The Issues With Redecorating

A bright red curtain was shoved in her face, the garnet colored cloth an inch away from smothering her mouth.

"Don't just stand there and slack off, Alina!" Chris' voice lectured as she pushed away the offending object, "You asked me for my help and then you just stand there and do nothing! You can at least try and be helpful. I know I’m cute, but I don’t see you paying me for my looks or anything." Even before the cloth had been completely pushed out of her vision, she knew the tall boy would have his hands firmly planted on his hips, his brow up and full of his little ego that made her want to fake vomit just to spite him.

And as her petite hands finally pushed up enough so that the cloth freed her eyesight from its prison, she wasn't the least bit surprised to see she was right.

Dropping her impassive gaze to the boy’s fiery orbs, Alina let out a subtle scoff. "Don't act so high and mighty, all you've done so far is pick out a pair of curtains." To emphasize her point, Alina snatched the overly familiar curtains away from the boy’s hands and casually waved them in his face.

"…" Chris stared at her for a moment, his brown orbs almost comically wide as he became flustered, and Alina waited for him to respond, or for the gears in his head to finally stop working under his low ability to think coherently. Either or. "That's not the point! The point is I came all the way here to help you-"

"You've been wanting to come over anyway," Alina reminded him swiftly in a bored tone.

Chris felt his brow start to twitch before he carried on as if the girl with an attitude problem hadn't interrupted, "out of the kindness of my heart."

Alina raised a brow at that, clearly showing her disbelief, which earned her a harsh glower from the boy. Chris wasn’t having it, a cocky head tilt in Alina’s direction when he crossed his arms tightly. "And all you do is stand there and watch me!"

"I was waiting for you to do something useful," was the easily conjured explanation.

“Listen, I’m way more useful than your constant attitude.”

Just like that, a little fist that felt more like a grown man went crashing into Chris’ spine. Bending backwards in a small jolt of pain, Chris let out a small grunt, glancing over his shoulder to see the top of Alina’s brown locks dipped in anger, her fists repeatedly tapping into his back. "Keep talkin’ shit--.”

Chris was having none of that. Gritting his teeth, he whirled around and swiftly placed his arm beneath her knees, scooping her up into his arms, bridal style, before stomping across the room, ignoring her jokes of how he was a jerk, "This is the last time I help you," Chris retorted, when her body was completely through the arch in the hallway, he dropped her promptly on her ass.

The minute she hit the floor with a loud thump, Alina lazily crawled to her feet and looked up at him with a quirk to her brow. A cock to her head as they stared each other down.  “You said that before, ten times in fact. Keep it up and I might start thinking you just can’t tell me no.” Chris furrowed his brows at her, his cheeks slightly puffed. Amused by the reaction, Alina watched as his expression shifted to show that he was trying to think of a comeback, and when his lip was drawn in between his white teeth, she knew he was failing miserably. She had won again. The faintest form of a smirk made refuge on her lips, and Chris must have seen it because the next thing she knew, his freckled cheeks were red with fury.

His hand came out defiantly to ruffle the top of her head, before he basically stomped towards the kitchen, mumbling something or other about getting more boxes. Alina rolled her chocolate gaze toward the ceiling and shook her head, heading back to the room they were working on. But not before she heard him shout, "Hang up the curtains!"

Alina shot the direction he was in a dirty look.

So bossy.

Sparing a look to the curtains in her hand, she crinkled her nose at the obnoxiously bright red color. She hoped to whatever deity exists that Chris knew what the hell he was doing. With those thoughts, she began hanging up the curtains, pushing the fabric along the crisp black rods one piece at a time, her tiptoes against the effort she slid them along.

"You'd make an excellent housewife."

The thought passed through her head without warning, and she furrowed her brows, continuing her work.

She must’ve been spending too much time around Maya.

A loud thump sounded from behind her, and she turned to see Chris tossing a box half his size into the living room. The crash clattering whatever was inside around with a rattle that made her slightly nervous of its contents, pondering if the contents were fragile or not.

Shifting the box so it was more firmly placed on the ground, Chris approached her with a cheery smile on his lips, "Here comes box one, boxa-uno."

Grunting in reply, Alina crouched beside the heavy cardboard box, her elbows resting on her jean clad knees while she examined it. "What's in it?" Alina finally questioned, her eyebrows rising when she tilted up her chin to peer up at Chris. She didn’t recognize the box as one of her belongings.

Chris’ eyes kindled with excitement at the question, and he immediately shot down to sit on his knees beside her. "It's a box of pictures, I thought you might want them. Keepsake and all that, we both know you’re secretly sentimental."

With an eyeroll, Alina was about to ask just how many damn pictures were in there, when Chris started ripping open the lid to get at the pictures beneath. When he succeeded in his goal, his hands were suddenly holding a picture by his face, the smile on his face growing brighter with every second that he held it. "Look, this is from when we started school in middle school, man I was short."

Sure enough, it was.

In the picture, Alina was staring forward with a frown at the camera and Chris was behind, barely tall enough to peer over her shoulder as he grinned widely. She remembered distinctly that he had tricked her into taking that photo, blackmailing her with a photo of her in her formal pink dress and pigtails, but nevertheless, Chris had been happy that he had managed to get a picture with her.

"And this one is when we first went to the beach!"

The picture was replaced by another, and Alina actually cracked a smile at this one. She remembered that vacation all too well. Dylan had insisted they took some time off to "push along their family love" and the entire thing had ended up in a disaster. What was supposed to be a relaxing getaway had turned into a hazardous mess. Chris had gotten lost three times, Dylan had accidently blown up the microwave (which had gotten them banned from the resort), and she herself had come back home resembling more of a lobster than anything else. The vacation overall just sucked. And yet, in that frame, it showed Chris sporting his bright blue cloud swim trunks, a pink hue on his cheeks as he laughed, putting sand in her frazzled brown locks. Her face staring back at her screamed annoyance, but even she could tell that her eyes were light with hilarity in the photo.

She had been happy on that vacation. Though, she couldn't fathom why.

"We should go there again sometime." Chris stated in an almost hopeful tone, staring at the photo with a fondness that surpassed hers.

Alina couldn't help but let out a sound of disbelief, "I doubt that."

Chris tore his gaze away from the image frozen in time, "Why not?"

With an eye roll, Alina stated the obvious, "Your dear dad got us banned from there, for life."

"Oh…yeah." Straightening from his kneeling position, Chris’ arms bundled up as many photos as he could handle at once, "My bad, I forgot about that. I'm going to start hanging these up now though, can’t have you forgetting about us." Marching over to the left side of the house, he began putting the pictures on the dry wall but the first one fell to the carpet without a hitch, as did the second one.

"…Idiot. You need to put nails in the wall first."

Alina watched with keen eyes as the tips of his ears turned pink.

"Obviously I knew that, I was just leveling them."

“Right…” She said doubtfully. Before ruffling the back of her hair with her hand, Alina went into the kitchen to retrieve the hammer and nails under the sink. Once she was there, she stuck one of the nails between her teeth, the taste of metal splashing on her taste buds, as she grappled for the rest of the box off in the far corner.  Then once she calimed the box, she reached again for the hammer. Her eyes narrowing in annoyance when her digits met nothing but the empty cupboard floor. Pushing the nail to the side of her mouth with her tongue, Alina shouted while gripping the nail, "Where did you put the hammer?"

"I didn't touch it!"

Great. Groaning in frustration under her breath, Alina set the container of nails on the counter along with the one that had been in her mouth, and began to search for the hammer that was not in the place she had last put it.

Completely unaware of the wine hues that watched her crawl around the floor, a hammer sitting in cold fingers.

                                __________________

Calloused fingers flipped through the rest of the pictures as Chris waited for Alina, his sharp irises locked onto the memories carved in each still moment. He was surprised to see just how little of the photos included a smiling Alina. He knew she didn't smile much, if hardly ever, but it was still disappointing to acknowledge. Frowning in a soft fashion, Chris could only find one picture of her smiling, and to add salt to the wound, it was a picture of her before he had become a part of her life. Her young face was smiling at what appeared to be a tree, alone by herself in her backyard. She had a book nestled soundly in her lap, and she appeared content. But that was before her family had…

Chris still couldn't image the pain Alina had to endure when her family had died.

Something so horrible, he couldn't comprehend it, he could try, but he'd never truly understand. The same way he could never fully understand Alina… but he knew her well enough. That's why he knew that despite how she acted, that Alina wasn't okay. The scars on her neck, the dark patches along her wrists that hid a story that shook him to the core. Chris knew Alina was still hurting, and he didn't know how to help her. Feeling something warm build up in his eyes to burn at his lashes, Chris quickly scrubbed his face with his shirt sleeve. It was selfish, perhaps maybe even immature, but he wanted to be the one to help Alina move on. He always tried to be there for her, let himself be her shoulder to cry on, but Alina never fully let him in. There was a wall between them that he simply couldn't climb. The wall was removed when everything was carefree, but the minute Alina’s eyes darkened with pain, he was pushed away. It hurt him; Alina was always there for him and she wouldn't let him do the same.

Sometimes, he felt ridiculously weak.

Biting his lower lip in frustration, a bad habit he knew he had, Chris stubbornly set down the photo. The boy knew, as he set aside another picture instead, that he'd just have to be patient. He would stand by Alina, whether she pushed him away or not because…

His gaze became solemn as they landed on the image staring up at him from his lap. In its slightly faded glory was a peacefully sleeping Alina with a younger version of himself curled up next to her, her long strands of brown hair splayed out on the ground as she buried her face in his neck, her hand sprawled right across his chest.

His fingers ran through chocolate bangs as the girl slept, a smile on his face. "Goodnight, Ali." He said, right before his eyelids had begun to droop.

Because he loved her.

Resting his palm over the image, Chris silently making a note to thank his father for taking the picture sometime in the future.

"What are you doing?"

Chris jumped almost a foot into the air.

                            __________________

"Alina, the hell? For one, don't sneak up on me like that! For two, what took you so long, midget?"

The insults came out to play. Leveling the other with an impatient look, Alina thrusted out the hammer and box towards him. Barely waiting for him to grab it, she released them into his palms, and briskly stalked over towards the furniture.

Placing both her hands on the edge, she turned her head towards him, biting back her irritation from earlier, "Where do you want these?"

Chris, who had already begun to smack the nails into the wall, tilted his head for a moment before speaking, "You can put the couch along the center wall by the door, push the love seat to the left wall and set the recliner at an angle towards the right. That way it'll make a circle to surround the T.V—I know you’re not the best with décor, but trust me, it’ll look nice when it’s done."

Following his instructions with a bit of hesitance, Alina did as she was told. When she began to lift the recliner off the ground, small bits of moisture dampening her forehead as if someone had dabbed her head with a wet washcloth, Alina let her curiosity come forth, "Where did you get that idea from?" She asked as she inched it across the floor.

"The internet."

Alina let out a snort, dropping the recliner in its assigned place.

Pivoting her hips, she checked to see how far along Chris was, when she took notice of something immediately, "What the hell is that?"

"Huh?" Chris stopped mid-movement, the picture frame he was working on halfway onto the nail, "What?"

Pointing at the large object resting against the wall at an angle, Alina repeated, "What the hell is that?"

Chris glanced down to where he was pointing before he made a small noise of surprise and smiled, "It's a painting! Isn't it pretty nice?"

Not bothering to actually look at it, Alina nodded her head slowly. "Where did it come from?" She did not recall being an art collector.

"I found it in the closet; I thought it would be a nice addition."

The sound of the frame scraping the wall hit Alina’s ears as Chris resumed his task. And Alina mused over the idea of having a painting that didn't belong there in her closet.

Alina had looked everywhere, everywhere, for the hammer. But it was as good as gone. Glaring daggers at the counter with a vein throbbing in her forehead, Alina was ready to punch a hole in the wall.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to figure out where else she could have possibly put it. Her mind was coming up with a blank. To her frustration, she was certain she had put the tool in this room.

Cussing in a hushed murmur, Alina whipped around to leave the room, settling on just making Chris use a rock or something, when a loud clang underneath the sink made her heels grind to a halt.

Approaching the sink, Alina squatted down to open the cupboard doors, and felt her eyes widen.

She stared at the hammer lying innocently in the middle of the cupboard.

Alina's brows drew together, but she decided to just let it go.

Moving over to the painting, Alina gingerly picked it up with small fingers, and at that moment, Chris finished hanging up the last of the pictures from his pile.

When he was beside her, he nudged her side, "hey, if you let me give you a boost, you can hang it up in the middle of all the pictures, right above them."

"Last I checked you weren’t a stepping stool, but whatever floats your boat I guess.”

“Hardy-har.”  

Rolling her eyes sarcastically when he crouched down in front of her, Alina reluctantly felt awkward about it.  Then in order to just get everything done and over with, she gave in. With her gaze trained on the wall, she felt as she slid her legs around his shoulders, her thighs awkwardly pressed against the side of his head. Heat pooled in her cheeks, feeling incredibly conscious of her weight and worrying about hurting the boy she had grown up with almost all her life.

"All right, you can stand up now."

Cautiously, Chris gripped her knees, and stood tall with his messy blonde hair. And once she felt steady on her makeshift perch, she shifted the painting up high on the wall. The brushes and strokes of red seeming to meld with the room when she finally got the frame straight with a hum of approval.  When she did, Chris instantaneously dropped down so she could crawl off.

Stepping down and Alina moved backwards to get a good look at the painting in all its glory. Chris beside her when he appraised it aloud, "we'll just have to move it when you get a T.V. but for now, I think it looks nice! What do you think Alina?"

Glancing up at it, Alina felt something inside her chest pull…"Decent."

Chris made a sound similar to a strange mixture between a growl and a whine, "You're so grumpy." He prodded his finger into her cheek, "you should smile more."

Alina's only response to him was a scowl and the boy all but looked away with a petite frown making his lips oddly pouty, like a girl. "Fine, don't then." Chris relented, bitterly.

Watching him from the corner of her eyes, Alina noted the minor drop in his expression, the way his eyes seemed to dull a smidge. She didn't like it when he made that expression. Submitting to her desire to see him smile again, she reached up on her toes and threaded her fingers into his hair, noticing how his eyes widened, then she gently thrusted her fingers out, pushing his head to the side with mirth.

The smile slipped back on his face like a missing puzzle piece, his hip jutting out to nudge against her own.

"Oi, Ali, by the way, can I spend the night tonight? On the couch, obviously."

In a moment, she was caught completely off guard.

"Why?"

Chris grinned down at her and crossed his arms, “because I miss you, that's why."

His logic didn't make any sense to her. Glossing her eyes over to the watch on her wrist, Alina pointed out a fact he seemed to have overlooked. "We just spent three hours together."

The boy visibly deflated. "…Okay, so I forgot my wallet and I have no way to get home and I don't want to endure a car ride with my dad today! Please Ali, don't make me go home."

The truth came out, and Alina felt a need or a strong want to bash her face into a wall. Glaring at him as he deflated more under her intense stare, he towered over her but the way her lips had set into a deep scowl, she just knew she seemed taller than him at that moment.

"Chris Wildel," she growled out his name in a voice that was sharp around the edges, a knife that had just been slid across a block to perfection.

The blonde flinched, "…Yes?"

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Thank you!"

Throwing his arms around the female's broadish shoulders, he gave her a quick hug and bounded up the stairs to use the shower. "I'm all sweaty; I'm going to go take a shower! I'll be back down in a bit. Don't mess up my hard work!"

Wouldn't dream of it, Alina thought snidely before she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. Now she had to figure out what to make them both for dinner and find a spare blanket so he could crash on his couch.

Then again, she could let him starve. She could live with that. But not so much the fact that he would steal her food if she didn't make him any. She had learned that the hard way after living with him for so many years.

Damn, dinner for two it was.

She'd get right on that after she finished scraping together the living room. She grabbed the few remaining photos out the bin and began pounding the metal, her fury guiding every inch into the defenseless drywall.

                            __________________

Alina was lying horizontal on her carpeted floor, doing nothing but staring at her ceiling, as she waited for Chris to get done doing whatever the hell he was doing in the shower, confused on how the boy here took so much longer showers than even she did. Wasn’t she the sister, shouldn’t she have been the water hog?

Another minute passed, and the scenery around her grew duller.

This was getting her nowhere.

Pulling herself up into a sitting position, Alina gave her living room a long look, a sense of nostalgia striking her core. This was the first time since she had moved in and started throwing her belongings around, that she actually paid attention to her surroundings. Even though the room looked nothing like when she first moved in, she could still feel the deep string of attachment within her yank. Where the long garnet drapes framed her windows, she could barely recall the tattered beige ones that had hung there before hand, the dust on the window completely eradicated by Chris' motivated hands, leaving behind a spotless view of the woods that stood guard outside her home. With such minor improvements, it was like her old house was fading away. Trailing her distant gaze over the walls filled neatly with pictures both old and new, Alina drifted further into the past. The longer she gazed at the walls around her, the more drawn into the past she became, entangled with images long left forgotten.

In the corner, she could see the silhouette of her father casually leaning against the crackling fireplace, the glow of orange making his eyes that crinkled with affection kindle even brighter, his upturned mouth wrapped around his favorite brand of nicotine. That was where he had always stood whenever family bonding time had come around. It was always the same spot, nestled comfortably against the crook between the wall and the stone lip of the fireplace. The beige curtain tucked behind his towering frame.

"Honey, get off the damn curtain. You're going to wrinkle it."

Flicking her gaze over to where the leather recliner sat, Alina replaced the image with a homely cream colored couch, where she could clearly see her dainty mother sit, her lips pulled down into a disapproving frown that was usually aimed at her father or Alec, but never at her. Her voice rang through her head like a long awaited reunion, sprinkling over her in droplets of water. They slid down her chest, straight past her barriers to slip into her heart that trembled a beat. She blinked and the images of her parents were gone, the old images that had born fruit in her mind receding away into the fogged part of her memory where an innocent Alec twirled in the shadows, protecting her deepest longing from her conscious mind. In a similar way to how he had protected her, long ago.

She realized shortly after they had vanished, a faint image of Alec shutting the door tightly, that she was saying goodbye to a home that had already been hanging onto her memory from a string.

"The first step is accepting what happened. Only then will you be able to move forward…I believe I can prescribe you something to help the process along, however, your hallucinations are… very concerning."

"They're not hallucinations. Alec was here, he told me that it was my fault he died! He…!"

The doctor pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, the light catching it just right to make them flash with warning, "The pills are easily within your caretaker's price range. I'll write a subscription now."

"I don't need your damn pills! I need to find out what the hell happened and nobody will help me!"

"I'm trying to help you. Calm down, Alina, please, I—"

"SHUT UP! I can do this on my own, get away from me!!!"

The physiatrist stared at her in pity before he nodded.

Alina hated it. The corners of her eyes burning as salt brimmed in the corners, her lips curled back as frustration ate at her core so viciously that she felt nauseas. The disgusting emotion…she didn't need anyone's pity, she'd just hurt herself when no one was around anyway. Like a frightened snake coiled to strike, Alina stared down her doctor with seething rage. "I mean it, no pills. I won’t take them, no matter what you try to do."

A second realization came forth, she was extremely good at self-torture. Bringing a hand up to shield her right eye and hide her face from the world, she picked up the pieces of her sanity that had crumbled to the floor. She needed to get a grip, her parents were never coming back, the dead didn't return, no matter what, no matter how much you wanted them to.

They were six feet under and they weren't going to magically start breathing again.

Accepting the facts with a heavy weight on her chest, she made her way to her feet, and was left standing in the middle of the room, feeling completely and utter alone. The distant sound of the shower running upstairs doing little to soothe the storm inside. But the boy rinsing off beneath her shower head, would never know that anyway. Alina hated bottling everything up inside, especially when Chris was constantly offering her his hand every step of the way, but it was necessary; she would never rely on someone else.

Of that she was certain.

Forcing the sudden bundle of loneliness down her throat-in a very similar manner to how she'd force herself to eat the Dylan’s "cooking"—Alina distracted herself by focusing on her new living room, not the one from her memories.

Studying the room with a critical eye, her gaze swept over the newly positioned furniture. The 400 square foot room was layered in shades of red and black—though it hadn't been her first choice, Chris thought it would go together well with the items he had collected for her project living space. With an oak coffee table situated in a half open circle formed by her new dark leather furniture set, which consisted of a sofa, a loveseat and a recliner, the room was arguably elegant, and completely not her style. The only thing she actually admired about the display was the object hanging securely on the wall, proudly standing out amongst the pictures aligning the walls with fond memories, the simple center piece of the room that drew it all together.

It was the beautiful rose painting that Chris had found stored away in the closet beside the stairs. Lifting up her hand, the brunette gently brushed away the dust that had collected on its oak frame, the specks of gray fluttering past her vision. Alina still didn't have a clue where it had come from, but she had to admit, upon closer inspection, that it definitely had a certain appeal to it. Floating in the middle of a black lake with realistic ripples in the water, the bright red flower was bathed in moonlight. The flower also had dull green thorns constricting around its vivid crimson petals, the rose glaring out in potent vengeance towards its captive, the petals gently tearing at the edges. To Alina, it was like looking into the heart of someone who had lost their purpose; a broken and desolate being. A pair of warm wine colored eyes flashed inside her mind, and she frowned.

Moving her fingers gently away from the wood, she brushed them over the canvas in a soft stroke. Her fingertips rippling over ever small dip in the smooth surface. The painting felt so real… her eyelids fell heavily over her eyes, and she slid her hands down the drawing, a solid heartbeat thrumming in her ears with every caress of texture.

"What's your favorite flower?"

"Roses, red ones. They remind me of home." A gentle hand petted through brown locks, and those warm eyes landed on her again, "What is your favorite flower, miss. Croix?"

"I like…" She bit his lip, trying to think, but only one answer came to mind, "roses."

An amused chuckle hit her ears, "Red ones?"

"…No." A simple denial.

"Then what is your favorite?"

"I don't have one."

The laugh sounded again, and Alina felt her cheeks grow hot.

Persistent warmth brewed in her sallow cheeks and Alina's lips gently parted, her brows scrunching when her head began to throb in blistering pain. Who had she been talking to? Why couldn't she remember? Silky black hair drenched in darkness crept behind her vision, her heartbeat increasing and her tongue going dry. The name on the tip of her tongue seemed so far away. Her touch ghosted past the red to scrape over a thorn, pressing down on a dull spike.

"What the fuck?!" Alina’s eyes shot open, her hand recoiling from the painting in a harsh movement. Glancing down at her finger, Alina blinked in shock as blood oozed from a prick located at the tip of her digit. The stunned woman shot her questioning gaze onto the old artwork, staring at it with complete confusion. Bringing her other hand up to the painting, she poked the thorns surrounding the rose, and nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing happened.

Glancing back down at her finger that now had trails of red flowing in rivulets down her pale flesh, Alina could repeat the one thing on her mind.

"What the fuck?"

Maybe that damned doctor had been right, maybe she was insane?

                            __________________

Luxuriously hot water sprayed over his flesh in waves of comfort, the steam a blanket to shield his developing body away from prying eyes. His short strands of hair clung to his neck in an affectionate embrace, leaving lingering kisses on the nape of his neck when the water glided from the tips to trail down his lithe frame. He exhaled, his head tipping back for his hair to reach out and caress his lower neck, while the jets of bliss smothered his exposed back.

The last of the feathery white suds fell away from his body, marching with an army of white down the drain.

Chris grasped the slippery knobs in his broad hands, and turned, ending his moment of relaxation.

He stepped out, a towel being pulled against his chest to wrap around his waist in a fluid movement, his bare feet padding across the cold tiled floor towards the mirror. Pressing his forearm against the fogged glass, he scrubbed away to see his reflection in the mirror. When his freckled face was reflected clearly back at him, he grabbed the brush on the counter, running it through his curly wet hair. He kept tugging at it, until it was to his liking, and hopefully Alina’s too. Smiling, he set the brush back down and let the towel bow to his feet. He began pulling on his long sleeved grey shirt, and stepped into his blue joggers in a bid for comfort, reaching for the towel to draw the remnants of water off his hairy legs, when a chill sparked down his spine.

Pausing as he held the towel in his knuckles, he looked behind him, towards the bathroom door.

It was ajar slightly.

Quickly scrubbing his legs with the towel, he placed it on the counter and moved toward the door.

"Ali..?" He called quietly, peeking through the crack. There was no one there. Frowning, he went to pull the door shut and it hit something, a thud sounding towards the bottom of the door.

Chris lowered his gaze to the floor, and blinked in surprise, stuck between the door and the wall, was a little red rose in a tiny but elegant glass shaped like a crescent moon, the inside hardened with…resin?  He picked it up, and saw the tiny thorns surrounding the rose inside.

Blinking, he curled his fingers around the item and jogged lightly down the stairs, two at a time.

                            __________________

"How long does it take to take a shower?" Alina complained in a whisper, stirring the pasta in the boiling water with a ladle while she waited for the sauce to finish simmering on the burner adjacent to the pot. Her arm rotating in a mechanical manner as she tried to not space out.

Before she knew it, she felt a hand tug at the back of her shirt. Blinking, she was surprised to see Chris there, his lips set in a firm line when he finally appeared from his watery retreat. She was expecting him to announce his presence like he usually did, all sunshine and laughter, but that wasn't the case. It wasn’t like him to be in a bad mood after showering, he was quite fond of it. Like a bath fish.

"Chris, what’s wrong?" She asked, her voice dropping a level in concern, and he met her eyes, seeming a tiny bit unsettled before he held up something to her, a question written plain on his face. “Is this yours?"

The immediate answer came out her mouth when she saw it, "No, why—" She froze, and Chris looked at her, the concern brewing in his eyes.

But she couldn’t help but to stare at the gift, knowing exactly what it was. A Resin Rose, wrapped with thorns of grief; exactly like the picture. The moon so delicate, handmade and one of a kind.

"Claec…" Her hand cupped the gift, pulling it away from him.

Chris stared at her in confusion, his hands feeling empty, "who's that?"

Alina's daze shattered away in clarity, "What?"

"The name you just said."

Staring at him like he just grew another head and had announced he was secretly a demon overlord, Alina said slowly, "I didn't say a name."

Now Chris was staring at her like she was insane, "yes you did, you said Claec! Who even is that?"

Alina's gaze faltered, and she looked to the side, shoving the gift in her pocket. "I have no idea."

                            __________________

A pair of eyes stayed trained on the pair sitting cozily at the dining room table, the observer's eyes narrowing in rage.

Every time Alina made a comment, the foreign man would laugh, his cheeks the same shade as the blood he craved from the woman he held a fancy to. It irritated him, the man's ignorance. That woman was not his to desire.

Alina was his.

Claec had marked his claim long before this moment.

Staring at the blonde in distaste, Claec moved his piercing gaze to rest on Alina, from his reaction to the boy's flustered appearance, he could easily deduct that the brunette was unaware of the boy’s affection, not that he was surprised; Alina was completely oblivious when it came to feelings of the romantic nature. An innocence not many could even dream of maintaining.

Alina shifted in her chair, and his gaze was immediately glued to the movement, watching as Alina brushed her fingers over her jean pocket, where the rose resided underneath.

The man in shadows smiled, "Looking at this rose, isn't it like looking into the heart of someone who has lost their purpose; a broken and desolate being?" He recited and watched as Alina subconsciously gripped the area over her pocket. Her long and delicate fingers, so much larger than he recalled, hovering protectively.

She would start remembering, soon enough.