The Blooming Flower and The Sunlight

Ang lamig. Sobrang lamig. I'm ten years old again, nakahiga sa kama na aakalain mong gawa sa semento. The shadows of the Kuznetsov manor are stretching, turning into claws na parang gusto akong hilahin pailalim. The air in this house always smells like old money, expensive cigarette smoke, and the sharp, metallic tang of gun oil. My chest is tight - hindi lang dahil sa lagnat ang nagpapabigat sa eyelids ko, kundi dahil sa bigat ng pangalan ko. Five. One f*****g number. Five seconds countdown para sa araw na I have to kill or I will be the one who'll be killed.. Sa pamilyang 'to, being an only child isn't a privilege; it's a death sentence. You are the only target for your father's disappointment. I can still feel the weight of my father Stepan's hand on my shoulder-cold, demanding, and devoid of any warmth. He didn't see a son; he saw a successor to the Kuznetsov Bratva, a tool to be sharpened until it could cut through stone. He became ruthless when my mother, Ailee, died, leaving me alone in this house of iron. "Cassi, look at me." The voice is a spark in the dark. Isang maliit at mainit na kamay ang dumampi sa nagbabaga kong noo. Biglang nawala ang amoy ng pulbura. It was replaced by her - Himari. She shouldn't be here; the guards are supposed to keep "distractions" away from the heir while he is being forged into a weapon. My father called her a "weakness," but Himari didn't care about guards, or rules, or the terrifying reputation of my family. She was the "Sunlight" in my lonely, sickly childhood. While I was trapped in the darkness of my training and my sickness, she was there, whispering about Japan, about sun-drenched gardens, and cherry blossoms na hindi naman kailangan ng Russian winters para mag bloom. She was the only one who didn't call me Five. To her, I was just a boy. Her Cassi. We used to hide in the alcove behind the library, where she would teach me how to fold paper cranes. She told me that if I folded a thousand, the gods would grant me a wish. I only ever had one wish: for the world to stop trying to turn me into a monster so I could stay in her light. But the dream always turns sour. Ang asim, sobrang asim. At apaka pakla. In the dream, I reached for her, wanting to tell her to stay, to tell her that I was drowning in the ice of my own bloodline. But as my fingers brushed her sleeve, unti-unti siyang naglalaho. The sunlight retreated, replaced by the harsh, artificial glare of the manor's hallway lights. The heavy oak door slammed shut with the finality of a coffin lid. I heard the sound of a car engine starting - the sound of her being pulled away. My parents were dragging me away from her, and her mother was taking her back to Japan to escape the violence of Russia. The only light in this house was being extinguished. I stood at the window, pressing my forehead against the freezing glass, watching the tire tracks in the snow. I was clutching a broken silk hair tie she had dropped - the only piece of her I had left. "Putangina..." I lurched upward, my lungs screaming for air. Napadiretso ako ng upo, hinahabol ang hininga habang ang silk sheets ng penthouse ko ay nakapulupot sa katawan ko na parang mga gapos. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs - the same rhythm nung ten years old pa lang ako. I'm not in the manor. Hindi na ako bata. Pero habang nakaupo ako doon sa dilim, the fever of that night felt just as real. I reached up to touch my skin, flinching at my own contact. This is my life now: Haphephobia. A deep-seated fear of being touched, born from the trauma of that night when my parents dragged me away from the only person whose touch didn't hurt. My skin crawls whenever a stranger or someone I don't trust gets too close. It's a burning itch, a reminder that I am a weapon, and weapons are meant to be handled, not held. May pagkakataon din na muntik na ako maka-patay..dahil sa trauma ko na 'yon. Feeling ko baliw na ako. Hinanap ng kamay ko ang nightstand. My fingers brushed against a small, soft circle of fabric. A silk scrunchie. Isang tahimik at desperadong dasal na sana, kung lagi akong handa, hindi na ulit mawawala ang araw ko. People at school think I have a girlfriend because I always carry these. They don't know I'm just a man waiting for a miracle. Yearning for my Sunlight to come back. I looked at my reflection in the window. The man looking back at me was Cassian Devereux "Five" Kuznetsov - the sole heir to the Kuznetsov Bratva, a lethal weapon to the world. My eyes were cold, forged by years of ruthless training under Stepan. But deep inside, where no one could see, the "blushing flower" was still reaching for the light. I secretly love the colors pink and purple because they remind me of her. I secretly love flowers because she loved them. And then..a f*****g news came out from Killian's mouth while we're on call. "Himari is back, Five." I got goosebumps, tangina. Minsan lang mag salita 'tong si Killian pero kapag nag bigkas siya kahit four words lang? Parang ikamamatay ko. Totoo ba 'to? Isn't he just joking around? But I'm thankful too. Finally. The decade of searching was over. Killian had confirmed it. She was finally back in Russia for college. She was back, and she had no idea that she was about to reignite the bloom in the heart of a monster.