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Domesticity

Summary:

You return back from shopping and reflect a bit on your relationship.

You decide you are pretty happy, all things considered.

Work Text:

You gently grasped the umbrella as rain pattered off the top. The sound was oddly comforting and familiar. People rushed around you, a mess of raincoats and whatever else. The rain was heavy and would go on for days. It was a day most people would choose to stay home, but you found yourself wandering a shopping district.

The bags were heavy on your arms as you walked in a particular direction to a more desolate part of the city. One that most people opted to forget about – one that came with many rumours and stories. A face who would appear in the dark of any gap and ask for something. It was said they would pull you to another world if you encountered them twice. Ghost photos had been everywhere in supernatural magazines and blogs.

You barely gave much thought to them as you walked. Yet, your trek was interrupted. A salaryman held his bag over his head as he rushes to one of the few offices that were along the street. He bowed politely and asked to share your umbrella. You tensed. His face suddenly shifted. A previously polite expression turning into wide-eyed horror. You grasped the handle tighter. He stepped away quickly, feet echoing a splash through puddles. A hand came to hold yours.

The grey skin and crimson sleeve informed you who it was. An arm wrapped around your waist. A sigh escaped you. “… Want their name,” a voice spoke quietly, “Take their blood.” You leaned back into him. Right, a promise you had made. No exchange of names were necessary – as long as you kept the scarlet umbrella. The apartments were nearby. You shook your head and continued to walk.

A rumour of a place that only appears when it rains – and its own inhabitant. One you should never give your name to. Blood stained various spots of the floor – the water dripping off the drenched umbrella into a crimson puddle that reeked of iron. You closed it carefully and placed it under your arm. The elevator was somewhere around. Your feet carried you until you heard voices echoing off the walls.

“Stop—” a feminine voice cried.

“Shut up!” a masculine one replied, “You thought you could get away with rejecting me?”

“I didn't—”

You tensed. Peering into one of the many winding rooms, you saw them. A school girl and boy. The girl was being pinned to a wall by the boy. You felt annoyance coursing inside you.

“You wanted to come here, didn't you? You clung to my sleeve, crying!”

“I—”

Crack!

You barely thought as the sound echoed out. The girl had blood on her, eyes staring widely at you. Your poor raincoat had its pure white colour stained once more. The Bride would have to help you again. When she got up and fled from the scene, you barely gave it a thought. This world hardly mattered to you besides its comforts.

“For me?” The voice spoke again, “Take?”

You nodded, and the body vanished, leaving only a puddle behind.

The elevator was found soon and you stepped inside.

“You wanted to learn about me, right?” you spoke to the entity, knowing they were listening, “I'm going to make you something.”

“Me want,” arms came around you again. A head rested atop your own. You brought your hand to hover over his. Whatever this situation was – love, obsession, your own karmic punishment, you had long accepted it. Your body would hardly constitute as human any more. The raincoat hood was pulled up for a good reason. You felt contented, oddly.

“Together forever?” You asked him unconsciously. His grips only tightened as he repeated the words with confidence. Whatever fear you felt towards him at first really had long-vanished. It clicked when you realised that he was just a man in love, and that he was not a human. His demands for your name – Something utterly terrifying at first – were now understood as his attempts to keep you forever.

That devotion and unyielding affection is what swayed you ultimately. “Love, love, love,” he whispered. You felt your chest bloom with warmth. Turning around, you motioned him down to trail kisses along his face. “Me love you,” he continued. You could peck a gentle kiss to his lips before reciprocating those words. He smiled his horribly wide grin.

You closed your eyes as the elevator finally opened. What would you make him? You had made a decent little "apartment" for yourself in this sprawling mass of rooms. Power was plentiful, so you indulged yourself with whatever you could. The umbrella was still under your arm. You shifted it to hold close to your chest as you walked. It had become a most precious treasure.

“Scarletella,” You spoke to him though you could not see him, “I might need some meat.”

“Provide.”

“Thank you.”

Perhaps this happy relationship was nothing but another one of his illusions.

You truly did not care any more.

All that mattered is that you were both happy.