Third Person's PoV
Kian's concern for Sky was evident as he gently inquired about her lunch preferences, drawing her away from the reverie of Disney magic and ice cream indulgence. The realization that midday had crept upon her caught Sky off guard, her voice a raspy whisper of surprise. She had been so engrossed in the cinematic tales and the sweet treats that time had slipped through her fingers like the melting scoops she'd eagerly consumed.
"It's already one in the afternoon," Kian announced, a tinge of worry lacing his words. He was mindful of her need for a substantial meal, especially after the sugary feast that had replaced their breakfast. His large hands tenderly brushed her hair aside, a gesture of care and affection. "You need to eat something more nourishing, you've only had ice cream, and all of it at that, baby! That's not good, considering you got soaked in last night's downpour, and I nearly let it slip my mind. We can't have you falling ill."
Sky's eyelids fluttered shut as she felt his presence envelop her, his hands cradling her face. Kian's voice held a note of fondness as he reminisced about the morning's simple joys, watching her delight in the frozen dessert while lost in animated stories of all those Disney movies she watched for the last couple of hours. In those moments, Sky was the picture of contentment, a sight that filled Kian's heart with warmth.
Kian's whisper was soft, a tender plea for Sky to reveal her eyes, the windows to her soul. With a gentle nudge of his thumb, he coaxed her to look at him. As Sky's gaze met his, she saw the comforting expanse of his form, a protective presence as he loomed above her on the sofa. "What would you like for our late lunch, baby?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm.
Clutching the hem of his shirt, Sky's request was a timid whisper, her words a dance of stutters and pauses. "Can we have p-pancakes, with lots o-of maple syrup? I really like p-pancakes," she said, her fondness for the sweet dish evident in her hopeful eyes.
Kian's hands, large and reassuring, cradled her face as his attention briefly shifted to the television. The news played on, a stark contrast to the Disney enchantment that had filled their morning. The rain continued its relentless pour outside, a reminder of the storm they had weathered together.
"Do you want to watch the news while I prepare pancakes drenched in maple syrup?" Kian offered, planting a kiss on her forehead, a silent promise of care and warmth. "We can't visit my parents today; the rain is unyielding, and I won't risk it. Are you comfortable, baby?" he inquired, his concern palpable.
With a soft nod, Sky affirmed her contentment, nestled within the sanctuary of Kian's embrace and the cozy confines of their abode. The world outside could wait; within these walls, they had found a haven of Disney movies and love.
He smiled as he stood, but his motion halted when he noticed her fist clutching the hem of his shirt. His eyebrows arched in playful curiosity.
"What does my little Sky need, hmm?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
She pouted, her words stumbling out in a shy request. "I-I… c-an I borrow y-your phone?"
Her gaze darted away, fixating on anything but him, her fists still gripping his shirt. The sound of his chuckle filled the room, his large hands enveloping her smaller ones, giving them a gentle squeeze.
"And here I thought you'd ask a difficult question, or tell me you want to go home," he mused.
"But I'm a-already home," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.
His hands cradled her face tenderly, guiding her to meet his warm hazel eyes.
"There you are, my favorite blue eyes," he whispered, gratitude lacing his words. "Thank you for considering my home as your own. You are truly precious, my little Sky," he said, his thumb gently nudging her lower lip.
"C-cellphone, please," she insisted, her pout deepening, a silent plea for the device.
Laughter erupted from Kian, a joyful sound that filled the room as he pulled a sleek, black phone from his jeans pocket. Sky watched, a mixture of awe and curiosity in her eyes. She had never owned a phone; her father had always forbidden it.
Her hands, which had been tightly clenched in Kian's shirt, relaxed, and her face broke into a wide smile, revealing the dimple she so often hid.
"You have a dimple, baby!" Kian exclaimed, his surprise evident.
Sky's smile faltered, and she bit her lower lip. Kian was only the third person to know about her dimple—the first being her mother, and her favorite grandmother. She feared ridicule, believing the dimple didn't suit her face, and she despised it.
With a bow of her head, her initial excitement waned. Kian noticed her discomfort and quickly apologized, "Oh no! I'm so sorry, baby. It's okay, I won't talk about it if you're uncomfortable. Here…" He took her hands gently and placed his phone in them. "You can play some games or watch some videos. I'm really sorry. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen, okay?"
Sky nodded shyly, her gaze dropping to her feet, which she studied as if they were slices of her favorite fruit, kiwi.
"Words, my little Sky. I need words, hmm," Kian whispered, his voice low and soothing, sending a shiver through her.
"Y-yes, Kian," she managed to say.
"That's my girl. My phone is secured with my fingerprint, baby. Don't worry, we can arrange yours too later after we eat, is that okay?"
Skyler, with a timid nod, continued to avert her gaze from Kian's earnest eyes. Sensing her shyness, Kian gently lifted her chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze. "I want you to look at me," he urged softly, "don't be shy with me, okay? And you must stop being so adorable; I'm on the verge of bursting with how cute and endearing you are."
Despite his words, Skyler pouted in protest, her voice a whisper of defiance. "I'm not c-cute," she claimed.
Clutching Kian's phone, which lay unlocked in her grasp, she listened as he spoke again, his voice filled with a warmth that belied his disagreement. "And I won't agree with that," he declared, "I'm heading to the kitchen. Stay here, okay? I'll leave the TV on for you, just wait for me." With a tender kiss upon her forehead, he left her to her thoughts, too engrossed in the device to notice his affectionate gesture.
A chuckle escaped him, a sound that faded with his retreating steps. The living room was now a quiet sanctuary, filled only with the soft murmur of the television affixed to the wall. Skyler, her curiosity piqued, navigated through the games on his phone. Her knowledge of cellphones was limited, but she managed to find her way to his gallery, a digital trove brimming with images—a thousand moments captured and stored.
Her thumb hesitated above a folder labeled 'My family.' The temptation to glimpse into Kian's world, to understand the roots of his sweetness, was too great. With a mixture of curiosity and caution, she tapped on the icon, unveiling the faces that shaped the man who had shown her nothing but kindness.
In the quiet of the room, she stumbled upon a trove of photographs that unveiled the lineage of Kian's family. The father, an imposing figure whose visage bore the marks of time, still retained a striking handsomeness that was unmistakably mirrored in Kian. His mother, a vision of ethereal beauty, had blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and eyes that sparkled with love, a testament to the deep affection that bound the couple.
As she swiped through the images, Kian's siblings appeared before her. His sister was the spitting image of their mother, while his brothers shared a resemblance so striking it begged the question of whether they were twins. Their youthful faces radiated a charm that was undeniably adorable.
A pang of longing struck her as she yearned for a family like theirs, one that exuded warmth and unity. But a shiver of anxiety crept in—would they accept her? Memories of past cruelties haunted her; the taunting laughter of her peers still echoed in her ears, a reminder of the isolation she endured when locked away in the school's bathroom.
The trauma of those days had sequestered her within the confines of her room, where her mother's voice became her only solace, a gentle reassurance from the other side of the door. Yet, the sanctuary of her room was once violated by her father's wrath, leaving her battered and broken, a stark contrast to the loving household she now observed in Kian's family photos.
With Kian's phone clutched to her chest, a silent cascade of tears traced the contours of her face, each droplet a silent testament to the tumultuous journey that had led her to this moment of reflection.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, each one a silent testament to the turmoil within. The panic attack had struck like a thief in the night, swift and unexpected, leaving her breathless and seeking solace in the only anchor she knew—Kian. Her mother's soothing words had once been a balm, but now, in the shadows of a home that felt more like a prison, they were but a distant memory.
She clung to Kian's phone as if it were a lifeline, the cold device pressed against her heart, hoping for a warmth that seemed so elusive. Questions about her mother swirled in her mind like a tempest, each one piercing deeper than the last. Was she safe? Was she free from the tyranny that once ruled their lives? Did thoughts of her daughter ever cross her mind?
As the front door swung open, she was too consumed by her own grief to notice the newcomer. It was the gentle grip on her shoulders, the soft shake that brought her back to the present. The voice was strong, yet carried a tenderness that felt foreign in a world that had shown her little kindness.
"Hey, little girl, what's wrong?" the voice inquired, its concern palpable in the quiet room.
Her response was nothing more than a choked whisper, a plea for the one person who had become her sanctuary. "Kian…Kian…p-please."
The voice assured her, promising to fetch Kian, and as the footsteps receded, she allowed herself to succumb to the tears once more. But it wasn't long before Kian's familiar presence enveloped her, his voice a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of her fears. With each gentle touch, the chaos within began to subside, replaced by the serene lull of safety that only Kian could provide.
"Shh, my little Sky, breathe for me," he whispered, his presence a fortress of safety and belonging. "I'm here, you're safe, you're mine. I'll take care of you, calm down for me. Listen to my voice, baby. Come back to me," he cooed, his breath warm against her ear.
Sky, still caught in the throes of her sobs, clutched at Kian's shoulder, her fingers trembling as she handed him his cellphone. She felt the tender press of his lips upon her head, tracing a path of gentle kisses that promised comfort. His hands, firm yet gentle, worked to ease the tension that knotted her muscles, a silent vow to protect and soothe.
"My brave girl, can you hear me?" Kian's voice was a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions. "Nod for me, baby. I wanna know if you're with me now. You're safe," he reassured her, his words a lifeline pulling her back from the edge of despair.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Sky nodded, her throat aching, not just from the intensity of her cries, but from the creeping onset of illness that threatened to claim her voice.
"That's my brave, brave little Sky, hmm-mm?" Kian's tone was soft, a melody of care and adoration. "Wipe those tears for me, then we can eat pancakes, with lots of maple syrup just how you like it," he murmured, his lips pressing soft kisses to her forehead, each one a testament to his unwavering support and love.
The sudden sound of a throat being cleared echoed through the room, causing Sky to startle and break away from Kian's embrace. Her gaze darted around, landing on a figure whose presence was as imposing as Kian's, with muscles that spoke of strength and a demeanor reminiscent of Kian's father's intimidating air.
"Clade, can you fetch some water? My little Sky needs to hydrate," Kian's voice, firm yet gentle, cut through the tension, his hand softly anchoring Sky at her waist.
Sky's eyes flickered to Kian, a silent question in their depths. Who was this man who mirrored the protective aura of Kian's lineage?
The man, Clade, held his ground, his eyes betraying a flicker of surprise as they widened slightly.
"And now I'm a nanny, huh? What's the magic word?" he grumbled, a playful edge to his voice.
"Clade! Ugh, fine. Please. Please fetch some water?" Kian's plea was accompanied by an eye roll, a rare glimpse of his exasperation.
Sky's lips parted, but no words came out. She feared that speaking would reveal the scratchiness of her throat, the telltale sign of an impending illness she wished to conceal from Kian.
Clade's chuckle filled the space, a sound of amusement mingled with disbelief, before he turned to make his way to the kitchen.
Sky's eyes met Kian's, a whirlpool of emotions swirling within. "I…I…"
"I'm sorry about that, baby. That's my cousin," Kian explained, his grip on her waist tightening reassuringly.
With a soft nod, Sky acknowledged the introduction, her heart finding solace in the familiarity of Kian's touch and the newfound knowledge of his family.
In the comfort of the living room, Clade, Kian's cousin with a penchant for television at thunderous volumes, was the subject of Kian's lighthearted jest. "He's deaf," Kian mused, a playful tone in his voice, hinting at the reason behind Clade's recent breakup with his girlfriend.
From the kitchen, Clade's voice boomed in protest, "Who's deaf? And she's my ex, baby Kian!" He emerged, a glass of water in hand, and greeted Sky with a warm, welcoming smile. "You must be baby Kian's little Sky. Nice meeting you, Little Sky," he said, his brows playfully knitted together.
Kian's retort was swift and possessive, "You! I'm not a baby and don't call her that, I'm the only one who can call her that!" But Clade, unfazed by Kian's mock indignation, offered the water to Sky, who drank it eagerly, her thirst quenched in mere moments.
Kian, ever the attentive caretaker, whispered endearments to Sky, his eyes shooting daggers at Clade. Sky's simple request for pancakes momentarily halted Kian, concern etching his features as he registered the hoarseness in her voice. With a promise of medicine and the comforting breakfast, he was quick to respond to her needs, his actions reflecting the depth of his care.
***
Mary Joye.