𝗶. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝟮𝟳𝟮𝟭
seer / originally written for my apex discord / oneshot
𝗙𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲 glimmered through open gaps of crimson curtains. A young boy’s bare feet pressed against the cool stone flooring. His figure jumped lightly, a quiet giggle slipping through his lips as his excited hands clenched into soft fists. Taking another step forward in the living room, he passed the couch with a heavy cat curled in the middle of it; he turned around, not feeling the cold in his feet anymore; the cat’s eyes opened as the boy’s hands pet its silky fur. He pressed his finger to his thick lips, quietly shushing and pulling his hand away from the cat’s fur.
Peeking into the kitchen, an adult man stood in front of the stove. A plate of fresh peaches cut into slices rested on the counter next to the man’s dark, thick arm covered to the elbow with a rolled blue sleeve. His skillful hands held a knife gracefully, slicing an apple now placed on top of a cutting board on the glassy counter. 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗷𝗶. Even though the small boy couldn’t see Dimeji’s face, only his broad back and the recently shaved cut of organic triangles on the back of his head, this boy could sense the immense joy from his father’s heart. And therefore he guessed Dimeji was smiling.
Sneaking behind his father, the boy used smooth moves of his body to hide his footsteps with additional arms held high on his sides. He peeked up from the side, not catching his father’s eye yet on his own. Moving his hand to the plate, he reached for a peach… But Dimeji slapped his hand away gently enough to not hurt.
“Obi, you must be patient,” Dimeji told him. Already hearing the smile in his father’s voice, 𝗢𝗯𝗶 tilted his head and let a toothy smile curve on the lips of his own.
“Nna, not even one?” Obi asked.
“You shouldn’t. They’re too warm.”
Obi’s fingers grasped on top of his father’s exposed arm. He pulled Dimeji to face him, and the man agreed to turn around without hesitation. Looking up at his tall father, a glimpse of his icy eyes reflected in his father’s dark brown ones. But his father never looked at him with frowning brows and never turned Obi’s face away. Not like the people outside. Instead, his father took Obi’s hands in his own and welcomed Obi’s curious eyes. He raised Obi’s hand over the boy’s head, inviting a giggle immediately from the child who allowed his body for a small spin under his father’s arm. Then another spin as Dimeji guided his wrist into a new turn with his gentle fingers.
Fingers intertwined, small and large palms pressing into each other, their hands lifted to their sides near Obi's chest's level. Dimeji's feet moved forward and Obi's backward; they spun around; Obi moved forward, Dimeji backward; they spun again, and Dimeji dipped his head under Obi's hand reaching as high as the boy could. Another giggle from the son, a low chuckle from the father — their smiles were each other's residences. It had never been doubted. Obi's heart had always known so.
But when their hands finally separated, Obi's smile faded into a soft frown.
“My beautiful boy,” Dimeji spoke, “What is wrong?” Placing his hands on Obi's slender shoulders, bending his knees to crouch down. Obi's bright eyes locked on his father's collar. Dimeji always told him to be honest. And so he was without fear of judgement from his father.
“A girl outside told me I would cause your and nne's death.” The curse would bring them great suffering and pain. “That these eyes will be the last thing you ever see.”
Of course it wrenched Obi's little heart. His chest ached and throat stung with pain. He was just a child too — and no child wanted to hear people tell him such things every day.
“Whether that is true or not, I will never be afraid of it,” Dimeji told him; “I will be honored to see you as the last thing.”
“I do not want to be a threat— Just a boy.”
But Dimeji pressed a kiss to Obi's forehead after the boy's words, gentle and understanding.
“I would rather see you than anyone else,” Dimeji hummed and nudged his chin up. “Raise your head, Obi. Never hide yourself. I want to see you.”
And Obi raised his head to see his father's welcoming eyes. His frown turned into a smile again. Uncertain but beautiful.
To the people outside, you may be a threat. Someone who they think to never accept. But to us you are our beauty and joy.
“𝗜𝘆𝗮𝗻𝘂 told me you made a choreograph. Would you show me?”
Always be yourself — never hide your true colors from anyone. They are your strength. They will show people what you truly are — an outcast but with a lover's heart. Let them face you with honor.
Obi's excitement shone clear on his expression; “Okay!”
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗻 𝟮𝟳𝟯𝟯, a woman's gunshots to her chest bled out onto the ground. Gliding snow coloring red under her, she tried to back away with a hand on her heart and terror in her eyes. Large banners showing players stood out in the distance away from the towers of ice. And in the midst of those banners, Obi's eyes faced the point of view.
Her eyes met Obi's freezing blue own. Her breath hitched inside her throat, his figure crouching down in front of her — smooth and slow.
“You will not be in pain,” he told her. With a glide of his hand, pastel blue moths coded in her sight. Her previously trembling lips now stilled open and her eyes followed the beautiful technological creatures. Her slowing down heartbeat indicated to Obi of her calmer state.
Obi continued. “Or so I suppose.” A flash of his hand guided the moths back to him.
And then she met his eyes. Her heartbeat rapidly increased again. Eyes widening and lids fluttering, all pain falling down onto her again from its forgotten state. But he was gentle and calm. In the Apex Games— anyone would have already blown her head off to finish the kill. But he smiled. Then he spoke again, a sheer reminder.
“To be the last thing you see will be my honor.”
