right time to do so. after all, she has her way of doing things.
it didn’t take long for her to show herself. you crane your head down from staring directly at the light of the chandelier and tilt it sideways. the side of your face faces your left back where she stood in all her glory. but your eyes never left the gold ornament decorated with pretty lights.
“would you do me the honor of having this dance?” the alluring voice drowned your boisterous heart beats and the calm music. purple locks and purple eyes graced your sight, what a delight.
the question goes unanswered verbally and she takes your callous hands with her equally hardened ones, the dried up blood staining her freshly manicured yet calloused fingertips. the moment your skin met you hear the music in the background slowly changing from an orchestra to a string quintet, like a melody touching another.
you recognized it from the sound of the first note alone. but it didn’t matter for when kafka is around she is the only thing your senses can focus on.
your eyes can only see the little cuts littering her face that the gods, if they were real, rook tike sculpting. ears that can only register her honey voice and her touch is the only thing you are allowed to feel when she is near.
she’s irresistible and she knows it, you doubt you’re capable of refusing her. thus, the reason for your presence at this moment.
a few months prior, a crow delivered a fancy letter while you were on the middle of a mission. you would’ve mistaken it for anything else but the shade of the lipstick mark sealing the envelope was one too familiar.
you didn’t open it until much later to the day where you are in the privacy of the hotel you were staying at. inside the envelope was not a letter but a music score, filled with intricate notes and symphonies. above the rows of staff read “last dance, composed by kafka, yours truly” in delicate handwriting.
it took you a while to decode the hidden message inside the beautiful harmony, countless of hours playing the melody until it’s branded to your brain and you can hear it while you dream. your knowledge of music wasn’t that great but you can perfectly play this symphony on a violin, where it was intended to be played.
“how did you like my present? i thought a lot about it, you know,” kafka smiled at you as you both sway your bodies to the music she gifted you. both of you paint a moment that couldn’t be more immaculate.
“it was perfect. i’m confident i can play it better than the ones onstage,” you spit out, it’s been a few hours since you last spoke and you feel the blood bubbling up your throat. kafka laughed at your remark and spun you, her hands nor her eyes never leaving yours.
“i didn’t think you would actually show up,” you face her after twisting your bodies, to catch a glimpse of her eyes holding an emotions you have yet seen. something from her voice made you think that she was hoping you wouldn’t be here but you ignore it. there was no point in dwelling, you’ve had enough time doing so and your final choice was to be here.
“you wound me. you underestimate my devotion, kafka,” you mutter against her painted lips as you press your bodies close enough. at the end of the day, it all boils down to your devotion to the woman in front of you.
in your peripheral vision, you notice how the ballroom is empty. the guests with their fancy ties and extravagant gowns moved away one by one until only you and kafka were the only ones dancing. they form a crowd at the sidelines observing the scene before them silently, no hushed whispers and idle chat. just silence, only the sounds of your footsteps and the quintet reverberated the halls.
you feel their eyes following the both of you, as you weave through the empty and vast ballroom. but deep down you are aware that their focus is on you alone. your smile a little wider.
kafka dips you. her arms catching your waist and her face ends up facing your neck. she whispers in a hot breath before bringing back up, “your devotion blesses and curse me, my love.”
this time it was you dipped her except your face is above hers, giving you a full view of her face and her locks suspended in the air from above, “it’s your reward for loving me and your curse for making me love you.”
as you help her up, you can’t help but recognize the familiar ominous sound of music present in the latter piece of kafka’s composition. the music is ending soon and so is your time with kafka.
but you were always daring enough to desire more of her.
“i shall inherit your love and devotion until my last breath. it will be my heaviest burden and my most prized possession,” she caresses your face, leaving no skin untouched by her palms while her other hand pulls you to her.
you spend the last remaining notes kissing. in these moments, only the sound of her gift, the darkness and the feel of her soft lips are your sole purpose.
the final note rung throughout the room and echoed through your ears with finality. your lips part away but her held only became tighter and closer. for a moment, kafka wouldn’t budge when you try to inch yourself away but her resistance was fleeting and the next second her skin was no longer touching yours. you heave a breath like oxygen was removed from your body.
“i love you, kafka” you say through the painful breaths. by now, you were seeing blacks in the corners of your vision and even the light of the chandelier was a little dimmer.
kafka looks at you one last time before turning away. not before pausing and saying, “i know.”
you smile even though she couldn’t see and watch as her figure slowly gets swallowed by the crowd and disappearing completely.
as her shadow fades and kafka couldn’t be found anymore. the guests, whose eyes never left your figure, swiftly moved in sync. in the blink of an eye, thousands of guns, varying in sizes and models, are pointed at your already dying figure.
one foot in front of the other, her boots digging through the snow filled pavement but no matter how much kafka distance herself from the building, she was unable to escape the deafening sounds of gunshots.
in a way, her heart yearned for the sounds to never cease because of the meaning it symbolizes. but at she thought that, the sounds stopped.
kafka’s eyes twitched and her eyebrows narrow yet her hands clenched only to unclenched and repeat the same pattern.
her walk forward was lonely. with no sounds to accompany her. for she left all her music with you.
2087
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