I will possess your heart - Rhys Montrose X Reader

───Part 14.

"What happened?" There was an edge to Rhys's voice you couldn't identify as he strained his neck (you'd been wearing steel-toed combat boots to give your kicks an extra oomph factor and their thick soles made you taller than him) to take a closer look at the forming bruise and fresh cuts on your face.

Rhys had waited at your apartment for you with take-out, wanting to surprise you, knowing you'd spend the evening groveling in your bed with a head full of worries and stress regarding the funeral tomorrow and planning to use the 'news' of Malcolm's death to make sure you wouldn't deny him.

When you turned around the corner and entered his field of view, you weren't the only one sporting wide eyes. He hadn't anticipated you to show up with injuries, clearly gained in an actual fight rather than the snippets and short-lived outburst he'd seen you do, and he was beyond disappointed he hadn't been there to witness this.

Partially because he loved seeing that side of you come to the surface, and partially because whoever hurt you like this desperately needed to end up six-feet beneath the ground. But he knew you wouldn't intentionally kill, yet, and would have settled for seeing their crumbled form(s) on the ground at your hands. And then later he'd deliver the killing blow himself after a fun round of torture for daring to lay hands on you. Fuck, he licked his lips when you came closer and got a better look at you, he really missed out on quite a show, didn't he?

His fingertips trailed your injured side cautiously, a dark shadow over his eyes as he inspected the small lacerations.

A spike of panic had run down your throat when you first spotted him, pressing against your skin enough to force you to swallow and add weights to your feet, welting them to the ground when you finally stopped. Blinking, twice, you had strangled the unwanted thing, ignoring the way the foundation of your crypt started to crumble again - the adrenaline was a temporary fix after all, warding off the worst of it but not able to fix it fully, and Rhys' presence reminded off that. Raking your brain to come up with a plausible explanation, you put on a show as fast as you could so he wouldn't spot the cracks exposing your carcass.

"It's silly, really." You chuckled sheepishly, shifting your weight from one foot to another, leaning into his touch, as the lie rolled off your tongue with as much ease as it could.

It always stung when you had to lie to someone you cared about, but it never stopped you from doing it, and you'd grown to be such an expert in lying that it was rare someone caught you in one. Lucille could infrequently spot one (mostly when she'd catch you off-guard with a question you didn't expect her to ask, either at that particular point in time, or ever), maybe Amanda too when you were exhausted, only because they'd both known you for so long. Other than that, you couldn't remember the last time someone noticed a lie. Rhys, you thought, would be fooled easily as you checked off every minute detail in your body language and facial expressions to convey you were being honest, and slightly embarrassed at the incident you had chosen to cover for you.

"Was too busy chatting with Mandy to pay attention and ended up walking into the bicycle lane at the same time as one passed by." Rhys tilted his head, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, fully aware that you weren't being honest. You were rather convincing, though. "Turns out if you get hit by one at full speed, they can do quite a bit of damage."

Unbeknownst to you, Rhys was a spectacular actor himself, pretending like he bought your story and dragging you inside so he could patch you up - the food could wait. Placing you on top of the kitchen table so he could comfortably reach your face and have good lighting (there was too little space to do this in the bathroom), he stood between your legs and began mending the cuts on your face first.

You played with the hem of his sweater as he did so, entranced by his gentle touch and the action itself.

In the past, it'd always been you doing the patching up yourself, never anyone else. Lucille outright refused to, disapproving of your bad habit and thinking that if she denied helping you recover afterwards maybe you'd finally stop doing it. It didn't.

Rhys insisting on doing it for you, and combined with the way he looked at you, careful not to make matters any worse, he ignited the wicks sticking out your brittle bones and made you melt under his touch.

You'd had a love-hate relationship with the effects he had on you since you met, not fond of not being in control and far too many locks holding you back, but he'd been diligent in breaking them. Lucille's absence had granted him the opportunity to accelerate the efficacy of his attempts to knock down your defenses fully, and as he disinfected your crusted knuckles, you found the last bits of your doubts surrender and withdraw completely.

Why bother fighting the inevitable?

It was rather funny to you that he, out of all people, was the one to do so and with him by your side, you realized that for the first time in your life, you'd be okay without Lucille attached to your hip.

You loved her deeply, but you were exhausted of having to chase after her, and decided that from now on you weren't going to anymore. Whether she'd come back or not, was up to her, and didn't concern you no longer. Rhys would be your priority - he deserved for you to pay back the devotion and care he'd shown you so far in full force, and you were planning on doing just that.

No more doubts, no more fears. They'd be dormant, ignored and forgotten whilst you would bathe in his rays that had been revitalizing your soul bit by bit. There was no going back now - regardless of what the future held for you, you'd give him everything you were one piece at a time, and eventually you'd tell him of the darkness lurking inside of you. Eventually, though. That last bit was definitely going to wait for a while - a long while, most likely.

"You've been awfully quiet," Rhys trailed his hands upwards from your knees to rest on the table, back between them after returning the small first aid kit and leaning forward. "What's on your mind, Y/N?"

"Just thinking about how pretty you look." A sly smile spread on your face, arms wrapping around his shoulders and holding him close.

Rhys was caught off guard by the compliment, freezing in place and suddenly finding the table surface very interesting, turning his head sideways to get a better look at it.

"Are you blushing?"

"No." He cleared his throat, leaned back slightly and toyed with the fabric of your jacket. "We should probably eat before the food's gone completely cold, love."

Releasing him from your grip and hopping down, you watched in mirth as he practically sprang to grab both portions of take-out.

"Maybe I should compliment you more often," You sunk into the couch next to him, graciously accepting the box he'd held out for you, making note of the way he avoided meeting your gaze again. "You look cute when you blush. Sorry, I meant when you 'don't blush, of course."

Enjoying the sight of him flustered and riled up, you didn't stop teasing him for the rest of the evening, Malcolm never brought up as Rhys didn't want to stop the comfortable and light-hearted conversations he had with you, and you meant to tell him you were sorry about the loss - you were, but only because like Simon, Malcolm was (unfortunately) one of Rhys's friends - but you'd all but forgotten about it. The funeral too was pushed to the back of your mind.

All you could see and think about was Rhys, and you knew for sure now that you were never going to let go of him, no matter what.