𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 ┃𝗖.𝗠.𝗕

#3

Corbyn held in an eye roll at how rich the family was, several tall bookcases in sight as well as at least five doors all in the hallway. 

"Would you like me to take your jacket, sweetheart?"  she asked with a kind smile.  Corbyn nodded, hesitantly passing her his soaked coat. 

"Thanks. Mrs ..."

"Call me Kelly" she told him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. 

"If you wait there for a moment, I'll ask my staff to heat you up something to eat. You must be freezing." 

As Corbyn opened his mouth but another voice interrupted. 

"Who is this?"  a monotone voice spoke. 

Corbyn turned to his head to see the man himself, Robert y/l/n.  The man on every slip of paper and the man that he had to kill, leaving nothing but a lifeless lump behind.  He was dressed in an expensive suit, fumbling with his buttons as he walked into the room with cautious eyes. 

His eyes flickered to another side of the room, Corbyn following his gaze to see a locked door, a lightly darker shade of wood. 

"C-Corbyn" his teeth chattered,

"Sorry to bother you but I got attacked and did not really have anywhere else to go ... I can leave if-"

Kelly interrupted once more, her voice firm.

" Nonsense.  You can not go back out there, do you have any family that you need to contact, sweetheart?  You can stay in one of our guest rooms for tonight until the storm passes. "
Corbyn looked down and perfected his shaky voice.

" N-No I ... my family moved away.  That is why I was wandering around alone..they said that I was too much trouble.  They always found something to scold me for.  I'll find somewhere to stay..m-maybe a motel? "

" You can stay here for as long as you need "Kelly placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling apologetically.

" I can try and contact your family if you want  me to. "

" Kelly "

Robert grunted. She faced him sharply.

" I am not letting this boy out into the storm, he is practically y/n's age, Robert.  Would you send our daughter out in the cold and wet?  I sure hope not. "

Corbyn sent her a confused face.

" Our daughter "

Kelly explained," she is around your age, she can help you get cleaned up and show you the spare room.  I will get the maid to call for her, hold on. "

Another voice, a sweeter voice, came from behind them.

" No need, mother "

the voice teased," What's going on?  Who is this? " Corbyn was not given a picture of Y/n, and he was suddenly taken aback. He gulped slowly as his eyes ran over her caramel eyes, light brown soft waves and curvy yet slim frame.

Her gaze met his and her  eyes widened, the caramel almost flashing like streaks of sunlight were poking through. When she bit on her full lower lip softly, he looked down with a strange blush on his cheeks, confusion filling his veins.

He snapped himself out of it, knowing that  soon she would be nothing more than a cold blue slab on metal, after he finished his job like he always did.

"This is Corbyn, he will be staying with us for a while"

Kelly explained to her daughter gently, nudging her to  the stairs,

"... can you go upstairs and clean him up in the guest bathroom?  He took a bit of a beating, poor thing. "

Corbyn was busy watching Robert's protective gaze over the dark wooden door. When Robert met his eyes, they narrowed slightly as if in warning.

"Try not to get too curious" the man gave a strained smile, "I spend a lot of time in my study, it is out of bounds which I am sure you can respect." 

Y/n's soft grasp interrupted his thoughts, and he jumped slightly. 

She sent him a small encouraging smile, nodding towards the stairs as if to guide him.  Holding onto his arm as if he was about to topple over, y/n led the injured boy into the guest bathroom. 

When he sat down on the closed toilet lid, he watched her closely as she riffled through the huge cupboard to find some first aid materials.

"You do not say much, do you?" 

she glanced at him.  Corbyn raised an eyebrow and she could not stop the corners of her lips from twitching upwards with humor.  Y/n sat down and looked at him with careful eyes, holding up a wet flannel gently. 

Corbyn furrowed his eyebrows and so she sent him a hesitant smile. 

"May I?"  He shrugged and she began gently dabbing his face, wincing at some of his more gruesome bruises.  He watched her closely, scanning over her soft cheeks and plump lips which she chewed on in concentration. 

Her touch was so gentle and careful, as if she was afraid to hurt him despite not even knowing him.  Corbyn never understood the natural reaction to care for a stranger, never finding himself going out of his way for someone that he did not know. 

"How old are you?"  she asked quietly.  Corbyn sighed.

"Eighteen." 

"He speaks" she joked, then giggled at his blank face, "sorry ... I just hate sitting in silence. I guess I do not really know when to shut up." 

"No kidding" Corbyn muttered.  Y/n ignored his comment, continuing to wipe away the dried blood. 

When his face was cleaner, she ran the towel through his damp hair,