Chapter Text
You and him were anything but casual, that’s one thing clear. What wasn’t clear however is how different you two were. Kid was fragile and not like a flower but more of a bomb. And you? You made butterflies inch a bit closer, flowers bloomed where you walked and children would ask you to draw them an animal.
Truth be told, no one knew how Kid bagged you. He was hot, rash, fiery and foremost brutal. This man was dynamite and metal incarnate. Kid didn’t take—he laid claim. He didn’t just boast and yap—he backed it up. Kid doesn’t lose, he wins. And he did so, laughing.
This way of life was applied in your relationship with him as well. The man was anything but subtle. He wasn’t the shy, timid or stoic type—Kid was loud, obnoxiously loud and arrogant too. Especially when it came to you. He didn’t just mention you to people, he bragged about you. Someone looked at you wrong? He’ll send them flying. Someone tried to scam you out of three more berries? Best believe their entire market stall is turned into smithereens.
And you? You found it romantic.
Hearts in your eyes as you watch your dreamy fairytale prince turn a grandpa upside down cause he served you a cold mug of chocolate when it’s dead in the winter.
Best believe you were off in a daze every now and again when his biceps would suddenly come into view, and when he made eye contact with you? You bit your lower lip. Shamelessly.
Safe to say, you liked his temper. You did. But at some point… it got to a limit.
Kid couldn’t apologise for the life of him.
He mucked up in an argument? He won’t say sorry, not ever, but he’ll tinker flowers made of steel for you, in the same fragile shape as your favourites. He’d make you jewellery, rings, bracelets, anklets, necklaces and even earrings in your favourite metal.
You’ve come to learn to make peace with that part of him.
But that didn’t mean it left you unscathed.
You always felt too much, always hurt more than others. Since you were a kid, your heart has always been the more sensitive kind.
And when nothing was done with the hurt you received? You suppressed. You ignored.
The abandoned emotions left to fend for themselves became a haunting whisper. The pain left to subside on its own twists into something ugly and the jarring words that left his mouth marked a stain on your chest no poison could ever recreate.
A habit you’ve long forgotten resurfaces—the tingling feeling, the sharp coldness that brought forth all the suppression, all the frustration in one quick slice—it was heavenly.
It’s been so long you almost forgot why you even started.
And so, it became a part of your daily routine. A raw wound that you picked at again and again.
Kid’s loudness didn’t leave room for tenderness, his sweet gestures were hidden behind plausible deniability.
The heels you threw off in a hurry? They’re stacked neatly upon the shelf. Your expensive perfume you need to be refilled? Already done. The warm water ran out? Trust in him to get it fixed asap.
Not out of care but because it came across his path, or so he would say at confrontation. All flustered and blazing red.
But one night an argument with your boyfriend came to a hot, searing close. One where hateful words twisted your stomach more than usual.
You let him have the last word, let him get the better of it. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. So you left.
But you couldn’t take it, not in silence.
And thus—here you are. You were having a moment. The bath tub was your usual location. Private, enclosed, secured. There, you could just… unravel. Be made undone.
You had sobbed, clawed and wobbled half made out sentences. You felt pathetic. You felt like a wound better left untreated. If Kid saw you like this—he’d scowl. Probably think you weak, dramatic.
It made everything hurt even more.
The crew heard the argument two rooms away. And they all saw you pass the hall with a look that was too uncanny for such a sweetheart. Your eyes were flat, hollow, as if you were not entirely there. Killer had to convince Kid to get his shit together and find you, before it’s too late.
You had laid in the cool marble, hair tangled and the mess spilling across your skin like molten lava.
You were stroking your scars, pretending it was someone’s warm hands. Caressing—feeling each bumped line with such tenderness you almost convinced yourself you weren’t alone.
You hear someone rumble outside your door.
And you know who it is. Only his footsteps are that heavy with confidence, a presence loud without talking.
Your door is met with a few rapid knocks.
He calls your name, voice uncertain, tone slightly hesitant.
He was afraid of overstepping but when you don’t immediately answer, he calls again. “Hey, you okay in there? Look, I—“ he rubbed his neck, “Can I come in? I rather look you in the face then… ya know. Chattin’ to the door.”
You don’t answer.
You feel too numb after your little session, too numb to give a single flying shit about anything right now. So, you just stare into the wall. Not feeling exactly real.
“Either you’re sleeping or are you just that mad you’re giving me the cold shoulder?” He bangs a fist on the door, “tell me to leave and I will. Or else I’ll knock this door down.”
You blink. Yeah right he will—
You hear your door bust open, slamming onto the floor.
Your eye twitch. You slide your sweater back on before bringing your face to your knees.
Kid storms in, gaze darting across the room in search for you. “Oi, where are you? If this is some kind of game—“ he rumbles something incoherent.
Your brute of a boyfriend stumbles towards the bathroom, where you’re sitting in the dark, in the bath tub, arms dripping.
He senses your presence behind the bathroom curtain, snapping them aside.
“Playing hide and seek are we—“
You don’t look up. You don’t need to.
The scolding he had ready breaks in two as he takes in the shape of you.
It was an odd sight. The girl he fell in love with, cheerful, sweet, kind, sunshine incarnate was nowhere to be found.
Just the remains of something sullen. Tired. Broken.
He says your name, much softer than what you thought he could ever be capable of.
You looked bare, almost undead.
“What happened here? Hey, doll, look at me will ya’?”
You don’t. Your arms still stings.
And he notes it. The blood dripping and spilling across the bathtub like twisted vines.
His large calloused hand takes a firm grip on yours, rolling your sleeve up. His lips presses tight. He looks to you, then back and then to you. Grip tightening.
You can’t bring yourself to look at him.
He’s sure to scream at you, sure to get pissed off.
But he doesn’t.
He lets out a deep rumbling exhale through his nose, hoisting you into his arms.
He brings you to your bed. You let him slide your sweater off, eyes scanning, inspecting. His gaze is low, focused, and surprisingly, for once—he doesn’t say anything as he looks the wounds over.
Only when he comes to a final conclusion, hand still gripping your wrist, does he look to you. “You did this?”
You advert your gaze, nodding.
A corner of his lip jerks before leaning in, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
So you sit there, completely mute.
You’ realise you’re cold, shivering almost and the ache in your chest creeps back into you.
When Kid comes back, he has a med kit in hand and a blanket. He does not say anything as he sits down next to you at the edge of the bed, only: “Here lemme’ see that.”
You give him your arm and he tends to you.
His movements are a bit clumsy since he only has one arm, but they’re genuine. He dabs your wounds with alcohol, wraps bandages neatly and when done, he gives your wrist a light squeeze.
When his eyes makes it to yours, they’re quiet. Kid who usually has a scowl on his face or a cocky smirk gives you only his most softest gaze. It makes your chest warm.
“Kid…” you sob, and you keep sobbing. He brings you into his chest, arms wrapping around you as if to keep you forever safe.
Your mouth start moving on its own, words and confessions spilling out of you between hiccups, and he? He only holds you. His embrace is steady, strong and under his hardened skin there is a gentleness buried beneath; reserved solely for you. He lets your breakdown, he watches and he listens. Kisses the top of your head when your sobbing gets the better of you.
At the end of it all, you whimper out, “I’m sorry.”
He gives you a brow, “The hell you sayin’ sorry for?”
“For bothering you with this, I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sorry for being too much—“
His grip tightens, pulling you closer.
“Shut up.” Is what he spits out and you tense up. “Don’t say sorry for shit like that ever again. I won’t have it.” He leans in, breath close to your face. “In truth it is I who should be sorry. I should’ve been better. I’m sorry for not seeing this sooner, and I’m sorry for being such a jerk. So don’t go cutting yourself up no more, I’ll fix this. I promise.”
At that, you manage to harness some courage to look at him. He kisses your tears away, lips nearing your ear. “You roger that?”
You press down a smile, “Yes Captain. I roger.”
“Good, cause I keep my promises.”
Kid tucks himself in with you. Head rested on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart—large, strong. And as the night goes on, you feel yourself slipping away. Truly finding belief in his words, nestled between his warmth and tenderness. A part of him only you can find its touch.
Summary: when you awaken, it will be in the middle of the day. Kid will be gone but his scent and his warmth lingers. Your bandages are redone and next to your nightstand you will find a metal construct of your favourite animal. With a ribbon on top of its head. The craft is miniature and cute, but its craftsmanship is beyond just skilled—it was made out of devotion, a design of pure blazing conviction. You will find a note next to it.
- “I fixed the door. Killer grabbed your favourite grub for tonight. And I mean what I said, so don’t you go and doubt it. Or I’ll have to fix another door. Kid.”