𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 ; 𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚕

𝕤𝕚𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟

❝ 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖. ❞

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Famin removes a strand of bloody (hair colour) hair off her face gently as she glares daggers at him. He craddles her in his arms, they're awfully gentle.

"It's okay now," he mutters softly, which is out of his stupid character. "Don't fight anymore. You can live with me, and we can watch father destroy this world." He cups her cheek gently.

(Name) wants to resist. She wants to punch him on that ugly face of his, she wants to throw a never-ending insults at him, she wants to kill him.

But she can't.

Her energy is drained out. She used too much blood, more than she could bear. She has reached her limit.

She's too weak to even lift her hand to slap that fucking hand from her cheek.

"Get your filthy hands off me," she says harshly as Famin chuckles. "No can do. You're too beautiful to not hold you close right now." He smirked mischievously.

He pays all his attention to her to notice the sand that forms a sharp end rushing to him. Just before it pierces his head, he jumps out of the way.

The sand goes back to its master as Orter lifts his arms, as if he's carrying something. The sand moves to him before they fall down to the ground, at the same time, (name) lands in his arms safely.

He carries her back to the spot that he has confirmed safe from Famin, where he observed their fight previously. He leans her head to the wall gently not to hurt her any further.

"Orter..." she mutters, and that is the weakest tone he ever heard from her. She tries to get up, but the desert cane pushes her shoulders back, making her lean against the wall again.

"Rest now," he mutters. "You did enough." (Name) slowly shakes her head. "No, I-... I can do better. I still can-"

Orter's hand cuts her off by removing a strand of hair from her face gently. That action alone makes her heart flutter, and she finds herself unable to resist him as she feels her vision getting blur.

"Leave it to me." She hears him mutter. "This time, let me protect you." Then the darkness greets her.

She faints too fast, too quick to feel his soft lips press tenderly against her forehead.

"I almost forget about you." Orter stands up as Famin tilts his head to the side. "Is she your girlfriend?" He asks curiously.

The desert cane shakes his head as he adjusts his glasses. "No, she's not." He denies. Famin then raises his eyebrows, "Then give her to me. She's mine," he demands.

Again, he shakes his head. "You can't have her too." He says firmly as he walks to the battlefield.

The clown scrunches his eyebrows before he snaps his fingers, as if a brilliant idea just come to his mind. "How about we make a deal? I'll forget your glasses and you can just walk away, but you have to leave her to me." He offers with a grin.

Orter stares at him as his eyes narrow. "You'll let me go in exchange of her?" He asks, and Famin blinks his eyes at the familiarity in the question, but nods his head nonetheless.