Rebel Red Carnation {Kiribaku}

Epilogue

My fingers are warm, wrapped around the ceramic mug of still-steaming peppermint tea. In stark contrast the concrete of the balcony beneath me is cold, almost icy, but it's not enough to make me retreat back inside.

The sky's only just beginning to lighten toward the eastern horizon. The stars, slowly fading out one by one as the sun begins to rise, aren't as visible as they used to be, what with light pollution, but I can still make out the constellations I learned years ago with my father, if just barely. The air is cool. Humid for early spring. Droplets of dew remain on the fence of the balcony in front of me, just barely starting to reflect the incoming sunlight. Everything around me is quiet—so much quieter than it used to be, now that the ringing in my ears is gone (or masked, at least, by my hearing aids). Like this, I can finally listen to the earth as it comes to life for another day.

Even after five solid years, it's hard to get used to it—the mug, with no cracks or chips, clean every time I use it, holding warm liquid that in turn keeps my hands warm. Hard to get used to the consistent change of clothes I have, the several pairs of shoes... seeing my hands and skin consistently clean, without the grime and dirt embedded into the cracks in my skin, under my fingernails. It's been even harder to get used to having a real bed to sleep in, to the point where I find it hard to fall and stay asleep because after so many years of passing out on a hard floor or with a lumpy, torn up mat beneath me, my body doesn't want to believe it's real. Doesn't want to accept it. Insomnia and I have become fairly close these past few years, and no matter how much Eijirou tries to coax me into trying out medications to help it, I decided I don't want to have to rely on something like that forever. I'll get used to this—eventually.

As the earth awakens, so does the city. Birds begin to chirp in their nests and fly by, in search of breakfast. By now my tea is mostly gone and my mug has cooled off, but I can't be bothered to get up and make more. I'd prefer to watch as the cloudless sky fades from a rich navy to a pale baby blue as the minutes go by. Street lights start to blink off. The occasional rushing sound of a car goes by from down below. The peace of dawn is starting to transform into the bustling commotion of the capital city, something I still find distasteful after spending half of my time here nowadays.

But that's what I get for having the Prince as my soulmate, since he still has duties to take care of and his home—the too-damn-big palace—is right in the heart of it.

When the sun has fully stretched itself up over the horizon and is casting its bright yellow rays into the glass balcony doors behind me is when I decide to head in. Just as I'm quietly sliding the door shut behind me is when Eijirou, having been asleep since early the previous night, is peeking his eyes open, the red of them a fiery, passionate color in the sun.

"Katsuki," he murmurs sleepily, a lazy smile making his whole face look a little crooked. "Did you just get up?"

"Yeah," I lie. Cast my teacup on the table beside me.

"C'mere," he beckons, patting the empty space I'd abandoned a while ago.

"Hmph, don't you have to get up so we can start getting ready to head back to The Outskirts?"

"We got some time," he says. "'S only 8 and the helicopter isn't leaving until noon."

"Says the one who hasn't even started packing," I scoff. It's hard to deny those shiny ass eyes, though, and I give in, sinking down onto the bed beside him. Automatically I'm put in my safe space, wrapped safely in his stupidly nice, toned arms. His head tucks right into my shoulder, his lips pressing tenderly over the fabric of my t-shirt.

"Packing's easy," he murmurs. "I only get so much time like this with you, since we're so freakin' busy all the time..." The sentence peters out into a yawn, his brows knitting together as he does so. Jesus fuck, he's cute.