Amber
They made a big deal about her arrival.
Logically, she'd deemed the problem a matter undeserving of attention and further thought. The way one should deal with the wrong order of groceries: cod instead of salmon, carrots instead of beets. The purchase of canned tomatoes that gave Casper an upset stomach instead of the organic ones he loved.
A problem that could be easily rectified.
A problem that could be fixed
Amber didn't want to fuel the problem into existence, give it time and space to reside in her head—a virus that would spread and spread until it bubbled in her belly and spilled to her throat; it would fill her the way cock would at the top of each thrust. So full.
So uncomfortably full.
Her mind could be manic, so thorough with its overthinking. It could twist the situation, transform her husbands—change them into something monstrous, something she couldn't quite shake off.
She wanted to claw it all off, sink her nails deep within her flesh and scream.
She'd hate to look at them, when she was filled with a self-created grudge that shouldn't exist. Look at them for the rest of their lives thinking about a bad episode with the baby. She didn't want it to fester in her mind, a topic that would appear again and again when she was mad.
You've disappointed me once.
You can do it again.
You motherfucker.
An accurate statement considering the fact that they were fucking her, a mother, but that was beside the point.
She refused to allow the problem to grow into something that needed counsellors and therapists, finances and law. Separation and soul problems, parenting between eight separate people. She just didn't want that life for Rumiko. she'd hate having to juggle her back and forth like a circus act. Look at her soulmates with sad eyes and bitter regret.
"Why don't you like daddy?" Rumiko would ask, hopefully cherubic, hopefully more angelic than satanic.
A mother could dream.
"It's a long story," was what she would say. "But let me tell you something darling. We need food, we need oxygen, we need people. But we don't need men. Not even when our bodies crave their soul and dream of everlasting togetherness. Men aint shit."
"Really?"
"(Not) really."
In that parallel universe in which her stubberness reigned and her issues dragged on forever, Amber would die an early death and all seven of her soulmates would pass quickly and surely. One after another they would drop like flies.
But that was impossible because surely, without fail Amber would return to them forever.
She digressed because that thought was extreme. And while it lingered in her head, a thought that could be considered she slammed it down quickly. Amber was being way too pessimistic and she couldn't dream of a life away from her soulmates.
So the seven-day long holiday away from the baby, was just a goddamn holiday away from the baby. Nothing more, nothing less.
It wasn't an escape, a declaration of her potential future with just a selective number of partners, maybe just one or two—partners unfairly chosen simply because they didn't say the wrong things at the wrong time.
It wasn't a hint of her mental state. One that threatened with the need to leave their asses just because they'd left her alone in a strange, foreign place with no one else she knew within the vicinity. Her mind flickered. To be honest, it would be so much easier if she could go home to her parent's home and just—
She silenced those thoughts.
The holiday was just a time of relaxation so that she could gather her thoughts, soothe the emotions that fucked her up inside and out, and then reconsider her attitude towards motherhood.
Because she should be grateful for the chance to be a mother at her age. It was an age where she could survive on an hour of sleep and not worry about cracking bones and painful joints. That was a boon.
Who could expect couples to return to the same relationship dynamics after having a baby?
It just wasn't the same anymore, especially with a relationship like hers so oddly triangulated, the love signals pointing left and right, spinning like a broken compass. Fuck buddies in one set, romantic tension in another. She was pretty sure sometimes Sieon and Hikaru hated each others guts.
Without the screaming in her head, and the vomit in her hair, Amber had concluded—quite solemnly in the bathroom—that this entire situation was most likely just a part of growing up. She had to pull up her big girl panties and become a better, stronger mother.
That was that.
Amber was pretty damn sure that her life would go back to being the way it was with diapers and crying, and plenty of lonely nights in the apartment. Except perhaps they would now consider her feelings a little more and might (kindly of course) appreciate her existence as the primary caregiver of their child.
They would do more than appreciate her, Casper had assured.
They would ensure that the fridge was well packed with microwavable lunches and dinners, homemade frozen foods. No more eggs. No more hot boiled water for breakfast, burning water that could momentarily calm her gurgling stomach. She'd pinked at his words, looked down at her feet, squeezing her toes.
She'd admitted the truth to him, laid it out plain and simple.
She told him upfront, honest and truthful that it was just eggs some days and nothing on others. It was said begrudgingly of course with a whispered 'please don't tell the rest because they'll get mad'. And her in-laws would be furious for attempting to feed her baby lousy breast milk. Her mother would whip her ass for neglecting nutrition.
Everyone would be mad.
They won't get mad, he'd promised, brows pinched, and lips turned. They'll just make more food for you.
Of course that was what he'd think. But in her head, she could see the disappointment in their eyes, the hard disapproving stare. The way they looked at her as if she didn't know better just because she was younger and smaller.
It could just be all in her head. She'd expected Casper to react a little more explosively perhaps an outcry, but he'd embraced her instead, pulling her into his arms. Then he'd promised to give her the world and fill her up with food.
God, didn't he understand that it wasn't food she needed but time?
She was starving for time.
She huffed, exhaled through a pinched nose. Fuck, he was right. They wouldn't get mad. They would apologise. She will accept their apology. Then after another day or two of grovelling, they would part ways after figuring out a better solution with the baby.
They would return to the stage, and she would go back into that horrible space.
She had a couple of suggestions for improvements. Amber had spent most of her time in the toilet thinking about them, circling them out on a notepad when Casper wasn't looking. Just the lines and the circles, not the words.
Never the words. Words made her plans real, words stamped her thoughts into reality.
She would get a house near her parent's in a district closer to her friends. It would mean less visits from her soulmates because it would be harder with the tour. Her boys wouldn't get to see her and the baby as much but that would mean they wouldn't have to deal with the chaos. They would find her only when they were happier, and she would see them only when she was ready.
And maybe absence would make the heart fonder.
And perhaps their relationship would mend on its own and return back to the way it was before the baby.
It was a very logical situation, and yet her heart thumped, beating rapidly as they neared the apartment. Anxiety flowed through her for the people she anticipated. She wondered how they would react. She pondered over how she should apologise for being rude.
It was their first real big fight as a family.
"Careful love," Casper chuckled when she almost tripped over the ledge. He held her carefully, hands cupped over her waist. His fingers ghosted over her flesh and she shivered, his warmth burning into her skin—a molten storm, unfolding. Her insides quivered, always loving him, always wanting him. Always so goddamn thirsty for his touch. Her hand lingered on his wrist.
She felt the strange urge to pull away.
Don't get her wrong, her love for them was never gone. Amber loved them dearly, she loved them more than anything in the world. She loved them so much that her plan. The plan for her sanity; the plan with her parents and friends. People. A goddamn social life. An escape. Salvation.
The logical plan that would save her from all her goddamn misery.
A plan that made sense.
She wouldn't tell them about it, she would bury it within her. She would bury it with the pessimistic thoughts of escape and freedom; thoughts of breaking up and leaving. The selfish thoughts that dared surface in her head in her darkest days. She would swallow them down and force them to go.
They had to continue fulfilling their dreams.
Amber had crossed her plans out on that paper without words. She'd drawn a long line over what she imagined to be words, scribbled black over yellow, then scratched the phantom words out until the paper tore into shreds.
Amber would continue country hopping, moving from one place to another; changing apartments, changing cities. She would raise her daughter like a single mother out on the streets. She would spend a couple of days each month, pretending to smile for her soulmates. She would continue being whatever they wanted her to be, continue surviving, continue until Rumiko wasn't a demon anymore but her friend.
She would continue alone.
Because they needed her to be.
She pushed open the door, allowed herself to sit in the silence her ears alert for the sounds of her baby. But instead, the house was quiet, peaceful, peculiar tranquillity. She strained her ears and heard nothing except for the soft hum of the washing machine. The whisper of the dryer. The lazy rotation of a fan. And out popped her Ezra, sexy in a dark shirt and joggers that hung low on his waist.
He looked thinner, and the eyebags under sleepy almond eyes were purple and red. But those eyes were warm, glistening with a tenderness that he lavished upon her, thickly painted on her skin. He strode forward, dropped the metal spoon in his hand. Uncharacteristically, he spread his arms, wide for a hug, not a kiss.
A kiss would be too much.
Or would it?
"Sweetheart, welcome home," Ezra purred, a low casual voice that betrayed nothing. The timbre was sexy and it tingled within her lower belly. As much as she would love to jump his bones and forget the problem, she had other things to do.
She noted then that there was a flicker, a dance of apprehension in his eyes. The nervous tilt of anxiety, concern that she would not step into his embrace. It was strange on him, the disquiet fear in a person so confidently in love with her. And he didn't need to be afraid of her having done the least wrong in their relationship.
He was always supportive, always forgiving. The baby was crying? He chose Amber first, knelt by her side to check on her leaky breasts and rub the tears away from her eyes. For awhile, Rumiko had been a stranger to him too, until he fell for her gummy smiles and milky breath.
But the problem was that his greater support for her had always been threaded with a thin line of sarcasm, edged with a begrudging tone that she hated. There was nothing she could do that could top his abusive mother. As long as she held Rumiko and didn't beat the shit out of her baby, Ezra crowned her as a mother deserving of a gold medal.
But the comparison had worn her out into perfection. The lack of expectation a harder jab to her mind.
It all didn't matter because she hated seeing him awkward and standing—a man with his zipper down in the open. For a second his arms hung in the air far too long, and the fear on his face grew tattered and threadbare.
She relented.
"Ezra," she murmured, burrowing her face into the nape of his neck.
She hugged him the way she loved to, with their bodies pressed so close together there was no more space. And her arms wrapped so tight around him that they were chest to chest. Her lips were inches from the skin of his neck, which she kissed and smiled against when a snort escaped him from the itchiness.
In her arms, he relaxed.
"How was your holiday baby?" Ezra asked, a thousand times happier. Her acceptance lifted a weight from his shoulders.
"Brilliant," she told him, bumping her hip with Casper and she could see him visibly sigh with relief. His hands moved to rub against her back. "Plenty of good stress-relieving fucking and cervix bashing." She looked up. "Where is our kid?"
"Bashing?" Ezra raised a brow but got serious quickly. "Out with Hikaru," he explained, "it was his turn for a day alone with Rumiko, said he needed a walk. I only just got back to prepare dinner." He gestured to the bags on the table.
"Really," Amber's lips twitched. Her mind flashed with the imagery of women with unfriendly eyes and sharp tongues. "At this time?" her eyes moved to the clock. "He'll be back soon." Her lips quirked. "Or maybe he won't. They might treat him better since he's handsome."
"Who?" Ezra looked confused, it seemed that he had yet to venture outside of the walls with Rumiko. She waved him off, tossing her shoes haphazardly. Casper picked them up, lining her shoes neatly for her, then bent to peel off her socks even though she told him he didn't have to.
"Shitty neighbours. Came to nose around a couple of weeks ago."
"Neighbours?" Ezra's brows furrowed.
"They needed salt," she explained, her nose wrinkling at the judgemental characters that she'd long deleted from her mind like a bad memory. She didn't need their existence wasting her storage space and she was entitled to only good dreams and a brain filled with love.
And her baby.
"Must be desperate if they had to climb down a whole floor," Ezra commented. From the corner of her eye, she noted that he exchanged looks with Casper. More secrets, but she didn't care. She refused to give a damn.
"They live around the corner," she answered, popping a tangerine slice into her mouth. Someone had made a neat plate and left it on the counter. She sniffed Ezra's hands, they smelled like oranges. He plucked one from the plate and fed it to her, his thumb grazed her lips and his eyes darkened a shade.
"The corner? That's odd," he seemed oddly fixated over the topic. And she smiled, nudging him with a goofy prod. She wanted the topic gone.
"It's fine I don't let bitches stand in our way. Rumiko's banshee shrieks are enough to chase them away. She's a good guard, the best. No one wants to stand a metre near me with her by my side." Ezra's lips twitched a smile that was a little too pained. She was sure hers was the same all droopy and sad.
Fuck.
Where was parenting school when you needed one?
"The boys?" Casper asked, unloading their bags to do laundry. His hips were cocked to one side, ass snug in tight jeans. Her ass, her jeans. The idiot packed her pants instead of his and would now stand in denim that clung snug to his hard bulge and pull at the curve of his inner thighs.
Tempting.
"They'll come running," Ezra answered, his eyes moved to hers.
She dared him then to say words filled with venom, words that would light up her gas and send her burning. She didn't know why she was waiting for a fight. But she was ready for one, hackles raised, waiting for the lecture that would come from someone older and oh so goddamn knowing.
"They miss you."
Her bravado deflated and she sighed, rubbed her face because she missed them too, so much she could die. She felt like a bitch, so maybe her period was coming. Her emotions were a wreck, her insides evil and bitter. But she was better than that, she wouldn't say the angry words that flecked her insides like a spoilt brat.
She was better than her.
"I missed them too."
Amber's eyes moved to Ezra, to the bitten lips chewed and then sleeked with saliva, red from abuse. The eyes that were wide and waiting, the fingers tapping on the counter. And the hunger for more in those eyes, screaming, screaming, screaming for acceptance. His feet paced.
"Of course it includes you," she snorted, leaning against the counter, folding her arms. " Stop giving me the puppy eyed look."
His brows relaxed. "That wasn't a puppy dog eye look."
"What was it then?"
He tasted his lips, swallowed as if he were rusty and this was a forgotten song in his album five years back. He cleared his throat as if she were a host commanding him to sing a song from the 90s. "This is a I'm-dreaming-of-fucking-you-on-this-counter-and-painting-you-white-with-my-cum-look." They came out from his lips in a speedy rasp.
Her lips parted. His words were familiar and she missed them, she missed their little sex banter. Their dirty talk and all their goddamn foreplay. Those things had ended the moment their household became a world of censorship and content rated PG. But he cleared his throat, gaze shifted to Casper as if he would say something. The younger male simply raised a brow.
"Casp doesn't get to reprimand you," she laughed, Ezra had never done that before, look at others for confirmation. Ezra should be breaking rules and pissing everyone off. Not standing like he'd accidentally dyed everyone's white clothes blue. "He's done that for the past seven days with his bejewelled cock. And that's a long long name for a little puppy." She cooed.
"Ouch," Ezra hissed. "Have I gotten rusty in making you wet?"
"The only thing white you're getting on the counter baby, is my breastmilk leaking from my boobs." She snorted, tilting her head. "And it's bold of you to assume that that was enough for me to get wet."
"Fuck you're right."
He was visibly distraught and that too made her want to laugh and then cry. He broke before she did, arms wrapped around her tighter, cheeks pressed to her skin. Small. Quiet. Weak. Child-like even. It had been a while since they'd last held each other like that and her throat grew wet with nostalgia.
"I'm sorry. Could have done more."
"Me too." There was more to be said. But he had apologised for everything in the letters he'd sent via text. The words had been lengthy, the points he'd made were logical and from the heart. He didn't have to apologise again, but he did it anyway. And so she returned it with her own.
"It's been too long," he hummed against her hair, "three months?"
They saw each other far more than that, but Amber knew what he was talking about. The grunts of acknowledgement, the quick kiss on the cheek, the waves goodbye. She spent most of the time when he was home passed out on the bed asleep. And what he got at max was her sleeping form in his arms.
She once had his cock in her head, the shape of it and the taste of it was lodged in her memory. It drifted away from her now, foggy with the need for sleep and rest. It was difficult to find time to hold each other, harder for her to talk, even harder for them to fuck.
"Just two and a half." Two and a half months since they'd last done anything more sexual than a slap of his hand on her ass, and a quick chaste kiss meant for virgins and teenagers.
"Felt too long. I've missed you." His words were pleading, breathy as his arms snaked around her middle. And for a moment she looked at him, horribly missing the glow of his skin that once radiated from his soul bond.
A coldness filled her then as her mind reminded her that she couldn't see any of them. It reminded her of the broken parts of their family. It reminded her of the empty vases, the lack of light, the lack of bunnies. The lack of red strings, golden and red tattoos.
Ezra pressed another kiss to her hair, oddly more affectionate. "God, you always smell so good."
"That's the hotel shampoo."
"You know what I'm talking about, Apple pie." She sniffed him in return, inhaled the wintery sweet musk that was all Ezra Lee. He held her tighter, spoke louder. "I missed you so goddamn much."
"And my pussy?" She couldn't help it. The sexual innuendoes kept the situation lighter. The touch of pink in his cheeks gave her strength. She didn't like the vulnerability. The words wept out like a silent cry. The pain. She just wanted to move on and live her life.
"Of course," Ezra answered easily, then blinked down at her from above, "I don't understand how you think I could ever lose my lust or love for you." His brows pinched. "Did you really think it could leave me that easily?"
You acted as if you didn't want me, shied away from my touch. No initiation, no need for me. What was I supposed to think? None of you seemed to want me. None of you seemed to care.
But she ignored that can of worms, turned it over and covered it. Trash under the blanket. Shit in the ocean. Instead, she smiled cutely for him, scrunched her nose, pressed her forehead to his. He beamed.
"We should have makeup sex," she murmured, the suggestion was flippant and without further thought. While they still could. He had to go back on tour, had to leave her side.
His smile widened and for a moment she thought she spotted a glow on his skin. But it was all just the surface, fresh and dewy from a facial and filled with botox for the pimples. Meanwhile, hers was all dull, dry and crusting at some places, some pimple scars.
Ezra chuckled.
"You read my mind."
"You don't know what's on my mind," she teased, drawing a finger down his chest, so deliciously covered by cloth. She poked at his waistband, pulled, and allowed it to slap against his skin. He shivered. "I've been reading adult comics, studying censored cocks."
"What the fuck?" He choked out a laugh, confused by her topic, glanced at Casper for an explanation. "What has she been reading?"
"Manhwa," Casper answered.
"They draw sticks of white between their legs for the censorship, thought it was cute, imagined it would be a funny thing to see in real life," Amber said. "Then, I realised that I have my own little lightsabre waiting for me at home." She hooked her leg over his. "I've just got to light it up again."
Ezra's lips parted, then closed something flashed through his eyes, pained but he allowed it to pass and he allowed himself to smile. The ghost of memory flickering through his closed eyelids. "We can work on it together," he told her from above, pulled her hips tight against him, almost a slow dance.
She felt him then, hard and warm against her, swollen with the always raging need. She thought she felt it pulse against her skin. She imagined that his cock would be naked from the Brazilian they'd all done in her name.
They've always wanted her, they just hadn't said a thing. Her soulmates had buried that need for her to care for the child, allowed the bonds to disappear. They'd assumed she wouldn't want to, read the push in her body language as a sign of her need for sleep. And they were right.
She needed the sleep, she wasn't sure if she would have accepted them if they'd initiated a kiss at her weakest state. She wasn't sure if she would have actually been happier if they fucked when they got back from home. The truth was they were right it was another task in her neverending list.
And that made her a hypocrite, a confused individual that wanted so much and yet didn't have the time to cultivate it.
The point was, alone, she just didn't have the time to think about such things.
"We could, if we have the time to," she pulled away from him and his frown deepened.
A peculiar expression frothed over his face. Blue balled before they even began. They could kiss but that would be a waste, it would leave them needing more, wanting more.
And by then Rumiko would be home with a sobbing Hikaru.
"What do you mean?" he tried again, bottom lip protruding. "We've got the time."
"You have a flight to catch early tomorrow. You all do." She raised a brow at Casper and he shrugged, nodding. "You need to pack. And you need to sleep, you can't sleep well on the plane. You have to perform the moment you get off that plane, I've seen your plans. "
They'd pushed their schedule, maximised everything just to give her the holiday she needed. They tried their best.
She knew they did.
"I don't need the sleep," Ezra smiled, frown deepening. "We can have a quickie. You and me in the bedroom. We'll lock the door, you can talk with them after we're done." Problem-solving. She smirked at him then sighed.
"It's not fair for the others," she told him, waving her hand.
"Thirty minutes," he murmured, licked his lips. "Twenty. I can cum in five when in you, I feel it. Spend the fifteen eating you out."
"Never thought I'll hear you say that in my life," she let out an amused huff. The old Ezra would have reacted with scorn at those words, an orgasm in five minutes was an insult to him.
"It's the truth sweetheart," Ezra groaned, crossing his legs to adjust the bulge that formed thick and heavy between his legs. She looked at it, pulse throbbed between her legs, pussy melting with want, and then smiled.
"Perhaps," she teased, moved to get some air in her system, then got serious, "after I talk to the boys, we have dinner and I feed Rumiko. Then you can convince the others—"
"—Excluding Casper he's had his fill—" Casper snorted at his words.
"—Excluding Casper, that you deserve thirty minutes with me." She wrinkled her nose, making a face. "Five minutes if you can." She entertained the idea, allowed Ezra to have his fun with a wink. "Put it down on my schedule for the night." She turned, washing the breast pumps she'd used during her trip.
She knew how this would go if she played it out his way. They would spend a hectic night getting Rumiko ready for bed. Then they'd all want a turn. They would give her orgasms, oh they would she was sure of it, but she would feel used, perhaps abused. Maybe a little broken inside having played a role that society believed her to play—a whore.
What they needed was intimacy.
Perhaps, it would be fast-paced, her hoisted ass against the wall. A ravenous fuck on the counter. Maybe, a slow intimate drawn-out session of making love. None would work out in this context, in this situation when their hearts were broken, and they needed to talk.
They couldn't have sex. Not yet, not now.
Not when they had to leave just mere hours later.
Not when they were going to leave her again after apologising and grovelling and promising to be better. Their words would be emptier than her dreams. Their promises would lack guarantee. They could promise her the world, promise to fill up her belly, promise to give her everything.
But how could they when they were not there by her side? Not there when Rumiko was feverish and sick, not there when she just needed a shoulder to cry? Long-distance was harder with a newborn in a foreign country.
Whatever, as long as they were happy.
"Amber," Ezra called her name, his hand on her shoulder commanding her attention. She turned to look at him. It was serious when he used her nickname, not the full one which he muttered sometimes before she came. "Maybe we don't have to rush this."
"What do you mean?" She towelled the pump dry, slightly annoyed by his words. They didn't have all the goddamn time in the world.
"We don't have to fuck today."
"After your tour?" she huffed. Now he didn't want her, interesting. She raised a brow at him. "When is your next break?" It must be sooner than she'd expected, perhaps they'd managed to bend the rules, switched out the dates for their interviews and performances.
He swallowed, seemed to ponder on his words. "We could do it when we're ready. When I've swept you off your feet and you're so damn fucking happy, you'll kiss me like you mean it." He said those words with conviction, and she didn't want to laugh but she had to.
"Like we have all the time in the world." She chuckled, dumped the rag into the sink with way too much force. It must be a joke.
"Right, I've been thinking of—"
The door opened and she heard the patter of feet, in raced a group. More accurately she could call it a battalion of soldiers, troops that surrounded her then swept her off her feet, arms wrapped around her.
A hug first before anything else. They wouldn't spend a whole minute at the door taking off their shoes. Not when the situation was dire, not when they missed her more than the worries of dirt and gunk on the floor. It was a mixture of scents, warm hands, and voices. A cocoon of love.
Her soulmates.
Her soulmates were beautiful people, colourful people. They painted her canvas, coated her with the colours of their soul, splattered shades of pink over her tender skin. They created what could not be painted by her own hands; flooded her vision with their tones, tints, and hues. It had been beautiful—their union— but her paintings were now aching with blue and green; the colours mixed so fervently in her turmoil that it had all faded into a nondescript grey.
If she thought long enough the memories from before could bring tears to her eyes.
Her soulmates were now colourless, ghost-like as they hovered around her like shades of their former selves. There was an ashy undertone to their skin, a washed-out grey that made her question her sanity.
Even now their bodies were drenched in the white of her surroundings: the four walls of her newly rented home. The third one of the year. This particular apartment should be a friend. She'd spent twenty-four hours a day behind its walls and stayed for more than a month within the premises of the complex never venturing out of the compounds. And yet its presence did not register in her head the way a home should.
Home was warm and unique, filled with memories; it should smell like warm yeast, wood and a sweetness she couldn't quite replicate. The apartment they'd rented for her, fifteen minutes from the airport, ten to the hospital by car was drenched in antiseptic and waxy with a freshness she didn't appreciate. It was a disappointing substitute, new and hollow. Lacking.
It just wasn't the same without Hikaru's garden or the heated pool that would turn misty in the morning. Her favourite chicken shaped kettle with its angry red beak. The plate with a crack from Casper's bad fall, poorly mended with clay. Her almond shaped spoons, sharp at the tips for ice cream—a plastic souvenir from a shop in Jeju. The fluffy knotted pillows she'd picked out with her seven. Their studio. Her erotic painting on the ceiling. Her computer with its marble and bubble tea pink. Her goddamn sex toys.
Soulmates filling every room.
That one spot at the very centre of the condominium was where she envisioned would be Rumiko's place in their home. Her daughter would have a wardrobe filled with little shoes, dresses, and pants; baby posters that she could stick to the wall. Animals and their names. A soft mat with alphabet prints for her little feet. A little princess bed with a veil over the frame.
Amber didn't understand, couldn't fathom the reasons why rich people seemed to adore the idea of extreme minimalism. They cherished the sublimity of a psychopathic white that she hated. It was out of place in an apartment that came to her so neat that it stank of corporate culture and workaholics.
The apartments they rented for her was meant for expats on transit. Its energy was blunt and brusque; crisp like crushed ice and the walls and lights a cold blue white. It was probably why she hated the colour and right now the colour was on them.
They held her or at least they tried to. And for a brief moment, her senses were dulled as their arms wrapped around her frame, encasing her body in their haphazard embrace. It was a hit or miss in a group hug of five. And the hug was awkward with too much space in between them and too many hands.
But no baby, and no Hikaru. Her lips twitched.
Their scent had once been so vibrant, full of floral notes, milky sweetness and fruity undertones; fresh mint and husky wood; desserts and ice cream. But now all she could smell in the air was the warmth of mingled breath and the staleness of the air in the room. Sweat, maybe.
She lied it was all there the sweetness that she longed to clutch in thick fistfuls and bring to her lips, sink her face against their neck and inhale. But she chose to ignore those physical desires.
Naturally she twisted her head to breathe outside the fog, laughed like she meant it because she had to for their sake. It was the same old shit she played every fortnight like an age-old drama cliché: averted her gaze so it would be easier for her, smiled so it would be easier for them. Love was fucked up.
There was no point in wrapping herself so deeply in their love. It made things harder for her, so much harder because when they parted, she would be left aching for their return. She realised quickly that it was a thousand times easier if she detached her heart from her soul, her brain from her pussy and mentally chose to protect herself. She didn't need them to live, and she couldn't need them now.
This was a thousand times better than spending her weekends huddled in the bathroom sobbing with a baby in her arms.
Old words that she was growing tired of.
How many times had she repeated them in her head?
They began with their apologies which she stopped with a raised hand and a quiet forgiving smile. She'd read them all in their texts, understood where they came from. But she didn't want to dwell on a situation that would only widen their divide. She'd long moved on. It was time they did too.
"I've read your texts," she cleared her throat, "letters. I'm sorry for being a bitch and sending the same recycled message to everyone." She'd rectified that with a personalised text for each of them when she'd calmed down over lunch on day three. "I was exhausted, and it was childish of me."
She wanted to push the blame on them in her words, let it drip with toxic and fire. But there was no point in being an asshole. It only dragged out the pain, told them that she was childish even at her age. She wouldn't stoop down to that stubborn level of silent treatments and prolonged torture. It would prove nothing.
"You're still mad," JieMi mumbled, doe eyes already so wide they exposed the tears that threatened to spill. The sight of them, on that face that she so lovingly adored sent a rushing ache through her chest.
On hindsight none of them truly meant what they had said when they'd parroted their parents' words. They didn't know shit and so they tried to learn from the people who'd raised them. She had just been a little more sensitive and they had just been very unsure of themselves. Extremely so.
"No, I'm not," she answered, softer this time. She took his hand into hers which he immediately laced together obviously not wanting to let go. The edges of his jaw softened, gentleness flooding his brow. "I was really tired. Probably PMSing."
"I've got your period synced with my calendar," MinJae uttered, then sucked a plump bottom lip when she turned to look, features always cherubic but now slightly gaunter. "It wasn't fourteen days before your period. Although you could be experiencing them now." He paled when she stared, and they all seemed to suck in a breath. His voice returned to him in a cracked whimper and his knees trembled ready to go down to the floor. "Look, I downloaded the app for tips—"
"That's an invasion of a privacy I didn't know I needed," she hummed. He paled, eyes widening but she spared him from the evil of his hyperactive mind and grinned before he could grovel. He would because MinJae knew he'd been the bitchiest of them all in their new phase in life. "Stalker."
They audibly relaxed when she pulled herself free from JieMi's sticky grip to lock her arms around MinJae. She ran her fingers down his sides where she knew was the most sensitive, then wiggled her fingers before his dancer senses could be notified. He began to giggle, then burst into a shrill shriek, squirming in her grasp as she tickled.
He slumped like pasta in hot water. Just as the tension in the air dissipated.
"Don't!" he snorted; voice muffled when he struggled into his hoodie through gasping laughter that had his shirt riding up his body.
Cloth revealing the trail of curls and then the thick taunt flex of abdominal muscles more pronounced than ever. Had he been starving himself? Her hands crept over his skin now with purpose as she searched for signs.
He was thinner. They suffer too with her.
She stopped when tears began leaking from his eyes, his smile was the widest she'd seen on him in months. Her man was small enough for her to hold him and she melted when he sank against her neck, head propped over her shoulder as she held him close. The bond seemed to whistle within them, a gut deep ache that sent a shiver across her skin.
"You ruined my makeup," MinJae sighed on her shoulder, cotton candy soft scent wafting from his skin. He got up and patted her shoulder, dusting away at her sleeve. "Fuck, got concealer on your shirt."
There was a big perpetual smile on his face now, a grin that grew warm and sweet, pink just the way she liked it. She swore his hair rustled with the beginnings of their soul bond, untamed they seemed to move on their own.
"I missed your ass," she relented, a quick smooch on his cheek that did nothing for her aside from giving her a taste of beige foundation shade 2. But it seemed to do everything for him because he blossomed at her words; cheeks grew so pink and pretty her heart stuttered the way it used to right between her legs. But she turned to the rest telling them the truth. "I missed all your fat asses. Come here for a kiss."
Oliver was the closest to them, so the smooch was easy when he leaned down, flushing when she smacked his juicy ass like a crazed pervert. Her sun was beaming when he straightened. His smile was criminal, eyes shaped like little moons and pearly whites revealed.
Then JieMi and Sieon tripped on one another as they fought to go first. But Sieon won; he angled his limbs to block all pathways, obnoxiously spreading his legs to keep JieMi at bay. Then he began with with the most endearing tone she'd heard from him in a while.
"You're so hot," he whispered through a sob meant for words like ' I love you', 'I miss you' and 'I wish I could stay' as he shoved MinJae out of the way. It was dripping with adoration, and it burned her insides; made her lower abdomen erupt with molten heat and pulsating need.
She wanted to say the same to him; him with his god like face and muscular body that deserved to be worshipped and kissed. She didn't have the time for that, but she did give his angular cheeks two kisses only because she missed.
His jawline was that sleek.
"Really," Amber teased, "Casper said I was projecting my androgynous looks today in this get up." Black hoodie, grey jeans. Perfect for her bleak future with Rumiko. Perfect for the beginnings of her emo girl lifestyle. "What do I remind you of?"
"The rat from that cooking cartoon movie," Sieon answered immediately, expression blank, a connoisseur for describing people like animals. The best at wrong words at the wrong time. But her jaw dropped because she expected more from someone that wronged her. And he'd chosen a rat instead of an angel. A fucking rat. "Dirty but clean."
"You," she gaped at him almost wanting to clap, "you goddamn son of a bitch."
"Dirty as in you're my naughty girl, and clean like you smell like you've taken a hundred bubble baths while I probably stink—I'm joking. I cover my emotions with humour," he reassured quickly, clearing his throat then his voice grew husky with a moan when he spoke again. "That sexy fish from that movie with the—"
"Bro! You should say she's unparallel to any being in this universe! She's a goddess." Oliver gasped out and they all turned to look as he reddened and inched behind her. He was always the sweet talker with the best flowery words that would stoke her ego. "Well, she is..."
"I haven't gotten my kiss!"
JieMi burst out from the crowd looking drained, he managed somehow to throw Sieon off her with a hasty shove. The idiot slammed onto the sofa, making a face. JieMi moved to her in quick strides. He paused before he got closer, shuffling nervously before her.
But she pulled him close, her lips pressed to his in a quick but exaggerated move that left him smug when she left his pouted lips with a noisy smack. Sieon and MinJae squawked unhappy, screaming that they hadn't been gifted a special. Naturally, their hands began to already intent for more. Even the others standing by the side-lines and yet sliding closer looked eager to please.
Fuck. Her eyes flickered across them, watched as pupils dilated and expressions darkened. But this wasn't the time and place for a quick fuck. Not after months of stunted romance in a home that looked more like an office cubicle.
"Calm down," she laughed, brushed them back quickly before they could look for more. "We can't."
"Why not?" MinJae asked. She could see the seduction circulating in his mind, the need in his eyes, his hips wiggled, leaning forward in a sexy stance that revealed the curve of his plump supple ass. But she stopped herself from temptation.
"You'll want a tongue kiss." Was her answer.
"Of course, we do—" Sieon began to say, then perked up as he continued. "I want the Amber Sunday special with all the cherries on top—"
"Go pack your bags." She pulled free, hands waving towards the hallway towards the rooms they'd spent a week in. Her answer had came unexpectedly and for a beat they stared at her incredulous, star-struck because they thought the tilt of her hips was hot, and absolutely fucking devastated.
"What?" Oliver gasped at her, then grew louder erupting into an almost soprano. "WHAT?"
"N-not even on the couch?" JieMi stuttered, grasping the edge of her clothes, he tugged at them with a wail. "YOU WANT US OUT OF THE HOUS—"
"I KNEW IT! YOU'RE PICKING FAVOURITES," Sieon cried, pointing a finger at her with an outrageous scream. "HOW COULD YOU—"
She placed a finger to her lips. They shut up.
"God no. I'm not chasing you out," she said looping an arm over JieMi's shoulder. "You have a tour to go to Eon, remember?" She raised a brow at them, cocked her head to one side gesturing towards the door. "The one where you dance and sing for people on stage?" She snorted, shaking her head. "Stop panicking I'm not telling you to get out of my life." She freed herself from her soulmates turning to pick up the dishes. "We have to pack your bags for the airport. And I know it's just fifteen minutes away but," she smiled at them all, "your flight you can't miss it."
"B-but we're staying for food, we're making dinner." Oliver said, brows furrowed, then his eyes snapped to his watch and then back to the clock. The horror shone through. "We prepared a big dinner!" His feet bopped against the floor as it bounced. "It's already this late?"
"Yup, you're going to be late. You've got like thirty minutes left boys?" she glanced at the clock then back at him. "We can grab some burgers and eat in the car?" Then she made a face "Fuck, Rumiko would hate that. We should call Hikaru, he needs to hand me the baby."
"He's on the way," Ezra assured, "he texted in the group chat and said he's coming up."
"But that's not enough time to hold you..." MinJae cried, hands to his face. He pulled them down dragging the squishy adorable fat of his cheeks. "It's not fair! This is so not fair!"
"It's a goddamn joke," Ezra growled from his corner of the room, slamming his fist down on the counter, "we can't even sit down and eat with you. It's fucking bullshit!" His tone was gruff, and crude and she shot him a look that told him to pipe down.
"I know and I'm sorry that's why I told you to cut my holiday with Casper short remember?" She sighed, rinsing the dishes with water. "I know it's disappointing. I'm really sad too guys, but thank you for the break." She turned to look into their eyes hoping it would portray her sincerity. "I really, really appreciated it." She turned back to towel the plates dry. "We'll work out something next time.
"That's not what he's trying to say," Casper said quietly by her side, she turned to him, staring up at the dancing colours that stuttered in his pupils trying to spark. They failed, returning to a warm sweet hazel that she loved just as much. "He's—"
It was then when the door clattered open with a noisy bang. She knew then that the baby was home; the pram jostled at the door and the noisy whimpers of her baby—a child she couldn't stop thinking about during her seven-day vacation—sent milk dripping down her shirt. But she was just as distracted by the handsome figure that stood at the door with a baby in his arms.
Hikaru.
He was breath-taking as he panted, cheeks pink from the cold, hair tousled by the wind. But his eyes were as wild as light in the sea, and they danced as he looked at her, sparkled so much they seemed almost gold. He stood more handsome than ever with a smile that lit up his face.
He looked free.
"Amber," he breathed so relieved, and so damn pleased. There was love in his voice enough to send her bursting into tears. The tenderness reached to her chest and encircled her heart. But then a crazed quiet smile touched his lips. "I quit my job."
A/N: Read the completed series including a Patreon/Inkitt-only epilogue here:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tinyeyecat
Inkitt Subscription: https://www.inkitt.com/tinyeyecat