Incandescent low lights illuminated the fillmore theaterâs main dressing room with an alluring brilliance that filled caseyâs body with a glowing warmth. The esteemed popstar felt transcendent as he stared at the seemingly animated paisley pattern of the tapestries strewn across the ceiling. He couldnât help but be reminded of the basement of cbgbâs, a punk rock staple that made him feel immediately like home the second he was allowed down there. For what felt like an entire hour (though it was only a minute or so, tops) he thought about how the place had closed long before he was ever able to visit the states, and about how the gritty, unkempt punk-rock aesthetic of this dressing room juxtaposed the ornate theatricality of the rest of the fillmore establishment. It almost represented him, Casey thought, as the paisley patterns continued to move before his very eyes, swirling around itself like minnows in the tide. He, too, is portrayed to the public as ornate and classic, something that can never die or receive damage, something invincible and delicate and beautiful all at once. But this smoke-filled room full of torn posters, nicotine-yellowed tapestries and a piss-stained array of rugs is the closest to cbgbâs that Casey will ever get to feeling at home once again. It occurs to him, then, that heâs not alone, as he usually is. No, tonight was different, as casey had bravely invited kai to join him for a little afterparty. Lots of things about kai fascinated casey, lots, but what fascinated him most was the manâs innocence. It seemed that the spoils of escapism (drugs) werenât entirely widely experienced in Korea, and some part of casey wanted to unlock kai like a treasure chest, and he planned on using escapism to do that. Though heâd manage to swindle kai into smoking weed a time or two since starting his work as a backup dancer, he considered it a true success when heâd convinced the conservative boy to try magic mushrooms, something that casey himself deemed the source of all his âpowersâ. It had been about two hours since theyâd both eaten their dosed PB&Jâs, meaning that the drug had kicked in not too long before now. Hazy and smiley, casey lifts himself from the musty dressing room loveseat and looks over onto itâs twin couch, to the handsome, boggled boy lying atop it. âKai, my darling,â casey says theatrically and without reserve, getting on his knees and crawling to sit beside the couch, looking up at his friend with big, besotted eyes that seemed to twinkle in the warm lights. âTell me how you are feeling. Have you been drinking the water i gave you?â casey asks, mindlessly putting his hand on the boyâs thigh. Itâs not unlike casey to be extra touchy when heâs inebriated, but mushrooms make him particularly affectionate. It shows plainly in his face as he bring himself to look the other man in the eyes, feeling his heart proverbially melt into a giant puddle and his pupils physically turn heart-shaped, and he has to bite back his extensive smile as he gives kaiâs knee a gentle squeeze. The dark haired manâs sillhouette glows and his eyes twinkle, and casey knows that itâs the drugs, but he canât help but wonder what it would feel like to look at this person every day for the rest of his life. But, he thinks, heâs getting far too ahead of himself. Like most of the people in caseyâs work life that heâs garnered feelings for, he fully expects kai to go running for the hills any minute now.
malakai never thought he would come back to america. he left when he was five because his dad got relocated to south korea. he truly thought he would go by seokjin for the rest of his life, he thought his english skillsââsubpar english skills would just be fun in conversation, but here he was. in america. with a cute white man. high off of shrooms.
god, he never thought heâd be here.
heâs doing drugs with a famous person. thatâs crazy.
kai smiled at the pet name, casey used so many of those, stretching his arms above his head with a stupid smile on his face when he looked at casey. casey. casey was so different. he was nothing kai had ever experienced before. he reminded kai of a flower. a long, tall, soft, beautiful flower. his petals would be soft and addicting to the touch. with that thought, kai reached out for casey to graze his fingertips over caseyâs cheek. he could feel some stubble under his fingers, his eyes widening and a laugh leaving his throat as he dropped his hand back on the couch, turning his head away from casey to look around the room.
âyou need to shave, buttercup.â kai answered, pouting up at the elder. he let out a dramatic little sound when caseyâs hand rested on his thigh. of course, heâs had men touch him like that before, heâs a dancer but it was different with casey. he wasnât dancing with casey, he was just existing with casey. it makes him smile and blush at the same time. kai rested his hand on top of caseyâs, lifting the other manâs hand to hold it over his heartbeat. âi feel great. i like it and...and i like you.â kai gushed, his accent thicker than usual. maybe itâs the shrooms, maybe he just always sounds like that and heâs never been aware of it.
âcan i ask you something?â kai asks, looking at casey. the room behind casey is blurred, like casey is the only thing he needs to focus on right no. he only needs to focus on casey forever. well, until the tour is over. kai never thought about this tour ending and him going back to korea. he never thought about not working for casey. kai shook his head at the thought before getting back on track, lacing his fingers between caseyâs. âis my accent stupid? i feel like itâs stupid.â
        âwell, it seems the azaleas arenât available this time of year, even for fucking royalty,â belladonna seethes through clenched teeth after aggressively slamming the phone into the receiver. her tiny fists clench around the silk train of her gown as she grunts quietly in frustration, before taking a deep, labored breath, and exhaling with a hum, forcing her anger to extinguish before she blows a gasket over flowers. âiâll just have to settle for orchids. and plum flowers. so, wear white or red to the party, tonightââ the girlâs narrowed eyes raise to her new husband, who stood staring out the thick glass window at the gardens, instead of listening to her. despite the insignificance, belle finds some irritation flaring up in the center of her chest, of which she must breathe through so that she doesnât just burst at the seams with frustration. âfrancesco?â she asks in a warning tone, sighing heavily when sheâs once again met with silence. arching a brow beneath her perfectly groomed bangs, belladonna quietly crosses the room, halting only when she can see past her husbandâs shoulder and out the window. the old glass pane slightly blurs the vision, but she can still clearly see a too-familiar servant girl tending to the garden. jealously ignites inside belleâs gut, causing her to look for any reason to hate the woman her husband is paying attention to instead of her. her eyes flicker across his perfect, prince-like features. despite being king, he still holds a childlike innocenceâa quality that belle canât help but resent. she sometimes falls asleep at night wondering how she can demolish that quality within him, convincing herself that itâs for the sake of their kingdom. âsheâs beautiful,â belladonna suddenly says in an assertive tone, relatively closer to francescoâs ear than she was moments ago, âtoo bad sheâs fucking vapid. sheâs butchered the roses. and any chances of my motherâs plum blossoms returning next year are slim thanks to her man-handling the branches like that.â belladonna huffs, eying her husbandâs immaculate features to see how heâd react before turning on her heels and walking back towards her desk, where glamorous, elaborate party plans were haphazardly strewn about. âafter she works the summer solstice partyââ belladonna begins, her tone slight and innocent, despite the venomous words that follow, âi ought to have her thrown in the dungeons and be done with it.â
     francesco was never expecting to be king of fortĂš. he also was never expecting the dead to come to life and destroy everything. they lost a king, he basically lost his sister, their crops were crushed, and people were dying every day. it was a rash and abrupt choice to make francesco king, there wasnât really any other option, paola was a shell and the only person other person with the mental capacity to lead was, well, francesco. marrying bella donna was a quick compromiseââa quick compromise he proposed. heâs been around arrange marriages his entire life, heâs used to them and wouldâve been the subject to one sooner or later so why not do it to save his kingdom? bella wasnât bad, she was nice enough, really pretty, and a part of him does love herââsheâs his wife, of course he loves her.
    he doesnât love anyone like he loves greta though. heâs been in love with her since he could remember. sheâs been around his entire life, it was grossly clichĂš that they fell in love. heâs always watched over her, a habit heâs picked up over the years. so, when his wife began ranting over flowers, he found himself watching greta through their window. a few things heâs noted about bella donna in their two months of being married is that she has a temper, she can hide it well, but when she loses itââholy shit, she loses it. he knows he should stop watching greta do a job sheâs not qualified to do and work on calming his wife down, but he canât tear himself away from this window or the girl he loves. when he feels her eyes scan over his face, he finally rips his attention away from greta and onto bella donna, batting his lashes at her. francesco knows itâs a backhanded compliment before the backhand even comes causing him to sigh dramatically, standing up straighter to look down at her. âthatâs dramatic, bellĂš. we can get you new roses and a new gardener that wonât âmanhandleâ your precious plums.â he spares one last glance at his love before looking back at bella, raising his brows dismissively at her.
    maybe his wife is crazy. losing her mind over flowersââthis has to be deeper than flowers. from the few dinners heâs had with her parents, her father and his many wives, he can just tell that something is off but heâs known that from the startââtheyâre literal witches. âover flowers? youâll throw someone in a dungeon because of flowers?â francesco snaps when he hears her ridiculous remark, shaking his blond curls. he strides over to bella donna, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder like his mother would do to get a hold of a situation. âi think this party is stressing you out too much,â with each word his hand gets heavier till he lifts it and gently pets down her smooth black hair, âyou should take a break before you say something really stupid, yeah?â
   luna has been a dancer her entire life. she started with baby ballet; then she moved onto baby tap, then she grew and moved onto jazz and contemporary. contemporary was always her favorite due to how cathartic it felt. maybe, if she hadnât let bliss and partying consume her life, sheâd still be on track to be a professional dancer but here she stood in a dark club giving older men and barely legal boys blue balls. sheâs been an exotic dancer for nearly seven months now, she figured that was part of her appeal to the men sheâs picked up along the way. itâs exciting to date a sexual object like luna, at least, thatâs what her coworker minnie told her. minnie also told her that her work ethic was slipping since her break up with blair.
god, that was easily the roughest day of her life.
   luna skipped her way to blairâs front door, pretty pills in her plaid skirt pocket, and hair half up half down. it was a regular day, just her going to see her boy, they had talked about getting snowcones earlier. it was suppose to be a regular day. calum opened the door, gave her a hug then told her she needed to stay away from his brother. he stumbled over his words and he couldnât look her in the eyes, she shouldâve felt more in power because of this but it only made her feel completely powerless. calum kept telling her she could get better, when she gets better she can get back with blair and they could do good together, but for now sheâs killing him. this little boy looked her in her eyes and told her she was killing her best friend. so, in typical luna fashion, she ran off and cried. she called blair in tears telling him everything that had just happened at his front door, she told him she didnât want to kill another person she loved, she didnât want to find another body then she hung up and was silent for hours.Â
   she couldnât not see her best friend one last time. she really tried to stay away from blair like calum told her to, she loved him too much to not see his face one last time. how luna, a skinny coke whore, managed to climb up to blairâs window to see him one last time. she knows why this breakup hurt her more than jisung or reeseââgod, time to open every wound tonightââwas because blair was not only the love of her life but he was her best friend. she hasnât had a best friend since bliss, she was so lonely for so long then there was blair. a bright, shining, lanky light that was blair kwon-park.Â
now, she doesnât have that light and it shows.
   âokay, so, a regular lap dance is $25 and a one where you can touch cost $50 soââ lunaâs typical spiel was cut off after she closed the curtain and turned towards her client and saw the all too familiar face. she took a sharp breath, her gut twisting and dropping at the same time at being in same room as blair. âwhat are you doing here?â the girl huffed crossing her arms over her chest, raising her brows up at him. truly, she wasnât in a position to be scolding blair for being in at a strip club, sheâs dressed like a school girl and was about to give him a lap dance. âdo your parents know youâre here? does calum know youâre here?â luna took a cautious step toward him with crossed arms, sighing heavily as she looked down at her boy with big sympathetic eyes. her small hand ran through his hair, resting on the back of his neck taking in his features that she missed oh so much. âare you...are you doing okay?â donât say it, donât say it, âiâve missed you.â
        something about the incalculable chaos pouring out of their intrepid kingdom like water pours from a faucet was giving blythe more and more reason to stay locked up inside her quaint, cluttered office. the room is about twenty feet wide, and thirty feet long. on one end sits a large, mahogany desk, the immaculate carpentry project that blytheâs father gave her as a compulsory wedding gift, despite skipping the wedding out of spite. thereâs a decent amount of empty space in the middle of the room, interrupted by mannequins of varying shapes and sizes, all covered in different works in progress, both belonging to herself and lavender. most nights, sheâs alone, listening to her crackly vinyl records and sketching elaborate designs as she avoids thinking of the sheer turmoil theyâve been engulfed in, but tonight; sheâs joined by jonah. the love of her life.
        itâs not hard to tell, judging by the seven or so mannequins in blytheâs office that hold garments being tailored to jonahâs size, but the man has always been her biggest source of inspiration. she finds herself hand-stitching embroidery and painstakingly pleating garments well into the night just so that she can show him her handiwork first thing in the morning. seeing the way his face lights up, every single time, without fail, is the food that feeds her soul.
âhold on, lavender ordered this baby blue silk for me, andââ blythe abruptly yanks a scarf-length shred of the fabric off of a nearby table, and holds it up to her husbandâs chest, smiling softly as she hangs it over is shoulder like a sash, admiring how well the color looked on him. itâs funny, she thinks, sheâd usually stuck with warm colors to dress jonah in, colors that would compliment his skin and make him look professional, but something that she canât quite pinpoint must have changed in the man to make this blue fabric perfect for him. it makes her think briefly to something lavender said, recently, about a change in jonahâs appearance, but sheâs far too wrapped up in admiring the love of her life to put the pieces together. âwhat about this color, baby?â she asks him, sincerely, letting the fabric hang on his shoulder so that she can reach up to rest a soft hand on the side of his face, gently pinching his cheek and giggling in suit, ââmakes you look so handsome.â
   ever since the wedding, jonahâs mind has been taken by something dark. heâs plagued by nightmares, destructive thoughts, and even more devastating actions that follow the destructive thoughts. he thinks the throne to the iron islands is cursed, that every man who sits upon it is doomed to madness but jonah's naive almost narcissistic view of his own mind, he thought he was different. in the beginning, he was. he was a kind, merciful king who wanted his kingdom to grow and prosper together. now, nearly 25 years later, his kingdom is in shambles and he is a shadow of who he wanted to be.
  the only thing keeping him sane is blythe. every time he looks at her, heâs at peace, he forgets all the despicable things heâs done, every time he holds her heâs brought back to a happier and easier time in his life. jonahâs older now, nearly 46 years old, but when he touches blythe he feels like heâs 19 again. he feels like heâs in the garden again with his secret commoner girlfriend. he relives his wedding day when he looks in her eyes. he loves her so much. he doesnât know how she does it but she calms the raging war in his head.
   âi got you new fabrics. theyâre are suppose to be coming in from forte in a week,â he tells his wife with his baritone voice, a soft smile on his lips as she watches his love work, âi donât really know what i got but i got a lot of colors and different types. i know the fabrics there are some of your favorites.â jonah told her with a sweet smile as he stares at her with nothing but affection in his puppy dog eyes. he laughed softly when he heard her giggle, his large hand holding on herâs before looking in the mirror.Â
heâs almost startled by how different he looksââobviously, he doesnât spend much time looking in mirror now a days. he looks grey, his hair is duller than usual, and his eyes, the most startling of them all, werenât dark brown anymore. his hues were an unsettling light chestnut, they looked like his fatherââhe looked like his father. the man looked away from his reflection to look down at his wife, taking her hand into both of his, kneading her palm with his thumbs. âeverything you make me makes me look handsome.â he teases as he takes the fabric off off his shoulder, wrapping the silky fabric around her neck to pull her to his chest with a bright smile, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. âi think this color actually...â he gently guides blythe in front of him to look at their reflection,  âlooks beautiful on you, but every color looks beautiful on you.â he smiled at their reflection. âi think you should make a nightgown with it or maybe a dress? i love when you wear silk.â
        love was in the midst of horror at the news of bambiâs pregnancy when she realized that her period hadnât arrived on time. it wasnât that she wasnât happy for bambi and moonkyun, or that they werenât happy with the news, but it was impossible not to imagine nic and herself in alike situation. and it took all of three seconds to realize that they were not ready for it. unfortunately, their luck ran dry and the universe handed them the last thing they needed: their own pregnancy. love is trying, with everything in her heart, to be happy, or to find some miracle solution to all her anxieties, but nothing was coming to her. and these days, the stress was getting to her, even in these peaceful moments, with the love of her life speaking sweet things into her growing baby bump. she takes slow, deliberate breaths, intent on subduing her anxiety. her boyfriendâs innocuous question distracts her, though, and causes a small warmth to glow in her chest. âmaybe. i hope that they can hear us. i sing to them. and i talk to them, and ask them for advice. theyâre going to be smart, i can feel it,â love replies, with a fondness in her voice that she wasnât quite expecting. âi guess itâs pretty cool. i-it does kind of feel like an alien is sucking the life out of me, but like, i donât mind it, cause itâll be cute, ya know?â love replies in a wry tone, lifting a hand to rest on the side of nicâs face as she admires his sharp features. âbabies are kind of like aliens. you know their heads look like footballs when they first come out, right? isnât that weird? their heads are bendy. i donât like it.â love bursts into sleepy giggles, her eyes falling shut as she subconsciously shifts to lay closer to the boy. it doesnât take but seconds of silence for the damn to break on her anxieties, letting them seep into every nook and cranny of her mind. âhow- how are you feeling about it, baby?â the girl suddenly asks in an innocent tone, her eyes opening wide so that she can read his expression, her brows pinching up and together, âdo you feel, like⊠uhm, re-really anxious?âÂ
   nic kind of felt like his life had been flipped upside down. when moon told him bambi was pregnant, he was literally glowing, he was so stupidly happy and nic couldnât understand why. they were juniors in college, bambi a sophomore, he still couldnât wrap his head around how happy they were about having a baby. nic feels like his life has barely started especially with love. he has this vision of how his life is suppose to be, the vision involves love, a one story house, they both have jobs that make them happy, and a dog. they had a really cute dog. there was never kids in this vision. âyouâre theyâre mom. of course theyâll be smart.â he whispered looking up at his girlfriend humming softly, he leaned in to kiss her forehead. âbendy?â nic questions with raised brows, a slightly disgusted look on his face before laughing softly. âbabies are so weird...and gross. theyâre a little gross.â nic keeps his eyes down as he quietly shifts closer towards his love, squeezing her hip before his hand skated under her shirt to rest on growing stomach. heâs pretty sure he canât be the father this baby deserves, he doesnât want to test that theory either, but he canât help feeling weirdly protective over this growing human inside his girlfriend. his chest tightened at that. nicolae met his girlfriendâs gaze when she spoke up, blinking a few times before looking down with a quiet sigh. âiâm anxious, yeah, thatâs a way to put it.â he doesnât talk a lot about his feelings, he looked at love before letting his hand slip out from under her shirt to hold her cheek in his palm. âwe...we canât, like, keep it but i donât want it to go into the foster system, ya know.â nic was lucky when it came to the system, he was twelve days old when his foster mom took him in and thatâs the only life heâs known. his older sister, viorica, told him stories of the foster homes she bounced from when she was little, adrian showed him scars from the homes he went to before elena took him in, and river wonât even breathe a word about the foster home he was in before their mom took him in. yeah, nic would rather die than have his child in the system. âiâll do whatever you want, of course, youâre growing the baby,â he forced out a small laugh, âi donât know, love. the whole situation makes me feel weird.â
     itâs difficult for taehyung to watch anyone cry, truly, but he reckons heâs never been as mortified to see someone cry than he is right now. by veil standards, sheâs his wife, now, heâs supposed to protect her, and make her happyâ right? thatâs most of what he can remember of the sage advice his sister gave him, before their father swooped in with his sexist, intolerant ways, after all. but this situation effectively eradicates that idea. he canât make her happy.
as they currently stand; sheâs not his wife, sheâs his hostage.
  ââbut he can protect her.
    i donât want anyone to touch me. taehyung takes a constricted breath, momentarily hanging his head as he tries to improvise a new method of helpfulness. sheâs visibly injured, and begging him not to touch her. surely, he thought that the prospect of new clothes would remind her that sheâs too injured to even change, and persuade her to take his offer, but she seems to dissolve into even more panic, especially when he extends his hand to try and help her. at the sound of her sharp order, taehyungâs hand slightly retreats, and his eyes go owlishly wide. âs-sorry,â he stammers, out of habit, as if that will help literally anything at all. he canât help the lump that forms in his throat as he looks into her big, pleading eyes, and at the messy trails of fat, glistening tears pouring from them. a horrible feeling of guilt paralyzes him for a few constricting moments, as he watches her dainty hands desperately wrap around his bony wrists. before he even realizes heâs tearing up, he has to blink a few approaching tears out of his eyes, his gaze defiantly leaving hers so that he can regain the bulk of his composure. a plaintive sigh leaves his dark pink lips as he hears her despondent pleading, but the nickname tae causes his gaze to snap up. it strikes a chord so deeply within him that he didnât even think he could have such a visceral reaction to a word. no one has called him tae since he found his sisterâs body. his mother used to, but the nickname, not unlike the love she showed him, faded over time. he has to swallow hard, pull the strings to tighten the protective armor around his heart, and move past it. his expression slightly hardens as he clears his throat, pointedly speaking more sternly than before, trying a new approach while also actively trying to mask the deterioration of his composure. âwe will discuss that later,â he deadpans, a veiled attempt at buying himself some time to figure out a solution. âin the meantime, do you want your arm to get infected? do you want to sit here in that uncomfortable gown for the rest of the night?â he looks at her with raised brows, his hard-nosed expression fading when he gets a good look at her face, once again. âi- i can take you to⊠to my sisterâs room,â taehyung tells her, in a quiet, wistful voice, âthere are hundreds of beautiful gowns in there. from all over the world. you can pick whatever you want. but you have to let me look at your arm.â
    lalisaâs dreamt about getting married since she was five. she would watch her fathers wedding on repeat, and when she got older she helped phillip plan his wedding.
phillip.
a sound of grief got caught in the back of her throat. the faucets in her big doe eyes were ever flowing at this point, there was so much pain and grief collecting inside of her she wanted to scream. she wants her brother. she wants her philly. she wants to cover her face, she wants to hide herself away, but she canât move because everything hurtsââsheâs hurt in so many ways, itâs too much. âi-i want my brother.â her voice getâs high and more pitiful with each pathetic word, her head eventually falling after a second a loud sob. a part of lalisa knows, phillip isnât here anymore. a part of her is telling her, sheâs the last moon on this planet. a big part of her can felt them left in that dirty cell where she almost diedââshe shouldâve just died. thereâs no other reason, unless jonah completely went mad, the king of the islands wouldnât try to strangle the life out of her for no reason. the moment starts replaying in her head: her papaâs blood stained the floor in front of her, her throat hurt from the screaming she had done a few nights ago, everything hurt. jonah didnât look like jonah. something was different, something was scary about him, she doesnât know if it was his golden eyes or the blood on his clothes. she visibly shook as she reanalyzed one of the most terrifying moments of her life.
âi just want to go home.â
the small girl sobbed after a moment of shaking, her grip on his wrists got a little tighter. she stumbles to catch her breath, she wants to stop crying, she wants her chest to stop hurting. she wants to go home. even if high garden was in complete ashes, it would be kinder and warmer than where she is now. weâll discuss that later, was so dismissive, it hurt, it only felt like a slap in the face because she was so vulnerable right now. lalisa opens her mouth to protest, to tell him heâs an asshole, that she hates him, but she closes her mouth with a slow nod. âokay,â she cavesââfor the first time that night, she stopped fighting and complied, it left a bad taste in her mouth. if her will wasnât effectively broken, she wouldâve told him what she wants is to go home and for him to get the hell away from her, but sheâs so mentally and physically exhausted, she canât fight anymore.Â
âi justââ lalisa wraps her arms around her torso, causing her to visibly grimace, swallowing down a whimper. she doesnât want to tell him this. she doesnât want to talk to him anymore, but something is making her tell him the full honest truth. âi donâtâi donât want to take my...clothes off in front ofâof you.â she finally gets out, her volume so low she prays he canât hear her. hot tears run down her cheeks, mainly due to embarrassment for being such a prude in a situation like this. âiâmâiâm scared of...â she bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head quickly hoping he was smart enough to fill in those blanks. after a moment of silence, she unwraps her injured arm from her waist, sniffling softly with a quiet whimper, nodding towards the bruised limb as she kept her gaze adverted.Â
No, it was worse than Loganâs nightmares. His mind could never get this dark and twisted, but this wasnât just in his mindââoh noââthis was his reality staring at him from across the other side of the couch.
His daughter, his beautiful baby Iris, sat beside him silently reading a book she had to read for English. He believes itâs âOf Mice and Menâ but he canât remember, he canât stop thinking about what sheâs been through. What his husband is putting her through. What he let happened to his baby.
Logan wants to throw up for the third time today.
He shouldâve known this was going to happen. How could he though? All Taeyang has been was gentle and loving with Iris. He was pretty sure he would remain Taeyongâs punching bag for the rest of his life, that heâd keep his hands off of their daughter and just brutalize him, but that wasnât what was happening anymore.
âIris, baby,â Loganâs voice is gentle and quiet. Taeyong was at work but he was still terrified he could come home at any moment, heâs been a lot more paranoid recently. âCan I ask you something? ItâsâŠItâs a little personal.â Iris looked up from her book with her round eyes, folding the page so she wouldnât lose her place, her brows furrowing a little in confusion at his concerned expression.
âWhat is it, papa? Are you okay?â
He doesnât deserve to be called that. He really, really, doesnât deserve to be her papa after he let the unthinkable happen to her. He swallows back the bile rising in his throat as he wraps a protective arm around her shouldersââShe was so tiny for fourteen it made Loganâs chest even tighterââtaking a deep breath through his nose.
âIâm fine,â Heâs gotten so used to that lie it just comes off his tongue whenever the question is asked, âIâm fine, angel. I justâŠI need to know something.â He took another deep breathtaking a break from looking at her eyes before looking back at her.
âWhat is it?â
She was so pure. She was an angel. She was his angel. And he let her get hurt in unimaginable ways. Without Iris, Logan was pretty sure he would be dead and he couldnât even properly protect her. He was disgusted with himself.
âLast night, I-I saw dad go into your room.â His stomach was churning, he can feel his face get blotchy, âDidâWhat happened last night, Iris?â Heâs not sure he wants to know but he has to. He has to know so he can do something, he doesnât know what he can do, but has to do something if what heâs thinking is true.
Then, Iris smiles and laughs.
âNothing bad happened, papa.â
He almost takes a sigh of relief.
âWe just did what people in love do. Thatâs all.â
The wind is suddenly kicked out of him. Heâs going to throw up. Heâs going to throw up over this ridiculously expensive couch.
âUmââ Logan turns his head away from his daughter, trying to keep himself together and not scare her butâs getting incredibly hard to do that, âWhatâWhat do people in love do, Iris?â He watched her cheeks get pink. It made him nauseous.
âYou knowâŠWe made love, papa.â
He thinks heâs going to actually throw up at that but instead, his jaw just drops and suddenly his eyes are wet.
âPapa?â
Logan tries to blink back his tears but they just roll down his cheeks, he just stares at his daughter distraught and devastated. It hurts. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think, it hurts to even look at Iris.
âPapa, whatâs wrong? Youâre scaring me.â
Taeyong has always been a master manipulator. He was able to bend any situation to his will and make it play out in his favor, and he did the same thing to Iris.
Fourteen-year-old Iris. Their daughter.
He raped her and made her think it was love.
He felt like he was going to pass out.
âIris. Iris, that isnât love.â
âWhat?â
âWhat your dad did was wrong.â She looked like he just told her bombs were dropping in five minutes, she looked so lost and confused, but he could barely see her through his tears. âWhat he did was very very wrong. Do you understand?â
Iris paused for a moment before shaking her head quickly. She had tears in her eyes tooââShe fed off of peopleâs emotions, she has ever since she was little thatâs why Logan tried remaining calm throughout this nightmare.
âWhyâWhy is it bad? IâIâI love him and he loves me so we can do those things, right?â
Logan pushed himself off the couch to get on his knees in front of his daughter, taking her trembling hands into his. Pressing his lips to her knuckles, his big watery eyes looking up at her. He knew she was only reacting this way because she thought she was in trouble, her hands always shook when she was in trouble.
âNo,â Logan says sternly as he gave her hands a tight squeeze, âNo, you canât do those things. Youâre not supposed toââ He canât say it. He canât call what happened to her love. It was the furthest thing from love. It was vile, it was a line he never thought his husband would cross but shouldnât be shocked that he did. âYou canât do things like that with your dad. Itâs not right. Itâs very very very wrong, Iris.â
âBut dad saysââ
âDad lied!â Logan shouts causing a soft sob to leave Irisâ throat, âYour dad is a liar and not a good guy, Iris.â
âI donât understand!â She yelled as her chest began to cave with confusion. Why would her dad lie to her? Why was her papa so upset? Sheâs never been more confused and upset in her life. âI-I donât understand, papa. Why-Why would he do it if itâs bad?â
Logan canât answer that simply because he doesnât know how to. Taeyongâs always been this way: Manipulative, sadistic, controlling, cruelââHe was so many things that Logan couldnât even put into words, he just never thought he would be this way to Iris. The so-called love of his lifeââTaeyong wouldnât know what love was if slapped him in the face, Logan shouldâve known.
He shouldâve known. He shouldâve seen the way he looked at her, he shouldâve noted how long his hands would linger on her hips or her thigh, he shouldâve seen this coming.
âHe-He's just not a good person, Iris. Good people donât do what he did.â
She sniffles but nods. holding a little tighter onto his hands. He hopes she doesnât ask any more questions. He knows he canât give her any real answers as to why his husband acts the way he does or why he did what he did to her, he wishes he could but he simply doesnât know why.
âIf youâIf you wouldnât do those things with Andrei, you shouldnât do them with Taeyong.â That seemed to really drill it into her head how wrong this was. Irisâ face scrunched up and her hands shook a little more, there was a quiet sob leaving her lips as she closed her eyes tightly.
Logan shook his head softly, watching her duck her head down to rest on their conjoined hands. An overwhelming sense of guilt ran through him. He made her feel badââOh no, he made her think it was her fault. He ducked his head down to rest on top of herâs, pressing his lips to the top of her head shaking his head once again.
âItâs not your fault, Iris.â He made sure his voice was calm and smoother than before, âItâll never be your fault. Itâs his fault, okay? Heâs the one in the wrong, not you.â
Iris only nodded her head, her hands holding onto Loganâs with an iron grip as they just stayed with Logan on his knees and Iris bawling her eyes out. They probably stayed like that for ten minutes before Logan pressed another kiss into his daughterâs straight black hair sniffling loudly.
âGo get a bag, baby.â He mumbled standing up and tugging her up with him, she looked a little scare at his words, refusing to let go of her papaâs hands. âIâm going to take you to Andreiâs for a little bit.â Irisâ bottom lip trembled as she looked up at him, scared to leave him alone with Taeyong and this new information, she almost shakes her head but Logan lifted her little hands to kiss her knuckles delicately. âItâll be okay,â He nods trying to calm her nerves a little bit, âIâll make sure itâs all okay.â
