hobo heart x reader. Perhaps we value each other?

Chapter 19

As I lay in the hot water, trying to force myself to relax, the silence became too loud. Something felt fundamentally wrong. I reached up, my damp fingers gently pressing against the center of my chest where a pulse should have been.

Nothing. Just an empty, hollow cavity.

A freezing sensation of absolute horror washed over me. For years, through the worst nights in that house, I used to lie awake listening to the steady, rhythmic thump against my ribs. It was a faint reminder that I was still alive. That I was still surviving. But now, there was only a terrifying, dead void.

Had my purpose been entirely fulfilled? Was my only reason for existing just to be a flesh container for his new heart? If that's true... why am I still breathing?

The intrusive thoughts circled my mind until my bedroom door violently slammed open.

"MOLLY!"

Hobo Heart sounded completely out of breath, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic, manic excitement. "Molly?! Where did you go?"

I bolted upright in the tub, splashing water over the edge as a jolt of pure panic shot through my spine. "I'm in the bathroom, just a sec—"

The bathroom door flew open, and the slam rattled the wood against the frame. Hobo Heart stood in the threshold, gripping a wooden box, his breathing ragged. "Look! I—"

We both froze. The air instantly turned to ice. My face burned, and a suffocating mix of fear and sheer embarrassment locked my muscles in place. He stood there, his eyes drifting over my exposed, dripping body, while I stood completely paralyzed.

"Oh..." he mumbled, the realization hitting him. He slammed the door shut. "Sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—I didn't see—I—" He was practically tripping over his own words on the other side of the door.

I slowly stepped out of the porcelain tub, entirely numb, my hands shaking as I reached for a towel and wrapped it tightly around myself.

"I—I mean, I did see, and you're beautiful! But I didn't mean to!" Hobo's voice was frantic, muffled through the wood. "I was just excited to show you something! I'm sorry!"

I took a shaky breath and cracked the door open, forcing a small, fragile smile. "It's okay." I looked down at the heavy box in his hands. "What did you want to show me?"

"I..." He looked from the box to my damp towel, his face still flushed. "Don't you want to get dressed first?"

I nodded quietly, stepping out into the bedroom and walking over to my dresser.

"Wait!" Hobo Heart said, his eyes widening as I began to pull the towel away. "Let me turn around first!"

I glanced at his reflection in the dresser mirror. He had already whipped around, facing the back wall, pressing his palm firmly over his eyes.

"Why?" I asked, my voice flat. "You already saw me."

He shook his head aggressively, refusing to peek. "That doesn't matter. That was a stupid accident. This is about respect, Molly. I don't want to see you unless you actually want me to. Not just because you're used to people overstepping."

His words struck me like a physical blow. My breathing halted completely. I stared at his reflection, watching the dead, checked-out look in my eyes crack.

Respect.

It was a foreign concept. I couldn't remember a moment where someone had treated my boundaries with actual care. But he was standing there, guarding his eyes because he cared about my dignity.

I stared at the back of his head for so long that the air dried the moisture from my skin.

"Hey," Hobo muttered, breaking the silence. "Can I turn around yet?"

"Uh, sorry. Just a second." I hurriedly pulled on a pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a shirt. "Okay. You're good."

He turned around slowly, his knuckles white around the box. "This box contains the most valuable thing I own," he said, his voice dropping as he stepped closer. He reached out, his cold fingers wrapping around my hand, trying to get me to look at him. "But you are just as valuable to me now. And I want you to have this."

With a click, he unlocked the latch and lifted the lid. Resting inside was a slowly, steadily beating heart.

"Is that..." My voice caught in my throat.

"Yes. It's my heart," he whispered. "Now I'm giving you mine. I value this more than anything, Molly. So I'm putting it in your hands."

My eyes widened in pure terror. The fear of betrayal, of ruining something pure, reared its head. I took a sharp, frantic step backward, tearing my hand from his grip. "No! Get that away from me!"

"Molly, wait—" He stepped into my space, bringing the box toward me.

"I said back off!" I slammed my hands against his chest, trying to shove him away, but he didn't budge. "You saw what I did to my own heart! I'll ruin it, Hobo! I ruin everything!"

"You won't ruin it!" he snapped back, his voice rising as he closed the gap between us again, refusing to let me retreat. He grabbed my wrist, trying to pull my hand back toward him. "Stop running from me!"

"Let go of me!" I yanked my arm back violently, my chest heaving. "Don't touch me! Do you not get it? I am a mess! You're just setting me up! You want me to take this so you can watch me break it!"

"Is that what you think this is?" His expression hardened, his eyes turning cold as he forced his way right back into my personal space. "You think I'm trying to play games? Look at me!"

"I don't want your heart!" I screamed, the panic tearing out of my throat as I backed up until the wall next to the dresser hit my spine. Trapped. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. "Take it and get out of my room! Put it away! I don't want it! I don't want you!"

A dull, heavy thunk echoed beside me. I snapped my eyes open. He had set the wooden box down onto the dresser, right next to me, his chest heaving as he towered over me.

"You're a liar," his voice cut through the air like ice. "Why are you spinning this? Why are you trying so hard to force me out?"

"Because I don't love you!" I shrieked, the words tearing through my throat, hot tears finally spilling over my eyelids and streaming down my face. "I never did! I never will! I want you to take your things and leave me alone!"

With a sudden, powerful motion, Hobo Heart lunged forward. His hands gripped my upper arms, his fingers firm as he held me there. He gave me a sharp shake, pinning me against the wall, forcing my face up so I had no choice but to look at him.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" he roared, his voice booming off the walls, making me flinch. "I can feel it when you lie, Molly!" He moved one hand and pressed it against his own ribs, right over where my heart used to be. "I can feel every single thing you're hiding through this! You are drowning in terror, and you are hurting, and you are lying straight to my face!"

"Let me go!" I thrashed against his hold, striking his chest with my fists, desperation turning my voice jagged. "Get off me! You're going to hurt me! Just do it already! Stop playing with me!"

"I am not going to hurt you!" Hobo shook me again, his hair falling wildly over his face, but his grip didn't loosen. If anything, he pulled me closer, dragging my resisting body tight against his chest, refusing to let me break away into the isolation I was screaming for. "Look at me! Look at my face, Molly! I am trying to give you the only thing I have left! Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself!"

My entire body froze, shaking against him. The raw, booming intensity in his voice terrified me, but the sheer desperation in his hold—the way he was physically anchoring me, fighting through my fear just to keep me from running—hit me like a physical blow.