lovely. [k de vries]

synopsis: featuring a 'you came' K and a 'you called' hunter. 

note: sorry for the radio silence this week! exams have been kicking my ass and i have written a grand total of 0 words for the new chapter and holiday special, so i thought it best to skip the progress update. promise it'll be back next week. 

K de Vries wasn’t used to having contacts in their phone. In fact, for a long time, they weren't used to having a phone period. It was only when the world began assuming everyone had a phone that they finally forced themself to buy one. They aren't exactly opposed to technology, but when it comes to communication, they prefer sending letters by mail.

But they can admit texting has its benefits.

Take now for example. With a glass of red wine in their hand, K scrolls through their contacts list with a hazy vision. They're tipsy, they think. A fact that they'd be loathed to admit in front of anyone else, but with a whole bottle guzzled down, they definitely don't think they're sober.

The phone is ringing before they even realize they pressed call.

"Hello?"

K blinks. "[Surname]. I'm surprised you're awake."

Your laugh echoes through the phone. "It's eight o'clock on a Saturday, K. Not exactly bedtime."

You pause, giving K time to soak in your voice. They sink into their sofa almost immediately, partly ashamed of how much the sound soothes them but mostly accepting of it. There are worse things to be comforted by, they think.

"I thought you had a client. What happened to that?"

K takes another swig of their wine. "Canceled."

"And so you're…"

"Drinking in celebration?" K supplies.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Unfortunate, because that's the correct answer."

You pause again and K can almost see your eye roll. They've been doing that a lot lately: imagining you when you're not there. You're stuck in their head while they're both awake and asleep, hauntingly beautiful, treacherous to the heart.

A familiar order at the café has them turning their head, wondering if you're there. A scarf they spot at the department store reminds them of you, making them think how lovely it'd look around your neck. An incoming call will make them shoot straight up in their seat, leaning over to see the contact only to be disappointed when it's not you. Except when it is, of course.

"Can I come over?" you ask.

K blinks. Talking to you has sobered them up, but they feel like they've missed a vital part of the conversation. They don't remember how you could have gotten to this topic. "It's late."

"And?"

"And it's impractical. I don't have anything prepared for you to stay over. My penthouse is a mess and I have no ingredients to make us breakfast tomorrow. You can’t simply invite yourself over whenever you want, [Surname]. That's what Villanueva does."

"They get away with it," you point out. "Are you making excuses, K?"

That shuts them up. To be haunted by someone as lovely as you may be a gift, in some ways, but it can also be a trap. To be known so deeply inside and out, to have their tells recited back to them as easily as one would read a grocery list, it frightens them.

"Can I come over?" you ask.

K debates it. "If you want."

"Do you want me to come over?"

That, K doesn't know how to answer. You both know what the answer is, but as badly as K wants to say yes, they're having difficulty expressing it. Emotions used to be a weakness for them. To allow themself to show them so blatantly now goes against every rule they set for themself. Five years ago, if they ever felt something as strong as what they feel for you now, they'd bury it so deep they'd forget about it. But you taught them something. When they fell for you and failed to keep everything down, they were reborn by the epiphany that feelings weren't so bad after all. Even if it's still not easy for them.

K swallows down their fears. "I want you to."

"Okay. See you soon."

"See you soon," they whisper.

You hang up with a hum of contentment.

By the time they hear you knock, K is humming themself. They open the door with a smile, something they don't even realize they're doing until later. There was once a time when that smile would have hurt their muscles, but now, it merely aches like something in the distance, a faraway memory that they recall but no longer are.

"Hi," you greet.

"Hi." Their eyes rake over your silhouette, taking in the small bag you have slung over your shoulder and the phone that you carry in your right hand. "You came."

"Of course. You called." Your smile slowly turns into a smirk. "Besides, I never give up the opportunity to visit your penthouse. What would I do without that skylight?"

K doesn't answer, their eyes now roaming your face. Without a word, they lean in and press a chaste kiss to your lips, smiling once more when you chase them. It's not enough, but for now, it'll hold them until they can get—or give you—more.

"Yes, what would you do without that skylight?" they tease.

You make a face and K lets themself laugh, stepping aside to let you in.  "Come on. The night is young."

The saying is almost as bright as your eyes.