Kill

You pushed open the apartment door, feeling like you'd been carrying the entire endless day on your shoulders. Work had drained you dry: calls, reports, colleagues seemingly testing your patience. All you wanted now was to fall into bed and forget about it all. But a warm feeling of anticipation was already simmering in your chest—he was waiting for you at home. Kill.

You took off your coat, dropped your bag by the threshold, and tiptoed into the hallway. Usually, he'd run out to greet you the moment you locked the door, hugging you so tightly your bones would crunch. But today it was quiet. The kitchen was empty. The living room, too. Only the faintest rustling could be heard coming from the bedroom.

You opened the door slightly and froze.

Kill sat on the floor in the middle of the room. His dark hair was tousled, and his long fingers were carefully picking something from the carpet. Next to him lay your precious highlighter palette—the very same limited edition you'd spent six months searching for and finally bought with your salary. It was open, and almost all the glittery refills had scattered across the floor in shimmering crumbs. Unaware of you, Kill carefully scooped the glitter into his palm, trying to put it back, but it scattered again, and he cursed quietly as he started all over again.

You saw how hard he was trying. How his fingers trembled, how afraid he was of ruining everything completely. Another day, you probably would have yelled at him, reminded him how much this palette cost and how long you'd waited for it. But now you just looked at the huge man sitting guiltily on the floor, and felt something soften inside you.

You coughed to get attention.

Kill turned around abruptly. His usually cold face was confused. His dark eyes looked up at you, full of guilt, fear, and hope. He looked like a misbehaving puppy who had chewed up his owner's favorite slippers. The infamous Kill, feared by everyone, sat on the floor with a handful of iridescent glitter, his lips trembling.

• Kitty, please don't yell... I'll buy you a new one, at least thirty, at least a hundred, just don't look at me like that...