Wasn't this the new boy?
Kashi stood beneath the rain with her umbrella in hand, staring at the figure kneeling beside the grave.
What was his name again? Ah... Adrian.
Adrian Riegrow.
What was he doing here, kneeling in the rain like that?
Her gaze shifted from him to the grave.
Then recognition settled slowly over her face.
Oh.
Someone had died.
Kashi looked back at him.
Chaos had already turned away from her. He ignored her completely, his attention fixed once more on the fresh grave before him.
Kashi remained where she was.
She had come to the cemetery earlier to pay respects at her parents' grave. The rain had started not long after, heavy and unrelenting, but she had expected it. She had checked the weather before leaving and brought an umbrella.
At first, she had waited beneath a tree, hoping the rain would stop.
It did not.
So eventually, she decided to leave. What she had not expected was to find someone kneeling alone in the cemetery beneath the storm.
She should have walked past. It was none of her business. Then she heard his voice.
That made her stop. How had he heard her footsteps under rain this loud?
When he turned, she recognised him.
For a moment, Kashi only watched him. Then she walked closer.
"You're going to catch a cold," she said softly.
Chaos did not turn. He did not even seem to hear her.
Kashi bit her lower lip.
Whoever kept him here must have been important.
Still, it had nothing to do with her. She could leave. She should leave. But the thought of one boy being found dead in a cemetery because he had sat too long in the rain did not sit right with her.
Worse, there could be cameras around and she had walked past him. That would be troublesome.
With a quiet sigh, Kashi stepped closer and held the umbrella over them both, shielding him from the worst of the rain.
Only then did she notice his hands.
They were bare. Covered in wet soil.
One hand still held a daisy flower, its pale petals bruised beneath his grip.
His shoulders jerked slightly, and his fingers tightened around the stem.
Was he grieving?
Mourning?
Kashi did not understand grief when it was loud.
She had not cried at her parents' funeral. Not once. Not when the coffins were lowered. Not when people wept around her. Not when her grandfather held her hand so tightly it hurt.
She did not know how to comfort someone normally.
She looked down at Adrian. He still had not moved.
Did it hurt that much?
Her gaze shifted toward the headstone, but the rain made the name difficult to read. Was it a family member? Someone close to him?
Kashi stood there for a moment longer.
Then, with another tired sigh, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.
She did not understand grief, but she understood cemetery silence better than pity.
Chaos felt her touch.
His eyes, which had been closed, opened slowly.
He had noticed when the umbrella covered him. He had expected her to leave after a few seconds, perhaps after satisfying whatever small curiosity had brought her closer.
But she had stayed.
Now her hand was on his shoulder.
Warm. Light. Uninvited.
Yet he did not move away.
Slowly, he raised his head and met her gaze.
Kashi looked at him, her eyes dropped, frowning "Your hand."
Chaos blinked.
Kashi stared at the blood trickling down his fingers. Then she rolled her eyes, irritation cutting through whatever softness had briefly touched her face.
She pointed at his hand. "Are you an idiot? Can't you see your hand is bleeding?"
Chaos looked down.
Blood had mixed with the rain and mud on his skin. He had not noticed. At some point, he must have scratched his hand against the grave. Or the stone. Or the earth.
He could not remember when it had started bleeding.
"It is just a scratch," he said.
Kashi stared at him.
What an idiot.
She sighed again, then bent down. The umbrella slipped from her hand and fell onto the wet grass beside them.
Before Chaos could react, Kashi grabbed his injured hand. She turned his palm slightly, inspecting the wound.
"How can you call this a scratch?" she snapped. "You should see a nurse."
Rain poured down on them immediately, soaking her hair and clothes, but Kashi did not seem to care.
Chaos stared at her.
He stared at her hand around his. At her fingers holding his bare skin without disgust.
Without fear.
Without knowing what she had done.
"I'll treat it at home," he said quietly. "There is no need to bother anyone."
Kashi ignored that.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and wrapped it around his hand to stop the bleeding. Her movements were not especially gentle, but they were careful enough.
"This should suffice until you get home," she said, tying the cloth firmly.
Chaos said nothing. He only nodded once.
"Mm."
Kashi released his hand. "Next time, be careful," she scolded. "How could you not notice you were hurt?"
Her brows drew together. "You're not a monster."
Chaos lowered his eyes. The words struck him somewhere old. "When is a monster not a monster?"
"I don't know..." She said softly, "Maybe when you love it."
Chaos went still.
Kashi let go of his hand fully and stood, she bent to pick up her umbrella from the wet grass.
"Fuck, I'm all wet," she muttered, shivering as she shook rainwater from her sleeve.
"Miss!" Frank voice called from a distance.
Kashi turned her head. "Coming!"
Before leaving, she glanced back at Chaos.
He had finally stood.
His dark suit was soaked through, his hair dripping water down his face, but his gaze was fixed on her.
Kashi held the umbrella over herself again. "See you around," She turned and walked toward Frank.
Chaos remained beside the grave.
For a long while, he did not move. His gaze lowered to the makeshift bandage wrapped around his hand.
The white handkerchief was already damp from the rain.
But it remained there. Tied around the place where Kashi Saints had touched him.
And for the second time in his life, Chaos did not know what to do with the warmth someone had left behind.
Ten years later…
The café sat tucked along a quiet street, warm lights glowing behind the glass windows, the faint scent of roasted coffee drifting through the entrance each time the door opened.
Kashi stepped out of the car and walked inside, one hand lifting to adjust the sleek fall of her hair while Zarri's voice continued chattering in her ear.
"I don't know, girl," Zarri said, her disdain unmistakable. "There are a million men out there. I get that Damian is hot and all, but he is not worth this much stress."
Kashi sighed as she approached the counter. Her fingers tapped lightly against the surface while she waited for her coffee.
"He is the one I want," she said. "And it is fine. He'll come around soon enough." There was no doubt in her voice. No room for uncertainty.
"We will be engaged soon, and by then, he will be all mine."
Zarri groaned through the phone. "You and that ownership disease."
Kashi's lips curved faintly.
After a quick goodbye, she ended the call and collected her coffee.
Then she turned to leave. Disaster happened in one clean motion. She collided with someone.
The cup jolted in her hand, the lid slipped loose, and hot coffee splashed across the floor and all over a pair of polished leather shoes.
"Ouch…" Kashi hissed, rubbing her forehead. "Can't you watch where you're going?"
Her gaze dropped first.
The coffee had stained expensive Italian shoes, dark liquid sliding over flawless leather and onto the tiled floor. Her eyes moved slowly upward, taking in the tailored trousers, the black coat, the gloved hand resting calmly at the man's side.
Then she looked at his face.
Cold, icy blue eyes stared back at her. Unmoved and familiar in a way she could not place.
The café fell silent.
Patrons who had been chatting moments earlier slowly turned their attention toward them. The tension in the air shifted, sharp and instinctive, as if everyone present understood there was something dangerous about the man standing before her.
But he did not seem to notice them. His gaze remained on Kashi, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
Then it was gone.
So quickly she could not be certain it had ever happened.
A barista hurried forward with napkins, panic already written across his face.
The stranger raised one hand. The barista stopped immediately.
"You spilled your coffee on my legs," Chaos said, his voice low and sharp. "Shouldn't you be the one watching where you're going?"
Kashi's anger flared.
She straightened fully, her frown deepening as she brushed her hair back from her face. "Excuse me?" Her voice carried venom now.
"You're not blind, are you?"
She shoved the ruined coffee cup into his hand with more force than necessary. "You owe me a new cup, mister."
Chaos raised a brow.
She did not recognise him. Not even a little. Ten years had passed, yet somehow, Kashi Saints had not changed nearly enough. Still fiery, shameless and speaking as though the world existed to inconvenience her.
A faint amusement moved through him.
"Even though you were clearly the one who bumped into me," he said, "why do I have to pay for your coffee?" His eyes dipped briefly to his shoes. "Shouldn't you be paying for the damage?"
Kashi's gaze dropped to his feet again.
The shoes were expensive. Very expensive.
Thanks to Zarri, she knew enough about fashion to recognise the designer immediately. Irritation flickered across her face, but she forced out a breath and reached into her bag.
"Fine." She pulled out her cheque book. "How much do the shoes cost?"
Without waiting for an answer, she scribbled a few figures onto the cheque, tore it out, and handed it to him.
"A few millions should cover it, right?" Her tone was biting.
Chaos accepted the cheque without looking at it.
He handed it to the suited man standing behind him, but his eyes never left hers.
"Would you like me to replace your coffee?" His voice was softer this time.
Kashi's frown deepened. "No, thank you."
She adjusted her bag over her shoulder, her pride already smoothing itself back into place. "If you don't mind, please excuse me."
Then, after a small pause, she added stiffly, "Sorry for spilling coffee on your shoes."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked out of the café.
Her heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor, each step carrying her away from him.
Once outside, she hurried to her car and slipped in. Only when the door closed behind her did she release a breath.
Annoyance sat hot in her chest.
Who the hell was that Infuriating man?
Inside the café, Chaos remained still. The silence around him slowly began to breathe again. Patrons turned away carefully. The barista lowered his eyes. No one dared comment on the spilled coffee or the cheque now resting in Xavier's hand.
Chaos stared at the door Kashi had walked through.
Ten years.
It had been ten years since he left.
Ten years since the cemetery. Ten years since a girl beneath the rain wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand.
And she had forgotten him.
Chaos exhaled softly. "Xavier."
Xavier stepped closer. "Yes, Young Master?"
"Send her a coffee."
Xavier glanced toward the counter, then nodded. "Of course." He walked away.
Chaos remained where he was, his gaze still fixed on the door.
Slowly, he ran a gloved hand through his hair.
When his eyes lifted again, the softness was gone. Something darker had taken its place.
Obsession. Possession.
A hunger that had waited ten years and had finally found its way home.
His lips curved faintly.
"Wildflower," he murmured. His pale blue eyes sharpened.
"Your monster is home."