KINA
Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the kind from an old hoodie or my rice cooker's residual heat. Not the warmth of too many blankets wrapped around a lonely body. But something… deeper.
Softer.
Like when you were little and prayed someone would tuck you in for real, whisper that everything would be okay. I used to think Aaron might feel like that, someday. When we got closer. When he trusted me more. When I earned it.
But this?
This was now.
I blinked my eyes open slowly, the TV long since dead and the room dim except for the moonlight spilling through the sheer curtain.
And I realized…
My head wasn't on a pillow.
It was slumped gently, right against him.
Kieran.
His chest rose and fell beneath me, slow and steady. His jaw was slack, mouth parted the tiniest bit as he dozed, quiet for once. One arm hung loosely off the couch, his other arm resting between us, limp and bruised.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
My heart stumbled once, caught between panic and something stupid. Something shamefully soft that I crushed before it could bloom.
He was wearing a different hoodie. One Rocco must've brought.
And he smelled… like metal.
Faint copper. Blood.
My brain kicked in.
Right. He left. And not just for a walk. He came back late, past eleven. And I never even heard him return.
I frowned.
What the hell did he do out there?
And why was I, oh god. I was worried.
I scrambled to sit up, gently easing myself off of him before he stirred. The second I was upright, shame flushed through me like a fever. I'd fallen asleep. Next to him. Like it was nothing. Like he was some sweet old lover who brought me soup on Sundays.
Get a grip, Kina.
I slapped both of my cheeks lightly, barely breathing. What if he'd woken up and thought I was trying to cuddle him?
Or worse, what if he knew I was scared of him earlier and thought this meant I wasn't?
I hovered, unsure. Part of me wanted to run to my room and bury myself in pillows like none of this happened. But instead…
Instead, I reached for the blanket draped over the couch back and carefully, so carefully, spread it over his sleeping form.
His face twitched as it touched his shoulder. A flicker of awareness. I froze.
But then he settled again. Breathing soft.
I exhaled and pulled away, letting my fingers curl into fists to stop the ridiculous fluttering in my chest.
"Glad you're okay," I whispered under my breath, barely audible.
I took one last glance at his relaxed face, the same one that terrified a grown man in public, and turned away before I did anything else stupid.
Like wonder how someone so dangerous could look so… peaceful.
…
I woke up choking.
Not literally, but that mental, chest-clenching kind of panic that hits when your body realizes you're late before your brain does. I shot upright in bed like I'd been summoned by Satan himself.
"Shit."
The clock on my tiny bedside shelf blinked red and unapologetic: 7:43 AM.
I was supposed to leave the house ten minutes ago.
"Shit! Shit! Shit, " I flung the blanket off, dashed into bathroom, came back hopping on one foot while shoving the other into a skirt that was probably too tight for sprinting. I didn't care. I threw on a blouse, slapped on lip balm with the precision of a war general, and almost died tripping over Kieran's stupid boots on the way to the bathroom.
I paused at the door. Heard the faint sound of a kettle clicking off. The warm scent of coffee hit me in the face as I stormed into the kitchen.
And there he was.
Kieran.
Leaning on the counter, dark hair messy and damp. A mug in his hand. Calm. Collected. Quietly amused.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, voice rough from sleep. "You missed your alarm."
I ignored him. Of course I did.
I grabbed a bar of choclate from the fridge with the force, nearly knocking down a bag of rice in the process.
"You drooled on my shoulder last night," he added casually.
I froze. My soul left my body and hovered somewhere near the broken rice cooker.
He sipped his coffee, eyes flicking to me over the rim. That smirk ghosted across his lips. Nothing too teasing. Nothing too bold. Just enough to make my chest cave in.
"You're welcome, by the way."
"For what?" I snapped, still stuffing things into my tote bag.
"For being such a comfortable shoulder," he said, then shrugged. "Some people have to pay for that kind of emotional support."
I hated how warm my face felt. I didn't have time for this. Literally.
"I have to go," I muttered, zipping my bag.
"You sure you don't want coffee?" he asked, holding the mug out like an offering of peace or smug victory, I couldn't tell.
"Nope," I said, grabbing my shoes. "Not drinking anything made by you."
"Are you really sure about that?" he drawled.
I didn't answer. I was halfway out the door.
8:21 AM – TRAIN STATION
I missed the 8:05 train. Obviously.
And of course the 8:15 one was packed with every person in the city clinging to life and deodorant. A woman beside me was openly sobbing into her scarf. A man in front of me was watching anime without headphones. My entire right thigh was numb.
Monday mornings are a social experiment in psychological warfare.
By the time I made it to the office, I was already sweating through my blouse and rethinking all my life choices.
But I stepped in.
And for a second, I thought… maybe today would be okay.
Maybe I could power through.
Because the lobby was quiet. The elevators opened without a ding. Nobody was running around screaming about a missing file or printer jam.
Peace.
Sweet, beautiful pea,
"Kina-chan!" one of the interns waved at me like I hadn't just crawled out of Hell. "Morning!"
I smiled through the pain. "Morning."
And then I got to my desk.
Chaos. Absolute war zone. A mountain of papers. Sticky notes. Reports. Excel sheets. A flash drive taped to a coffee cup labeled URGENT: The admin wants this before noon.
I hadn't even sat down yet.
….
I was deep in a spreadsheet, eyes slightly glazed, mind running on caffeine fumes and sheer willpower.
Then I heard it, sharp, loud, slicing through the soft murmur of keyboards and hushed meetings like a damn guillotine.
"KINA!"