TRIGGER WARNING -
• Gore
• Cannibalism
• Violence
• Drug abuse
•~•~•~•~•
When he gazed at her with a passion so deadly-so fatal-he realized he couldn't let her go even when she was bound to annihilate him.
A sealed fate cannot change. Unless it's...
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I was so embarrassed I wished I could die.
I had no idea what I was doing the other day until later it downed on me bit by bit. A bad day never deemed itself to be so bad that ended up with me being an absolute pain in the ass.
I had argued with Prince and thrown a temper all while he was trying to help me. Although not in the best possible manner but he did indeed help me. I did not even thank him for it instead all I did was debate.
Worse of all, I panicked when I heard Edvard, Ares' stepfather, causing a commotion among all the tenants as his usual routine, and that event made me pull Prince inside my apartment in utter urgency.
It was not my mistake entirely since Prince wasn't leaving either despite my constant request. Like a reflex, I had to get him inside. Edvard was aggressive and given Prince's persona things were bound to get heated.
Yes, Prince was taller and broader than anyone else I had seen yet but it did not mean he knew how to fight. Edvard had smashed a glass bottle on a man's head earlier that week.
I simply helped Prince in some way too. Did I not?
No matter how much I struggled to shake it off I kept pondering above all about the fact that he picked me up. No one threw me over their shoulder the way he did. My face flushed at the thought of it.
What made the matter more uncomfortable to bear was his presence right in front of me at this very moment. There was barely any customer this early in the day as the Coffee Shop flocked with people in the evening to its limit.
It was just me and Prince.
Neither Ares nor Kiara had come yet. I had the spare key to the shop as I always arrived early. Mine and his gaze clashed only once before he took a seat on one of the tables and busied himself with his laptop, typing away on it.
He did not order anything yet which prevented me from facing him. As a feat to avoid him, I tended to the garden in the back. However, my conscience continuously nicked at me.
I heaved a sigh and pushed my long braids off my shoulder. Little by little the guilt crawled to me enough that I paced to the kitchen with the thought of an offering as an apology and gratitude.
Dried chrysanthemum flowers took my interest when I looked around the kitchen. What could have been better than freshly brewed chrysanthemum tea?
Although I did not have any hunch of Prince's preferences when it came to tea-or anything-I assumed the smooth, light, and slightly sweet taste of the chrysanthemum tea combined with buttery warmth, floral flavor and addition of earthy sweetness from the sugar should help him alleviate stress and mental clarity and sharpness.
Finalizing a good hot cup of tea lightly garnished with mint leaves, I took a deep breath. Nervousness grew even when the task was simple; offering him the tea and simply conveying thank you and sorry, that was it.
