[Krystoff] The Curse (3)

Krystoff’s prediction was right, and by the end of the week we’ve been summoned to Rotys’lav’s castle. Yes, castle; if I thought Krystoff’s mansion was excessive, apparently Rotys’lav lives in a castle deep in an enchanted forest. Strange, but I wouldn’t expect anything modest out of that loudmouth, I suppose.

Krystoff is preparing in earnest. By which, I mean agonizing over an outfit, now of all times. I’ve watched him try on and reassess the same pair of pants about three times now, and if he keeps at it like this, we may miss out on the dad slaying party entirely.

“If I die tonight, I at least want to leave behind a pretty corpse, assuming it doesn’t get decimated or otherwise mauled beyond recognition,” he’d explained casually, probably sensing my irritation through his powers. Or maybe I’m just that easy to read.

So I’ve left him to his devices, busying myself with my phone just so that I can divert my hammering heart away from thoughts of what, indeed, may happen tonight.

We’re in his bedroom because apparently he keeps his favorite outfits in here, rather than in one of his multitudinous closets, which is why I find myself sitting on the edge of his bed as he tries things on. His bed is huge, which I always find sort of lonely more than luxurious, but I’m a cat who likes my cramped spaces.

KRYSTOFF: Alright, I think I’m done. Now it’s your turn, Jun.

JUN: My turn?

KRYSTOFF: I’m going to pick a nice outfit for you too, of course. There are going to be a lot of eyes on you tonight.

JUN: Ugh…

KRYSTOFF: I know, I know, attention, your least favorite. But I’ll make you cute, I promise. Come here.

JUN: Are you going to dress me?

I echo a joke he’s leveled at me before, but as always, he doesn’t take it half as well as I do. His face darkens, and his eyes dart away from me, apparently finding something fascinating on the ceiling to focus on instead.

KRYSTOFF: I—can, if you want me to.

JUN: That easy, huh?

I pull my shirt off and watch him get flustered for a moment before he realizes I’m wearing a tank top underneath. Hahahahahaha. I love to see him squirm.

JUN: So what am I wearing today?

KRYSTOFF: You’re a lot more agreeable about it than you usually are.

JUN: I’ve gotten used to it, and I enjoy it. Your sense of fashion is a little different than mine, but I usually like the stuff you pick for me.

KRYSTOFF: Usually?

JUN: I mean, there was this one time you put me in a really fitted button-up and I felt like I couldn’t move my arms.

He scoffs like I just didn’t have good enough tastes to appreciate it or something.

KRYSTOFF: It looked nice on you though.

I give him a sideways half-smile and watch him start rifling through clothes, mentally cataloguing the minutiae of this interaction as perhaps the last truly normal interaction we may ever have with each other. As much as I want to believe everything will go as planned, I have to prepare for the worst, so I do my best to treasure the moment.

God, but I hope it isn’t the last for us.

>Go to the dad slaying party

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