An Anemone Flower
Fandom: Purple Hyacinth (Webtoon)
Pairing: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Warning: Angst, minor smut
Summary: Kieran doesn't know how he wound up in a relationship with Lauren, but he does know he needs to end it...eventually. A different take on the ending of the factory arc.
Glass Factory
Lauren's face was so close that Kieran could see the texture of her golden irises. Lately, those eyes felt more like a prison searchlight, hostile and accusatory each time their gaze landed on him. But now they reminded him of the sun- the warm kind you opened your window to and breathed in after a long winter.
Lauren smiled weakly at him.
"I know our partnership is a match made in hell, but I’m glad that it was you,” she said.
Despite the loud thumping of his heart, Kieran's chuckle was genuine.
"I'm glad I didn't kill you that night too," he said. “This isn't the way I imagined going, but there are worse people to die with."
His smile fell when he looked at her face glistening with sweat. There was still some time left before the bomb would go off and Kieran wondered if she would make it that long. It was selfish, but he did not want to spend his final moments alone.
Gently, he pulled her to him and stroked her hair. His face warmed when she nuzzled into his chest, and he glanced down at his hand still firmly in her clasp.
There is no point in restraint if we're going to die.
He turned his hand over to interlock their fingers. Looking down at the red covering her glove, he could not help comparing it to the first time they had grasped the other’s bleeding hand.
“Lauren, if this is the end, I have to tell you that I…” He paused and one gold eye peered sleepily up at him. “I’m thankful for you too. Life makes a bit more sense since I’ve met you.”
To both of their surprise, there were tears in his eyes. They did not fall, and Lauren watched a sheen form over the blue. She did not think about what she was doing when she leaned forward to kiss his eyelids and then trail her lips down the wet path on his cheek. Kieran inhaled and Lauren paused, her lips salty and wet against his skin. But instead of moving away, she ran her lips and the tips of her nose across his stubble, taking in his scent. Their eyes closed, and their lips met. It was just a soft touch, but one which left them both shivering and hungry. They kissed again, shyly, and again, this time with more pressure, and then again and again and again. Their lips curled against each other before Lauren opened her mouth and Kieran met her tongue with his own. Kieran made a deep, guttural noise that seemed to come from deep in his chest.
He already knew that Lauren made him feel human, but what was this feeling? He wanted piles of her burying him alive. He wanted to swallow her whole or plunge inside her to be consumed.
They paused to take a breath. Their gazes met, bewildered but already leaning forward again.
There were six minutes left on the timer.
…
Her whole body ached.
Lauren attempted to turn onto her side only for her left arm to strain and protest.
“Easy,” a soft voice instructed her. Lauren opened her eyes and was immediately assaulted by the sun’s blinding rays. She hissed. A moment passed before the swirl of colors she saw coalesced into the recognizable face.
“Kym,” Lauren breathed. Kym and Will's were informs were damp and rumpled; their eyes were red and sunken. Lauren had never seen either of them look so tried, though she supposed they had never seen her so injured either.
Will held out a cup to her, placing the straw between Lauren’s dry lips. Lauren was so desperate for water, that she sucked too hard and immediately coughed.
“Easy,” Kym said again. Will was quiet, but his jaw clenched as he waited for the coughing to stop.
“Everyone else is too preoccupied to notice, or even care, but it’s strange how you lost your jacket, mask, and badge,” he said once she had finished drinking.
Even in her confused state, Lauren flinched. She had never heard Will use such a cutting tone before.
Kym gently placed her hand on his knee. “Could you check on Randall?” she asked. Her voice was unusually soft, and Will wordlessly disappeared behind the curtains surrounding her bed. Kym turned back to Lauren. “We found you with some of the other wounded officers. No one seems to remember you arriving at the scene or being shot, but there was so much commotion it’s not surprising.”
Lauren’s blood ran cold. Where was Kieran? Had he stripped her of her disguise and left her to be found by the APD? What of his injuries? Was he alive?
A stifled sob came from Lauren’s lips, and she tried to hide her face in her pillow. Kym had already cried a great deal in the past few hours, but seeing the misery on Lauren's face, she cried again. “It going to be ok, Lauren,” she said. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”
When Lauren was released from the hospital a week later, Tristan drove her home, trying his best to be upbeat.
“Your time off may do you some good. You could read, or cook, or go on walks…”
Lauren smiled, trying to ease his obvious anxiety. That night, Lucille made spaghetti with meatballs, spinach, and mushrooms- a meal that could be eaten with one hand and contained plenty of protein and iron.
“You need to build up your strength,” Lucille had said. She gave Lauren water and slapped her hand away when she reached for the wine bottle.
“Will and Kym couldn’t make it tonight?” Tristan asked.
Lauren shook her head. “No, they’ve been really busy since the factory blew up.”
At least, that was Kym’s reason. Will had not responded.
“He went on medical leave,” Kym had told her. “I don’t know the details, but I know what happened at the factory left him deeply disturbed.”
Lauren sat up at these words, but contrary to what her adrenaline levels demanded, her body folded weakly. Kym helped her lay back.
“I think he needs some time alone,” Kym said. Lauren wanted to scream.
Alone? How is he supposed to defend himself alone? I’ve been by his side his entire life. I should be with him now!
But she knew that whatever plagued Will now she could not fight off like the kids at the playground. This was something he needed to do on his own.
But why won’t he speak to me!
Kym did not know either. She tried to assure Lauren that it was just temporary, but this explanation did not satisfy her. The fact that Will had never shown anything close to this level of resentment did not make her feel better.
To make matters worse, Lauren kept seeing him. He appeared in her dreams and the shadows she stared at when she could not sleep at night. She occasionally woke during the night, panting, with vague memories of his skin and breath lighting a delicious heat between her thighs. During the day, she saw flashes of his dark hair and his tall form weaving through groups of doctors or laying on another patient’s bed. She heard his voice- just a whisper in the din. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what his voice sounded like. She knew it was deep, but how deep exactly? Deeper than Will’s, but also more likely to be full of mirth, which crinkled his blue eyes.
Since when did she long for him? Since when did she crave him like food? Since when did his absence hurt her? If not for Kym’s hand firmly holding her own, Lauren would have sunk deep into an abyss.
And Lauren was done sinking. She snuck out that night. It took her twice as long as it would normally, but she eventually made it to the cave.
“Kieran?” she said.
It was pitch black. Lauren reached into her pocket and struck a match. For a moment, she saw the torch on the wall before the light went out with a hiss. Grappling in the dark, she lit it and waved it before her.
"Kieran?" Her voice faintly echoed. As far as she could tell, the furniture remained but Kieran was gone.
Something settled over her. Lauren felt like she was choking; like something was cutting off her air. She gasped and a strange cry, like a wounded animal, came from her mouth. She sucked air into her lungs and screamed. She had been bedridden for a week with nothing but a hospital curtain for privacy, and she felt the restlessness stir within her, the frustration of being so exposed yet alone. She screamed again, getting louder and louder and louder each time, and the sound returned to her as if the cave was screaming too.
And then silence. Lauren coughed. Her throat burned but she opened her mouth again. No sound came.
She sunk to the ground and clawed at the dirt. There was something in her head, loudly pounding against the walls of her skull, and she let it drop between her knees. The torchlight had gone out and after a moment she picked herself up, knowing she should leave but not wanting to. She paused outside on the ledge just below the waterfall, feeling small underneath its massive size and the all-consuming roar of the water. Lauren moved further into the cool mist that caressed every part of her until she sees where about fifteen meters down, the falls met the river- a torrent that would surely kill her.
But as she contemplated this, Lauren heard a deep voice whisper her name.
Despite the shroud of mist separating them, Lauren knew the tall figure on the other side of the ledge was Kieran. He moved through the curling vapor as if he was pushing past long gossamers draped from the ceiling. His eyes traveled from her own, around her face, and down her body. Lauren felt each part warm as if his gaze contained fire.
"Lauren," he whispered again. His hand flexed like he was unsure of touching her.
Lauren tentatively let her fingers brush against him before laying her palm against his chest. She let it travel and cupped his face. His eyes closed and his lips parted while his hands gently clutched her waist.
“Lauren,” he breathed. She knew what he wanted to say. When they had sunk deep in the other’s embrace, they had thought that they were going to die. What did it mean now that they were still alive?
It would be safer to forget it happened. Even if the entire city believed Lune was dead, Kieran was still the Purple Hyacinth. Their partnership was not just a match made in hell, but one destined to end there as well.
But they still leaned forward to press their lips together. There was no rush this time, no bomb ticking in the room. They were at peace-as if the falls were a protective barrier separating them from the rest of the world. Time did not exist. Even they did not exist. Nothing mattered, so they did not resist the pull.
“Lauren,” Kieran said. “I love you.”
Lauren was surprised by how unsurprised she was by his confession. It was as if she had always known.
“Show me,” she said.
…
He needed to be quiet.
He wanted to be loud.
Although her hands were calloused, the rest of Lauren’s skin was surprisingly soft. And she was so warm. Kieran had never been so hot before in his life. He felt like he was having a fever dream, palming Lauren’s breasts, and sucking on the flesh of her inner thigh. And Lauren was enjoying it. She let out a strangled moan that made him painfully hard and tangled her hands in his hair.
But after the endorphins subsided, the reality of the situation set in. He just had sex with Lauren Sinclair. Lauren had sex with him. Did she like him? It did not matter. This was dangerous.
When Lauren woke up, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed. “I’m sorry,” he said. She blinked up at him with those golden eyes. “This was wrong. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Lauren brought the blanket up to cover her naked chest. “You were probably thinking that you love me.”
“I don’t.”
The words came out before he could stop them. Kieran cringed and waited for her to tell him off, but to his surprise she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I know why you’re worried, but we’ll figure it out.”
Kieran’s jaw tightened as she pressed her naked breasts into his back.
“The Leader isn’t going to give me time to ‘figure it out.’”
Her grip on him tightened. “That man killed my parents and blew up my friend. I’m not letting him take you too.”
“Lauren,” Kieran pleaded. “He killed my family. I can’t watch you die as well.”
Lauren’s eyes widened at the revelation. “I’m sorry,” she said. After a moment she asked, “How old were you?”
Kieran shrugged. “I was nine or ten when my sister died. She was the last one left.”
Lauren stroked his arm and she felt so good that he could not resist the urge to lean into her. He was not used to talking about his sister- he did not have anyone to talk about her with- and merely mentioning her exhausted him. So, when Lauren asked him to tell her more, he did.
“Her name was Diana. She was only two years older than me, but she was bossy and always acted like she was my mother.” He chuckled. “She ran errands for the Scythe. She didn’t want me involved. But she got TB, and they agreed to pay for treatment if I joined. She died anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” Lauren whispered. She kissed his shoulder. Kieran groaned, his fingers skimming the skin of her waist, but then he abruptly extricated himself from her grip. She called after him and he hesitated for a moment, before wordlessly fleeing the cave.
That was the first time it happened.
…
The second time it happened, she came to see him in the archives. Kieran had not seen her in days and was weak to her power. One kiss escalated until Lauren got on her knees and he thought he had died. There was no alternative explanation for why he was gripping a desk in the back of the archives, thrusting into Lauren Sinclair’s mouth.
When he looked at her face, turned almost as red as her hair, he wanted to either push her away or test just how red she could get. It disturbed him. Being an assassin requires one to have complete control over the mind and body- a mere moment of hesitation could mean death.
But Kieran had no control when it came to Lauren. His body reacted to her without his permission. His mind became less clear. His loins stiffened. His heart rate increased (he timed it).
Not to mention he put her in danger. At the glass factory he had the excuse that he thought they were going to die, but everything after that was pure, unbridled selfishness. He should have turned around when he saw her at the entrance of the cave. He was an idiot for confessing his feelings. Sleeping with her was a monumental mistake.
“Lauren, this is dangerous,” he said softly as they fixed their clothing.
“I know,” she told him. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I thought about it and decided you were worth the risk.
Kieran’s heart was pounding. “If I were a better person, I’d push you away.”
“You tried. But you can only resist for so long.”
“I’ve killed so many people.”
Lauren fiddled with the button on his shirt. “We do what we must to survive. I’m not saying it’s good or okay, or even that it’s excusable. But how can I judge the decisions you made when my parents were part of what limited your options?”
A last-ditch effort. “I can’t tell a desert fork from a regular one.”
“They both get the job done.”
“I’ve never been to a ball.”
“They bore me out of my mind.”
“There are so many men who would love to be with you.”
“You’re the only one I want.”
She traced his face with her finger, the light from her eyes shining.
After the sixth time, he stopped keeping track.
…
They continued investigating the Phantom Scythe, but there were only so many hours in a day, and somehow Kieran was always finding himself on his knees with Lauren's legs hooked over his shoulders. He was not even sorry about it. He wondered if this is what love is- wanting another person more than you want your freedom.
“I think that’s one kind of love,” Lauren said when he asked her one night. “But it’s a kind that only lasts for a short time.”
“And then what?”
She shrugged. “And then I guess the relationship either deepens or breaks.”
He hummed. “Did your parents have a good relationship?”
“They did. They used to dance in the kitchen together with no music.”
Lauren had a small, sad smile on her face. He kissed the corner of her mouth.
“You mentioned a friend of yours died.”
The smile disappeared, and she wriggled in his arms. “Dylan. His dad was our gardener.”
“What happened to him?”
Lauren turned her face into the pillow and Kieran realized she was crying. He felt awful. What was wrong with him? Why would he bring up her dead friend? Of course, she would not tell him about it, he was-
“It’s my fault,” Lauren said. “I heard someone saying that Allendale would bring Ardhalis prosperity. They were lying, but I didn’t tell anyone. And when I hurt my ankle, I asked Dylan to go back and ask his father if he could drive me home, and-”
She sobbed and Kieran pulled her to his chest.
“It’s not your fault, Lauren,” he said softly.
“I could’ve stopped it,” she said.
He forced her to look at him. “If someone else told you this story, would you honestly blame them?”
“…no, I wouldn’t,” she admitted.
“Then why blame yourself?”
He felt her shrug. “It feels different, somehow.”
“Because you expect yourself to be a superhero?”
“…yeah.”
”Maybe let yourself just be a person.”
She did not say anything else, and Kieran assumed she fell asleep until her head popped out of where it was nestled against him. Her eyes were still red but her tears had dried.
“How did that come up again?” she asked
Kieran raised a brow. “I asked if love is wanting someone more than freedom.”
“Right!” She grinned. “Why? Is that how you feel about me, subordinate?”
Kieran scowled. “You wish.”
“Is it?” she pressed
“It is,” he admitted.
She brushed the hair away from his eyes. “That’s how I feel about you too.”
“What?”
She looked almost shy as she said, “I love you so much, sometimes I don’t know where to put all of it.”
The hand that had been kneading Lauren’s shoulder paused. Lauren gave him hugs and soft caresses, but she had never told him that she loved him. He did not resent her for it. He was the one putting her life at risk, after all. He never asked her for more. She had given him more than he deserved and, in this respect at least, he would not be selfish.
Lauren frowned at his reaction. “Did you not realize?” she asked.
Kieran shrugged nonchalantly, but his blush betrayed him.
Lauren grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “I love you.” She carefully enunciated every syllable. “I love your stupid face and your stupid laugh- and it really is stupid, you cackle- and that self-satisfied smirk you make when you make a stupid joke, and the way you protect me, the way your hair is always in your face, and I love the way that even when we’re in danger, I feel like it’s going to be okay because you’re with me.”
Kieran froze. He was unaccustomed to such love-so earnest and unashamed and devoid of spectacle. He couldn’t meet her eyes. They were too open and sincere.
And yet, he wanted her to know.
“You make me feel the same way,” he whispered. He pressed her hand into his cheek. “Safe.”
…
Lauren turned out to be right. After some months, the intensity of their lust calmed to a point that they could work without breaks for sex-or fewer ones at least. They fell into an easy routine of discussing phantom scythe business while Kieran made dinner. Although he never asked her to, and protested the first few times, Lauren took to tidying up his apartment. It only felt fair considering how much time she spent there. They fell asleep whispering to each other in his bed. At work, Kieran left sketches on Lauren’s desk. Sometimes they were of her. Sometimes they were caricatures of Hermann or Lukas, or just a flower he had thought was pretty. Occasionally, he left bawdy limericks.
There once was a man named Dadino
Who met a young man named Encino
The pleasures they had
Made them both rather glad
But the neighbors found it obscene-o
“Obscene-o’s not a word!” Lauren protested, unable to suppress the laughter bubbling in her throat. “That’s cheating.”
Kieran brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “There’s no cheating in poetry, darling. You’re too competitive.”
“Or maybe you’re too afraid to lose, subordinate,” she challenged.
Kieran scoffed. “If that’s what you think, let’s hear one of Lauren Sinclair’s brilliant poems.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. She looked so ridiculous Kieran could not resist planting a kiss on her head.
“Go on,” he urged her. “If you’re good, I might give you a treat.”
“You’re trying to distract me,” Lauren accused him. But she still looped her arms around his shoulders.
“There once was a man name Kieran…” she began tentatively. “I can’t think of anything that rhymes with Kieran.”
“Peer-in, fear in, beer in, Sheeran…” he supplied.
She considered her options. “Who really liked Ed Sheeran?”
Kieran doubled over with laughter.
Poetry is not a competition-but if it was, Lauren lost.
Kieran gave her a treat anyway.
…
“You want me to go abroad?”
Kieran forgot himself for a moment and grasped the frame of the confessional window.
“Is that a problem, Hyacinth?”
“What about my mission at the precinct?”
“Lune is dead, what else do you need to do at the precinct?”
Kieran hesitated. “Nothing,” he said.
“I thought you’d be relieved. If I remember, you weren’t too happy about that assignment.” Even underneath the mask, the messenger’s gaze was heavy. “Unless something’s changed.”
It wasn’t a question.
Kieran shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“Then you leave tomorrow morning.”
The walk home seemed to take forever, and once he was inside, he collapsed to the floor, not bothering to remove his coat or shoes. It was already late, and Lauren was at her uncle’s that night. There would be no time to say goodbye.
There was moonlight coming in through the window. The first time Lauren came over had been a full moon too. He gave her one of his shirts to sleep in and then he cleaned her blood off the table.
Did you think it was going to last, he admonished himself. You fucking idiot, you’ve been living in a dream, and the price is that you have to wake up. Stop sulking and do something.
He rolled up his sleeves and sat at his desk, intending to give Lauren a long, thoughtful explanation. But when he pressed the tip of his pen into the paper, the words became jumbled in his head. What good was an explanation now? Would it quell her heartbreak? Would she feel less betrayed? Was he trying to encourage her to go on a crazy mission to look for him?
In the end, he only wrote three words.
I’m sorry.
