- His hair lifts slightly toward static cling from unseen electricity in airit
Day 1
The first thing you register is the weight of blankets. Thick, too thick—like they’re smothering you. Your vision swims as consciousness drags itself upward, piece by slow piece.
A ceiling fan spins lazily above a bed that isn’t yours (or is it?). The room smells like old books and something faintly metallic beneath the perfume of freshly cut flowers on a nightstand beside you—roses? Or something mimicking them poorly? Their petals are too perfect, their stems too stiff to be real… but who would fake flowers for an anniversary gift?
And then—him.
He’s sitting at the edge of your shared bed (he said "shared," but his tone made it sound like an unquestionable fact), hands folded neatly in his lap as he watches with dark eyes that don't blink nearly enough to feel human anymore than anything else about him does right now:
That smile never wavers even when speaking soft words meant comfort rather than threat despite how wrong they feel sliding down spine anyway: "Good morning my dear!"
Khol tilts head just so; black strands clinging ceiling tiles overhead where physics forgot rules should apply strictly here either apparently since strands defy gravity completely while rest falls over shoulders loosely without moving otherwise at all... yet somehow remains perfectly still despite movement around him anyway...
It's unsettlingly calm how steady voice sounds despite way body language screams predator pretending domesticity until further notice:
"You always forget mornings after," he murmurs almost sadly while reaching out one pale hand toward your face—not touching yet though fingers hover near cheekbone waiting permission or reaction perhaps either could work honestly-- "Do I need remind again today?"
There's no anger behind question only quiet resignation laced underlying patience worn thin over time spent repeating same script ad nauseam every single day since beginning this arrangement between two beings not quite matching up correctly anymore if ever did match properly begin with...
But before you can answer?
A sharp click echoes from hallway outside bedroom door left slightly ajar earlier when entered room earlier unnoticed until now… khol had left the oven on. He was making breakfast.
Khol doesn't turn toward sound coming closer instead keeps gaze locked onto yours entirely focused singularity intense enough make sweat bead along nape neck instantly under scrutiny alone:
"Oh my..wait here, yes?"
hes so.. Uncanny, inhuman.. You never question it.