My head on lap was tuned towards Theo. My eyes traced him from shoes to shoulder in casual attire—probably was invested in some mission.
My eyes met his at last, was again simping over that gorgeous face. His hairs were messily tied, many strands falling apart over his face. Unlike I expected his brows didn't pulled down to the eyes to display that firm expression as he always did neither did his amber eyes had any darkness left...as if he had nothing to hide or express that moment.
Theo's eyes were simply stuck to mine as some animal under inspection. He pulled out the key of the cell and opened it. In such silence the metal sound echoed when he dragged it open. His boots made that click clack sound as he paced towards me. Ahhh...…so fortunate of me!
My heart was throbbing hard, still not prepared with the answers. Well, I would say what happened...lying isn't going to help me anyways.
When he was just a step away, I looked at him up….so now it's time. He bent a bit. But-- "Huh….?"
His big hand grabbed my arm, pulling me up. He didn't bother to glance once, instead dragged me out. This was something new. My steps stumbled in between. My mind could process what was happening. Was he taking me to torturing cell? Or straight to execution...…..?
He pulled me throughout the station like some pet dog, everyone looking with astonishment but none having the guts to ask once.
"Hey Theo, listen once….just once. This time I really didn't start. I really didn't plan anything. Just once I went to make money… really some decent money." I spoke loudly, as if using words to resist his grip, but my body already betrayed me—following his rhythm like it's meant to be.
"You, make money?" he put it in sarcastic manner with the expected mocking laugh, still not looking at me.
"I mean Theo, just listen once, I really didn't kill anyone. Isn't it? You can't put me in torture room for just a bit of mess...…." I continued, but he seemed to have gone deaf. I should make my point fast. But wait what—
There was the exit of the station. Was he taking me out? I stop resisting.
He really did. Was I dreaming? Did he had a change of mind? Or ...…..I couldn't think.
Outside the air felt colder. Cleaner than the city. I breath once, a deep breath. It felt nice.
He led me straight to his car and opened the back door without a word. I stared at it for a second or two maybe not knowing what's happening. He then threw me on the seat then like loading some goods.
It's Theo's car. Oh my my... This fragrance. I tried to inhale it all without making it obvious. He shut the door with a huge sound behind me, and opened the front door seating himself to the front. Did he had his brain hit or something? Or is it that he realized how much I love him and so was ready to go out with me.....No, I was probably thinking much. That's more than impossible.
He fixed the front mirror, adjusting it have my face on it fully. I would like to guess that he missed me....how stupid of me.
I bent a bit forward slightly, resting my arms on my knees. "Aren't you going to ask what happened?" I spoke in a light voice, not shouting as I did at station. "Or have you decided how much you hate me today?"
Nothing. He just started the engine and drove to direction I didn't know.
"....You know, I could start thinking you care," I added after ten minutes of silence. My lips already tugged with faint smile.
"Stop making a nuisance," he said flatly, all his attention on the road.
I exhaled softly, leaning back. "It was her who started first. I didn't mean it from start." I began anyway. "I mean, sure—she's gorgeous. I'll give her that. But does that give her the right to act like she owned the place?"
Still nothing.
"I tried, you know," I continued, my tone dropping just a little. "I tried to control my anger and make some decent money for the first time in a while. Be…..tolerable." A pause. "And look how it turned out." I puffed.
"Angela."
The name cut through everything. I blinked once. twice.
"...Angela?" I repeated slowly, turning my head towards him. "Wait—Angela...as in your Angela?"
He exhaled sharply. "That's in the past."
"Oh?" I tilted my head, watching his reflection in the front mirror. "Isn't it you still like her…." Making a bit tease is what I liked, even though this one I myself didn't like.
"…..Drop it."
I didn't.
"I mean, I can't see a reason to stop catching those feelings. "She's still ridiculously beautiful. Honestly, she grew up well."
His eyes flickered to mine through the mirror. Shar, cold stares. Judging.
I stopped—not because I wanted to. But because something else slipped in. I leaned forward suddenly, lowering my voice. "does she knew who I am?"
A beat.
"I hope she doesn't…..God, that's feels embarrassing now—" I sprang close to his ears, was being real this time. The thought actually feels. I wasn't overreacting.
"Except me," he said, reaching my head back without looking, pressing my head down slightly, "no one does." He was still driving with one hand. The road was clearer, this path I really didn't know.
His fingers bushed against my hairs- and came stained red. He paused—for the first time that night.
"…..You're bleeding."
"Am I?" I murmured. He clicked his tongue, reaching up to the compartment above, pulling out a small kit. Antiseptic. Bandages—of course he always kept those. Prepared.
"Sit still."
Was he going to do it himself. Who was I to argue then. A pleasure for me.
His fingers were rougher than necessary as he cleaned the wound, pressing the antiseptic in without warning. It stung.
It grounded me. I watched him the entire time. every small movement, every flicker of expression he tried to hide.
"Thank you," I said quietly when he finished.
He didn't reply. As expected. But he also didn't pull his hands away immediately either. And for some reason—that felt more dangerous. Clearly his eyes were expressionless to make a guess about his thought—he was always this hard to read. But something in his touch spoke different I couldn't quiet explain.
The engine came alive again, a low, steady growl beneath us.
Theo didn't look at me bothered to have glanced at me again after the dressing of my wound. He didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge my presence beyond the fact I existed just behind him. It was all quiet expected and yet....something felt off. Not wrong—just different. Subtly shifted, like a blade angled half an inch away from where it used to rest.
Silence stretched.
I tilted my head, watching his profile in the dim wash of passing streetlights. "Don't you find it annoying?" I asked, voice light. Almost careless. "That I talk so much."
No response.
For a moment, I thought he would ignore it entirely. Then, after a pause long enough to feel deliberate, he said, flatly, "I'm supposed to be used to it now."
A quiet laugh slipped out of me. Soft. Amused. But it didn't last.
Because my mind—traitorous as ever—looped back to it. That tattoo.
It flickered in my memory like a half-burned mark I couldn't fully recall. It meant something. Even after have tried to convince myself so hard that it could have been just out of fashion my insides didn't. Symbols like that weren't decorative. They carried weight. Allegiance. Ownership.
But of what?
I didn't even realize how far we had gone until I glanced out the window again. The roads had emptied. Streetlights grew sparse. The city had thinned into something quieter, older.
Fourty minutes. Maybe more.
And he was driving fast.
Too fast.
"Hey," I said, leaning back slightly, eyes narrowing at the road ahead. "Where exactly are you taking me?" A pause. Then, with a crooked smile that didn't quiet reach my eyes, I added, "Planning to throw me somewhere? Or just executed me properly this time? clean up the mess I made—alone."
His grip on the wheel didn't tighten. Didn't loosen.
"Yeah," he said after a beat. "There's a difference between you and me."
I let a small breath of laughter. "A difference, huh."
But inside, something colder stirred. Difference.
Right. There were layers to that word. Could take it bad or good. However I did still like to assume my man is on the cleaner side.
...…
By the time the car slowed, the surroundings had changed completely.
Flambora Station.
The name surfaced faintly in my mind—a neighboring city. Older. Worn down at the edges. The kind of places where buildings leaned into each other like they were just too tired to stand alone. Dim lights. Narrow streets. Middle-class struggled tangled with quiet poverty.
We stopped near a stretch of market pressed against the station. Even at night, the place was alive—vendors shouting, metal clanging, voices overlapping into a constant, restless hum.
"Get out," Theo said.
I raised my cuffed my hands slightly, tilting them towards him. "Am I supposed to move like this?"
"So what do you expect?"
I didn't move.
Not until he stepped out, walked around. And yanked the door open himself. Let me assume myself getting a princess treatment. But then he suddenly he had his grip over my hand, a rough one. He pulled me out, the motion sharp enough to throw me off balance. Cold air hit my face. Noise rushed in.
Without ceremony. He unlocked my cuffs. The metal snapped open, and before I could flex my wrist, he caught my arms again—dragging me forward the crowd.
And yet...….
I followed.
Almost willingly.
The way I act is no less than to be descripted as absurd. I let myself to be pulled along, weaving through bodies and stalls, lights flickering over his back as I trailed him. If someone looked close enough, they might have thought—ridiculously—that this was a date.
A twisted one. But still. I felt happy—certain fake moments are still good for my heart.
We stopped at an ice cream stall.
Before he could say anything, I leaned forward, voice bright, almost sing-song. "One chocolate ice-cream. I really, really love chocolate."
He glanced at me once. Then the vendor.
"Money," he said.
I scoffed softly. "You must have enough. Don't ask me."
He didn't argue. Unexpectedly didn't comment too. Just paid.
A moment later, the ice-cream was in my hand.
The place was crowded—too crowded for the hour. People pressed close, voices layered thick in the air. Goods stacked everywhere, some of them clearly imported, out of the place for a city like this. Movements never stopped. It pulsed.
As Theo turned a bit forward, I tried to angle myself, just slightly—just enough to catch a glimpse of his neck again. That tattoo.
But this time, it was hidden beneath the collar of his turtleneck. Laid ….concealed.
I clicked my tongue softly and took a slow lick of the ice-cream instead, letting the sweetness melt on my tongue.
He didn't get one for himself.
"Why didn't you buy one?" I asked, glancing at him. "Here—" I raised mine towards him, a teasing smile forming as I took another deliberate lick. "You can have some."
"I don't like sharing things...…..especially from someone like 'you' Zinnia." He spoke in that usual cold lower voice looking back at me.
Of course. That tone spoke remarkably for his thoughts about me, I will respectfully accept this treatment…..
Again, I kept talking—half to him, half to myself—as we moved again. My eyes wandered over the market, catching fragments of colors, fabrics, strange attire. Some people were dressed oddly—unfamiliar style that didn't quiet belong to anything I recognized.
I followed him through the crowd. More like—he pulled me through the whole crowd...And I liked it. His touch on mine is not something I always get to feel.