Stay
886 Words
POV: Evalin
Her wrist still felt warm where he had held it, even after he let go, the sensation lingering in a way she couldn’t quite understand.
Evalin stood near the center of the room, unsure of what she was supposed to do now that they were back. Her hands hovered briefly before curling into the fabric of her dress, grounding herself in something familiar as the silence settled around her again.
It wasn’t as sharp as before, not as suffocating, but it still pressed against her chest just enough to remind her she didn’t belong here.
And she had made a mistake.
The thought weighed heavily on her, tightening her throat as she lowered her gaze.
“I’m sorry…”
Her voice barely carried, but she needed to say it. Needed him to hear it, even if he didn’t respond.
Across the room, she felt his attention shift back to her, slow and deliberate.
“You will come here.”
Her head lifted instantly, her eyes finding him near the platform.
She moved without hesitation, each step careful until she stood in front of him again, smaller under his gaze, her hands clenched tightly together.
“I said you would remain,” he said, his voice calm but firm enough to make her stomach twist.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And yet you left.”
Her breath caught, words rushing out in a fragile spill.
“I didn’t mean to disobey, I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do and I thought maybe I was doing something wrong by staying and then I couldn’t find my way back and I—”
“Stop.”
She fell silent immediately, her lips pressing together as her breathing stayed uneven.
“You will be corrected.”
The words made her go still, confusion and fear mixing together.
“I… I don’t understand,” she admitted softly.
Kurama stepped closer, deliberate, measured, his presence alone enough to make her pulse quicken.
“You crossed a boundary,” he said. “That requires reinforcement.”
“I said I was sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I won’t do it again, I promise…”
“I do not rely on promises.”
Her eyes dropped.
“I rely on certainty.”
“I can be good,” she said quickly, almost desperately now, “I will be good, I just—please don’t—”
Her voice broke, the plea unfinished because she didn’t know what she was asking him to stop.
“Look at me.”
She forced herself to obey, lifting her gaze to meet his.
“Say what you did.”
“I… left the room.”
“Without permission.”
“…without permission.”
“And what will you do next time?”
“I’ll stay,” she whispered.
“Again.”
“I’ll stay,” she repeated, stronger this time, “I won’t leave unless you tell me to.”
For a moment, he only watched her.
Then his hand closed around her wrist again—not harsh, but firm—and he guided her down.
It took her a second to realize what he was doing until she was lowered forward, her balance shifting as she instinctively tried to steady herself—
—and then the sharp sound echoed in the quiet room.
The impact wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but it startled her, sending a jolt through her as she gasped softly, her whole body going still in shock.
Her breath hitched.
“I—” she started, her voice trembling.
“Still.”
The word stopped her instantly.
Her face burned with confusion, embarrassment, and something deeper she didn’t quite understand, her fingers curling tightly as she stayed exactly where she was.
Her heart raced, thoughts scrambling, unsure if she had made things worse.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, softer now, her voice unsteady, “I’ll stay next time, I won’t leave, I won’t go anywhere, I promise, I just—please…”
The words faded, fragile and unguarded, her voice dipping into something that sounded dangerously close to pleading.
“Repeat it.”
Her breathing shook as she obeyed.
“I’ll stay.”
“Again.”
“I’ll stay,” she said, steadier now despite everything, “I won’t leave unless you tell me to.”
Silence stretched.
Then his grip loosened.
Not abruptly—just enough before he released her completely, allowing her to straighten, though she hesitated, unsure if she was allowed to move.
“You will remain here,” he said, his tone still firm but no longer as sharp. “No wandering.”
She nodded quickly.
“Okay.”
A pause lingered before his voice came again, quieter.
“Look at me.”
She did, faster this time.
His gaze studied her carefully, taking in the fear still lingering, but also the way she was trying—trying so hard to understand, to do everything right.
“You learn quickly.”
The words caught her off guard.
“…I do?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
Something small and warm flickered in her chest at that, her shoulders easing just slightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away right away either.
- Writer
