(Y/n) looked at him for a moment, refusing to say anything.

"Well?" Nath said finally. "Did he know anything?"

"I don't know," she said. "He didn't say anything about it..."

He nodded. "That's good."

      She felt bad for lying to him, but she was afraid to tell him that Adrien knew everything that was going on. She knew what he would do if he found out. He cocked his head to the side, like a dog.

     "Are you alright?" He asked. "You seem...uneasy."

     The fear in her eyes only became more plentiful. A cornucopia of fear.

     "Might I ease your fear? It's obvious something has you scared." Nath wrapped his arms around her gently, like she was a fragile piece of fine china. He kissed her neck lightly, and she tried to wiggle away.

    "Nath. I'm okay. Promise. I'm just...tired, is all. Could I go to sleep?"

    He smiled. "Of course."

*****************************

(Y/n)'s sleep was restless. The nightmares were nearly too much for her. She should've been able to tell herself it wasn't true, that Nath did not murder her parents, but she knew that would be a lie. Sooner or later, she needed to face reality. Nath was a killer. He felt a hint of guilt for their death, but she knew he felt that each of his murders were justified.

     Now, not only was she witnessing her parents' deaths, but her own imminent death as well. All three deaths at the hands of Nath, the only person left that she really, really loved.

    He caressed her cheek with the smooth side of his knife, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "Surely you didn't think I wouldn't want to have fun with you as well, did you, darling?"

    Her breath hitched. "I- I don't understand."

    His smile twisted into a scowl. "Must I spell it out for you?" His head tilted to the side with curiosity.

    "If you plan to kill me, I'd prefer you do it now rather than dragging it out with meaningless conversation," she said, her voice barely a whisper, for that was all she could muster without her fear being completely obvious.

     This made him laugh, a deep, sweet, musical sound that almost made her forget how terrifying this moment was. "Of course, I do not mean to kill you, my love. I mean only to have some fun. Spell out our love in blood, and such."

    Her eyes narrowed to slits, she spat, "You never loved me, if you could do this to me, if you could kill my family..."

     "You mean I should not hurt you because I love you? I've always believed that love is nothing without a bit of pain. Perhaps after this, we shall celebrate our love in a different way?"

    She spat at his feet, an act that could mean death. "Never. I can not believe I loved you, and had the stupid idea that you loved me in return. You are nothing but a cold hearted murderer, and I cannot bear to look upon your face any longer." She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes. "Do what you wish with me, I will not argue, nor beg for death, for I know you shall not show anyone mercy, especially not me."

She doesn't see the sadness flash across his face before he plunges the knife into her chest.

She did not feel the pain; instead, she felt a light flood through her veins like heavenly fire. When she awoke, she was not panting in fear. She was perfectly at peace, however odd she found this fact. The warmth was still there. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an hour, until the door opened and her red-haired lover strode into the room, a gleam of relief in his teal eyes.

"I was afraid you would sleep all day," he said fondly.

"What time is it?" She responded.

"Nearly three in the afternoon," he said.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't feel like waking you. You look so lovely in sleep. It's a peaceful loveliness, much simpler than that of your waking hours, so much more different. I find it interesting to notice the changes in your expression, and how it seems each time I look at you, you're lovelier than the last..."

"That's very romantic," she said, hoping he noticed that she was in pajamas and would let her change. Instead, he lay down on the bed, so close his lips brushed against her skin as he spoke, "I'd like to see how much lovelier you could become, if you catch my meaning."

"I can't say I do, Nath," she said.

"Have you ever thought of making love?"

Blood rushed to her cheeks. "N-no, I have not. Why?"

A smile paints his features. "Because I have."

"Nathanaël," she said, pulling away from him, "you must understand, I've just awoken. I can't do any of that right now."

"Fine," he said, standing up. If she didn't know him as well as she did, she would not have seen his expertly concealed disappointment. She took his hand, and leaned against him to whisper in his ear, "Maybe later we can have our fun, but for now I would like you to cook me breakfast." Her close proximity sent chills through his body; he wanted her, and it felt strange for him not to have what he wanted when he wanted it. Still, he could wait until after breakfast.

*********************

"What would you like for breakfast?" He asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. He was glad to find that she did not withdraw from his touch. He was afraid she would be repulsed by his earlier request; it was not an uncommon one for sixteen year olds, or even fifteen year olds as they had been not that long ago, but he figured she would not want that yet.

He was surprised she even considered him. Him, the cold-hearted murderer.

"Something simple," she replied nonchalantly. "Cinnamon rolls, perhaps?"

"I thought you would prefer a croissant," he said, smiling at the happy memories of sitting in the living room sharing a croissant with his best friend, unknowing that one day he would want her as much more than a friend. He remembered that one time, he refused to give her the last croissant, and she kicked him in the groin. He had fallen to the ground crying, and she had lain there with him, and she kissed his cheek over and over, claiming it would make him feel better, and it had made his pain go away. He thought better than to mention that particular memory, which embarrassed him.

She smiled at the mention of croissants. "Well, we don't have any croissants in the house. I thought surely I had complained of that enough for you to remember. Besides, I'd prefer something sweet right now anyway."

"Why, am I not sweet enough for you?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to answer your question, for fear that my words will be twisted."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, scavenging for the cinnamon rolls.

She just shrugged. "I don't know. Just, please, fix some breakfast and maybe when I'm not as sleepy, we can do something to make up for my sleeping late?"

He grinned. "As you wish."

*****************************

     With a giggle, she grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom. She didn't mean to have sex with him; she had something else planned for him, that maybe he would enjoy much more. She gently shoved him onto the bed, and straddled him, her knees at his hips.

    "So this is what you want?" She asked him, her voice a low whisper, running her hand slowly across his chest.

    "Yes, if you'd like to. I want nothing more than your happiness, amour," he replied.

    "You want nothing more than my happiness..." she repeated his words back to him. "That coming from my parents' killer sounds a bit...odd, I'll say. It makes it hard to trust your words, when your actions so often go against them."

    "I have apologized for that," he said, "but when I did it, I was thinking of us. Giving you the freedom to do anything you could ever dream of, if only you say the word."

    "No, you killed them so you could have me all to yourself," she said, her eyes full of the anger she can't make her face show.

     He smirked. "I guess you have me all figured out, amour. And I'm assuming nothing romantic is going to be happening today, since you've become upset about that little incident again..."

     "You're damn right," she told him.

     "Well, what if I can change your mind?"

     "I'd like to see you try," she said before he pulled her close to him, kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his face closer, as if it's possible. The two are tangled together, kissing, pulling, grabbing, desperately trying to fill any inch of space between them. She's forgotten any plans of making him suffer, making him bleed as she did in her nightmare, but the hot trail of his lips on her skin leaves her mind blank.

     In the rush of things, she finds herself stripping him of his sweater before she can tell herself not to. They're kissing, removing clothes, and before she knows it, she's doing what she promised herself she wouldn't do: giving into her most suppressed desires to have him as close to her as possible.

Authors Note: I sincerely apologize for not updating since last year. I have lost my inspiration, and now I've regained a bit of it. I hope you enjoyed this filler chapter until I get something that's actually a part of the story written, which I admit might take a while. I just felt like writing this because I can. I have nothing else to do right now except sleep. ~Lars Grey