Rebel Red Carnation {Kiribaku}

XIII

Weeks continue to go by without a single sign of Eijirou, and the longer time goes on and plunges us into winter, the more my hope in him dwindles.

"Can't have faith in someone who never fucking delivers," I mutter to myself, scuffing the toe of my shoe against the nearest brick wall as I'm taking a walk to get out of the house I've been cooped up in for a few weeks, letting my wounds heal. They're barely more than scabs now, and the peroxide Eijirou left us with kept infection away.

"Are you talking about, uh, him?" comes a voice to my right, breaking up the ringing in my ears, what with the cold stillness of the air before the snowstorm rolling its way in.

Ochako stands a few meters away, bundled up in an old blanket, her face reddened from the cold.

"Obviously," I quip, kicking the wall again.

"Do you really believe he'll come through?" she asks, padding silently toward me.

"Fuck if I know." I turn, lean my back against the wall, grateful I'm finally able to do it without excruciating pain, even if it's still a bit sore.

I hate that I don't know, and hate how much I want to believe that one way or another, Eijirou will eventually come through. But hell, I don't even know if the little fucker got home safely or whatever. I don't know anything, and it's infuriating—the hope especially.

"Don't be surprised if he doesn't," Ochako murmurs. "He is part of the royal family, after all. I know you said he's different, but—"

"I know," I snap. "But he's—" My teeth come together with an audible snap themselves, because I can't fucking tell her that. I can't tell her he's my soulmate, and that's the one thing I'm hinging on, the thing that's keeping that tiny spark of hope alive in all this bullshit, what with the storm rolling in.

Instead of asking me to finish my thought, Ochako says, "Who's that?"

My head snaps up and I follow her gaze down the road in the direction where there's still just a little sliver of blue sky managing to peek out from the thick blanket of the clouds waiting to dump a fucking blizzard on us. Sure enough there's the figure of a man walking along the sidewalk in our direction. Instantly I've stood up straight, planted both my feet firmly on the ground, and readied myself to take a defensive stance. It's blatantly clear by the way they're walking that they're not from around here, with the steady stride and bulky form.

The figure continues at a steady pace, and the closer they get the clearer they become—wearing a coat, a hat, and a pair of boots. It's not until they're maybe half a block away when I'm able to make out their face, and as soon as I do my muscles relax all at once.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

"What?" Ochako murmurs, squinting. "Is it—"

"No, not him. A friend of his. Name's Hanta. He was the guard who was stationed outside my cell at the palace."

"Really? What's he doing here?"

"How the fuck am I s'posed to know? Guess we're probably gonna find out, though."

My guard snaps back into place when I realize he might be here with bad news, or something worse, and I brace myself for whatever it is. We watch him come closer until his entire form is clear, and I make out the sack he has slung over his shoulder like fucking Santa Clause or someshit.

"Whoa, Katsuki?" he murmurs, slowing his pace once he can see me clearly, too. "Wow, guess it's my lucky day, huh? That I'd run into you so soon."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, eyes narrow.