Wildflower

Time resembles a blink of an eye. I'm not sure since when, but I always have the need to be shy and subservient toward Marvel.

To face him, to be as good as he can be, self-confidence is a fundamental sense I must create and develop. It's necessary to reach my full potential. Lacking it will not benefit my talents.

Yet, being shy and lacking confidence are different in emotion. One is a soft excitement, the first step upon the battlefield, while the other is a learned fear that comes from disturbance and aggression.

By taking care to see my existence is worthy of his attention and trust, my confidence can grow.

But, is self-confidence the only thing I need to win this battle against him and his people?

I know I'm not as significant as his subordinates, but I get the feeling that he needs me.

Need?

That was an overstatement.

In fact, what he wants is the possession over me, and I heard him well. But, lately... Should I keep getting sick? That way, Marvel might pay more attention to me like how he's been treating me lately-

"What are you doing?"

I flinched. Alone in the kitchen, I was so focused on selecting the coffee beans and putting them into a glass jar when a voice surprised me, cutting away my thoughts. I immediately turned to look at the person who owned that feature.

"Good morning, Sir. Did you sleep well last night?"

I switched to greet and smile. The voice that startled me just now belonged to no other but Marvel, standing behind me, already looking neat with his black suit.

It was one of those rare baby-blue skies, not the usual psychedelic grey that was so characteristic of wintry mornings. The clouds were radiant puffs, ready to disperse into the wind to travel above their beloved earth. The pure reflected rays dappled and swirled in a chromatic hue, inviting the flapping wings to ride the warm air.

"I'm sorting out coffee beans," I finally answered, peeling off the parchment layers before roasting and grinding the beans. "Sir, you like your coffee this way, right?"

The typical smell of coffee powder permeated the air. I was sure it was the exact aroma I had the memory of, except for how natural and rich it scented. On the other side, above the plate was a slice of warm toast, an adequate amount of avocado and sprinkled tomato had been spread on top, couple layers of caramel-colored bacon and a glistening sunny-side-up fried egg were made to completion.

Without any further interaction, I returned to my business with my dusty friend. The silence somehow made me forget Marvel was still there until the moment his hands slipped to my sides, lingering around my waist from behind. The confusion, the attempt at rejection created a mess out of the coffee powder in the tray on the table.

"Sir, what are you doing? Please give me some space," I squirmed, trying to push him away.

"What if I don't want to?" He didn't budge, instead, leaning closer to my shoulder. "I was looking for you. I couldn't find you anywhere, only to have you alone in the kitchen preparing my breakfast."

Holidays don't mean much for the underworld business, but I thought I shouldn't waste this opportunity to create more connections with Marvel. He's always been a morning person, so I just need to wake up earlier to prepare his first meal even before the servants do it.

"You're my secretary, are you planning to be other than what you are?" He chuckled in my ear and I turned my head away.

"W-what does that imply?" I played dumb, not willing to admit it was the case.

Obviously, I didn't consider myself to have so much free time to do such a goddamn thing if it wasn't for Marvel to like me. Just, I didn't realize until I had put all those efforts only to satisfy a person.

Sometimes, when we want to impress someone, we won't hesitate to do even the weirdest stuff to get their confirmation, right?

"Are you also the one who prepared my outfits today?" Marvel resumed the conversation.

"Y-yes..." I tried to go along with the flow.

"This?" He lifted his hand to show me a glance of the frame to make sure it was right.

"Y-you have so many types of black suit in your wardrobe," I defended, even though he didn't really say anything.

"That means you just randomly picked one?" He protested, unsatisfied with my answer. The way he said it was as if I was utterly offhanded.

"N-no, I..." I disagreed, not taking the risk to mess my plan and so I rephrased. "Your wardrobe is full of black suits, and I think you will look great in them all... But, today, I kind of want to see you... in that..."

I stole a glimpse and Marvel was standing there, in all his grandeur. He appeared in the aristocratic cutting lines of a great tailored garment, one that could show his overindulged form and make his figure more powerful.

It was the notch lapel, double-breasted black suit with a dark grey vest, and a charming scarlet necktie as the focal point. The characteristic tiny flickers in his ears were diamond piercings, blinking above his bright skin tone. His jaw lifted with a proud, pleasant smile. His eyes were sparkling blue, so much like an ocean under the daylight. And his soft, feather-like hair was brushed away from his forehead, nicely groomed.

I have never seen Marvel ruffled, and today is no exception.

"Hmm," he acknowledged my taste. "This thing is your preference, then."

Despite complaining endlessly, the fact that he is now wearing everything I chose for him; the suit, the necktie, the shoes, and even the watch, made me somehow relieved.

"Anyway, your apron," he shifted to a different topic and I suddenly felt nervous. "I don't know if gangsters nowadays have a particular sense of humor but, this thing is so..." He suppressed a smirk before continuing, "pink."

His comment, the way he paid attention to it, and how I understood what might be coming next got me uncomfortable. First, there were his hands trying to slip in between the apron and my clothes.

"I couldn't find another apron," I honestly replied, feigning tough and unaffected by his actions.

I was in a hurry. I didn't know where they're storing the aprons. When I found this one in the kitchen earlier, I didn't think twice to wear it.

And I didn't know it would cause a big deal.

"You know, as much as I enjoy this sight, I have to wonder how you came up with the idea to serve my breakfast while wearing such a cute outfit," he claimed, his hands slithering above my body through my attire.

"I-it's just an apron," I debated yet stuttering miserably by the increasing tension. "I'm actually wearing a suit."

"And what I'm seeing is you in a bright pink fabric."

Once I heard that whisper, once he was determined, I wouldn't be able to escape. It was mysterious how I could figure out the whole future as if it were right in front of me, yet at the same time unable to comprehend what was happening. Soon enough, when he kept getting closer, I tried to shove him away with my hand, but he grasped it.

The icy sensation was clasping my palm, fingers in between the gaps of each other. The Yerevan's hereditary ring kept striking my skin. Diamonds are cold, I thought.

It was a battle of strength in which the one releasing first would be the winner; it should be me, no matter what. But, I knew my capacity, so I must try another way. Harder. Before it's too late.

"You taste like fresh coffee powder," said Marvel, licking my fingers and then biting the knuckles. I flinched in jitters and he chuckled toward my reaction. "Did I hurt you?"

By the time his voice had gone lower, he was as well sinking deeper into his character. He sympathetically knew about my struggles and so he worried, but there was control in his words, meaning he was enjoying his role.

Seeing me wincing in pain wasn't fairly enough. In fact, his other hand was still freely roving about my feature, trying to find the way to peel the covers off one by one.

"N-not here, Sir..." I finally threw the bait, now waiting for him to take it.

"If not here, where do you want it, then?"

As I expected that he would willingly swallow the bait, I should have known that at that point, there was also a possibility that I might get devoured as well.

Seduction isn't what I could do best, but with Marvel, what seems impossible would most likely happen.

"In your bedroom..."

With my own mouth, with all my consent, I said something I couldn't take back. After my words, after my voice, there was an absence of the sound, of the place, and of the importance of time.

Marvel was studying my expression, measuring my state of mind. When my hand finally stopped its force to deny his pulling, he let go first. Noticing my frail consciousness, he grinned and softly grabbed my face.

I felt his lips pressing on mine, strong enough to bring my awareness back. I jolted in reflex, but he held me to stay, his grip trying to make me believe in him and slowly, I followed his lead.

I wonder since when my mouth memorizes to open every time Marvel kisses me.

In the past, I used to tense up so much, I always gritted my teeth when we kissed. Now that I'm much more relaxed, I could feel the way his lips moved, enough to make my head blank. And as I pulled my jaw down then his tongue met mine, the kiss with him wouldn't be momentary.

This is bad.

I wish I could pretend that I'm not too attracted to Marvel. But, since he began treating me this way, I couldn't help but think about him. All my nerves noticed every single part of him, maybe a bit too much. It was overwhelming and I couldn't seem to fight back.

"My bedroom, do you want me to take you there?" Marvel husked softly as our lips parted, his forehead against mine.

While waiting for my answer, he was caressing my cheeks that already had a similar shade to my apron. I stayed quiet for a while, hesitant, but then nodded timidly, making his win absolute.

"Unfortunately, I have some work to do," he looked at his watch, focused on the ticking needle as if in a rush.

The ceramic sideboard in the kitchen where I was latching onto felt colder than before the moment Marvel left my back. Just like that. It was unbelievable how he suddenly chose to leave even when my lips were still wet.

In the realization that I might get exposed to the aftereffect of the rejection, I couldn't look at him as my face had contorted into an unhidden disappointment when I learned that all my efforts would go to waste.

"Do you want to come along?"

I thought it was already the end, but then I heard a voice when I no longer noticed the clacking sound of footsteps, and it was Marvel halting, changing his mind.

I immediately turned at him, a little bit confused yet much more hopeful. When our eyes met, I captured his distant smile, promising something to make me feel better.

"You can do whatever you want while I'm working."