Chapter Text
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” He pleaded, a gentle grasp on her wrist as she pulled the cotton swab away, “You deserve more than this. You are more than this.”
“But I will and I do,” She whispered back.
The room was dark but not unlit. An orange light bulb hung uncovered in the center of the single room basement apartment. Sat in an old wooden chair was Felix King, midnight black hair pulled into a short pony-tail, bandages littered his pale face. Blazing amethyst eyes burned into her emerald soul. An equally gentle smile painted her tan freckled cheeks. Annabelle believed she had never seen a mortal man more godly than the one who sat in her kitchen.
“I chose this, Spite,” she continued before he could speak again, a genuine smile sharply tugging at him from the pet name, “this was my decision.” She gave a gentle peck to his split lip, the tinted red on her own lips sparked desire. A possessive untamed feeling washed over him. But a fluttering butterfly in the wind would always be more beautiful than a caged bird, and his Witch would never know what the bars would look like from the inside.
“Just because I’ve chosen to help heal the people I love, does not make me weak. It does not make me any less than before. I love pink just as much as I love being dressed in blue. There will be no argument about the choice I have made. My hands will worship and build you up over and over. Healing takes time and patience, a skill you often lack.” Felix only continued to smile and adore the stern but loving tone she ranted at him with. He kissed her knuckles as he inhaled, a relieved sigh leaving him.
“I know, my Fire,” he hummed.
“But maybe I can learn your gentleness as you had learned my confidence.”