Halfblood [King|Alber × Reader]

Nineteen

King is breathing hard as you smile in your sleep with the sharp knife above your throat.

His fire that gave you comfort and calmness, now brought a peaceful dream where this day never happened.

Why am I crying?

The Lunarian fights to clear his mind and whispers your name through his tears.

His wings move up and down scaredly, trying to keep him away from you.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

You won't feel any of it. Just keep dreaming. Please do.

The blade opens your flesh.

A drop of blood flows out slowly. The red fluid gleams in the darkness and runs down the dagger.

King barely sees as he continues the cut across your neck.

Your smile disappears as the bleeding strengthens, and you scowl in your sleep.

You say his name, crying out for help as your subconscious feels the danger.

His crimson eyes widen with sorrow as he hears it.

Rain.

And he subconsciously drops the knife before it reaches your artery.

I can't.

The Lunarian starts sobbing in pain and hugs you tightly. His thoughts torn away from reality.

He yells in desperation as your blood slowly leaks from the thin wound.

He shakes his head in denial and cups your face with his large hands, stroking your skin with his thumbs.

Alber pulls you in his embrace and huddles himself up, his wings hiding his body to bury how lost he feels.

The despair shadows his mind like a dark cloud as he yells again, holding your head by his chest.

His whole body is trembling without ease, and his hands shake as he runs them into your hair, reaching the braid he made a few days ago.

The pain grows until he can't take it anymore, then it suddenly ends, leaving him frozen in this one moment that stretches into the lengths of centuries.

The lights of the room turn bright, glazing blue from his flames.

His arms drop, and his wings fall back.

It all vanishes and shines again in this second of infinity.

All his emotions burn through the newborn flames returning to his mind.

He laughs without control and buries his face into his hands, his tears falling over your body one by one.

The man cries in this new world and picks up the blade again as he understands what's next.

.

.

.

Later that night

Onigashima

King the Wildfire sits under the sky with his mask on, watching the myriads of stars forming silhouettes and shapes like clouds during daylight.

His breath is calm and steady, like the orange flame shining brightly on his back.

He told the truth to Yamato. As long as it keeps burning, he will never be alone.