── ❨ ⸝⸝ 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷. ❩ THE REUNION WITH RUDO SUREBREC.. BUT SOMEONE IS MISSING.
ೀ 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 - mentions of grief, timeskips, emotional, overuse of the word ‘alive’, ANGST, basically family angst(?), happy ending, abandonment(?), healing, comfort, implied romance, protective behavior, mentions of mutilation/scarring, overprotective rudo, not proofread, wc - 11.5k
𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒’ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - should i make a part 3 where enjin and reader have a happy relationship, till the point where they kinda want a child of their own and eventually reader gets pregnant? :)
𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 1 ┆⊹ 𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 - alto surebrec → enjin x fem! reader
years had passed since alto disappeared into the rain with your son in his arms.
and somehow, despite all that time, the wound never healed correctly. it simply rotted quietly inside you instead.
in the beginning, you truly believed he would come back. that belief kept you alive during those first miserable months after he vanished.
every single night, you found yourself sitting awake near the apartment window long after midnight listening carefully whenever footsteps echoed outside, your exhausted heart leaping painfully every single time someone paused near the building.
whenever rainstorms rolled through the city, the hope became even worse, because your mind always dragged you back to that final night — the sound of thunder, the warmth of rudo against your chest moments before alto took him away, the devastation in his voice while apologizing through trembling breaths before disappearing forever.
you replayed it constantly. every word, every expression, every promise broken between sobs.
sometimes you hated him for leaving, other times, you hated yourself for still loving him afterward.
but no matter how much anger you tried forcing into your heart, it never erased the grief sitting beneath it.
because alto had not only taken your lover from you that night.
he had taken your child too.
the apartment became unbearable after that. there were reminders of rudo everywhere.
tiny blankets folded carefully beside the couch because you could never bring yourself to throw them away. abandoned toys still tucked into corners collecting dust year after year.
little baby clothes hidden inside drawers that still carried faint traces of powder and soap whenever you held them close enough.
you kept everything. every single thing.
because letting go felt too much like admitting they were never coming home.
people noticed the change in you quickly. at first, they pitied you.
neighbors offered awkward condolences whenever they passed you in the hallway. older women sometimes brought food to your apartment because you had become frighteningly thin during those first several months alone.
even strangers occasionally looked at you with quiet sympathy after hearing the story about the woman abandoned by the mysterious surebrec man who disappeared without explanation alongside their infant son.
but pity was fragile.
especially in a place filled with fearful people searching desperately for something to blame whenever tragedy appeared.
eventually, the whispers began.
people talked about how strange your relationship with alto always seemed. they questioned why he disappeared so suddenly. they questioned why nobody could ever find traces of him afterward.
some even claimed the surebrec bloodline itself was cursed, and because you loved him, perhaps some of that curse had infected you too.
you overheard it sometimes while walking through crowded streets.
“that woman’s unsettling.”
“didn’t her husband vanish?”
“and the child too…”
“something’s wrong with her.”
grief isolated you enough already, but the rumors slowly finished what loneliness started.
you stopped speaking to most people stopped leaving the apartment unless absolutely necessary.
days blurred together endlessly while exhaustion settled deeper and deeper into your bones until even simple things became difficult. there were nights where you sat on the floor beside rudo’s empty crib until sunrise without realizing how many hours passed, fingers gripping the wood tightly while memories crushed the air from your lungs.
you missed him so badly it became physical pain. sometimes you still heard phantom cries in the middle of the night. sometimes you woke half asleep already reaching toward empty space expecting to feel your baby against your chest again.
sometimes you dreamed about alto standing in the doorway holding rudo safely in his arms at last, only to wake up alone in suffocating silence afterward.
those dreams hurt most.
because no matter how abandoned you felt, some weak pathetic part of your heart still wanted him to come back.
years passed. nothing changed.
then eventually, the whispers evolved into accusations. people became crueler once they realized you were not recovering.
they watched how strangely grief consumed you and decided it must mean something darker. they noticed how hollow your eyes looked.
how you wandered outside during storms sometimes searching desperately through crowds like someone waiting for ghosts. how fiercely you reacted whenever anyone spoke badly about alto.
how you still kept that apartment untouched, frozen like a shrine dedicated to people who no longer existed.
and slowly, the word began spreading.
“witch.”
you heard it for the first time from a frightened child hiding behind his mother near the market.
the woman immediately dragged him away afterward while staring at you with visible disgust.
after that, the word followed you everywhere.
people whispered it under their breath while passing by. others said it louder intentionally.
they claimed you cursed alto. claimed you drove him into madness. claimed the disappearance of your family happened because something unnatural surrounded you.
and the horrifying thing was that eventually, after years drowning inside grief alone, you stopped defending yourself properly. because part of you already felt cursed too.
the day they finally came for you, the sky looked heavy and colorless overhead while cold wind pushed dust through the streets.
you did not even resist when guards forced their way into the apartment.
by then, exhaustion had hollowed you out too deeply.
they dragged you outside roughly while neighbors gathered nearby watching silently from windows and doorways, their expressions filled with fear, judgment, and cruel satisfaction.
nobody stepped forward to help you. nobody defended you. you were no longer seen as a grieving mother.
just something broken.
something frightening. something easier to discard than understand.
the walk toward the execution grounds felt strangely unreal.
chains bit painfully into your wrists while crowds gathered along the streets eager to witness your punishment firsthand. people shouted accusations while you passed. others threw insults. some even spit near your feet as though you were already less than human.
“witch!”
“she drove them away!”
“monster!”
the words blurred together eventually beneath the numb exhaustion crushing your mind.
because honestly? part of you no longer cared what happened anymore. you had already lost everything worth surviving for years ago. still, one thought continued haunting you relentlessly even now.
your son would be older now. walking, talking, laughing, maybe he no longer remembered your face.
that thought hurt more than the chains cutting into your skin. because you had not even been allowed to watch him grow up.
not even once.
the officials spoke for what felt like forever once you reached the execution platform, listing accusations while crowds listened eagerly around them.
you barely heard any of it. your thoughts drifted elsewhere instead — toward warm little baby hands grabbing onto your clothes, toward sleepy late nights with alto beside you while rudo slept safely between both of you, toward the final desperate sound of your own voice begging them not to leave.
then finally came the sentence.
the pit. the seemingly bottomless abyss where unwanted things were discarded forever.
nobody survived being thrown down there. nobody ever returned.
the crowd grew disturbingly quiet once guards dragged you toward the edge.
cold wind roared violently upward from the darkness below while the abyss stretched endlessly beneath your feet, swallowing all light completely. staring into it felt wrong somehow, like looking into something not meant for human eyes.
your stomach twisted weakly.
not from fear. from exhaustion.
because after everything, even death no longer felt particularly frightening.
the guards forced you closer toward the edge while chains rattled harshly around your wrists. and suddenly, painfully, your mind betrayed you one final time.
you remembered rudo laughing softly against your chest as a baby while alto sat beside you half asleep on the couch.
you remembered alto kissing your forehead while whispering promises late at night.
you remembered being happy.
truly happy.
the memory hit so hard your knees nearly gave out beneath you.
tears burned your eyes immediately. because despite everything— despite the abandonment. despite the years alone. despite the grief slowly destroying your life piece by piece— you still missed them, desperately.
your voice cracked softly before you could stop it. “…alto.”
then the guards shoved you forward. for one horrifying second, all you felt was weightlessness. wind screamed violently past your body while darkness swallowed everything around you whole. the world above disappeared rapidly, shrinking farther and farther away until there was nothing left except endless blackness consuming you completely.
you thought you were dying.
honestly, part of you welcomed it.
until suddenly— impact. pain exploded violently through your body as something hard slammed beneath you instead of endless falling. air tore from your lungs while darkness blurred around your vision, your body crumpling painfully against piles of discarded debris and metal.
you coughed violently, disoriented and shaking.
somehow and miraculously alive.
weak groans echoed somewhere nearby through the darkness. strange smells filled the air. slowly, painfully, you forced your eyes open.
and that was when you saw him.
enjin stood several feet away partially hidden among towering piles of trash and scrap, his sharp eyes fixed directly on you with visible surprise written across his face.
because nobody was supposed to survive the fall into the pit.
yet somehow— you had.
enjin continued staring at you for several long seconds after pulling you from the wreckage, his sharp eyes moving slowly across your battered figure like he was still trying to understand how someone like you had possibly survived falling into the pit alive, because people thrown down here were not supposed to wake up afterward, much less sit breathing among the mountains of filth and metal surrounding you both.
and honestly, judging by the way your entire body screamed in pain every time you so much as shifted slightly against the debris beneath you, perhaps you should not have survived either.
the air down here felt unbearable.
thick and poisoned in a way that coated the inside of your throat with every breath, carrying the overwhelming smell of rust, smoke, rotting waste, and something far worse lingering beneath it all that you could not properly identify.
every inhale burned your lungs harshly enough to make your chest tighten painfully, while the endless darkness surrounding the pit made the entire place feel less like a real world and more like some endless graveyard where forgotten things were sent to decay forever.
you coughed again violently, your entire body curling inward from the force of it while sharp pain tore through your ribs hard enough to make tears sting your eyes immediately afterward.
the man in front of you swore quietly under his breath.
then, without another word, he crouched down in front of you and removed the strange mask hanging loosely around his neck.
you flinched instinctively the second he reached toward your face.
your body reacted before your mind could catch up properly, exhaustion and years of fear making every sudden movement feel dangerous automatically now.
he noticed immediately.
his brows pulled together slightly before he exhaled through his nose in visible impatience, though there was still something oddly restrained about him, like he was deliberately stopping himself from sounding harsher than necessary.
“relax,” he muttered while carefully securing the mask over your mouth and nose anyway. “unless you enjoy coughing your lungs out.”
the filtered air hit your lungs almost instantly. cooler, cleaner. not perfect, but enough to stop the horrible burning spreading through your chest every time you breathed.
you inhaled sharply in surprise before another weaker cough escaped you, your trembling fingers instinctively lifting toward the mask while your body sagged slightly from relief you had not expected to feel.
for the first time since waking up down here, it no longer felt like every breath was slowly killing you.
the man watched your reaction silently for a moment before finally speaking again.
“…better?”
you nodded weakly after several seconds, though your throat still hurt too badly for words to come easily.
up close, you could see him more clearly now despite the dim lighting scattered through the pit. dark eyes sharp enough to feel almost unsettling whenever they fixed directly onto you, messy gold hair partially shadowing his face, worn clothes that looked built for surviving this place specifically rather than simply existing inside it.
because you still looked painfully out of place among the endless garbage surrounding both of you, like someone dragged violently from another world and discarded into this one by mistake.
which, in a way, was exactly what happened. the realization made your chest ache again.
“…how are you alive?” he finally asked after another long silence, his voice quieter this time but still carrying obvious suspicion beneath it.
you opened your mouth slightly before stopping.
because honestly?
you did not know.
you still remembered the feeling of falling.
the endless darkness swallowing you whole while wind screamed violently around your body, the certainty settling into your chest that this was finally the end after years of grief slowly hollowing you apart from the inside.
you remembered thinking about rudo during the fall.
about alto.
about the family ripped away from you so completely that even breathing afterward had started feeling meaningless.
and then— everything.
pain, darkness. waking up here somehow alive when nobody was ever supposed to survive the pit.
your fingers tightened weakly against the fabric covering your knees. “…i don’t know,” you whispered finally, your voice sounding rough and strained beneath the mask. “i thought i died.”
something unreadable crossed his expression hearing that answer. not pity exactly. but not indifference either.
you lowered your eyes toward the debris beneath you, exhaustion suddenly crashing heavily over your shoulders all over again now that the adrenaline had started fading from your body.
and without meaning to, the words slipped out quietly before you could stop them.
“…i had a son.”
silence immediately followed.
the confession felt strangely intimate in the middle of this horrible place, especially coming from your mouth after years of barely speaking about rudo aloud without breaking apart completely afterward.
still, once the words started, they would not stop.
“they took him from me,” you continued weakly while staring blankly at the piles of rusted metal nearby. “then everyone started saying i was cursed… that i drove my family away.”
your throat tightened painfully. “eventually they stopped seeing me as a person at all.”
the man stayed quiet while listening, though his eyes narrowed slightly as though he was carefully piecing your story together inside his head.
you laughed weakly then, but the sound came out cracked and bitter instead of genuinely amused. “guess throwing me down here was easier than dealing with me anymore.”
for several long seconds, the only sounds between both of you were distant crashes echoing somewhere deeper inside the pit and the uneven sound of your own breathing beneath the mask.
“…people up there are disgusting,” he muttered flatly.
the sentence startled you slightly. because there was no judgment in his voice. no accusation, just blunt irritation.
your eyes lifted toward him again slowly. “…you believe me?”
he shrugged one shoulder casually, though his gaze remained fixed carefully on you. “i believe people are stupid enough to blame anything they don’t understand.”
something inside your chest twisted painfully hearing that simple statement.
because after years of being treated like some monstrous thing instead of a grieving mother, even the smallest amount of understanding felt almost unbearable.
you looked away quickly before emotion could fully show across your face again. the movement made pain flare sharply through your side, forcing a weak sound from your throat before you could stop it.
instantly, his attention sharpened again.
“you can stand?”
you tried shifting experimentally.
the second pressure hit your leg properly, agony shot violently upward hard enough to make your vision blur black around the edges. your body nearly collapsed sideways immediately afterward. before you could hit the ground again, strong hands caught you firmly.
“easy,” he muttered while steadying your weight against him.
the sudden closeness startled you both slightly.
one of his arms had wrapped securely around your waist to stop you from falling completely, while your own hands instinctively grabbed weakly onto the front of his coat just to stay upright through the dizziness overtaking you.
for one horrible second, your exhausted grief-stricken mind betrayed you again.
the warmth felt familiar enough to remind you painfully of alto. your chest tightened violently. the man noticed the shift in your expression immediately.
“…hey,” he said quieter this time. “you with me?”
you blinked hard several times before forcing yourself back into the present again.
not alto, not your lover, not the man who disappeared into the rain carrying your son years ago, just a stranger helping you survive the pit.
still, your voice came out small afterward. “…sorry.”
he studied your face carefully for another second like he understood there was something deeper behind that reaction, though thankfully he chose not to ask about it.
instead, he adjusted his hold slightly so more of your weight rested safely against him.
“name’s enjin,” he said while slowly starting to guide you forward through the endless mountains of debris surrounding both of you. “and unless you wanna die in your first hour down here, you’re sticking close to me for now.”
you stared at him weakly in surprise.
after everything that happened above, after years of isolation and cruelty and grief twisting your life into something unbearable, the simple fact someone was helping you at all almost felt unreal.
your fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve while exhaustion dragged heavily at your body.
“…thank you,” you whispered honestly.
enjin glanced sideways toward you briefly before looking ahead again into the darkness of the pit, his expression soften beneath the dim lighting.
enjin practically carried you by the time the two of you finally reached the cleaners’ headquarters, because despite how stubbornly you kept trying to walk on your own, your body had long since reached its limit somewhere during the endless journey through the pit.
every step felt unbearable now.
the impact from surviving the fall still throbbed violently through your ribs and legs with every movement, while exhaustion dragged heavily through your entire body in waves strong enough to make your vision blur every few minutes.
even breathing remained difficult despite the mask enjin had given you earlier, because the deeper you traveled through the pit.
the thicker and more polluted the air became, carrying the overwhelming smell of rust, smoke, oil, decaying waste, and something else lingering beneath it all that made your stomach twist unpleasantly whenever you inhaled too deeply.
the pit itself still felt unreal to you.
massive towers of discarded garbage stretched endlessly beneath dim artificial lights overhead, creating an endless landscape of twisted metal, broken machinery, ruined buildings, and mountains of filth so enormous they looked almost like distorted cliffs rising from the darkness.
strange sounds echoed constantly through the distance around you both — heavy crashes from shifting debris, low mechanical groaning somewhere unseen beneath the trash, muffled voices from people moving throughout the pit, and occasionally something far less human that made unease crawl quietly down your spine.
everything about this place felt hostile. alive in the worst possible way. and through all of it, enjin stayed beside you without complaint.
you noticed that more and more the longer the journey continued.
he never once snapped at you for slowing him down despite how obvious your condition had become. every time your legs nearly buckled beneath you, his arm tightened automatically around your waist before you could fully collapse.
whenever your breathing turned uneven beneath the mask again, his eyes flickered sideways toward you immediately in silent observation even if he pretended not to care afterward.
that realization unsettled you slightly.
because after years spent being treated like something cursed, unwanted, and dangerous above the sphere, your body no longer knew how to react properly to kindness without immediately expecting cruelty to follow afterward.
eventually, after what felt like hours walking through endless darkness and debris, enormous reinforced structures slowly emerged ahead through the haze.
the headquarters.
even from a distance, you could tell immediately that this place mattered.
the realization alone nearly made your chest ache. because it had been years since anywhere felt remotely safe to you.
the second several of the cleaners noticed enjin approaching with an injured stranger leaning heavily against him, attention shifted immediately toward both of you.
“oi, enjin, what happened to her?”
“where the hell did you find someone looking like that?”
“wait… is she from outside?”
their voices blurred together slightly through your exhaustion while too many unfamiliar eyes landed on you at once.
instantly, your body tensed.
your shoulders tightened instinctively while your gaze lowered toward the ground without thinking, because years of accusations and public humiliation above had conditioned you into expecting judgment the moment crowds started looking too closely.
enjin noticed immediately.
his expression hardened slightly before he glanced toward the others flatly.
“quit staring at her like idiots,” he muttered sharply while continuing forward without slowing down. “she just got here.”
something about the way he said it made the others quiet down afterward, though you still felt curious stares lingering across your exhausted figure while he guided you deeper inside the headquarters.
the inside felt warmer than expected.
conversations echoed softly from nearby rooms while distant footsteps carried through the building around you.
nothing like the lonely silence that swallowed your apartment after alto disappeared years ago. the thought hit harder than expected. your chest tightened painfully again.
before the grief could fully consume you, enjin pushed open another heavy door leading into what looked like some kind of medical area.
beds lined the room carefully while cabinets filled with supplies stretched along the walls nearby.
the smell of medicine lingered faintly through the air, strangely comforting after everything else you had experienced since falling into the pit.
a woman organizing supplies near one of the tables immediately looked up upon hearing the door open.
eishia froze the second she noticed your condition.
her eyes moved quickly across your battered body before narrowing sharply in concern.
“…what happened to her?”
“fell into the pit,” enjin answered simply.
silence filled the room instantly.
eishia stared at you in disbelief for several seconds before slowly looking back toward enjin.
“…and she survived?”
“apparently.”
before you could fully process anything, eishia was already moving toward you quickly with surprising urgency. “sit down immediately before your body gives out entirely.”
you tried insisting quietly that you were fine.
your legs betrayed you almost immediately afterward.
the second enjin helped lower you carefully onto one of the beds nearby, exhaustion slammed through your body so violently you nearly blacked out from relief alone.
pain throbbed heavily through your ribs, shoulders, and legs now that you were no longer forcing yourself to stay upright, while your muscles trembled weakly beneath lingering shock and fatigue.
eishia carefully removed the mask from your face first before examining your injuries.
despite the clinical nature of her movements, there was gentleness in the way she handled you that nearly caught you off guard completely.
every touch remained careful, mindful of your pain rather than rough or impatient like you had grown used to from others over the years.
“…your body’s severely overworked,” she murmured softly while checking your ribs. “and these bruises alone should have kept you unconscious far longer than this.”
you laughed weakly beneath your breath, though the sound came out exhausted more than amused. “guess my luck finally worked once.”
her eyes flickered toward your face briefly hearing that response, noticing immediately how hollow your expression still looked beneath the exhaustion weighing down your features.
but thankfully, she did not push.
instead, she simply continued treating your injuries quietly while enjin remained nearby leaning silently against the wall with crossed arms.
you noticed that eventually. the fact he stayed.
he easily could have left the moment you arrived safely here.
instead, every time your tired eyes drifted upward through the haze of exhaustion, he was still standing there watching silently from across the room like he was making sure you did not disappear the second he looked away.
the realization warmed something fragile and painful inside your chest.
because after years spent completely alone with grief swallowing your entire life piece by piece, having someone remain nearby without obligation felt strangely overwhelming.
hours passed before another figure finally entered the room.
the energy shifted immediately.
because corvus carried energy effortlessly without needing to raise his voice or posture aggressively at all. the second his sharp gaze settled onto you from across the room, silence spread naturally through the space around him.
“…so,” he said calmly after several seconds studying you carefully, “you’re the one who survived the pit.”
your hands tightened weakly against the blanket draped over your lap.
“…yes.”
his eyes narrowed slightly, though not with suspicion. more like curiosity.
something about that unsettled you far less than the judgment you had grown used to above the sphere.
his gaze shifted briefly toward enjin afterward.
“explain.”
enjin shrugged lightly against the wall. “found her outside half-dead.” his eyes flickered briefly toward you afterward. “she’s from the sphere.”
because hearing it spoken aloud dragged every memory violently back into your chest all over again — alto disappearing into the rain carrying rudo, the years spent alone afterward, the accusations, the execution, the endless grief that slowly destroyed your life piece by piece.
corvus seemed to notice the shift in your expression instantly. his voice softened slightly afterward. “…sit comfortably,” he said quietly. “and start from the beginning.”
and somehow you did.
for the first time in years, someone actually listened instead of judging immediately.
you explained everything slowly while exhaustion weighed heavily through every word leaving your mouth. alto’s disappearance.
rudo being taken away from you. the years of rumors spreading afterward until people stopped seeing you as human entirely. the accusations of witchcraft. the execution. the fall into the pit.
the room stayed completely silent while you spoke. nobody interrupted. nobody mocked you.
by the time you finally finished, your hands trembled weakly in your lap without you realizing it.
“…i know how insane it sounds,” you whispered quietly afterward while staring downward toward the blankets. “but i swear i never hurt anyone.”
silence lingered for several long seconds afterward.
your head lifted slightly in surprise. his expression remained serious, though there was no disgust there.
only understanding.
“…you sound exhausted,” he continued quietly.
something inside your chest nearly broke apart hearing those words.
because after years spent being treated like a monster, hearing someone acknowledge your pain instead of accusing you for it felt almost unbearable.
before emotion could fully overwhelm you, another woman suddenly entered through the doorway nearby adjusting the glasses resting lightly against her face.
semiu immediately looked toward you curiously the second she stepped into the room.
corvus gestured lightly toward her.
“semiu.”
she approached slowly before studying you carefully through the lenses of her vital instrument.
then her brows furrowed slightly. “…that’s strange.”
you blinked weakly. “…what is?”
semiu tapped lightly against her glasses while continuing to stare at you thoughtfully.
“normally i can see a person’s hidden potential, their essence, and their connection to a jinki almost immediately,” she explained carefully. “but yours feels… empty somehow.”
your stomach tightened awkwardly.
because of course it did. you came from the sphere. you had no vital instrument. no connection to anything like the people down here possessed.
after you explained quietly, semiu hummed thoughtfully beneath her breath before glancing toward corvus again.
“well,” she sighed dramatically while pushing her glasses upward slightly, “she obviously can’t jump into cleaner work immediately.”
she looked back toward you before her expression softened slightly. “…but we do desperately need help around headquarters.”
you blinked in confusion. “…help?”
“organization.” her face twisted dramatically afterward. “all the horrible tasks everyone conveniently avoids during missions.”
for the first time since arriving, a tiny almost-amused sound escaped you weakly.
semiu noticed immediately. and smiled slightly in satisfaction afterward.
corvus nodded once.
“you’ll work with semiu for now while recovering and adjusting to life here.”
you stared at him silently for several seconds. because after years spent being treated like something cursed and unwanted after being thrown into the pit to die alone, these people were offering you safety.
your throat tightened painfully before you quickly lowered your gaze to hide the sudden emotion filling your eyes.
“…thank you,” you whispered shakily.
time passed slowly inside the cleaners headquarters, though eventually the days stopped feeling unbearable in the way they once had when you first arrived in the pit half-dead and terrified of everything surrounding you.
at first, surviving there felt impossible.
the headquarters constantly was busy with movement from different teams coming and going at all hours of the day, the sound of boots echoing through metal hallways while reports about trash, missions, damaged equipment, and injured cleaners passed endlessly through.
unlike the lonely stillness that consumed your old apartment after alto disappeared, this place never truly slept. somewhere inside headquarters, people were always working, arguing, laughing, preparing for missions, or returning exhausted and filthy after fighting through the pit.
and occasionally, when reports crossed your desk late at night, you caught fragments about investigations connected to the world above the sphere itself — things even the public down here apparently did not fully know.
you never pushed for answers.. not yet.
honestly, you were still trying to recover from your own life collapsing apart before involving yourself in mysteries far larger than you.
so instead, you focused on healing. and somehow, little by little, it actually began happening.
your work alongside semiu became routine surprisingly quickly once you adjusted properly to life inside headquarters.
while the others fought trash breasts and handled dangerous missions throughout the pit, you managed information, schedules, reports, supply requests, mission reports.
semiu constantly complained dramatically about how much work there was, though secretly you suspected she enjoyed having someone capable beside her for once.
“if i have to reorganize one more disaster report written by cleaners with the handwriting of actual toddlers, i’m throwing myself into the abyss,” she muttered one evening while dramatically collapsing across her desk.
despite yourself, you laughed softly, and that alone still felt strange sometimes. because for years after alto disappeared, laughter felt almost impossible.
everything hurt too much back then.
but here, surrounded by people who treated you normally instead of like something cursed or dangerous, pieces of yourself slowly began returning without you fully realizing it.
you slept easier now; not perfectly.
there were still nights where grief dragged you awake suddenly after dreams about rudo, leaving your chest aching so painfully you needed several minutes just to breathe properly again. there were still moments where seeing little gloves or abandoned toys around the headquarters made memories hit hard enough to leave you quietly shaken afterward.
you still missed your son every single day. that part never changed. and honestly, part of you thought it never would. but grief no longer swallowed your entire existence the way it once had.
it no longer consumed every waking thought. and perhaps the biggest reason for that change was enjin.
he remained consistent in your life from the very beginning. constantly teasing everyone around him while pretending not to care nearly as much as he actually did.
the longer you knew him, the more obvious it became that enjin deliberately hid concern beneath humor because genuine vulnerability simply was not something he showed easily.
instead of openly comforting people, he lingered nearby quietly whenever someone struggled. instead of asking emotional questions directly, he noticed little things himself and responded through actions rather than words.
and somehow, those small actions became incredibly important to you.
he started stopping by reception constantly after missions even when he had no actual reason to be there. sometimes he dropped food beside your paperwork after realizing you skipped meals while working.
sometimes he leaned lazily against your desk complaining about other cleaners until you rolled your eyes at him. other times, especially after difficult missions, he simply sat nearby in silence while you worked late into the night, his presence steady and grounding without demanding conversation.
with anyone else, silence used to feel unbearably lonely.
the realization unsettled you at first. because for so long, your entire heart belonged to memories of alto. even after he disappeared, even after the grief destroyed your life piece by piece.
part of you still clung desperately to the idea that loving him meant never moving forward afterward.
but healing complicated things.
because the more time passed, the more you realized your feelings toward alto had changed into something quieter.
you still loved him somewhere deep inside yourself.
he was the father of your child. the man you once built your future around. that kind of love did not simply vanish completely. but it no longer owned every part of you anymore either.
though, something weird happened this one day.
the headquarters had already settled into the quieter exhaustion that usually followed long missions by the time enjin finally returned that evening.
the sound of heavy rain pounding relentlessly against the metal roof outside almost drowning out the usual conversations echoing through the halls while tired cleaners wandered throughout headquarters carrying damaged jinki’s, the lingering exhaustion of another day spent fighting trash beasts somewhere deep within the pit.
you sat beside semiu at reception sorting through stacks of mission reports beneath the dim overhead lighting.
your attention only half focused on the paperwork itself while semiu dramatically complained beside you for what had to be the fifth time in the last hour alone about the state of the documents scattered across the desk.
“i genuinely think half the cleaners here lose all literacy the second they return from missions,” semiu muttered with visible offense while waving one stained report through the air like evidence during a trial. “look at this. this isn’t handwriting anymore, this is emotional damage.”
despite yourself, a soft laugh escaped you while reorganizing the pages more neatly into separate piles.
“i can still read most of it.”
“that’s because you’ve developed survival instincts.”
you shook your head slightly, still smiling faintly beneath your exhaustion, though before either of you could continue the conversation the large reception doors suddenly slammed open hard enough to rattle sharply against the surrounding walls, immediately drawing attention from nearly everyone nearby.
your eyes lifted automatically toward the entrance.
and instantly— something inside your chest twisted so violently it nearly hurt.
enjin stood near the doorway soaked completely from rain, strands of damp hair sticking messily against his forehead while irritation rested naturally across his expression like always, one hand shoved casually into his pocket while the other lazily held the door open behind him.
that part alone would not have unsettled you.
what did was the boy standing beside him.
filthy enough it looked like he had crawled through half the pit just to survive reaching headquarters alive.
mud streaked heavily across torn clothing while bruises darkened nearly every visible inch of his skin, and despite how exhausted he clearly looked, his posture remained tense and defensive in a way that immediately made him seem more like a cornered animal prepared to fight rather than a child finally somewhere safe.
but it was not his injuries that truly stole the air from your lungs.
it was his arms.
bandaged carefully beneath familiar gloves.
your breath caught so sharply it physically hurt. because you knew those gloves.
god, you knew them.
your fingers tightened unconsciously around the paperwork in your hands while your entire body suddenly went cold beneath the realization crashing violently through your chest.
the gloves looked worn now, older than the ones you remembered years ago, but the design remained unmistakably familiar — the same gloves meant to ease unbearable pain caused by mutilation spreading across fragile young arms.
the exact same condition your son once carried. the exact same curse that destroyed alto slowly over time.
for one horrifying second, the room around you disappeared completely beneath the roaring sound of your own heartbeat.
the boy stood stiffly beside enjin while silver hair, damp from rainwater, partially shadowed his face beneath the harsh lighting overhead, though even exhausted and filthy there was still something achingly recognizable about him that made your chest tighten harder with every second you stared.
his eyes.
the shape of his face.
even the irritated expression twisting across his features looked devastatingly familiar somehow.
your stomach turned violently. because it can’t possibly be him. years had passed since alto disappeared carrying rudo away from you into the rain.
fucking years.
your son should have been older now, taller, different entirely from the baby whose tiny fingers once wrapped around your own while sleeping safely against your chest late at night.
and yet— the more you looked at the boy standing there beside enjin, the harder it became to breathe properly.
semiu noticed your silence first. “…hey?”
you barely heard her. your entire focus remained fixed helplessly on the boy while memories crashed violently through your mind one after another without mercy.
baby rudo crying softly in the middle of the night while alto held him awkwardly against his shoulder trying to calm him down.
tiny silver strands of hair against blankets. small hands gripping your fingers. alto staring silently at rudo’s mutilated little arms with devastation written across his face while pretending he was not terrified.
the night he disappeared forever carrying your son away from you.
your chest physically ached beneath the weight of it all. then suddenly— the boy looked toward reception properly for the first time.
and your entire body froze. because for one devastating heartbeat— he looked exactly like alto. not perfectly, not completely, but enough that grief nearly ripped straight through your chest all over again.
the shape of his eyes resembled alto so painfully it made your stomach twist, while even the frustration written across his face mirrored the same expression alto always wore whenever irritated but trying not to show vulnerability beneath it.
your hands started trembling visibly now beneath the desk.
semiu immediately noticed.
“…what’s wrong?”
you could not answer. could barely breathe. because the realization growing louder and louder inside your mind felt impossible.
hopeful in the cruelest way imaginable. the boy eventually noticed your staring too. his brows furrowed instantly while distrust sharpened across his face. “…what?”
his voice shattered something inside you immediately. he sounds more older now, with a rougher tone.
but underneath it— there was still something painfully familiar buried there too.
you opened your mouth slightly, desperate to speak, desperate to ask something, anything— but no words came out.
for several horrible seconds, you could only stare at him while your heart pounded violently enough to hurt.
enjin’s eyes flickered between both of you almost immediately after noticing the sudden shift in atmosphere. “…you okay?” he asked slowly, confusion beginning to replace the casual irritation usually resting in his expression.
you blinked suddenly like waking from a trance, though your breathing still felt uneven beneath the pressure crushing your chest.
your voice barely worked when you finally forced words out.
“…his gloves.”
the boy instantly stiffened. one arm shifted subtly backward like instinctively hiding them while suspicion darkened his face immediately.
“what about them?”
the movement nearly destroyed you.
because rudo used to do the exact same thing as a child whenever strangers looked too closely at his hands or arms.
your vision blurred faintly with sudden tears. “…where did you get them?” you whispered shakily, unable to stop the desperation creeping into your voice now.
the boy frowned harder. “an old man gave them to me.”
your heart nearly stopped. an old man.. no one else but alto who gave it to regto. now, the name slammed into your chest without even needing spoken aloud.
suddenly the room felt too small, and too loud.
your hands shook harder now while memories of alto standing silently beside regto years ago flashed violently through your mind, both of them speaking in low voices while discussing the gloves and pain management for rudo’s mutilation before everything in your life collapsed apart forever afterward.
enjin’s expression shifted immediately after noticing your reaction properly now. his eyes narrowed slightly between you and the boy standing beside him.
but that didn’t matter.
because the boy still stared at you with growing confusion written across his face, silver eyes sharp and defensive beneath the exhaustion dragging heavily at his body.
and the longer you looked at him, the more impossible it became to ignore the truth screaming inside your chest.
after all these years— your son was standing right in front of you.
the silence hanging throughout reception after your question felt so unbearably heavy that it almost seemed to press physically against your chest.
your entire body frozen behind the desk while realization crashed violently through your mind over and over again in waves so overwhelming that for several terrifying seconds you genuinely forgot how to breathe properly.
and enjin noticed immediately.
his eyes moved slowly between you and rudo while understanding gradually sharpened behind his expression piece by piece, the casual irritation he normally carried fading almost entirely now beneath something much more serious.
he saw the way you looked at the him.
like seeing both a miracle and a nightmare at the same time. he saw the tears building rapidly in your eyes.
the panic overtaking your breathing. the devastation written openly across your face. then his gaze flickered once toward rudo’s gloves. and suddenly— everything clicked.
“…oh,” enjin muttered quietly beneath his breath. the sound nearly broke whatever fragile control you still had left.
because now someone else understood too.
your trembling fingers rose shakily toward your mouth while your eyes remained helplessly fixed on rudo standing across the room, years of grief and longing and hopeless wondering crashing together so violently inside your chest that you genuinely thought your heart might stop beneath the weight of it all.
your son… your baby.. is alive.
you did not even realize tears had started falling until one slipped heavily down your cheek.
rudo noticed immediately. his expression shifted uncomfortably. mostly confused, uneasy.
“…why’s she crying?” the question shattered you completely.
a broken sound escaped your throat suddenly before you could stop it, your entire body curling slightly inward beneath the force of the sob forcing its way out of your chest after years spent trying unsuccessfully to survive without him.
you had found him. after everything, you had finally found him. before the situation could spiral further, enjin moved immediately.
“semiu,” he said calmly without taking his eyes off you, his voice quieter now but carrying unmistakable seriousness beneath it, “take care of the kid for a minute.”
“wait, what?” rudo snapped immediately, still confused and defensive all at once. “what the hell’s going on?”
but enjin ignored the questions entirely.
instead, he stepped closer toward you slowly before crouching slightly beside your chair, his attention softening immediately the second he properly saw how violently you were shaking now.
“hey,” he said quietly.
you flinched slightly at first, overwhelmed beyond reason, though the moment his voice fully registered something inside your chest loosened just enough for air to finally reach your lungs again.
tears blurred your vision so heavily now you could barely see clearly anymore. “c’mon,” enjin murmured gently. “not here.”
you shook your head weakly almost immediately while pressing trembling fingers harder against your mouth like you were physically trying to hold yourself together.
“…i can’t,” you whispered brokenly through uneven breaths. “i can’t—”
“i know.” though, his voice remained steady. the exact same calm tone he always used whenever your grief surfaced too sharply and words stopped working properly afterward.
he never forced comfort onto you. never overwhelmed you with questions. instead, enjin simply stayed beside you through it. he was patient, steady, present. and somehow, that always hurt your heart in the gentlest possible way.
without another word, he carefully took the paperwork still loosely clutched in your shaking hands and set it aside before holding one hand out toward you.
“stand up for me.”
your legs barely obeyed.
the second you tried rising from the chair, dizziness slammed violently through your body hard enough your knees nearly buckled underneath you immediately afterward.
before you could collapse, enjin caught you instantly.
one arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other steadied your trembling hands against his chest, his grip firm enough to support your weight completely without hurting you.
“easy,” he muttered softly. the warmth of him grounded you just enough to keep breathing.
behind him, you could still feel rudo staring in visible confusion while semiu quietly stepped between the reception desk and the boy, clearly trying to redirect his attention away from the scene unfolding.
you could not look back at him again. not right now. because every second spent staring at your son while he looked at you like a stranger threatened to rip your heart completely apart.
and enjin seemed to understand that immediately too. because instead of forcing explanations or making you remain there longer than you could handle, he simply adjusted his hold around you slightly before guiding you carefully away from reception and down the quieter hallways of headquarters.
your breathing stayed uneven the entire walk back.
tears continued slipping silently down your face while your thoughts spiraled endlessly around the same unbearable realization over and over again.
rudo was alive. all that matters is that he is alive. god, after all these years— he survived. but he did not know you.
he looked confused by your tears instead of recognizing you. the thought hurt so badly it made your chest physically ache beneath every breath.
eventually, enjin guided you carefully into your dorm room before quietly shutting the door behind both of you, cutting off the distant noise of headquarters almost completely until only soft rain and your shaky breathing filled the silence instead.
you barely made it several steps inside before your legs finally gave out beneath the crushing weight of everything overwhelming your chest.
a sob broke violently from your throat while your hands covered your face instinctively, your entire body folding inward around years of grief suddenly reopened all at once.
“that’s my son,” you cried brokenly through shaking breaths. “enjin, that’s my son—”
your shoulders trembled violently now while tears streamed uncontrollably through your fingers. “i thought he was dead,” you whispered desperately. “i thought i’d never see him again—”
before you could fully collapse onto the floor, enjin immediately caught you again. this time, he did not simply steady your balance.
he pulled you completely against him.
his arms wrapped firmly around you while your hands instinctively clutched tightly against the front of his shirt like holding onto him was the only thing keeping your shattered heart together right now.
he simply held you there while years of grief finally poured out of you all over again.
you buried your face against his chest while tears soaked helplessly through the fabric beneath your hands, years of grief reopening all over again now that the impossible truth sat directly in front of you.
every memory came rushing back without mercy — rudo’s tiny baby cries late at night, the feeling of his little fingers wrapping around yours, alto standing silently beside his crib while exhaustion and terror slowly destroyed him from the inside out.
and then the worst memory of all. alto taking him away. the apartment door shutting. your screaming. the empty silence afterward.
“i thought i lost him forever,” you whispered shakily between sobs, your breathing uneven enough it almost hurt. “i thought… god, i thought he died somewhere and i never even got to hold him again…”
enjin’s hand moved slowly against your back while you cried, his touch calm and grounding rather than overwhelming, like he understood instinctively that words would never fix something this devastating.
he simply stayed with you through it.
his palms moved carefully along your waist and lower back in slow circles meant only to soothe the violent shaking wracking through your body while he kept you held securely against him the entire time, never once looking impatient or uncomfortable despite how broken apart you must have looked right now.
“breathe for me,” he murmured quietly after your breathing became dangerously uneven again. “c’mon. slow.”
you tried. god, you tried.
but every time you closed your eyes all you could see was rudo standing in reception looking at you like a stranger while having no idea his mother was falling apart right in front of him.
fresh tears spilled down your face immediately.
enjin sighed softly beneath his breath before carefully guiding you backward toward the bed. “you’re gonna make yourself sick at this rate,” he muttered gently.
normally, his teasing would have earned at least a weak glare from you. right now, you barely even processed the words.
he sat down first before pulling you down beside him carefully, one arm still wrapped securely around your waist while the other brushed slowly through your hair to calm you whenever another shaky breath threatened to turn into sobbing again.
and eventually, without really thinking about it— you curled instinctively against him.
your face buried against his chest while his warmth surrounded you completely, grounding you enough that the violent panic inside your chest slowly started loosening little by little beneath the steady rhythm of his breathing and the quiet movement of his hands roaming soothingly along your waist and back.
the room stayed dark except for faint light filtering through the window from headquarters outside.
rain continued tapping softly against the glass.
and enjin remained there holding you through every ugly, broken piece of your grief without once asking you to stop crying.
“he looked so much like alto,” you whispered weakly after a long stretch of silence, your voice raw from crying now.
enjin’s hand paused briefly against your waist before continuing again slower this time.
“…yeah,” he answered quietly. your fingers tightened slightly against his shirt. “for a second i thought i was seeing a ghost.”
the confession made something ache faintly inside enjin’s chest. because honestly, the look on your face back at reception would probably stay with him for a very long time.
that mixture of hope and devastation nearly destroyed him to witness. he lowered his chin slightly against the top of your head.
“you don’t gotta figure everything out tonight,” he murmured.
but you barely heard him anymore.
exhaustion had finally started dragging heavily through your body after crying so hard for so long, your thoughts becoming slower while the warmth of enjin’s arms and the steady movement of his hands gradually lulled your breathing into something calmer.
you felt safer. and eventually, the trembling wracking through your body eased almost completely.
your grip on his shirt loosened.
and somewhere beneath the sound of rain and his heartbeat beneath your cheek, sleep finally pulled you under for the first time in hours.
enjin stayed awake longer. much longer. one arm remained wrapped around your waist while the other continued absentmindedly brushing through your hair even after your breathing fully evened out against his chest, his eyes fixed quietly toward the ceiling while thoughts turned heavily inside his mind.
the kid he found half-dead fighting a trash beast.
he exhaled slowly through his nose. “…damn,” he muttered quietly to himself. because somehow, against all odds— he accidentally brought your child back to you.
eventually exhaustion caught him too. his hand slowed against your waist, his breathing deepened.
and sometime later in the night, enjin finally fell asleep beside you while still holding you securely against him. the second you realized his breathing had fully evened out, your eyes slowly opened again in the darkness.
sleep never lasted long once your mind started spiraling again.
especially not tonight.
for several quiet moments, you simply laid there against enjin’s chest while emotion twisted painfully through your ribs all over again beneath the unbearable realization still echoing endlessly through your mind.
carefully, you lifted your head slightly to look at enjin sleeping beside you. even asleep, his arm still rested protectively around your waist like he unconsciously refused to let you go completely.
the sight made your chest ache softly.
gently, you slipped out from underneath his hold as carefully as possible so you would not wake him, your movements slow while exhaustion still dragged heavily through your body from crying earlier.
enjin stirred faintly but did not wake.
once certain he remained asleep, you quietly pulled a jacket around yourself before slipping out into the dim hallway beyond your dorm.
the headquarters had mostly settled into silence now.
distant machinery hummed softly throughout the building while dim lights illuminated the empty corridors ahead of you.
your heartbeat pounded harder with every step.
by the time you finally reached the kitchen area near the lower hallways, the dim overhead lights casting long shadows across the metal floors while distant rain continued tapping steadily against the outside structures of headquarters, softer now compared to earlier but still loud enough to fill the emptiness surrounding you as your heartbeat pounded violently harder with every shaky step forward.
you genuinely had no idea what you were supposed to say to him.
for years, during countless sleepless nights spent grieving a son you believed gone forever, you imagined dozens of different reunions inside your head. desperate fantasies where rudo somehow recognized you immediately despite the years apart, where he ran into your arms and remembered your voice and remembered being loved before everything in your life shattered apart.
but reality was crueler. because the boy standing at reception earlier looked at you with confusion instead of recognition.
and honestly, how could he not?
he had been so little when alto took him away from you. far too young to remember his mother properly. the thought made grief tighten sharply around your ribs all over again.
quietly, you stepped closer toward the kitchen entrance before stopping completely the second you finally spotted him sitting alone near the counter beneath the dim kitchen lights.
rudo sat casually on top of one of the counters while munching absentmindedly on stolen candy from an open bag beside him, one leg hanging lazily over the edge while the other remained bent underneath him.
though despite how relaxed he tried appearing, tension still lingered visibly throughout his posture in ways that immediately betrayed how overwhelmed he truly was beneath the surface.
for several long moments, you simply stood there silently staring at him.
seeing him somewhere calm instead of bruised and covered in rain somehow made everything hurt even worse.
he looked older now obviously, taller and sharper compared to the tiny baby you still carried so clearly inside your memories, but so many little things remained painfully familiar that your chest physically ached looking at him too long.
the silver hair.
the stubborn irritation constantly lingering across his expression.
even the way he absentmindedly adjusted the gloves around his arms between bites looked horribly familiar in a way that almost made tears rise again immediately.
your throat tightened painfully.
before you could stop yourself, a shaky breath escaped you quietly.
rudo’s head snapped toward the doorway immediately. his silver eyes narrowed slightly the second he recognized you standing there. “…oh,” he muttered around the candy still in his mouth before awkwardly looking away again. “it’s you.”
the words hurt more than they should have.
“it’s you.” not “mom”.
not anything warm or familiar.
just a stranger standing awkwardly in the doorway after crying while staring at him earlier.
you swallowed hard before forcing yourself to step slowly inside the kitchen. “…sorry,” you whispered softly, your voice still rough from crying earlier. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”
rudo shrugged one shoulder stiffly though suspicion still lingered visibly across his face while he watched you carefully from the corner of his eye.
“you didn’t.” but the lie was obvious.
silence settled awkwardly between both of you afterward while rain tapped softly against distant windows somewhere throughout headquarters.
your hands trembled slightly at your sides. how were you supposed to do this?
rudo suddenly broke the silence first. “…so,” he muttered while tossing another piece of candy into his mouth, “you gonna explain why you looked like you were about to pass out staring at me earlier?”
your chest tightened immediately. straight to the point. that felt painfully like alto too.
you lowered your eyes briefly toward the floor while desperately trying to steady your breathing enough to speak without breaking apart again.
another heavy silence followed. he watched you carefully now, more guarded than before.
“…do i know you or something?” the question physically hurt. you looked back up toward him slowly. “…you used to.”
his brows furrowed harder immediately. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
your fingers curled slightly against your palms while emotion pressed heavily against your ribs again. you needed to stay calm. if you cried again too hard, you would only scare him more.
slowly, carefully, you stepped closer toward the counter though still kept enough distance not to overwhelm him completely.
“…rudo,” you whispered softly, voice trembling despite your best efforts, “do you remember anything before regto?”
he visibly stiffened at the name. “…not really.”
frustration crossed his face immediately afterward. “just random stuff sometimes. nothing useful.”
your heart ached painfully. of course he did not remember much. he had been far too young.
“…what about your father?” you asked gently afterward. rudo’s eyes narrowed instantly. “…what about him?”
there it was, that immediate defensiveness. the same protectiveness you used to see constantly from alto whenever anyone mentioned the surebrec bloodline too closely.
you swallowed hard. “did he ever tell you about your mother?”
rudo went completely still. then slowly, suspicion sharpened visibly across his expression. “…how do you know about my dad?”
your chest tightened harder. because even now— even after everything— he still protected alto carefully.
“…because i knew him,” you answered quietly.
rudo stared at you for several long seconds before scoffing slightly. “what, were you friends or something?” the question almost made a broken laugh escape your throat.
your hands trembled harder now. slowly, carefully, you reached inside your jacket pocket.
rudo immediately tensed. “hey,” he muttered sharply. “what’re you doing?”
“nothing dangerous,” you whispered quickly. “i just… need to show you something.” hesitantly, you pulled out the old worn photograph you had carried with you for years.
the edges had softened with age and handling, slightly bent from how often you held it during nights where grief became unbearable, though the image itself remained clear enough despite time.
your fingers shook violently while staring down at it briefly.
then slowly— you held it out toward him. rudo looked wary immediately. “…what is that?”
“…proof.”
his expression twisted skeptically though after a second he still reached forward cautiously and took the photograph from your hand.
the second his eyes lowered toward it— he froze. completely. silence swallowed the kitchen whole.
because staring back from the old photograph was a younger alto sitting beside you while holding a tiny baby wrapped carefully in blankets against his chest.
the three of you together.
you watched shock slowly overtake every other emotion across his face while his fingers tightened unconsciously around the edges of the photograph.
“…what the hell…” his voice came out barely above a whisper now.
your eyes burned painfully again. “that was taken a few months before your father left with you.”
rudo looked back up toward you immediately, silver eyes wide now beneath visible disbelief.
“…no.” the denial came instantly. but you understood why. because how could someone possibly accept something this impossible immediately?
“rudo—”
“no,” he repeated harder while suddenly standing upright from the counter now, the photograph still clenched tightly in his hand. “that’s not funny.”
“i’m not joking.”
“then how the hell do you have this?!”
your voice broke slightly despite trying desperately to stay calm. “…because i’m your mother.”
the words shattered through the silence between both of you.
rudo stared at you like the entire world beneath his feet had suddenly cracked apart without warning, his red eyes locked onto your face so intensely now that for several painful seconds it genuinely seemed like he had forgotten how to breathe properly altogether.
“…what?” he whispered weakly.
your chest physically hurt now beneath the weight of everything you felt. “i’m your mother,” you repeated softly, tears beginning to gather helplessly in your eyes again. “alto took you away years ago because he thought it would protect you from the surebrec curse, and afterward… afterward i never saw either of you again.”
rudo immediately looked back down toward the photograph almost desperately like he was searching for proof that this had to be fake somehow.
but there was none, the picture was real. painfully real.
his eyes flickered between your face and alto’s over and over again while visible panic slowly started building underneath his confusion.
“…no,” he muttered again, though this time it sounded less certain. “that doesn’t make sense.”
“i know.”
“regto never said anything about this.”
your throat tightened. “he probably thought he was protecting you.”
rudo’s breathing had started becoming uneven now. “you’re lying.” the words came sharp and defensive immediately afterward like he needed them to be true.
your eyes burned harder. “…i wish i was.”
rudo suddenly dragged one hand harshly through his silver hair while pacing backward several steps across the kitchen, the photograph still clenched tightly inside his grip.
“no, because this is insane,” he snapped while panic and frustration started bleeding visibly into his voice now. “i fall into the pit, almost get eaten by trash beasts, then suddenly some random woman starts crying looking at me and now you’re saying you’re my mom?!”
the sound of his voice cracking slightly near the end nearly destroyed you. because underneath all the anger, he sounded scared, confused, overwhelmed.
you fought desperately to keep yourself composed despite tears threatening to spill down your face again.
“…rudo,” you whispered softly, “look at me.”
he refused immediately. “no.”
“please.” his jaw tightened hard.
slowly, hesitantly, he finally looked back toward you again. seeing your own eyes reflected back at you inside your son’s face after all these years nearly shattered your heart beyond repair.
you stepped closer carefully.
“when you were a baby,” you whispered shakily, “you used to cry whenever your arms hurt too badly at night, and alto would panic every single time because he thought he was holding you wrong.”
rudo froze completely. fresh tears blurred your vision.
“he used to walk around the apartment for hours carrying you against his chest because it was the only way you’d fall asleep sometimes.”
rudo’s breathing visibly hitched.
his grip tightened harder around the photograph. “…stop.”
but your voice kept breaking anyway. “your favorite blanket was dark red because alto picked it himself even though he pretended he didn’t care what color it was.”
rudo stared at you now with something dangerously fragile cracking visibly across his expression.
because those were not random lies someone could invent. those were memories, like actual real ones.
his voice came out smaller afterward.
“…how do you know all that?” a tear finally slipped heavily down your cheek. “…because i raised you,” you whispered brokenly. “because i’m your mother.”
the words seemed to linger motionless throughout the kitchen long after they left your mouth.
swallowed by the quiet hum of headquarters during the middle of the night while rudo stood several feet away from you completely frozen in place with the old photograph still clenched tightly between his gloved fingers.
his red eyes locked helplessly onto the image like looking away from it might somehow force this entire impossible conversation to disappear before it could settle into reality.
you could practically see the confusion tearing through him in real time.
because only minutes ago, you were simply some strange woman who cried while staring at him at reception for reasons he did not understand.
yet now suddenly you stood in front of him claiming to be his mother while holding fragments of a life he never even knew existed, memories and truths that had apparently been hidden from him his entire life without explanation.
his breathing had become visibly uneven now, the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders growing sharper beneath his hoodie while disbelief and panic and uncertainty twisted violently across his expression all at once.
though underneath all of that confusion there remained something far more fragile beginning to surface little by little the longer he stared at the photograph in his hands.
slowly, almost reluctantly, rudo finally lifted his eyes away from the picture and back toward your face again.
“…you’re serious,” he whispered eventually, though even now the words sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than genuinely asking a question.
your chest tightened painfully hearing how small his voice sounded now compared to the defensive irritation he carried earlier.
“yes,” you answered softly, your throat still raw from crying.
the second the confirmation left your mouth, rudo immediately looked away again afterward like eye contact itself had suddenly become too overwhelming to maintain.
one gloved hand dragging harshly through his silver hair while he tried desperately to steady his breathing enough to process everything happening around him.
“…no,” he muttered weakly beneath his breath after several long seconds of silence, though the denial lacked conviction now, sounding far more exhausted than angry. “no, because this doesn’t make any sense.”
you wanted to hold him so badly it physically hurt.
every instinct inside you screamed to cross the distance between both of you immediately and pull your son into your arms after years spent mourning him like a ghost.
but you forced yourself to remain still because rudo already looked overwhelmed enough to run from the room completely if you pushed too hard now.
silence stretched heavily between both of you afterward while rain tapped softly against distant windows somewhere throughout headquarters, the sound filling the spaces where neither of you seemed capable of speaking properly anymore.
eventually, rudo looked back down toward the photograph again, his brows furrowing harder this time while his gaze lingered not on the baby version of himself wrapped carefully in blankets, nor even on the younger version of alto seated beside you—
but on you.
“…you really knew him,” he muttered quietly after a while.
the way he said it made your throat tighten painfully.
because to rudo, alto had probably become less of a real person over time and more like fragments of unfinished memories mixed together with unanswered questions and abandonment and grief, while to you—
alto had once been everything. you swallowed hard before answering.
“…i loved him,” you admitted softly.
rudo visibly stiffened at the confession.
his fingers tightened unconsciously around the edges of the photo while his red eyes flickered briefly back toward alto’s face again like he was trying to reconcile the image in front of him with the version of his father he barely remembered himself.
“…he never talked much,” rudo admitted after another long silence, his voice quieter now compared to before. “about anything, really.”
your chest ached hearing that because honestly, it sounded exactly like alto.
burying everything painful deep inside himself until silence became easier than vulnerability.
rudo suddenly looked back toward you again afterward, uncertainty written all over his face now despite how hard he clearly tried hiding it beneath irritation and suspicion.
“…so all this time…” he started slowly before hesitating mid-sentence, like even speaking the thought aloud felt dangerous somehow. “you were alive?”
the question shattered something quietly inside your chest.
because there was no accusation in his voice. only confusion, and hurt.
you nodded weakly.
“after i was thrown into the pit, i survived,” you whispered carefully while fighting to keep your composure steady enough not to break apart again. “eventually the cleaners found me and gave me a place here.”
rudo stared at you silently for several seconds afterward.
then slowly his expression shifted as pieces finally started connecting together inside his mind.
“…wait,” he muttered faintly.
his brows furrowed harder while realization crossed visibly over his face. “that’s why enjin acted weird earlier.”
you blinked faintly before nodding. “…he figured it out.”
rudo let out a quiet disbelieving laugh beneath his breath while rubbing tiredly at his forehead like his head physically hurt trying to process all this information at once.
despite the situation, a weak smile almost tugged at your mouth hearing the familiar irritation in his voice.
the silence afterward no longer felt quite as sharp as before, though tension still lingered heavily between both of you while rudo continued staring down toward the photograph in his hands like it might suddenly answer every question spiraling violently through his mind.
eventually, his voice came quieter than before.
“…why didn’t you try finding me?”
the question hit you like a knife directly through the chest. your breath caught immediately. because deeply you had, for years.
you took one shaky breath before forcing yourself to answer.
“i did,” you whispered weakly. “i searched for as long as i could.”
rudo looked back up toward you immediately.
tears burned painfully behind your eyes again. “but nobody knew where alto went after leaving with you,” you admitted softly while your fingers curled tightly against your palms to stop them shaking.
“and after everything that happened… after the execution… surviving the pit itself became all i could do for a while.” your voice weakened further despite your efforts.
“there were years where i genuinely thought both of you were dead.”
rudo’s expression shifted slightly hearing that. you continued quietly before your voice could fail completely.
“i stopped sleeping properly for a long time because every time i closed my eyes, all i could think about was whether you were cold somewhere… or hurt… or scared and alone.”
your breathing wavered dangerously. “i never stopped thinking about you, rudo.”
silence swallowed the kitchen afterward.
rudo looked away first this time, his jaw tightening visibly while he stared back down toward the photo again though now his grip around it had loosened slightly compared to before.
“…i don’t remember you,” he admitted quietly after several long moments.
the words hurt so badly you physically felt it inside your chest. but you forced yourself not to break apart again because none of this was his fault.
you nodded slowly. “…i know.”
rudo’s brows furrowed slightly harder afterward.
“…but.”
the hesitation caught your attention immediately.
slowly, he looked back toward you again. “…your voice kinda feels familiar.”
your heart nearly stopped.
the confession sounded uncertain, almost frustrated, like he did not understand the feeling himself, though it still shattered straight through every wall around your heart immediately.
fresh tears instantly blurred your vision again while emotion rose violently into your throat so fast you almost could not breathe around it.
rudo noticed immediately.
“…don’t cry again,” he muttered awkwardly while visibly looking anywhere except directly at you now. “seriously, i don’t know how to deal with that.”
despite everything a weak laugh escaped you through your tears. and the sound made rudo freeze slightly.
because for one brief second, something about it tugged sharply at a memory buried deep somewhere inside him. soft hands brushing through his hair. someone laughing quietly while holding him close.
the feeling disappeared almost immediately afterward before he could fully grasp it, though confusion still lingered visibly across his face afterward.
“…weird,” he muttered quietly beneath his breath.
you wiped shakily at your eyes before finally risking one careful step closer toward him.
this time he did not move away. your chest tightened painfully noticing the difference.
“…you don’t have to believe everything immediately,” you whispered softly. “i know this is overwhelming.”
rudo huffed quietly while glancing back down toward the picture again. “…yeah,” he muttered tiredly. “that’s one way to put it.”
another silence followed afterward, though softer this time.
eventually, rudo looked back toward you again while uncertainty lingered visibly across his expression.
“…so what happens now?”
for several long, breathless seconds after rudo asked what happened now, neither of you moved at all, because the question itself was so simple.
and yet the answer to it felt impossibly large, too large for the kitchen, too large for the middle of the night, too large for the years of grief and distance and silence that had already grown between you before either of you even knew how to live inside the same world again.
you could see the uncertainty in his face.
he was trying to act annoyed still, trying to keep that guarded look in place like it could shield him from everything suddenly crashing down around him.
but the longer he stood there with the photo in his hands and your voice still lingering in the air between you, the more obvious it became that he was starting to touch at the edges, not from weakness, but from the sheer force of trying to understand something that should have been impossible.
slowly, carefully, you took one more step toward him, and when he did not move away this time, your chest tightened so painfully it almost became difficult to breathe.
“nothing has to happen right now,” you said quietly, your voice soft enough that it would not feel like pressure, soft enough that it would not make him bolt, soft enough that it would not turn this moment into something bigger than he could handle.
“i am not going to drag you anywhere, and i am not going to force you to call me anything before you are ready, because i know this is a lot, and i know i came into your life like a stranger with a story that sounds completely impossible, but i needed you to know the truth before i lost the nerve to say it out loud.”
rudo stared at you in silence, his brows drawn together, his grip on the photo tightening and loosening in uncertain little shifts as though he could not decide whether to hold on to it for proof or throw it away because the truth hurt too much to keep in his hands.
“…so you really are my mom,” he muttered after a moment, still sounding like he wanted to reject the sentence even while saying it.
your throat tightened hard.
“yes,” you whispered.
he looked away again almost immediately, jaw flexing as he dragged one hand through his hair with obvious frustration, and when he spoke again, the words came out quieter, more hesitant than before. “and that guy… alto… he was my dad.”
the name hit you like a bruise pressed too hard.
for a second, you could not answer, because saying alto out loud after so many years still felt like opening a door you had spent a long time trying not to touch, but then you gave a small, trembling nod.
“yes,” you said. “he was.”
rudo’s expression changed again, not into anger this time, but into something more complicated, something that looked almost like hurt wrapped around confusion so tightly it was hard to separate the two.
“then where is he?” he asked, and for the first time since you had walked into the kitchen, his voice cracked just slightly at the edge of the question.
enough to tell you that beneath all the suspicion he was still carrying some hope, still waiting for the answer to become less painful if he simply heard the right words.
your own chest felt like it was folding inward.
you had spent so many years preparing for this question in your head, rehearsing it in silence during long nights when the grief felt unbearable, but none of those versions ever sounded any easier than the truth.
“…i don’t know,” you admitted softly.
rudo blinked.
his entire posture changed instantly, his shoulders going rigid all over again like he had been struck.
“what?”
you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep going before the fear in his eyes could become something worse.
rudo stared at you as if he was waiting for the rest of the sentence, as if surely there had to be more, some missing piece.
some secret ending where alto came back and explained everything and fixed the damage and made the years apart make sense, but there was nothing more to give him, only the truth sitting there between you like a wound neither of you had the tools to close.
his fingers slowly relaxed around the photo, and for a moment he simply looked down at it again, studying the younger version of himself in the image.
studying alto beside you, studying your face as it had been then, before everything broke apart.
“…i really did have a family,” he said finally, and the way he said it, so quietly and so raw, made your heart clench violently.
your eyes burned again. “yes,” you whispered. “you did.”
rudo didn’t answer right away after that, and the silence that followed was different from the earlier silence, less defensive now, more stunned, more tired, more like someone standing in the wreckage of something they had never known they were supposed to miss until it was already gone.
eventually, he shoved the photo carefully into his pocket, not with rejection, but with a strange kind of caution, like he was afraid of losing it now that he had it, like maybe keeping it near him was the only way he could prove this was real and not some hallucination born from stress and too many unanswered questions.
then he looked back at you. really looked this time. not like a stranger, not like an weird person, not even like a son who believed you yet.
just like someone trying desperately to decide whether to keep standing where he was or run before his chest split open from the strain of it all.
“…why didn’t regto tell me?” he asked, and the hurt in his voice was more upsetting than any anger could have been.
you lowered your eyes briefly because that question had no easy answer either.
“maybe because he thought it was safer that way,” you said quietly.
“maybe because he believed you would be better off not knowing where you came from, or maybe because he was trying to protect you from pain he thought you were too young to carry, but i do not know for certain, and i would never pretend otherwise.”
rudo looked frustrated now in that restless, pacing kind of way he seemed to carry in his bones, but there was no real heat behind it, just confusion trying to find something solid to land on.
“that is weird,” he muttered.
a small, broken sound almost escaped you at that, half laugh and half sob, because even now, even after everything, that blunt little sentence felt so painfully like a child trying to make sense of adults doing the worst possible version of protecting him.
“yeah,” you whispered. “it is.”
the two of you stood there for a while without speaking again, with the rain still tapping faintly outside and the kitchen lights buzzing softly overhead.
until rudo finally let his shoulders drop a little, like he had stopped fighting the entire truth long enough to actually feel the weight of it.
then, in a voice so much quieter that you almost missed it, he asked, “did you really look for me?”
that one nearly undid you completely.
because he was not asking whether you loved him now.
he was asking whether you had loved him enough then to keep searching.
and the answer was the simplest, most painful thing in the world.
“every day,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray you. “every day i could stand it, and on the days i could not stand it, i still thought about you anyway.”
his eyes shifted away first. not because he was rejecting you.
because he was trying not to let you see how close the truth had gotten to him. and you understood that more than he probably realized.
for a long second, neither of you moved, and then rudo exhaled through his nose in a way that sounded tired beyond his years, rubbed the back of his neck once, and looked at the floor rather than your face.
“i don’t know what to do with this,” he admitted.
your chest softened painfully. that was honest enough to be heartbreaking.
you gave the smallest nod.
“you don’t have to know tonight.”
he glanced at you again, and this time there was something almost vulnerable in the look he gave you, something young and uncertain and just a little lost.
“then what am i supposed to do?”
your voice stay gentle when you answered.
“you can keep that picture,” you said softly. “and you can ask me anything you want later, and you can hate me for not being there if you need to, and you can walk away if this is too much right now, but if you are willing, i would like to stay long enough to answer what i can.”
rudo stared at you for another long moment, and then, to your complete shock, he gave a tiny, frustrated huff that sounded almost like he was trying not to feel too much all at once.
“you really talk like a parent,” he muttered.
your heart stuttered so hard it nearly hurt. and because you were so overwhelmed, you smiled through your tears before you could stop yourself. “apparently i still remember how.”
he looked at you then, properly and fully, and while he didn’t smile back, the tension in his face loosened just enough to make your knees feel weak.
the weeks following that night in the kitchen passed slowly at first, awkward and uncertain in ways that neither you nor rudo fully knew how to navigate properly.
because no matter how desperately both of you wanted things to feel natural immediately, reality was far more fragile than that.
there were still moments where rudo looked at you like he was trying to connect the woman standing in front of him now with the blurry feeling of warmth buried somewhere deep inside old childhood memories he could barely remember clearly anymore.
and there were still moments where you caught yourself staring at him too long in disbelief because after years spent grieving him like someone permanently lost to the world, your heart still had not fully accepted that your son was alive and walking around headquarters every single day.
but slowly, little by little, things began changing, it happened in small moments first.
rudo lingering near you longer than necessary whenever you worked beside semiu even though he pretended he was only there because he was bored.
him absentmindedly stealing snacks from the kitchen and dropping them beside your work without acknowledging it afterward.
the way he eventually stopped flinching whenever you touched his hair gently while passing by him in the hallways.
they were like small thing, tiny things, but to you, they meant everything.
because every single one felt like proof that your son was slowly letting you back into his life after years spent believing you were gone forever.
rudo adjusted much faster emotionally than he probably realized himself.
because despite all his complaining and awkwardness and constant attempts to act annoyed anytime emotions became too obvious, he gravitated toward you instinctively now in ways that made your chest ache with overwhelming affection almost daily.
he sat beside you during meals more often than not.
he started knocking on your dorm door late at night whenever nightmares kept him awake even though he always acted embarrassed afterward.
sometimes he would just sit quietly beside you while you worked without saying much at all, like your presence itself calmed something restless inside him he did not fully understand yet.
and every single time it happened— you loved him more. you loved him so much it physically hurt sometimes.
which unfortunately led directly into one very specific problem.
due to enjin.
because rudo noticed the change between you and enjin almost immediately once he finally stopped spiraling over the shock of your relationship to him.
and he hated it. not because he disliked enjin exactly. he actually respected him quite a bit whether he admitted it or not.
but because enjin flirted with you constantly.
like very openly, shamelessly.
and now that rudo understood you were his mother, suddenly every teasing comment or lingering touch from enjin felt deeply offensive for reasons he could not explain without sounding ridiculous.
which only made him more irritated.
“can you stop leaning on her like that?” rudo snapped one afternoon while glaring across the lounge area where enjin sat lazily beside you on the couch, one arm stretched comfortably along the back behind your shoulders while you reviewed cleaner reports.
you sighed tiredly while trying unsuccessfully not to laugh beside them. “boys.”
“don’t lump me together with him,” both of them said simultaneously before immediately glaring at each other afterward.
it only got worse over time. because once rudo realized enjin genuinely cared about you, his protectiveness escalated into something almost ridiculous.
he interrupted flirting constantly. showed up out of nowhere whenever enjin tried spending time alone with you.
once, he physically shoved himself between both of you during a conversation because enjin casually rested his chin against your shoulder while talking.
“seriously?” rudo complained immediately while dragging you several feet away afterward. “in public too? disgusting.”
you blinked at him in disbelief. “rudo, he only leaned on me.”
“exactly.”
behind him, enjin looked moments away from laughing himself unconscious. “kid,” he muttered dryly, “you know she’s an adult, right?”
rudo immediately pointed accusingly toward him. “and you need to stay away from her.”
“or what?”
“or i’ll bite you.”
you nearly choked trying not to laugh.
the worst part was that rudo genuinely did not realize how obvious he was.
because underneath all the irritation and complaining and protective glaring anytime enjin touched your waist or called you pretty, he was scared, not consciously maybe.
but enough that it still lingered quietly beneath everything else.
after losing both parents so young, after years spent abandoned and confused and alone, some small terrified part of him still feared losing you too now that he finally had you back again.
you noticed it most during quieter moments.
the way rudo instinctively searched for you first whenever returning from missions.
the way his shoulders visibly relaxed anytime he heard your voice nearby, the way he unconsciously hovered close to you after nightmares even though he pretended otherwise.
and you understood, because after years spent mourning him sometimes you still caught yourself checking whether he was really there too.
one night, after another long argument where rudo accused enjin of “looking too comfortable” laying across your lap while you brushed absentmindedly through his hair.
rudo eventually stormed dramatically out toward the hallway muttering insults beneath his breath while enjin laughed loudly behind him.
you sighed helplessly. “you’re making it worse on purpose.” enjin looked entirely unashamed. “it’s funny.”
“he’s sensitive.”
“he’s possessive.”
you gave him a look. enjin only grinned lazily before catching your wrist gently and pulling you closer toward him against the couch.
“besides,” he murmured quieter now while looking toward the hallway rudo disappeared down earlier, “kid’s scared you’ll disappear if he looks away too long.”
the observation made your chest ache softly.
because it was true.
rudo had spent so much of his life losing people. first alto, then regto, then the world he thought he understood.
now suddenly he had you back again after years believing you were gone forever too. of course he held onto you tightly. you looked down quietly toward your hands afterward.
“…sometimes i’m scared too.”
enjin’s expression softened immediately. his thumb brushed gently against your wrist. “yeah,” he murmured softly. “but you got him back.”
your eyes burned faintly. because despite everything, despite the years stolen from both of you, you did.
later that night, after enjin finally left your dorm while teasing loudly about “letting your son calm down before he starts throwing furniture,”
you eventually found rudo sitting alone outside headquarters near the upper balcony area, staring quietly out toward the endless darkness of the pit below.
you approached slowly before sitting beside him. for several minutes neither of you spoke. then suddenly, “…he likes you a lot,” rudo muttered grumpily without looking at you.
you smiled faintly. “…yeah.”
rudo looked annoyed immediately. “don’t sound happy about it.” your laughter slipped out softly before you could stop it.
rudo groaned dramatically beside you. “see? this is exactly what i mean.”
carefully, gently, you reached over and brushed some silver hair away from his face the same way you used to when he was tiny.
rudo froze slightly beneath the touch.
“…rudo,” you whispered softly, “nobody could ever replace you.” his expression shifted immediately. all the irritation faded just enough for something softer to appear underneath instead.
you continued quietly while your chest tightened painfully with love.
“you’ll always be my baby.”
rudo immediately looked horrified. “don’t call me that.”
you laughed quietly. “you literally are.”
“i’m gonna leave.”
“you say that every time.”
he grumbled beneath his breath afterward though this time he leaned slightly against your shoulder anyway despite pretending not to. and for a long while, both of you simply sat there together quietly while rain drifted softly somewhere far above the pit.
eventually, rudo spoke again. “…do you think he’s still alive?”
you knew immediately who he meant.. his father alto.
your chest ached softly. because in reality you did not know. maybe somewhere deep down, a part of you would always hope alto survived somehow despite everything.
because grief never truly disappeared. it only changed shape over time.
you looked quietly toward the darkness stretching endlessly below. “…i don’t know,” you admitted softly.
rudo was silent beside you afterward. then slowly, almost carefully he rested his head lightly against your shoulder.
and despite everything that happened, despite the years lost, despite the pain, despite the fact alto disappeared into the world carrying unbearable guilt and fear inside his chest a part of him still remained here.
alive in the silver hair brushing against your shoulder, alive in the boy sitting beside you now.
alive in the son both of you loved enough to destroy yourselves trying to protect.
PAIRING - CEO!Kim mingyu x reader!childhood bestfreind
Summary - mingyu saw her again after ten years—the girl who once laughed too loud, now quiet like winter; his childhood best friend, now a ghost of herself—so he stayed, and slowly, he began to draw stars around the scars he didn’t give her.
Genre: Angst ,grief, Healing ,Childhood friends to strangers to lovers·
Warnings: Miscarriage · Depression · Grief · PTSD-like symptoms · Mentions of car accident · Emotional trauma · Themes of loneliness, detachment, and recovery .
Author's Note (A/N): Hi! This fic is really close to my heart and honestly, it wrote itself in the quiet hours when I was thinking about how grief can make the world feel blurry — and how sometimes, the softest people bring us back to life without even trying. just a story about what happens when the past walks back into your life and sees the version of you even you don’t recognize anymore.
It’s raw. A little sad. But there’s light coming — I promise.
Thank you for reading and sitting with this story. hope u enjoy
index / next
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶ ︶︶୨ ︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹
Chapter One: The Day After the End
I didn’t cry.
I think that’s what disturbs people most.
There’s a kind of silence they expect after death.
A respectful kind. The silence of white flowers, gentle condolences, a soft nod, a hand on the back.
But mine isn’t that kind.
Mine is the kind of silence that makes a room colder.
That presses down on everything until even the floorboards want to give up.
They waited for the scream, I think.
Or the collapse.
Or maybe something loud, something cinematic.
But all I did was sit.
I came home from the hospital with a prescription I didn’t ask for and an empty body.
No crib. No baby. Just the sound of blood still in my ears.
I took off my shoes at the door and sat on the floor in my coat.
And stayed there for a very long time.
there has been a heartbeat
I remember it.
I remember the way it sounded in that dark room—like a drum underwater, like a secret whispered back to me.
I remember pressing my palm to my belly every morning like it was a ritual, as if I could memorize the shape of her safety.
I remember talking to her at night, when the world went still, telling her stories no one else had ever heard.
She was real to me before she had a face.
I remember the name.
And what it meant.
And how I picked it in one breath like it had always belonged to her.
She was mine. She was mine.
Five months.
That’s how far we made it.
Five months of hope stitched into fear. Of silent prayers. Of aching love.
And then a car came, and in one careless second—everything unraveled.
A woman I didn’t know. A stranger in a rush.
She didn’t see me.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down.
I was crossing the street. Groceries in one hand. My other hand over my belly like always.
And then I was on the ground. My head against the cold. Blood spreading like spilled ink beneath me.
I remember the sky.
How still it was.
I remember the pain—sharp, blinding. And then, the absence of it.
Like my body gave up before I could.
She drove away.
She left me there.
That night, not only my baby girl died.
Something in me did too.
My will to live , My soul.
Gone.
And I—I just laid there. Eyes open.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even fight.
I couldn’t save her.
God, I couldn’t save her.
She was inside me. My body was supposed to be her home. Her shield. Her world.
And I let her down.
I let her die.
Every day since then has been a hollow replay of that moment.
That sound of car tires screeching
That silence after.
That guilt—feral and endless.
It crawls up my throat every time I breathe.
The shadows came after that.They wrapped themselves around my ribs and settled in my chest.
The doctor had said it softly, like he didn’t want to wake something fragile in me.
“These things happen,” she told me.
“Just an accident.”
“You’re young. You’ll heal. You can try
Try again.
Like she was a test I failed. Like grief had a reset button.
People moved on so fast. Like it was a scratch, a passing cold, something that time would erase if I just smiled more, ate better, slept longer.
But they didn’t understand—
The world didn’t just crack for me. It ended
They forget. They always do.
They talk about new beginnings while I still sleep with her name echoing in my head.
They don’t see how I flinch when I walk past the baby aisle in stores.
They don’t notice the way I hold my breath when someone asks, “Do you have kids?”
They forgot her.
But I didn’t.
I never will.
Because the day she left me, everything stopped making sense.
And I’m still here, trapped in the pause.
After everything, there was only one person who didn’t walk away
My best friend bibi . The only one who didn’t tiptoe around my silence or flinch at the dark circles under my eyes. She didn’t ask me to move on. She didn’t tell me to be strong. She just… showed up. One day, she arrived with her son and a small suitcase and said, “We’ll stay for a while, okay?”
No questions. No pity. Just love. And noise.
Her son—junseo, five years old and made entirely of light and mischief—ran through the halls like he was trying to shake the sadness out of the walls. Sometimes he’d climb into my lap without asking, tiny arms hugging me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I’d just sit there, frozen, wondering how something so small could hold me together like that.
Bibi tried everything. Cooking with too much garlic so I’d notice. Playing our favorite songs too loud. Leaving little notes on my mirror that said, “Still breathing. Still here.”
She held the house up while I crumbled in it.
And I hated that.
Hated that she had to carry my weight while raising a child.
Hated that I’d become someone who needed saving.
So when she stood at my door on the 40th day and said,
“Come with us to the store. Just groceries. Just ten minutes of air,”
I didn’t say no.
I didn’t say yes either.
I just… stood up.
That was the first time I stepped outside in forty days.
The sunlight felt foreign. The world looked too sharp.
Every sound was too loud.
Every face unfamiliar.
But Bibi held my hand like she used to when we were kids crossing the street,
and junseo tugged at my sleeve like I was still someone worth reaching for.
And so, I walked.
Half-alive.
Half-gone.
The automatic doors parted like a curtain, and the world didn’t stop.
It kept going. Loud, fluorescent, unbearably alive.
Shopping carts clattered. Children screamed without consequence. A song played overhead that no one really listened to. A woman scolded her husband near the produce, laughing right after.
It was offensive, almost.
The world, still spinning like it hadn’t swallowed me whole.
I stood at the entrance for a second too long. Junseo tugged at my sleeve, calling my name like he always did—with such gentleness, it made my bones ache.
I nodded at him, or maybe I just blinked. I wasn’t sure.
Every step into that store felt like a betrayal.
Like I was walking deeper into a world that dared to move on without my baby.
Bibi kept talking beside me, making soft comments about discounts and fruit and “maybe let’s get you some tea,” like tea could fill the hole I live in.
My throat was tight.
Not from tears—I don’t cry anymore.
From pressure. From trying to hold myself together in a room full of people who didn't know they were brushing shoulders with someone whose soul had caved in.
I thought of the baby aisle that I couldn’t walk past.
Of the car. The red. The pain.
And then I felt it—this strange sensation, like air shifting. Like something or someone watching.
Not in a threatening way. Just… steady. Heavy. Familiar.
But I didn’t lift my head.
A voice called my name.
Once. Then again.
Faint, male, careful—
Like someone unsure whether I’d remember who they were.
Like someone not expecting silence in return.
But I didn’t respond.
Because that name doesn’t belong to me anymore.
Because I didn’t care who was saying it.
Because the girl they were calling died on a street corner with her hand on her belly and blood blooming under her like a cruel flower.
Junseo reached for my hand again. I let him hold it.
He didn’t know it, but in that moment, he was the only thing anchoring me to this plane.
The name echoed once more behind me.
I didn’t look back
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶ ︶︶୨ ︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶
That… couldn’t be her.
Could it?
Mingyu slowed his steps near the end of aisle three, a carton of oat milk in one hand, and uncertainty tightening in his chest. For a second, he almost brushed it off — the resemblance, the coincidence — but then she turned slightly, just enough for him to see the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes.
Y/N.
It was her.
Ten years.
He hadn’t thought about how long that really was until this moment.
People changed. But this—this didn’t feel like just time.
She stood beside a little boy, maybe five, maybe younger. His small fingers were curled around hers, and she didn’t seem to notice. Or react. Just stared blankly at the rows of cereal boxes like she was trying to remember how to be human.
He blinked, startled by how wrong it all felt.
The Y/N he remembered would’ve been halfway through a story already, laughing too loud and talking with her hands.
This one… she looked like she hadn’t slept in months. Like she’d forgotten how to exist out loud.
He watched for a moment longer, unsure why he suddenly felt nervous.
Maybe it was the kid. Maybe it was the ring he didn’t see.
Maybe it was how her face was exactly the same, and yet completely different.
Still, something in him stirred—something old and familiar and warm.
He stepped a little closer. “Y/N?”
His voice came out quiet, unsure.
She didn’t look up.
“Y/N,” he tried again, just slightly louder.
Nothing.
She kept her eyes fixed somewhere beyond the shelves, like she was watching something only she could see.
It unsettled him. Not because she ignored him—he could’ve laughed that off, made a joke about her bad memory or how he must’ve aged beyond recognition.
But it wasn’t that.
It was the way she stood.
So still.
So far away.
Like her body was there, but the rest of her was somewhere else entirely.
He hesitated, then stepped back.
Maybe she didn’t hear him. Maybe it wasn’t the right time.
Maybe ten years had created more distance than he’d realized.
Still—his chest felt strangely full as he turned away.
Warmth. Worry. Nostalgia.
A mess of things he didn’t have words for.
He’d seen her. After all this time.
And he didn’t know why she looked like that, or why her silence felt so loud—but he knew one thing for sure.
✧ Pairing :Prince x Black!Reader x Michael Jackson
(2)
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✧ Genre : Angst , Toxic Romance , Secret Relationship , Music Industry Drama , Emotional Slow Burn , Tragedy
⸻
✧ Synopsis :After catching Prince backstage with another woman , something between you finally breaks.
You stop acting like his girlfriend entirely.
No more fixing his makeup before interviews.
No more waiting in his hotel room after shows.
No more sitting beside him during late studio nights while he plays unfinished songs meant only for you.
Instead , you start disappearing.
You party with musicians he hates.
You come home smelling like whiskey and cigarettes.
You laugh too loudly at other men’s jokes just to watch his jaw tighten across crowded rooms.
And for the first time in years , people begin noticing cracks in the perfect image the two of you built together.
“Did Prince replace her?”
“Why does she look so miserable lately?”
“Who was she leaving the club with?”
Meanwhile , Prince starts unraveling privately.
He begins showing up unexpectedly , rewriting songs about you , dragging you into empty dressing rooms just to argue , touching your waist too long in public like he’s terrified someone else might take what he never claimed openly.
But by the time he finally realizes he’s losing you , it may already be too late.
And suddenly every song he never let the world hear finally makes sense.
The air backstage at First Avenue was thick with the suffocating scent of expensive French perfume and cheap gin neither of which belonged to you.
When you pushed the heavy dressing room door open, the sight hit you like a physical blow to the chest. Prince was pressed against the vanity, his hands gripped around the waist of a blonde model. He was dressed for the stage, wearing an intricate, high collared purple silk tunic with delicate lace cascading over his knuckles and tightly tailored trousers. His signature eyeliner was sharp, his hair perfectly coiffed, looking every bit the untouchable icon the world worshipped. But in that dim light, the illusion shattered.
He froze when the door clicked, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was no apology in his gaze, only a sudden, defensive stillness.
You didn't scream. You didn't slam the door. The heartbreak didn't come in a wave of anger; it came as a cold, absolute numbness that settled deep into your bones. For three years, you had been his secret world. You were the one who blended the makeup on his jawline before interviews, who chose the fabrics that brushed against his skin, and who sat on the floor of his studio until dawn listening to him pour his soul into a piano. But you were never allowed in the light. You were his anchor, yet he kept you hidden away like a shameful vice.
In that exact second, the devotion that had kept you bound to him for years simply died.
The shift was instant and merciless. You stopped acting like a woman who belonged to him.
The next night, you didn't show up to his dressing room to adjust his collar. You didn't wait in the limousine. Instead, you stepped out into the Minneapolis nightlife looking like a completely different person. You wore a backless, liquid-silver slip dress that hugged your curves, your hair down and wild, your lips painted a defiant, deep berry. You looked radiant, exposed, and entirely out of his reach.
You began frequenting the underground clubs, intentionally sitting in the VIP booths of the rival funk musicians he openly despised. You didn't just drift away; you tore yourself out of his narrative.
The silver slip dress hit the floor in a silent pool of silk. Standing in front of the vanity mirror, you stared at the faint, red indents Prince’s rings had left on your hips just an hour prior. Your breathing was still shallow, your chest heaving with a mix of adrenaline and pure exhaustion.
You reached into the closet, pulling out a sharp, oversized black tuxedo jacket wearing nothing but black lace lingerie underneath. You zipped up a pair of thigh high leather boots, painted your lips an even darker shade of plum, and walked out. You weren't hiding anymore.
The Public Provocation
The atmosphere at the underground club was thick with bass and heavy smoke. Sitting in the center of the plush, velvet VIP booth was Michael Jackson. He was a striking contrast to the chaos around him, dressed elegantly in a crisp, military-inspired black jacket with gold armbands, his signature mirrored aviators resting on the table next to a glass of sparkling water. He was Prince’s most formidable rival—the only man who could match his star power, and Prince knew it.
When you walked up, Michael’s eyes softened, a knowing, gentle smile playing on his lips. He stood up, offering you a seat right beside him.
For the rest of the night, you made sure the room watched. When the paparazzi flashes went off through the tinted windows, you didn't duck. Instead, you reached over and laced your fingers through Michael’s. His hand was warm, his grip steady and grounding. When a photographer pressed close to the booth, Michael didn't pull away; he simply tilted his head, letting the cameras capture the two of you together.
Across the room, the whispers started instantly. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
By 3:00 AM, the world outside had quieted, but the storm inside Prince’s penthouse was just reaching its peak.
You were sitting on the edge of the oversized bed in Michael’s guest suite, the heavy silk sheets pulled up to your waist. The room was dark, lit only by the amber glow of the city lights filtering through the floor to ceiling windows. Michael was resting against the pillows beside you, his demeanor calm but observant.
Suddenly, the bedside phone shattered the silence, ringing with a persistent, jarring violence. You picked up the receiver.
"I know you think you’re performing some grand, tragic masterpiece right now," Prince’s voice cut through the line, dripping with sharp, icy sarcasm. He didn't even say hello. "But let me tell you something, sweetheart it looks cheap. A silver dress and a cheap seat in another man's section? Is that your grand rebellion?"
You leaned back against the headboard, your voice completely level. "I’m not performing for you anymore, Prince. You can stop watching."
"Oh, please," he snapped, a bitter, breathless laugh coming through the receiver. You could practically see him pacing his studio, wrapped in some extravagant silk robe, his eyes blazing. "You want me to look? You’re practically begging for an audience. Hanging onto him? The gold armbands, the spectacular stunts you think that’s real? He doesn't know you. He can’t write a single lyric that captures the way you breathe when you're sleeping, and you know it."
"He doesn't hide me," you shot back, the raw hurt finally piercing through your calm facade. "He held my hand in front of every camera in that building. He didn't look around to see if anyone was watching us. He just held it."
There was a sudden, heavy pause on the line. Prince’s breathing was ragged. When he spoke again, the sass was replaced by a sharp, defensive venom. "Because he wants what's mine. He’s always wanted what’s mine. You’re letting yourself be used as a trophy just to spite me."
Before you could answer, Michael reached over, his slender hand gently taking the phone receiver from your grip. He didn't raise his voice; his tone was remarkably soft, cool, and entirely unbothered.
"It's late, Prince," Michael said calmly into the mouthpiece, his eyes locked on yours. "Hang up the phone. She’s tired."
The silence on the other end of the line was absolute, a suffocating vacuum of shock and fury. Michael didn't wait for a response. He quietly placed the receiver back on the cradle, cutting the connection entirely.
The room fell back into a heavy stillness. Michael offered a small, reassuring smile and pulled the blankets up over your shoulders, but as you laid your head down, the weight of the unraveling war between the two titans felt like it was crushing you alive.
————————————————————————-
At an afterparty later that week, Prince stood across the crowded, smoke filled room. He was a vision in a crushed velvet cream suit, a sparkling diamond ear cuff catching the strobe lights. But his face was a mask of pure fury.
You looked right at him, threw your head back, and laughed loudly at a joke a guitarist from another band whispered in your ear. You let the man slide a hand onto the bare skin of your lower back.
Across the room, you watched Prince’s jaw lock so tightly the muscle twitched. His knuckles turned white around his goblet, the cool, enigmatic persona completely fracturing in public for the first time in his career.
He cornered you an hour later in a narrow, dimly lit corridor behind the lounge. He slammed his hand against the wall next to your head, trapping you. The scent of his heavy patchouli oil clashed with the smoke on your clothes.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of possessiveness and panic. His chest heaved beneath his velvet jacket. "With him ? You’re making a mockery of everything we built."
"We didn't build anything, Prince," you said, your voice entirely devoid of emotion as you looked down at his lace covered wrist. "You built a career. I just happened to be standing in the dark while you did it. Let me go."
"No," he whispered, his fingers gripping your waist tightly, his rings digging into your skin through the thin silver fabric of your dress. He pulled you closer, his eyes pleading, desperate to drag you back into the secret corner where he kept you. "You're mine. You know you're mine."
"Then tell the cameras," you challenged, staring directly into his eyes.
He flinched. The silence that followed was your answer. You pushed his hands off your hips and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the shadows.
The years that followed were a blur of public distance and private agony. You stopped answering his calls. He stopped writing pop hits and began releasing devastating, stripped-down tracks that practically begged for your forgiveness in falsetto, but you never went back. The toxic cycle only ended when his heart finally stopped beating.
Now, the sky over Paisley Park is an unforgiving, weeping gray.
You sit in the very back row of the sanctuary, completely isolated from the sea of celebrities and fans dressed in mandatory purple. You are a shadow in a tailored black trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat obscuring your tear-stained face, and large dark sunglasses hiding the raw, swollen state of your eyes. The grief in the room is theatrical, but yours is a heavy, suffocating weight that makes it hard to breathe.
In your lap sits a heavy, wax-sealed envelope that his attorney had handed to you before the service, whispering that Prince had given strict orders for it to reach you only in the event of his death.
With trembling hands, you break the purple wax. Inside are pages upon pages of unreleased music sheets and letters written in his frantic, sprawling handwriting.
You unfold the first page, the ink slightly smudged:
“To the only one who ever truly knew me,”
“I am writing this because I am a coward in the daylight. I told myself I kept you a secret to protect you from the monsters of this industry, but the truth is, I was the monster. I was terrified that if the world saw how much I needed you, they would see my weakness. I thought I could have the applause and keep your heart locked away in the dark forever.”
“I was wrong. The studio has been freezing since the night you walked out. Every song I’ve written since has just been me screaming your name into an empty room. I designed a kingdom, but it’s just a gilded cage without you on the throne beside me. Forgive me for not holding your hand when the lights were bright. I loved you more than the music, but I realized it too late.”
A single, heavy tear escapes your sunglasses, smudging the purple ink on the paper. The choir up front begins to sing one of his oldest, most beautiful ballads, the chords echoing through the massive vaulted ceilings.
The tragic irony crushes the remaining air from your lungs. He had finally given you the validation, the public confession, and the absolute devotion you had starved for but he had waited until there was no voice left to speak it aloud.
