Ghosts in the Throat

by cybermeth

Summary:

Months after Harvey Harvington’s intended demise, hospital stays, lawyer consultations, court dates, and eventual separation of his wife, Eun-mi and their son, Toby, Harvey seeks help within the darkest crevices of the digital market—The Dark Web, to carry out his planned revenge on the one who stole his life away from him. There, he finds the rated (R) acts of a discreet woman whose been nicknamed Madame Rare Devil to her clients, who aids him in completing his mission of bringing the same level of torture on his enemy that’s been brought to him. In the midst of it all, he comes to rediscover some old things about himself he thought had been buried long ago, and kindles new emotions which Harvey doesn’t want to let go of quite yet. Maybe never.

Chapter 1: i’ll take care of you.

Notes:

Hello, all! I’m alive, fortunately. Just been busy writing new chapters and creating new works for you all, but here’s a Harvey Harvington fic! I’m obsessed with the lad, and was pushed by my siblings to write a story out, so here it is! Hope you enjoy it.

Recall please! English is not my first language, but I’ve edited the chapter thoroughly so, hopefully, it pleases your taste. Used the ‘rich text format’ for this one, and additionally I’m writing on mobile. Chapter two and three are already in the works, so that’ll come out soon enough. Thank you for reading!

NOVEMBER 12TH — 21:03

Never would Harvey Harvington have ever imagined to find himself in such a formidable predicament, but truly was his life such a never-ending cycle of pure misery when it came upon him the dreadful thought that this was actually happening. Firstly having endured what no normal human being could ever be capable of experiencing to still have the gall to live on normally afterwards, skimming scarred fingers over the strange texture of the black patch hiding away the empty space where his eye had once been. Though, the honest truth was that Harvey could no longer be qualified enough to continue on experiencing such a life with no left hand and no right eye, especially pondering the considerable indifference he felt towards the woman he envisioned spending the rest of his life with, even in such a situation he was in.

Toby, his adoring son, was scared of him. Absolutely terrified. Yet, he’d done nothing of the obvious to cause him such fear, instead the dark look in his remaining eye might’ve been enough to cause terror to the poor child who didn’t know why his once bright father now appeared to look like a broken shard of the man he once used to be. Harvey couldn’t blame the lad, not when Toby had rushed back to hide behind the tall frame of his mother with such a look of pure horror hidden behind his beaded eyes. Harvey’s wife: Eun-Mi, who gazed at him with the same disdain she had the first day she came to visit him in the hospital months ago, then handing him a couple of signed paperwork that turned out to be a divorce agreement leaving him with everything; only asking for sole custody of Toby Harvington.

Pleading with the woman he still so dearly loved back then to at least let him see his child one last time, even if it was from afar, before finally signing the contract of separation. She didn’t take anything, merely some clothes for herself and Toby, but the furniture, the gadgets, the house, the car, and half of the fund both partners had set up years ago in case of an emergency, all was left to Harvey’s name. He disliked it, loathed the fact, going to sleep and waking up in the absence of warmth next to him in bed, the early mornings where Toby would run into their bedroom to jump in their bed and annoy them awake.

He smiled a bit at the memory, attempting to, but only a droplet of blood stained the sleeve of his tux underneath from the stitched gash running alongside his face. Pain wasn’t a thing to him anymore, believing what had happened back at his humble stall to be the worst tragedy of his life which’d ruined it completely. Of course, somewhere along the way, there was a slight twitch in his still remaining eye at the ache from his pulled skin, but he ignored it completely when finally had he dropped to the lowest level of the abandoned warehouse he’d somehow managed to find along the Dark Web. Scouring throughout it at night because he’d been clever enough to drop the charges against the person who’d done this to him—simply wishing to repay back the favor in a more appropriate manner instead of meagerly allowing him the right to be jailed safely behind bars, away from Harvey’s amputated hand.

There was a boy with him, about a couple years older than Toby but still young enough to note the features of youth settled across his face, hidden behind a black mask worn to perhaps hide his identity. Only, he did take notice of the strange unlit gaze that skimmed him from head to toe, as if attempting to find out all his darkest secrets from simple vanity. Still some of Harvey’s old habits in him, he couldn’t resist but raise his left hand to course his fingers through the boy’s flush of curls resting idly upon his forehead, but he recalled then. He had no hand, no fingers. Additionally, the teenager had subsequently pulled out a dagger to aim at Harvey’s neck, pressing the tip of it dangerously close to his jugular like some trained hitman, and he would be lying had he not admitted to somewhat reliving his worst nightmare.

“Don’t touch me,” he barks, venom practically oozing from his tone of voice, “just ‘cause you’re a new client doesn’t mean anyone in this facility won’t wipe you out for oversteppin’ certain boundaries,” before Harvey could actually begin to process the warning to respond, the masked boy silently aided the dagger back into safety mode before locating it back to its original spot somewhere along his leather belt, deeming him harmless. “Mama Rare won’t take kindly to strangers touching her children.”

Mama Rare—Harvey recalled the name, seamlessly mentioned along the lines of the description on the website regarding this certain place; it’s master. But, instead of Mama, the word was Madame. Though mentioning the act of considering all the children she had working under her care, he supposed they might see her as a mother figure. Madame Rare—boss to all the workers in the field advertising what seemed to be discreet weapons, detonating bombs, fetish pornography, street narcotics, body parts, animal organs, human experiments, bottles containing strange liquids Harvey was sure was enough to declare martial law had they been brought to light. Though, he ignored everything and anyone who looked at him like he was the only strange thing in the spacious room, and instead focused on the large metal door he was then brought to by the earlier mentioned boy after a few minutes of more walking around the underground market.

On one side was a tall woman, lanky in the word itself, skinny enough to the point where Harvey could just about barely see the shape of her prodding bones, sunken cheekbones and hollow eyes that burned a fierce glare into his head the more she continued to goad on with her gaze. If looks could kill, Harvey had one foot in his grave already. At least he didn’t lose that to the torture. On the other was a short boy, just barely reaching the skinny woman’s shoulders with even the tall boots he wore on his feet, averagely shaped enough to notice the shape of his forearms strained against his loose sweatshirt, but stricken with this odd, sickening smile that further induced a plain discomfort within Harvey, eyes that saw through him and his new facade, likely just aiming to scare him of all people.

The woman stepped forward with her arms crossed over her bosom, a large machete hanging off the side of a belt strapped around her tiny thigh. Out of place. Yet, the more he continued to look over her features, the more he realized just how young she actually appeared to be. She couldn’t be older than sixteen. “¿This fuck the new client?,” Her fingertips caressed the handle of the large knife carefully, as if inspecting him to try and determine whether he was worthy enough for something particular. He just didn’t know what. “Mama Rare won’t, at all, enjoy how much you stare, ya’ fucken’ freak, and trust me when I say she’s a woman worth admiring.”

Harvey pinches his lips, “I apologize for staring.” He says, matter of factly, unable to determine what else he could say to enlighten the thick tension in the air, single eye instead looking around the area to keep his gaze distracted.

“Good man,” uttered the voice of a new child presenting herself alongside him; tired and sweet and melancholic. The frame of a seven-year old little girl clad in black and royal blue surprises the man to a certain extent where he couldn’t help but continue to observe the child perceptively, long magazines of bullets wrapped around her short torso whilst a large rifle-like gun settled around her neck to rest behind her, the dull look which turned up to examine him carefully as he had done to her, before nodding coolly to one of the teenagers in some beckoning manner. “Mama Rare loves submissive men, especially if they’re mutilated or scarred or traumatized, .. and you seem to be all three in one,” the humor in her voice doesn’t quite reach the look in her eyes, evidently frightening Harvey, but not to the cackling lot around him, as if used to the girl’s odd antics. “Like Quinn said, don’t look too much at her. Mama Rare is beautiful, indeed, but she doesn’t like to be gazed at with lust. ‘Else you’ll lose your remaining eye and will have to be forced to use your other senses to live on, like the other men and women who’ve stared for too long.” Nodding to herself as if in agreement, the tiny girl walks forward to the now opened doors, ushering Harvey on behind her with a nod of her head.

Harvey Harvington feels discomfort, proceeding casually without allowing the look of absolute disbelief taking over his expression. Squeezing his brows together, though, gives his nervousness away. He feels smaller than ever, sensing they could probably smell the fear of him, surrounded by the lot of teenagers, young adults, and small children who were much too impressionable to be in such a horrid place, though all looked at him with the same sense of peculiarity.

Attempting to push that notion to the back of his mind, he begins to examine the room to divert his attention once more: in the middle of the large room was a desk, golden stubs rooted to the floor underneath which formed the large face of a four-leafed clover embedded into the dark oak wooden floor, a metal chandelier dangling from the high ceiling which held multiple candles keeping the entire room dimly lit. In a tall, regal chair made of red velvet cushions sat a sophisticated woman reading a thick book in her hands, cheek scrunched against the back of her hand; round glasses sitting low on the edge of her nose, eyes discreetly seeking to hide the tired lens which glazed her irises over after many long nights, though a boisterous yawn escaped her soon after. Harvey made it an effort to look away and instead stare at the many pictured frames of children playing in a grass field instead of admiring the woman in her workspace, but couldn’t possibly come to understand how mere children could understand boundaries better than he could, scolding himself under his breath with hushed incoherences.

“Ava, beautiful darling!,” Exhilarating was the tactical emotion Harvey would use to describe the sheer emotion that traveled from his heart all the way to his fingertips, knees failing to properly hold his weight up. Though, he didn’t fall, and instead leaned against the doorframe for a couple of seconds to slowly reclaim his strength, whereas he then observed how the expressionless child from before eagerly ran and then jumped into the woman’s welcoming arms, being safely held within the warm embrace of the gorgeous lady. “¿Come to do inventory with mama, hm?” Her voice was soothing, refreshingly mature though with this intent to sound as gentle as possible to the children around her, a delicate smile stretching across her balmed lips.

Ava, the girl who now held this confident smile and whose eyes shined far brighter than the burning sun, hummed along and nodded, holding the older woman’s hand in hers whilst grabbing a pen from the side and skimming over the documents laid out on the wooden desk. Carefully, the female took off each uncomfortable magazine and the single rifle before placing it towards the side on the carpet, beckoning one of the much older kids to handle it as she then placed a reassured peck to the girl’s temple.

An abrupt hand on his shoulder, Harvey couldn’t help but react almost instantly by shoving off the person’s palm and then stepping away to cower, emotion winning over logic. “Don’t touch me,” though he enjoyed the brief moment of human warmth on his clothed skin, he didn’t hesitate to walk forth and leave behind the skinny girl with an outstretched hand. His voice became gruff and unpleasant, this hesitant scowl settling upon his chapped lips, gaze observing everything that moved with certainty to attack at first sight. “I need to hire a goddamned hitman to take someone out, or .. buy a shit gun from you without any paper trail left behind. Whatever’s cheaper, mate.” He spat, alarming the crowd forming around him, certainly gaining him some attraction to have been talking so openly casually to the one person who could make that remotely possible.

“No need to be so fucking rude in front of my babies,” from her lips drip the sheer aura of authority that stands along with her cold gaze settling upon Harvey Harvington only seconds afterwards, shivers running up and down his spine that twitched with each brush at his joints. He gnaws the inside of his uncut cheek, eye burning with tears as he silently observes the unbothered child still in her care, drawing what seemed to be bloody knives in the corner of the paper. “I don’t particularly enjoy angry men under my roof, as all those who’ve come to yell in my presence have lost their vocal box in the process. I’m very comfortable where I sit, especially with a precious child on my lap, so consider yourself lucky I didn’t cut out that tongue of yours for spitting your venom on my floor.” Assures the confident woman, glimmering irises shooting him a nasty look that was sure to have made him wet himself a bit.

Harvey hadn’t yet exactly noticed the circumstances he’d placed himself in until he’s met with the leering gazes of murderous children ready to attack and kill at the woman’s orders, sinking back into this empty pod of himself where he could comfortably lie in. ¿He exhales gently, expelling all the hatred he held for one man ruining his life because what did this woman have to do with what’s happened to him? She’s done nothing but accept his clause on why he needs to make a purchase here, especially knowing she hadn’t been accepting new clients until explaining his reasoning for wishing to make a stop by the warehouse.

He breathes an apology, “I’m .. I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry,” running his single hand through what’s left of his now velvet hair, he takes another step forward and bows his head in some sort of respect she gladly appreciates. “I’m not the man I once used to be, but that’s no excuse for .. . fo-r being blatantly ignorant in the presence of your children,” hooded eye meets her piercing glare, no evident glint behind her reading glasses that were then placed down on the side table, “I’m sorry.” He repeats, exhaling briefly when she shows to have accepted his apology with a nod of hers.

Madame Rare, that’s her alias. He would just need to call her this in the meantime before eventually discovering her real name, or not, he pondered, though he didn’t think he would need her services more than once. Maybe. “So, toots, in your little message to my bright student handling all the requests; you stated you wanted someone dead,” her hand comes to smooth out the tangles of Ava’s hair done into knots, before a brush appears in her other hand and she’s separating her hair into two parts. “Though I’m not a big fan of questioning my clients why they would wish such an atrocity on someone, .. your story piques my interest. I wonder why an attractive, distorted man, such as yourself, would want to murder someone in cold blood without the authorities on your ass.” One part of the girl’s curly hair done up into one tail, she grabs a tie for the other side.

Harvey glances around the room with uncertainty, “Forgive me, but .. I don’t feel .. comfortable speaking about what happened to me in front of … children.” He hides his stump of a hand behind his other, staring blindly at the floor to hide his tears threatening to spill, stomach plunged with a deep regret of even considering murder as one of his options.

The woman cackled in astonished amusement at such a remark. “Oh, come on, sweet cheeks,” she revels in the sight of the flushed man sighing to part ways with the throbbing of his achy heart, “you act as if not every person in this room has done something worthy of being looked at with disgust, or has been wronged in ways no child should be treated. These darling kids have gone through worse than you I suppose, but .. we don’t judge, nor do we compare,” Madame Rare hates the look in his eye; it's weak, it's fragile, unworthy of her time. Nevertheless, she remembers the same glint in all the classes of kids who’d come to her for help; the feeling’s nostalgic, and she feels ashamed to have thought such a thing about a grown man as well. Everyone has problems, she ponders, this guy isn’t any different than the rest. “But, if you’re so hellbent on not speaking your truths in front of a bunch of .. ‘children,’ then I ask everyone here to kindly leave the room please. No eavesdropping either, ya’ brats, I can smell the lies!” Humoring the immature, about thirty people exit the room, a minute or two passes by before the woman and the man are left alone in her office to comfortable silence, only the tune of a nearby radio playing jazz in the background somewhat eases Harvey’s shoulders. Deja vu, he calls it, recalling the many times he would try to teach his ex-wife how to dance correctly to the genre, always ending in her tripping or stepping on his shoes.

“¿Do you like .. jazz, or .. is it just there for background music?” Once they’re both left to their thoughts, Harvey can’t help but inquire about the song without first thinking thoroughly of his inquiry, recognizing the tune instantly whilst stepping away from Madame Rare.

Arching a curious brow, she leans back into the chair before swiping some papers away from the desk, settling her heeled feet above the wooden surface to relax, a glass cup of wine appearing in her palm. Harvey turns to stare, plainly admiring the manner how her long skirt remained glued to her hips, running along the curve of her waist, tucked underneath the hem was a white lace button-down just barely clasped around her chest area, revealing one tattoo hiding behind the material and a silver necklace that held a heart-shaped locket, swirls of red and thorned roses on its front cover, coinciding perfectly with the silver swords that hung from her ears, just long enough to reach her shoulders.

A curious hum befalls her red lips, “Audrey Hepburn is one amongst my many favorites. I quite fancy the silk of her soothing voice, and the instruments ease my nerves—yes, I do enjoy jazz,” though, her opinion on the matter doesn’t stop there, and in her hand appears a blood red pocket knife stained with rust, a sharpened edge carefully applied to the flesh of her wrist, slicing only a thin cut to draw enough blood to scare Harvey’s wits. Not uttering a sound, she suddenly throws the dagger like a reflex of hers, naturally, aiming at the picture on the side wall he hadn’t even noticed was there beforehand. In its contents was the sight of a decapitated human head, empty eye sockets and an empty mouth devoid of a tongue and teeth, the tip of the knife hitting the picture square in the forehead. “Helps my brain heal after a long day of work.” Harvey didn’t want to ask what that meant, for his own sanity, and instead took it upon himself to sit in the seat adjacent to the woman.

She ogles at him with that piercing gaze of hers, skimming his body over and the atrocities of his face. Unbeknownst to him, Ava had been right; she simply adored people who’d been mangled and only allowed to live with the single broken parts of themselves, and Harvey Harvington embodied exactly that. Her fantasy. He had this stare of his that made her skin crawl with eager goosebumps, underneath the new facade of melancholy was a handsome face she’d much enjoy soothing with a brush of her hands like she had other pathetic people. Much to his knowledge, she just meagerly studied him, unaware of the slick liquid staining her garments underneath her skirt, crossing her one leg over the other to squeeze past the throbbing of her wet cunt pulsing strongly.

Exhaling briefly, Harvey uses his single hand and rests his maimed eye-pocket upon his palm, staring at his other arm, devoid of its hand. “Before all .. of this, I had a wife, a child. ¿Believe me when I say we were happy, though .. we had our financial struggles like every other suburban family attempting to survive in a cruel world, right?,” He begins with this tone of voice that makes her hips ache, a brush of her hand on her lap enough for her lip to come and be gnawed at by her teeth. “I ran a quaint stall for some months after being fired from a job I hadn’t even started, and it was going great for the first few weeks of it being installed. ‘Had regular customers who’d come and go whenever they needed money, and I made many friends through these encounters—always ending the day with a smile, having helped strangers and all, of course.” Breath becoming ragged and broken, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for the grown man once she saw the trickle of streaming tears staining the left side of his face.

She lacked the courage to comfort him, “Good man, toots, you’re a good man.” Though interjected with the one thing she could possibly say in these moments, a surprised smile grazes his lips upon her comment, alleviating the pressure of his throbbing chest.

“Thank you, Madame Rare. Truly,” he continued to smile, “though, not always do I have the pleasure to experience only the goodness of people. Some realized that if they inflicted pain upon me, more physically than emotionally, they’d receive more money. Hundreds, thousands,” shakily breathing, she hands him a glass cup of water she had at her side, and he thanks her once more before sipping its contents. “A few months into it, I came across a person who needed exactly $25,000 for a surgery they desperately needed. They started off nice and easy, with a feather. Though $500 later, they purchased a needle. Then a pair of scissors, a flame, a knife, ..” Bloody tears fall from behind Harvey’s patch, albeit a cloth is then tossed his way. Blood red, a handkerchief with two inscribed initials in the corner. Hers, most likely. His stitches might begin to rip, had he continued to smile the way he was doing so naturally; unable to remember the last time someone had been capable of even relieving him of this constant physiological distress.

Madame Rare stands from her designated seat behind the desk and dims the light further, which Harvey so gratefully appreciates with a third muttered ‘thank you’ as he’d never been one to enjoy being looked at when in such a vulnerable state. Her high heels clicked against the tiled floor for some time, before reaching to sit alongside the man, bum pressed up against the tall desk before slipping herself atop the surface, right in front of the weeping man. ¿Gosh, when’s the last time she even had the time to think about sex and pathetic men or women? Much less pleasure herself with no one around to meet her high standards, and she hummed eagerly once imagining all the different opportunities she would have to cage this man into her clutches to use him for her own advantages.

Hands patting her lap like a doting mother beckoning her knee-scraped child, Harvey Harvington doesn’t exactly recall what the definition of human warmth meant to him anymore. Spending months in the hospital room with no one visiting him, even considering the scared nurses and hesitant doctors taking care of him in his time of desperate need didn’t much help when they barely paid him any attention; no one dared touch him in fear of what reaction he’d give them. Considering the many moments of screaming and crying and shoving from his part. But, the woman in front of him held such a warm smile he couldn’t possibly resist, welcoming arms outstretched towards him expectedly until he couldn’t take it anymore—pathetically throwing his own arms around the dip of her waist and settling his head onto her warm lap, long fingers beginning to comb through Harvey’s most sensitive areas of his velvet hair.

“There, there, my dear, you’re safe here,” she coos sweetly with this gentle tone of hers that reminds him she’s only human, with sympathy to give, her other hand coming to draw circles on the nape of his tight neck, reluctant shoulders shaking to release the tension having built up over the long weeks of constant mandatory court dates and appointed video calls with his lawyers. “No one will harm you ever again, honey bun, not under my careful watch—I’ll take care of you.” Somehow, somewhat, the words she so carefully picks to usher to him in an almost hushed tone of voice soothe Harvey. He remembers the nights of naked embraces between him and Eun-Mi, the love bites she would leave marked on his shoulders, the hickeys he’d leave between her thighs, and he revels in the recollection of flushed souvenirs from the loving marriage he’d once had, spilling dirty tears onto the woman’s beautiful skirt, tugging on the hem of her shirt as if striving to mold with her, to be made small and be kept forever in the safety of her front pocket.

He sobs pitifully, “I- .. I’m .. I’m sorry, I rea-lly am.”

She shushes him with a finger to his lips, “Don’t be, Harvey,” he liked the way his name rolled off the tip of her tongue, hoping to hear it once more. “You’re a good, strong, brave man who’s done absolutely nothing worth apologizing over—¿all humans have feelings, all humans feel pain, all humans have hearts, and aren’t you a human being like the rest of us?,” He nods, and she hums cheerfully in response, “So, cry, yell, and scream all you want, Harvey. You have the right to do and say anything you want, and no one can tell you otherwise.” Feeling her warm hand back in its designated place in his mess of hair, he shudders and exhales after seeming to calm down.

“Yo-You’re right .. you’re right.” He repeats back to himself.

Chuckling, Madame Rare ruffles his curls and nods, “I always am, Harvey,” with this tight-lipped smile, she closes her eyes and expresses full support for the man as he begins to wipe away any stray tears, finally catching sight of the stains he’d left on her skirt. Opening his mouth to apologize, but she silenced him once more with both her hands settled to cup his cheeks, seamlessly caressing his pale skin with her thumb, careful to avoid the stitches of his scar, surprisingly soft to the very touch. “Don’t worry about it, sweet cheeks, clothes are unimportant right now. We need to begin considering the many options we have for the fool who had the gall to hurt you, either you killing him or one of us does the murdering. ¿What’s your pick?” Keenly observing how he begins to process the two options, she stands from her place on the desk and walks to the back of the room, and what Harvey notices to be a screen door in the corner of the room where she then takes a step to stand behind, the silhouette of her figure beginning to take off her skirt made a torch burn wildly from within his aching chest.

¿How long has it been? Approximately eight months, he determined, without the goading touch of another human being upon his body. Much less the acts of sexual intimacy. Albeit, he soon processed the thoughts to himself that every time he’d lay Eun-Mi down to have sex, it was only that. Sex. Harvey much enjoyed the performance of it all, to know that his ex-wife once was also pleased by his dutiful, blissful work on her to appease her desperate neediness, but to recall the memories that it was only ever a part of their signed contract of marriage. Not once did they ever make love, they only had sex. Nevertheless, that was the difference between him and her. Unable to tear away his lingering gaze from the shadow of the woman’s looming body, he recalled the words of the little girl, Ava, from before. Harvey certainly wanted to keep all his remaining limbs, but there was just something so overbearing about the woman—as if her mere essence enthralled him to an intoxicating circumstance where he couldn’t abide by the rules, following blindly. With a twitching tent in his pants, Harvey pat himself on the back for wearing a black tux instead of his usual pastels; surely, the woman wouldn’t take notice of his unusual state considering she’d only made the sacrifice of bringing him solace, unable to rely on the tactical lust of an average man.

A few seconds of trumpets and drums on the stereo, Harvey whips his head to look away once Madame Rare exits the makeshift changing room with charcoal dress-pants instead of the earlier skirt, hugging the dip of her waist down to the curve of her bulging bottom before extending into bell bottoms at her ankles, burgundy leather boots on her feet just barely prodding through the two v-cut slits revealing her flush skin from underneath. Her figure brings about an air of dignified strength once she begins walking down the narrow office, taking her seat back across the desk from him, fingers coming to mold together underneath her chin as she then turns to observe him intently. An air of comfortable vibrations filled the room, although Harvey felt a bit nervous under her watchful gaze; his achy cock doesn’t help either.

Looking down to his wrists, he exhales shakily, before turning to truly take in the woman—the sight of forming feet of crows at each dip of her almond eyes, adoringly enough reminding him that she was another adult, wiser, like him, only attempting to make life thrive through the art of her work. Even if it was through murder and illegal atrocities. There are smile lines that form around her full lips, just barely protruding the effects of her sinkening cheekbones. Harvey counts one, three, seven scars on her face, each a nudge of recollection that she’s obviously lived a much harder life than he has. But, as she said, there’s nothing to compare.

“I’m going to do it myself,” the words eventually find a way out from the back of his pinched throat, burning with the intensity of the minimal truth that’d suddenly escaped him from nowhere. Truly, he didn’t know where that had come from. But, he’s said it, he means it, and he can’t take it back. He won’t. “¿What if ..? This must sound cruel of me, but . .. .. I don’t know if you even offer services of taking a hostage.”

“Why, Harvey, I offer all kinds of help.”

His hand is at the nape of his neck, scratching an itch that wasn’t natural, more so called upon by the reckoning that he was actually doing this. There was no going back. Did he even want to? “Okay. I want .. I want to kidnap that .. fu- … that disgusting waste of air, keep him hostage for a couple of days. ¿Weeks, maybe, a couple of months? I truly don’t know at the moment, perhaps I’ll recognize my intentions once I’ve actually committed the act of kidnapping him and torturing him like he tortured me,” it was a weird feeling, that burning sensation in the back of his throat. Unlike that of wishing to cry windedly, it was furthermore the subject of a yearning wish to inflict the same amount of pain to the person who’d mutilated him, maybe even more. “I don’t want to waste too much of my time and energy on that jerk. He doesn’t deserve it, not my mercy, not my time. But, he deserves to be made aware that he can’t do to other people what he did to me.” Harvey didn’t know he had it in him to speak such things so casually, as he had never ever enjoyed being in the presence of a horror movie. Gore was too much for him, the sight of blood and tears and sweat made him anxious.

And here he was, speaking about it so calmly.

Madame Rare presents to him this marvelous grin, swelling her chest with absolute pride. It felt like watching her kid graduate. The feeling was familiar, as many of her children eventually returned to study where they left off, finished high school, and were sent readily eager to the real world. College, their first job, their first paycheck, their first love. But, Harvey was a grown man who’d probably done all that, though she couldn’t help but still feel wonder. “Lovely, sweet-cheeks. ¿It’ll cost a pretty penny, though I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you, right?” Just to make sure, she threatens him with a soft and playful glare that Harvey doesn’t know how to respond to, except with this questionable smile.

He then nods confidently, “¿Is a check good for you?”

She smirks softly, “Make it cash, sweetheart,” she reminds him with a wave of her finger disagreeing with him, like softly scolding a forgetful child, “remember, no paper trail left behind. ¿Can’t have my business plundering because of one minimal mistake made by a second party, can I? We wouldn’t want that.”

Black brows coming together to mesh the look of resolve, head bouncing up and down once more like an eager stray, Harvey agrees. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m new to this.” He chuckles huskily.

“I can certainly tell.”

Chapter 2: heavy heart

Notes:

Hello, everyone! Here’s the second chapter I promised. Was a bit sick so I landed back in the hospital for an entire week but I’m good now! Third chapter is in the works, too. Made this one 6K words for the lack of updates, and next one will be longer to make up as well.

This chapter mostly consists of some hurt/comfort, and Harvey receiving the hug he needs. Eun-Mi is still a hot bitch so some hatred for her there.

Decided to turn this into an OC x Harvey instead because I had a personal design for the Reader so, sorry for that!

NOVEMBER 15TH — 05:15

Harvey Harvington doesn’t remember the last time he had gone out of his way to make himself look presentable. Perhaps it had been his odd manner of showing he was, at long last, done with wishing to make a lasting impression on other people. He wakes up unusually early, as always, exactly a quarter past five which leaves him feeling expectantly exhausted with heavy bags carrying the weight of his fatigue underneath his tired eyes, dropping three drops of saline into both, one empty and one full. A hiss escapes his barred teeth, slipping from the bars of their enclosure whilst his tongue comes to tear away the burning from his gaping wound, incoherent curses uttered out into the cold air. Referred to a prosthetic clinic months ago which handled such cases like his, he never showed up for the first consultation, much less answered the familiar telephone which’d then become a blocked number on his cell. Something about showing up with no left hand, a stitched cheek, and no right eye made him feel tensely uncomfortable in his own skin; sure, there would be other people there who’d perhaps gone through the same futile experience or simply suffered from an accident, or the need for amputation, though there was this sliver of doubt that the patients would treat him differently. 

Maybe, he should wear a mask for the rest of his miserable existence—the idea of using a steady silicone hand riled his thoughts up, because then he would give the appearance of a normal person. Nevertheless, it was all pathetic banter, in the end, of scolding himself in the foggy mirror for believing anyone would ever look at him and think the word ‘normal,’ too wary of cleaning the glass to see himself in the reflection. Tired, he faced away to wrap a towel around his pelvic area, another smaller white rag settled around his neck to soak up all the water dripping from the tips of his flush hair. From the nightstand along his bedside, he could hear the familiar sound of his phone singing its tune. It could only ever be his lawyers or doctors, presuming he had no family to contact him about his case or to even ask if he was doing okay, as he hurried out of the humid bathroom to pick up his cellphone. An unknown number flashes across the display, buzzing for far longer than usually allowed, as he expels an annoyed sigh once he hits the green button, then pressing the screen to his ear. 

Immediate static rushes through, a soft hum of chronic ringing which’d made his ear ache intensely. “Heya, toots, didn’t think you’d actually answer,” on the line is the tender voice of the woman he had met three days ago, somewhat buzzed and unlike her usual tone, perhaps a device used to control the way she sounded. All the while, Harvey stumbles to hold onto the phone as a quick squeal leaves his lips ajar, the warmth of boiling blood rushing to coat his cheeks in red. “Took you for more of a cautious guy who didn’t answer strange calls from the vibes I got from you the other day, but .. anywho,” there’s an obvious slur to her voice which taints him the more she dragged on, shudders trailing up and down his spine, but he’s most sure that’s due to the early hours of the morning talking. ¿Obviously, she wasn’t some drunken woman who consumed liquor this early, right? ¿Well, who was he to judge when he did the exact thing? “I’m going to be picking you up later today around, I wanna say, .. five .. to go over some things concerning the hostage situation we’ve got going on, just enough time for you to get ready. Talking about that, dress nicely. Fancy dinner type-thing that Blot reserved for us last-minute in the rich side of town, so we gotta play the happy couple since I’ve got eyes on me,” she huffs in annoyance, more than likely irritated with whoever had it out for her. ¿Police? ¿Rivals? ¿Private Investigators? He didn’t think to ask, worried about how she would react about discussing her private matters; just imagined possibly questioning his safety in the coincidence that something might happen on this so-called ‘date’ of theirs. “Don’t bother telling me your address either, love, ‘cause I’ve already got all your information here and I don’t want any personal data leaking across the line in case anyone’s catching on. So, like I said, just be ready by then. Toodles, handsome.” After that, the line goes silent and the number disperses from his recent contacts, as if the call had never been made in the first place. 

After being left no chance to even question how on earth she had managed to retrieve his number when he recalled he’d certainly never once mentioned it to her, he eagerly dries the rest of his moist hair before using the larger towel to dry his body. Perhaps, it’d been one of the many children who worked under her who’d happened upon finding his number somewhere, maybe even going as far as having a whole file on him and his nonexistent activities. Harvey wasn’t complaining, though, not at all. Well, .. maybe just a bit. Conceivably, it would do him some good to finally exit the solitary confinement of his silent house, the walls which closed in on him the more he tried to push those goading thoughts to the back of his pesky mind. Work had been hard to find, especially now with the considerable fact that no one in the industry enjoyed the mangled display of his chopped wrist. He had learned that not many people liked having a handicap as part of the staff. Outside ventures like hiking, fishing and going to the park to clear his mind stopped once he accidentally happened to frighten a child as young as Toby once his patch happened to come undone, committing himself to remain at home fully, only exiting when absolutely needed. A month had gone by in which a hefty amount of disability benefits started being directly deposited into his bank account once declared incapable of paying for his own needs, and he only hoped the next one would arrive on the same day.

Intending to wear his favorite periwinkle-coloured suit to meet with Madame Rare—as that was the colour that would most suit him at the moment, seeming as he hasn’t touched up his roots in months, a charcoal black fading into a pale pink; he imagined that would be something to worry about later once he had more funds to his name—he began to wonder what others at the restaurant would think about his stitched cheek, his eyepatch and his stump of a hand. It’s unlikely that people wouldn’t stare at such a person, and he wouldn’t really blame them either. The fact didn’t bother him anymore—the curious stares, the overlapping whispers, the snide remarks from adolescents—but some certain part of him speculated what Madame Rare would then do about having to endure so much unwanted attention. ¿Would she leave him there after one too many unwarranted stares? ¿Would she get annoyed and scream at him for causing a scene with his mere appearance? ¿Would she be embarrassed about being seen with him? In the warehouse, he recalled, not once had she ever made him feel out of place. Quite the opposite, in fact. Only the many concerned children who didn’t cry nor form the expression of fear once made visible to them, mostly just curious kittens intently monitoring his wounds.

Hunger making his stomach rumble with defiant tone once stepping out of his bedroom, reminding him that he had starved himself the last few days out of sheer guilt. The narrow hallway down to his kitchen remained a constant reminder of the life he once used to have, much too wary of staring for too long because he knew it, himself, that he wouldn’t be able to take all the memories flooding his mind like a damn breaking. Pastel walls lined to the brim of framed pictures of the many past adventures he and Eun-Mi had before the birth of their first child. A photo of first date at the drive-in theatre which Harvey remembered snapping in secret, Harvey on one knee in front of a shocked Eun-Mi crying tears of joy, their pastel-themed wedding, a closeup of their promise rings. Summer spent in their backyard pool, all of October used as an excuse to buy early Thanksgiving decorations and Christmas presents for one another. Afterwards, her swollen stomach pecked by his lips. Skimming a pale hand over the picture of the crib he’d personally carved himself, a stork carrying a baby wrapped with a blue blanket painted at his hand. It’s impossible to forget such happy memories when they’re already deeply engraved in the farthest parts of his mind, but each time he observed too much of each intricate detail he failed to recognize the last time, that joyful feeling was replaced with that of sorrow. 

The kitchen felt more empty each time he walked in, missing that delicate touch of his ex-wife’s decor. Space devoid of Eun-Mi’s usual mugs, the sippy cups of his son, a clutter of toys he’d scold Toby for leaving about the ground for Harvey to then slip on. The frozen meal he had served himself yesterday felt more warm in the cold absence of the hole inside his chest, pushing it into the microwave before pressing a single digit as the screen brightened to life. Humming softly to the tune, turning the nearby radio on as soft jazz begun playing in the background to keep himself occupied with the only sound available making him not incidentally slip back into this existential state of constantly insulting himself, that little voice in the back of his head urging him to doubt his actions. Pondering mindlessly about the consequences of his future actions, questioning his thoughts on if what he was thinking of doing to that man was the right thing. Guilt clawing away at his throat the more he realized that, possibly, he would be discovered in the future and taken to the jailhouse for his crimes—¿Was he actually willing to risk his own future for revenge? He’d be no better than the assailant. 

Coffee grounds worked wonders when it came to increasing his jitters, focused only on the very eventful morning of sitting down on the couch and thoughtlessly panning by each channel until he found something he could tolerate. Once he’d organized his plate of last night’s steamed spaghetti, and served himself a warm mug of caramel iced coffee topped off with whipped cream, Harvey reluctantly gave into the convincing look his sage couch pushed onto him, welcoming its cold embrace whilst then wrapping a fluffy quilt around his shoulders which’d been left behind yesterday after miserably moping all day. Sure of himself that he had turned the heat down enough to not cause chills, he gets this frigid feeling which drags up and down his spine the more he hears this roaring engine drag on outside his house, somewhere along his driveway. His car didn’t sound anything near a starved predator hunting its prey down to the ground, referring to that of a mountain feline, as he reluctantly stands to check through the window. Pink curtains pushed to the side to then slip a finger through the blinds enough to peep through with his single eye, he’s clearly a bit bewildered at discovering the wine purple car parked in his front yard, quickly skimming an eye over his watch to read the numbers 13:49. 

“Too soon,” he mutters, clicking the lock open as the door pulls open. “Much too soon.”

Behind the steering wheel is the suited woman whose heels clicked the oiled pavement floor underneath once noticing his presence on the porch, expensive-looking sunglasses tilted on the bridge of her nose which looked luxuriously more worthy than his entire existence. Surely, the encrusted gems running along the rims appeared as if they could pay his bills for a couple of months. Her body was nicely graced with a vermillion collared button-up tucked underneath a worsted wool charcoal black blazer long enough to reach the highs of her thighs, matching trousers hoisted just above crimson-soled high heels clacking on the ground. Harvey would be lying had he denied the way his eyes so easily raked through the manner she poisedly walked up to him, smelling of expensive perfume and an underlying hint of cigarette smoke that mixed together to create the perfect result of woman-made pheromones which insisted upon making his steaming blood reach all parts of his body, hiding a growing tent behind his single palm. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice. After all, he’s still only dressed in his single towel knotted around his waist, blindly revealing himself to the woman he’s felt obvious sexual attraction to beforehand, much oblivious to the fact that the way she contradicted everything he enjoyed about a woman riled him up further. Asking himself if this is okay for him to do.

Scanning over his flushed complexion and the dominating physique which caused her tongue to almost roll out of her parted mouth eagerly, her back remained erect whilst her gaze turned fierce, hiding the flush of lust behind the tinted lenses. “My, my. Mister Harvington,” she drawled on with that sultry tone of hers which continued to sweetly draw him in, tucking a stray strand behind her hair to hint the slightest bit of secondhand embarrassment. “Glad you decided to meet me like this, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Chuckling huskily whilst her palm came to hide the obvious amusement of her needy smile, Madame Rare certainly looks surprised by how easily tangible he’d roped her in with his mere body.

Harvey looked down upon himself to find nothing but the large towel he used daily after showers keeping only his most private parts concealed away from the woman’s leering eyes, attempting to somehow conceal himself with his arms twisting and turning over either his toned stomach or his firm pecs, unsure of which to cover first. Deluding himself as well as to not evidently hint at his bare insecurities, the many healed burns which tightened his pale flesh together to form purple hematomas, stitched cuts which’d most recently left behind lasting frequent marks on his tattered collarbones. “A-Ah, uhm, I .. I apologize for greeting you like this. Really,” he opened the door behind him, stepping to the side to allow her some entrance to his cozy home, “the living room isn’t really up to high standards, so I hope you don’t mind the mess, Madame Rare.” Extending a hand out to bring her inside, she willingly takes it and nods. 

“Please, call me Eris, my alias is used only on business hours.” 

He has to recollect all of the oxygen which’d been sucked out of his lungs, “¿Eris?” This had only enthralled him more, much against his present knowledge. ¿Would he be the one client who knew her true identity, more so her first legal name? ¿Did she trust him enough to reveal herself to him? Certainly not, but the special feeling of being introduced to a different person rather than the intimidating businesswoman he met three days ago was still there, squeezing his heart enough to draw sweet blood which would surely taste of freshly made honey on his tongue. 

Nodding keenly to herself whilst inspecting her surroundings, she immediately notices the scent of vanilla extract. Like the one she specifically used to make homemade cheesecakes the way her mother had instructed her years ago when she was but a thoughtless child wandering the cruel streets. Made with both love and eager care, making enough dessert for the hundreds of children once a successful mission was accomplished. She hummed to herself, crossing her arms as she continued to examine the transparent glass table decorated with an off-white vase drowning in dirty water, a single rotting rose signifying Harvey’s level of precision. A television angled on the wall behind, a fireplace underneath decorated with strings of fairy lights buzzing with strong electrical heat, a cozy sage couch with a similarly designed love seat settled more near towards the window alongside the main entrance. A bronze chandelier hung from the high ceiling, fake pearls and beaded crystals to show some extra decorum. The carpeted ground somehow more matted than a stray feline on the streets, but she didn’t seem to mind the cluttered mess due to the manner in which she comfortably took a seat on the cushion, settling one knee over the other, not sparing the disarray another glance. 

Sighing to herself, she beckons him along the narrow hallway. “Go on and get dressed, toots,” she shoos him away with a dismissive hand, “seeing you in this bare state for too long might make me think you’re trying to flirt with me—or, don’t,” shrugging her shoulders with this opposed look settling her eyes, Harvey inhales sharply, “the view from here is nice, if I do say so myself.” There’s this smirk which graces her sharp features the more she continued to look over his physique, a hint of tantalizing amusement which further makes him more shameful, or should he say, flustered to be this vulnerable in front of such a pretty woman. Swearing upon everything holy that she’d licked her lips at the meager sight of him shaking under her gaze, beads of sweat making him want to take a second bath to recollect his aroused thoughts in cold water. 

Surely, she must be jesting. “Again, I’m sorry for welcoming you into my house like this. I’ll get dressed quickly. Please, make yourself at home.” Hurrying down the aisle more than likely leading down to his closet, Eris hears a quick slam of his door, making her giggle to herself. 

The kitchen catches her attention afterwards, soft trumpets blaring in the background. Almost immediately catching sight of the displayed drawings covering the surface of the refrigerator door, magnets spelling out the name ‘TOBY’ which sparked a hint of interest. Red fingernails which tentatively curled around its bent corner, highlighting three distinctive figures perched upon a checkered blanket and a small brown basket full of neon fruits; two adults surrounding a smaller child into a protective circle, an embrace within the family Harvey had lost. Her lips nudge to a small pout, tracing her fingers over every little detail drawn with pure joy in each ugly drawing surely sketched by his son. Recalling a priceless memory which’d been quickly shoved to the back of her mind, the smell of coffee hitting her nose more deeply than the past sensation of her mother’s comforting warmth, eagerly making her way to the espresso machine hiding in the corner which already had full steaming water. 

NOVEMBER 15TH — 14:01

Iced cold whipped-cream topped coffee with caramel drizzled along the walls of the tall plastic cup, Eris hums satisfyingly at the sweetness which plagued her taste buds. Her stomach had only recently been filled with strong liquor, red wine, strawberry champagne and the occasional too-dry martinis, an excuse used to deny the many reports molding a collapsing mountain on her desk, so the sudden change in beverage certainly helped ease the morning hangover. 

As quietly as ever, Harvey appears in the kitchen alongside her with some nightwear covering what was earlier barren for the whole world to see. Making his presence known with a forced cough, “I see you helped yourself to my coffee machine.” He laughs wholeheartedly, leaning with his elbows against the island counter all the while gazing directly at her as she continued to sip through the glass straw, perking up instantly at the sight. Somehow, somewhat, the scenery felt almost familiar, nostalgic in the sense that Eun-Mi would prepare his coffee for him before she would leave to head to work for the day. Eris reminded him of the good times,—the past which formed an angry fist around his pulsing heart and made his chest ache more than that day he had been tortured to near death—, shoving this similar sensation to the side to easily be able to control the singing smile on his face.

“Well, Harvey, you did say to make myself at home,” shrugging whilst dropping her sunglasses to the side, she hinted towards the pictures on the refrigerator, though not wishing to cause any negative intention of her eager question. “¿That your wife and kid? ‘Cute little thing, looks like one of mine.” She hums while looking back down at the device in her hand, turning her phone screen to face him as a recent image portrayed a young child napping in bed with an older girl by his side, picture book in hand, wearing similar clothes and accessories to the ones Toby wore in the snapshot. 

Harvey doesn’t take the question to heart, merely nodding along with her curiosity, “Ex-Wife,” he corrects, taking the picture from underneath the magnet before folding it to only show him and Toby instead of the full picture, “the divorce was finalized about two weeks ago. Easy enough, my lawyer called it, since she didn’t contest anything, and I gave up my parental rights for Toby,” sighing softly, his eyes brim with salty tears, clutching at his burning chest, “it was for the best .. to let him go.” The words hadn’t been said before, that much was known as his curls became fisted knots in between his fingers, finding the way to look away before tears could begin to divulgingly stray down his reddening cheeks. Like the Hoover Dam breaking, a flood which dampened his collar. Nonetheless expressing the sheer sentiment that the simple question had racked up enough of his emotion to shut his tortuous mind down immediately, unable to truly push down to the pit of his stomach this sense of initial dread and keen sorrow at the mention of the family he once used to have—apologizing profusely, time and time again, to the woman when a slick whine escapes past his barred teeth, dropping the old photo in his hand down to the checkered floor all the while attempting to make an effort to cover his face with one available hand. 

Harvey Harvington doesn’t yet understand what it was about Madame Rare which gradually lulled along each single concern and doubt from the caged corners of his dark mind. How easily she came to settle both her arms around his shoulders from behind like a second habit of hers, iced coffee long forgotten on the side whilst the nape of his neck pressed closely to her collarbone, unable to comprehend when she’d eagerly embraced him, nor how he hadn’t the slightest hint of shame for revealing his true emotions to someone he had only met mere days ago. 

Hearing the soft whispers of her voice reaffirming each little thing he was sorry for, every doubt melting like cold ice cream in hot Summer heat in between the cracks of her pretty fingers, incapable of masking any more hidden feelings. Ushering to him, “It’s okay, sweetheart, cry all you’d like. I won’t judge,” assuring Harvey he was in, possibly, the safest arms he could ever ask for, as he turned to face her with rosy cheeks and flushed eyes, staring pitifully at the ground like a scolded child having spilled warm milk on the tablecloth. “Letting go of someone you dearly love is the best possible chance you can ever give someone, .. or yourself, because maybe that person wasn’t the right thing you wanted, or perhaps .. . you were something they didn’t need,” a spare handkerchief in her front pocket, she taps away any residue of his misery with the corners, smiling sheepishly down at him with that pretty gaze of hers that’d gotten him hooked in the first place. “I know from simply observing that you adore your son, and you miss the relationship you once had months ago before any of this occurred, … you grieve their absence even though they’re still alive. I didn’t go through what you experienced, Harvey, but I can certainly understand the feeling.” For him, it wasn’t odd how effortlessly calming her tone remained all the while consoling him. 

She was a mom, after all. 

Softly taking his hand into hers, he envisioned himself as a young child being cautiously coddled by its endearing mother, but soon unconsciously chuckled at the thought. “¿You’ve been doing this for a long time, huh?,” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or frown, “¿Are all your clients this miserable that you’ve mastered the ability to comfort them?” 

Ruffling his head of fluffy, velvet curls coiling around his forehead, she smiles tenderly and shakes her head, “I wouldn’t use the word, ‘pathetic,’ .. more so burdened with unnecessary stress that could easily be resolved with time and self-reflection. As well as some much needed external help, patience and dedicated love.” Another defiant shrug, Eris made sure he could see the obvious playful smirk tugging at her red lips, not missing how his cheeks remained a dutiful pink. 

Attempting to return her handkerchief, she shakes her head in disagreement and beckons him to keep it. Smiling softly, a hum which satisfies the woman greatly. “Surely, I must look pathetic in this state, not that you’re new to this side of me,” he huffs, catching her gaze by surprise as he tucks a strand of his hair back around his neck, tickling his flushed flesh, “I really am sorry for placing all this excess weight on your shoulders when it’s not yours to carry. I’m nothing but a client, and you don’t have the time for my worries,” all he could do was sigh, once again feeling this sudden urge to blame everything on himself. Remorse making itself evident in his expression, yet never tearing away his eye from hers, much too caught between the features hidden amongst her skin. “¿‘Date’s a reservation, right? It’s getting early to four, I should probably begin chang—”

Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Eris pats his head like a good dog having successfully completed its first trick, “Stop apologizing, toots, ‘else I’ll start smacking you every time the word leaves your mouth,” certainly annoyed by the fact, he makes sure to nod eagerly, zipping his lips shut. “Be a dear, Harvey, and grab a white-wrapped sheet from my car, hanging in the rear passenger side by the hook,” noticing the unamused look on his face, she smirks knowingly, “don’t worry, it’s not a dead body,” she huffs as if vexed by his assumption, “I usually cover corpses in black thick trash bags so the blood won’t stain through, and I obviously won’t have decomposing bodies hiding in the back of my expensive car. That’s what the garbage truck is for.” The explanation comes off as something humorous which’d been a running joke between the warehouse, but he takes it seriously enough to agree almost immediately before exiting his house to be met with thick clouds weighing heavily above, the smell of humid air making him shudder. 

Harvey didn’t much like the thunder which came with the rain, a reminder of the sound which’d gone off when he was more than sure was a gun, much too scared that moment to peer his eyes open at the harbored weapon. Missing him by an inch, ear lobe completely blown off enough to have caused a sudden rupture in his eardrum. He swears he could still hear the ringing in his ear from that specific day, especially through the migraine-inducing sound which the Heavens above released. Grabbing the sheet from the back of the vehicle as he quickly shut the door and ushered back on inside, to find both his kitchen and living room empty and the obvious clacking of heels somewhere down his long hallway. The coffee was long gone, as well. Rushing down the hall because he recalled having left his underwear drawer open, some scattered amongst the ground, and possibly also the hardening towels spread amongst the empty bottles of lotion beside his bed. Red cheeks evident about the embarrassment he would feel had she discovered his late night endeavors of attempting to please himself, though not much worked in the absence of a feminine presence. Instead, once entering his chambers, he finds her to be kneeled down the floor in front of his walk-in closet, sorting through his different kinds of shoes whilst a decisive hand settled upon her chin, possibly deciphering which amongst his bundle of dress shoes would suit him best, fingertips dribbling against her lower lip in ponder.

Arching a decisive brow, he fondles with his hair, “Uh, .. I have … I have the thing you asked me for.” 

Raising the mentioned object high to the air, she nodded gratefully as she stood back up to her toes, taking the cover from him before opening up the bag by its zipper. Inside was a suit much similar to hers, only in contrast were the navy blue accents amongst the collar of the blazer, cuffs a beautiful golden hue which matched perfectly with a set of banded bracelets on the side. Holding it by its hanger up for him to see, he cocked his head to the side in slight curiosity. “Your tux,” she hums, “the reason I came so early was because I’d planned on fixing up any imperfections, or size adjustments to your attire,” beckoning towards the pair of shoes she’d chosen out from his selection, he isn’t sure what exactly to say, “seeming as we’ll have to play the perfect pair of love birds who match in everything clothing-wise, —which one of my children had the bright idea of incorporating into this afternoon—I had this pretty suit prepared for you to match mine. Just little details which will certainly differentiate us, though.” Handing him a golden band taken from her pocket, she shows Harvey her very own diamond-encrusted ring slipped around her finger which matches the one handed to him, closely inspecting its familiarities.

Harvey tenses, “¿Is this real gold?” The weight of it answers his question, slipping it onto his ring finger, enjoying how nicely it naturally fitted his digit. 

She nods eagerly, noticing his own excitement, “Of course, sweetheart, I don’t wear anything but,” handing him the outfit, he takes it and looks it over once more. Plush material under his fingertips, an underlying hint of purple roots hiding behind the complex faux fur. “Go ahead and try it on for me, sweetie, I wanna see if there’s any modifications I might need to make.” 

In and out, Harvey remains inside the bathroom for only a couple of minutes. Having heard some struggling and heaved huffs of annoyance, Eris doesn’t react when he exits the bathroom wearing the suit, flushed with the slight sweat of sprawling with the attire by means of not being able to button up his own shirt. Sculpted stomach on display, he looks off to the side with slight embarrassment, whether from not being able to clothe himself or simply from being so useless as to need her assistance, “This is why I don’t wear button shirts anymore .., too much of a hassle.” He admits. 

“You wore one the day you came to the warehouse.” 

Harvey pouts, “I wanted to look nice for a change,” he shrugs, “didn’t know the dress code for the warehouse, either.” 

At that, she laughs wholeheartedly whilst splaying her arms over her chest, shaking her head in sheer amusement before walking towards him with outstretched hands already coming to begin clasping up together each pesky button, starting near his abdomen all the while working her hands up slowly. As if wanting to make the moment last longer than need be, for whatever other purpose than merely wishing to make the act a lasting thought at the back of his mind. Humming a familiar song to dissimulate. Brushes of her fingers and knuckles scraping his physique makes him vividly shudder from mere warmth. Though she decides not to tease him about it and only continues to puff up his collar, careful to not meet eyes with him when clearly they had been entirely stuck on her form and the way her nose scrunched up in distraction. Focusing merely on properly keeping his maintained formal look. Brushing away any stray lints and slight dust accumulating at his shoulders, she finally takes him in and steps back, nodding to herself as if having completed the masterpiece which would end her career with a final encore, discreetly raking her gaze over how the waistcoat hugged his form nicely, lapel perfecting the entire fit together. 

Circling him like a starved vulture, she seems to be very satisfied with the results of her endeavour. Never would she be able to bring to light that she’d been the one to recommend wearing matching suits, using the guise of having Harvey act as a willing accomplice to her little husband/wife scheme which, more than likely, would result in her favor. “¿Any modifications you think you need, toots? Looks pleasantly good from my angle, but I’m sure something wouldn’t fit right since I simply guessed your measurements when I had the order placed.”

Realizing her words, Harvey snaps his head up quickly enough to hear a crack rip from his tensed muscles. “¿Tailored?,” He’s a bit hesitant to ask, given how hospitable she’d been to go through such lengths, though he eventually decides to force the words through his mouth. “¿Did you also happen to have this made by hand? Surely not.” Jesting, he laughs awkwardly to himself, running a hand through the smooth material.

Without as much as a glance hinting amusement, “Well, yes, obviously,” she nods confidently, sitting at the edge of Harvey’s bed with her leg crossed over the other, using both her hands to support herself backwards. “All my children specialize in different kinds of work, such as tailoring. It’d be strange for a couple to not be wearing the same level of expensive attire, which is what one of my children stated. So my sweet boy, Luck, insisted on designing and making both our attires. He’s got quite the eye for fashion, even managed to order in some heels which suited my outfit perfectly.” One hand brushed over her thigh, finger then pointing towards the two initials etched with golden tweed into the collar of both lapels—RD.

“¿He completed both our outfits in less than 3 days?” 

Eris smiles knowingly, “If I’d asked him to, maybe. But, I don’t enjoy pressuring my children. So, instead, other trainees in the same field insisted on helping, therefore finishing in one day.” Curling her fingers together to mesh into one, she beams brightly whilst explaining. Harvey could almost see the light in her eyes from speaking of her kids, chest swelling with rightful pride.

Quirking a brow towards the band settled around his ring finger, he puts his hand up to inspect it more, “¿And the jewelry?”

Pushing a finger to her lips, she uses it to gently swipe it in the air side to side, “Secret,” winking at him smoothly, she checks the golden watch sat poised around her wrist: 16:30, “it’s a bit too early to start heading out to the restaurant, but I don’t know what traffic’s like at this hour since I don’t live around this area, so I say let’s head out now so we can get good parking,” keys in hand and a pump in her step, she ushers towards the shoes on the carpeted floor in front of his bed. “Put your shoes on, sweetie, I don’t want you barefoot. It is raining, so bring a coat, too.”

Chapter 3: late night with the devil

Notes:

Here’s another chapter for you guys! Promised it would be a bit longer and stuck to it. Like I said last chapter, Reader was changed into a full OC. I don’t know how to draw, so hopefully the little description I wrote gave ya’ll an idea of what she looks like.

There’s a little bit of tension between Eris and Harvey, but not enough trust for any smut to happen. Don’t worry, though, that’ll come soon enough! Eris is slowly leaning in to being comfortable around Harvey, if you could note in how close they’ve become.

Trigger warning — Mentions of Eating Disorder, Self-Esteem Issues, Child Abuse/Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Ideation. I don’t have any experiences of these issues myself but digging into information and other research about such, hopefully I put in a decent amount of how it truly feels like to struggle with these conditions.

Thank you for reading!

NOVEMBER 15TH — 17:33

“Good call,” Harvey steps out from the expensive vehicle, deeming his presence inside it unworthy, possibly needing to pay for the warm air blasting through its vents. Music spanned from smooth jazz to blues, the eventual heavy metal which differed from his usual calm tunes, somewhat scaring him because never in his life had he ever listened to such awful melodies and scary fry screaming. It also didn’t help that the volume was only a few levels low of reaching a hundred. “It’s almost six.” 

Extending a garnet-coloured umbrella above both their heads to shade each individual from the heavy rain, Eris unconsciously pulls a hesitant Harvey close to her left side, available hand curling her fingers around his own, thumb brushing over the pink of his tense knuckles to then squeeze tightly for reassurance once noticing his flushed cheeks. “Alright, toots, as much as you dislike the idea—we gotta act the part of a happy husband and wife. Hand holding, cheek kisses, .. .. uh,” she trails off, looking off towards the side pensively, “¿What other lovey-dovey shit do couples do? Enlighten me, divorcee.” Nudging his ribs with her elbow, she smiles willingly at the other wealthy men and women walking up the marble steps of the tall building, some familiar faces skimming over the ‘newly’ wedded couple. 

Harvey so graciously takes in the heavenly sights of the restaurant, big, bold letters spelling out the title ‘ROTTEN APPLE’ which immediately captured his interest, arching a brow towards the woman beside side-eyeing him tentatively. High pillars holding up an extended balcony made up of entirely see-through glass with intricate details panned out. Precise circular tables already filled with different societies of people, scared of how much money he would need to spend to be able to even breathe the air in, much less the food he would be eating. Wondering if the mere necklaces being worn by clashing females and the watches of wealthy men would be able to cover his car’s insurance. That was an assured yes. Perhaps he could lie to Eris and simply explain he wasn’t all that hungry, just a salad would do enough to fill his barren stomach. 

Coughing into his elbow, he hummed, “Well, uhm-uh .. what Eun-Mi and I would do in public was exactly that. I can’t exactly speak for everyone though,” inspecting the way her hand clung awkwardly to his, there was some certain part of him which found this side of Eris a bit adorable, to say the least. Not that he had known her long enough to perceive her wits. Although, he would never admit the notion aloud in fear of how she would react. A little bit of hinted sadness, too, considering she might’ve never had the opportunity to truly experience genuine love due to always working and actively taking care of her employees. He continued, “Some people enjoy displaying their affections in public to mark territory, .. I guess; while others mostly just stick to showing love at home because they don’t like being seen as vulnerable with other unfamiliar people around,” he gazes up at her silently, intentions of complimenting her makeup and the way she walked so confidently with a puff of air swelling her chest. Harvey had never once allowed himself to think these thoughts of women other than his wife, but considering she was no longer his, he felt it in his heart that, maybe, he would permit himself to lovingly share his thoughts with his inner monologue. “¿Which one’s your pick?” 

Placing a finger to her chin, after a while, she bends down an inch or so and presses a long kiss to his right cheek, leaving behind a mark of her burgundy lipstick. “¿There’s nothing wrong with trying out something new, is there?,” Pushing behind a curly strand, she hummed quietly to herself, making sure to wink down towards a flustered Harvey unable to withstand the affection. “Funny fact about me is I’ve never had a serious relationship,” her voice drops an octave or so, fingers clenching around the handle of the umbrella discreetly. Somehow, somewhat, Harvey could distinctly make out what seemed to be embarrassment etching her features looking off towards the many couples laughing together. “Anyways, forget I said that. I just .. I don’t know how to act in a relationship, so I’d appreciate it if you taught me.” Her uncertain look is replaced by a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, then turning to nod towards the familiar hostess immediately bowing towards both individuals with eager respect, two menus already in her arms. 

“Miss Valentine! What a great pleasure it is to see you here, it’s been … uh-quite some time since I’ve last seen you,” the woman was petite and quite peculiar about the manner in which she presented herself, wearing what appeared to be the restaurant’s uniform of bell-bottomed ink black slacks and a fitted vest atop a cerulean button-up. Flittering lashes, brown waves, and pouty lips; the name tag ‘Esther’ sat poised on her right breast pocket. Emerald green eyes brimming with absolute joy at recognizing Madame Rare amongst the other members wishing to enter the restaurant, almost seeming to bounce in her mere presence if she was allowed to, though sticking to her work composure. “Sir Sirius would be delighted to have you sit in his VIP section instead of your usual table—says he’s missed you dearly and would like to go over some projects regarding the business, as he’s been unable to reach you.” An underlying hint of something adjacent to what Harvey was used to, he made sure to daze off towards the cold air hitting his skin as if there was nothing amiss what she might’ve been referring to. 

Eris smirks knowingly down at the beaming girl, before shaking her head in disagreement, pinching her cheek teasingly, “Tell Sirius I’ll be glad to speak about such things some other time,” beckoning towards Harvey, she cocks her head towards the side all the while handing the hostess the wet umbrella to set aside, using the same hand to pat his tense forearm, leaving it there to rest encouragingly. Harvey gazes up to smile warmly at the young girl after a nudge, though she isn’t much welcoming to him as she’d been towards his companion. Coercing a smile, she nods in return, instead focusing all her attention back to the businesswoman, tight jaw and flared nostrils having him shrink back into himself to hopefully disappear from view—surely, she must be judging his appearance and how odd it was to have such a known, beautiful woman on his arm. “But, right now, I have a date that doesn’t need to be interrupted, Esther.” Fundamentally speaking with an obvious slick of hidden superiority which, by all means, worked, made the female worker flinch backwards.

“Of course, Miss Valentine.” Esther nods diligently, though he swears that she had sent him a fierce glare through her glasses when she thought he hadn’t been looking. He didn’t understand whether out of jealousy, spite or suspicion, all he knew at the moment was the certain fact he didn’t like her, nor did she appear to like him either. 

Blackstone surface engraved with streaks of real gold whilst simultaneously being hidden behind some framed pictures lining the curving walls, Harvey follows blindly as the hostess leads them both upstairs. Recognizing many of the photos included in the woman beside him, some old ones representing her at her youth whilst others seemed much more recent; others merely just scenery of the night sky from the view above the highest floor to captured shots of different patrons enjoying the restaurant’s live band, drinks in hand. He counted fifty-seven steps before finally reaching the second floor, wondering if such a lavish place such as this had an elevator instead of having to climb so many stairs. Glancing towards Eris, she didn’t seem much affected by the long walk, long ago having let go of his hand as to not trip over herself nor him—patting him smoothly on his shoulder to catch his attention, the kind set of gray irises silently skimming his state over—even though she had been wearing six-inch heels that curved her sole upwards in noticeable discomfort, perhaps probably more used to this than he’d initially imagined. 

The second floor consists of a stage off to the far middle of the entire floor, slow jazz mixing a pretty rhythm which had many people dancing amongst the spacious floor. All tables as far as his single eye could see were all full, exempt to that of a table with seats opposite to each other on a balcony separate to the other three large ones on each side of the balcony. Walking closer, he noticed the detailed curves and swirls of the carmine cloth covering the squared table, a glass vase housing a single tulip on the far side as two plates sat on each adjacent side. Eris sat on one side whilst Harvey chose the other, sending one last final smile to the exiting hostess who didn’t return it. 

Eris notices the look on Harvey’s face, tossing him a napkin to wipe the obvious smudge of red on his cheek. Though he remained unsure on whether or not he wanted it to be erased, clutching the cloth in his hand. “¿What’s her deal?” He finally asks after a moment of silence, biting the inside of his cheek with blatant annoyance to have been disrespected when he didn’t even know the girl, unable to stare the woman in her eyes. 

Interlocking her fingers together under her chin, she hums whilst arching a high intuitive brow, taking a sip from the prepared champagne in the iced bucket. “¿Jealous, toots?,” She adores the way his cheeks tint a shade of strong pink, “Kidding, lovely. Well, let’s see. Esther used to be a client of mine back when I first started out the business, along with Sirius, who is now her boss. This was fifteen years ago, mind you. One thing led to the other, a fling I kept at arm’s length—she wanted more than I offered and pulled a ring out on me, which I declined,” a roll of her eyes makes Harvey smile, though he quickly drops it to nod along in favor, “ever since then, she’s turned into a slight stalker of sorts who knows not to interfere with my daily life.” Blowing a raspberry with her lips, she takes another long drag of the alcohol, watching it swirl around inside the glass cup. 

“She looks too young, though.” He comments. 

“Genetics, she calls it,” she shrugs nonchalantly, noticing the clear judgment, “she’s thirty-four, for your information. I’m not some cougar who likes the thrill of fucking younger girls, even if they insist, nor do I enjoy their attention,” eyeing him down, she smirks, “I like experienced people, Harvey. ¿Tell me, are you experienced?” 

At that, he coughs out the sliver of champagne back onto the napkin she’d handed him earlier, along with some dyed phlegm which’d caused his blood to rush to his nerves out of sheer shame, hitting his chest lightly to help the strong burning in his throat. “¿Uh-what .. wha-what do you .. uh-mean by that?” He can’t help the crack in his voice, reverting him back to his young teenage years when puberty had hit him late. He swears on everything holy that her smirk only deepens at the manner in which he responds so cautiously innocently, feeling the smooth leather of her toebox raising the hem of his trousers upwards, reaching just a touch below his knee, heart hammering inside his chest, fingers, ears; his abdomen coiling into a sailor’s knot once she’d managed to reach past his thigh. 

Unable—or unwanting— to move. 

“Well, sweetie,” she purrs softly, finger curling to beckon him forward until he could smell the sweet alcohol in her breath, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I’m talking about your alcohol tolerance, of course!,” Harvey feels himself able to breathe once again, though he’s still a bit warm under his pants. “The wine here is absolutely divine, which I am, by no means, biased by considering I’m the one who had it directly imported from the finest breweries of Italy. If you’re a big fan of whiskey or brandy, I recommend ordering the Brandy Sour or Manhattan Cocktail,” she hums and trails off, gaze turning to look over the city underneath, “though, I don’t know what you’re into, toots.” Playing with her handkerchief in her lap, she distracts herself by attempting to make a dove out of the large cloth.

He laughs awkwardly, “I like .. uh, it’s a bit more boring … but I like classic margaritas.” The hem of his trousers pool back around his ankle, following the woman’s gaze to take in the gorgeous view of the many lights flashing amongst the grand city, the honks of nearby cars and the laughter of people above and below. Since he’d never really had the opportunity to truly take his time to appreciate the beauty of the town he lived in, mostly dedicated to his chores at home or tending to the family, which he didn’t have either of anymore, he felt a bit of awe at how genuinely beautiful the atmosphere looked from here. Wishing this day would never come to an end. The cool air brushed his cheeks softly, inhaling the fresh wind that swept past as if he’d never done it before, tasting the sweet smell of it all.

Hearing the clink of the glass cup hitting the table’s surface, “I’m not a margarita person myself, but I’ll have it every once in a while,” skimming over her polished nails, she gestures towards the bar on the other side of the room being handled by one single female clad in leather and the most reddest hair he’d ever seen on anyone. “Girl behind the counter is an old employee of mine from several years ago; graduated top of her class at bartending and received her certification in less than a day. Got her this job afterwards and it’s been her lifeline ever since. ‘Says she wouldn’t have it any other way,” a smile graces her features whilst gazing at the pretty girl, who’s much too enthralled by the mixing of the liquor and chatting happily with some of the customers sat at the bar. “¿Let’s stop by after? I’m sure she’d be happy to mix up something new for us.” 

Although he hadn’t known the woman long, he could evidently make out how much time and appreciation she’d put into taking care of all the children under her roof. Much more with sincere love and affection, something he could only dream of having. From the first day he had gone by, he recalled not one single child presenting any sign of neglect—instead the opposite. All the boys and girls seemed sworn to protect and respect Eris even if she wasn’t there to witness it, stemming from possibly the act of receiving enough support and attention from someone who’s happy to give and not expect anything in return. There was a select few of teenagers and toddlers who, he recalled, sat at a comfortable couch, watching old cartoons on a large television screen with expensive snacks and branded drinks by their sides, without a care in their eyes. Perhaps not all were in the business, simply there to be close to Eris and her warmth. 

Turning to stare at Eris who’d been lightly sipping at her emptying glass cup. “Uhm, I just wanted .. to-to say … uh-Eris, I—”

“Hello, good afternoon, Miss Valentine! Haven’t been graced by your presence in quite the while, corazón! I was starting to think I’d done something wrong,” interrupted by the tall figure of a handsome man placing down two menus on the table, Harvey can’t help but nudge his lower lip into a petty pout at having been so brutally interrupted. Instead choosing to flick through the two pages of the thin menu, wondering if the ten things to order from were truly all there was to the restaurant. “I see you’ve brought in an attractive man, too. Gosh, Esther was just blowing smoke through her ears when she told me, and of course I had to believe that someone like you could only ever present us the most cutest companions.” He smiles down at Harvey with a beknownst wink, hesitant hand coming to cradle his tense shoulder before pulling away once noting the man’s reluctant gaze.  

“Bell, my love! It’s been too long,” standing up to press a kiss to his cheek, Harvey can’t help but deepen his pout, tracing a finger over where she’d kissed him, too. “Y’know I’ve been busy and all, taking care of my children isn’t all rainbows and puppies, but I do enjoy it,” sitting back down at her seat, she motions towards the man opposite to hers with her eyes, “here on strict business, but I figured I might stay around longer to chat with Cher if Harvey here doesn’t mind accompanying me.” There’s this slight hopeful look which makes her irises gleam a bit more than usual, and he can’t help but nod eagerly at the indirect request. 

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Then, it’s settled! ¿Your usual, Miss Valentine?”

Eris skims over the menu, “Yes, dear. ¿What about you, toots?” 

Harvey pinches his lips together gently and scans the options one last time before smiling up towards the awaiting server, “Well done ribeye for me, with a side of potato soup, minus the cheese, please,” hand on his stomach, he chuckles awkwardly, “lactose intolerant! ‘Can’t eat anything dairy, unfortunately!” He settled on a simple steak and side, calculating the possible total of under a hundred dollars, enough to cover both his side of the bill as well as Eris’ order. Praying the champagne they were drinking wasn’t the expensive type. 

Bell, the server, nods his head eagerly, seeming to jot it down inside his mind. “I’ll make sure to ask Cook Morty to not put any butter on the steak either, then! Caesar salad and beef ravioli will be out in just a couple of minutes, folks. Be back in a jiffy, mis amores!” Sauntering back over to tend to some other tables awaiting his service, Harvey looks back towards the woman just as she’d managed to finish inspecting the area clean of any lingering eavesdroppers, deeming their space safe. 

From under her napkin settled on the table, she slides a paper thin envelope across the table to him, teetering eyes signaling him to quickly take the package before any other guest could see. “¿What’s in it?,” Whispering just an octave above to where she could hear him, her face crumbled to a blank expression a moment or so before recollecting her composure and simply pointing down at the supposed documents. Like a secret agent sent from across the world for a mission, his chest fluttered with strange excitement. With an intuitive brow, Harvey unwraps the string keeping the envelope closed before laying out the contents. Screen captures, basic information, leaked documents, and other sorts of details he was sure to read on later spread out on the table, before quickly ushering back up all the contents back into the envelope. Scanning over one single photo which’d stuck behind ironically. “This is.. he’s—”

“The kid isn’t all that smart to begin with. His phone has gotten viruses about a thousand times before by searching online porn from pirated and illegal sites. So, when Blot decided to plant in a simple seed into his device to check on his activities, it didn’t take all that long to be able to discover his daily routines. What cheap apartment he lives in, how many girlfriends he’s had in the past, down to what color underwear he wears,” a hint of hidden amusement hides behind that silly smile of hers, but she waves it off before finally settling down her champagne onto the table. “Name’s Scott Kook, twenty-three years old, works in car insurance. But, I figured you already knew all that from the court cases. This ain’t his first rodeo. Kook was charged last year with breaking and entering a family home where he battered a minor attempting to hide his little sister in the closet—that trial is still pending for some reason. My sources say they’ve got evidence stacked up against him, but .. not my problem to help solve,” sighing, she takes another sip of the alcohol, as if soothing her vocal cords with the contents. “Years before, he served only two years probation for sexual misconduct with a child under thirteen. ‘Didn’t take him long to do it again, though. I don’t know how in the fuck he’s gotten away with so much shit, but I can’t see our police department helping much either way. ‘Point is, the justice system isn’t going to do squat. That’s where gals like me step in to help people like you, who’ve been victim to wannabe thugs intending to make a name for themselves out in the streets by presenting themselves as big, strong foes.” Flexing her bicep to prove a point, Harvey isn’t able to muffle the loud giggle which exits his lips at the demonstration. Only waving a dismissive hand to apologize for his behavior, all the while his lips twitched in an attempt to smile further. 

He muffles a chuckle, “Sorry, sorry, please .. go on.” 

Stifling her own smile, Eris poured herself more champagne from the emptying bottle on the side, and he swears he could see her swaying side to side every passing second. “Well, there isn’t much left to do but plan his departure. It won’t be tricky at all, I’ve dealt with situations like these beforehand,” she shrugs as if the whole ordeal was just another normal Saturday afternoon, lightly burping into her fisted hand. “Not to brag, but I say he’ll probably be sitting chained in our cold basement by next week. All that’s left to do now is wait for documentation to be sent through the airlines,” Harvey cocks a questionable brow, and she sighs as if exasperated by his foolishness. “Toots, if he suddenly vanishes from the world only months after the trial has started, all fingers will be immediately pointed at you—the victim of a crime he committed. Motive is the prime evidence they’ll use to interrogate you and I doubt a sweetheart like you is capable of lying without acting suspicious all the while.” 

“I’m more than capable of lying to officials if it’s truly asked of me!,” With a stare of her eyes skimming him with slight judgment hidden underneath her lenses, he scratches an itch on his cheek and laughs awkwardly. “Okay then, no lying. Got it.”

Huffing, Eris continues. “As I was saying, if he suddenly disappears, this will spark rumors that you had something to do with his sudden disappearance and making you out to be the bad guy seeking revenge. You’ve nothing to worry about, sweetheart, since I’ll be handling all that. He’s housed in jail, at the moment, but I have some inside intel from the county he’s in. He’ll be helped out by some of my guys who’ll use the tactic of being good samaritans merely helping out a fellow innocent inmate who's being wrongfully accused—using that to my advantage, I already have someone acting out the part of assuming his identity once he ‘escapes’ jail,” emphasizing the word, she presents a sickly smile, one which has shivers scaling down each individual joint on Harvey’s spine. “As he successfully flees, we’ll be there to pick him up from the outside. Guards will be notified of his escape, as will his lawyers and the court, and that’ll be on record. Law enforcement will look for him, but, since that’s out of their jurisdiction, we’ll have no problems any more since he’ll be, technically, AWOL. Finally, you, Harvey dear, will simply be the poor, traumatized victim who’s had his luck run out by this perpetrator evading justice,” chugging down the last few drops of the strawberry-flavored champagne, she exhales harshly before lazily gazing at the man sitting across from her, pointing a black, acrylic, sharp nail at him, “¿Just sit there and keep looking pretty for me, alright? You’ll get your revenge soon enough.” A hiccup, then another; Harvey recognizes the clear difference of the dignified woman from before now nuzzling into the warmth of her arms as the cold wind ushered on, high cheekbones dusted in harsh vermillion red as glassy eyes skimmed him over hungrily. 

Blushing, his hand is placed on his chest as if that would somehow calm the strong beating of his heart. “¿Pretty—me?” 

Albeit, he was more than sure that the alcohol in her system was speaking for her, there was a hint of hope which carved a place inside his heart at the mention. Not once had she expressed the displeasure of being seen with him in public, and even marked him with her lipstick before being blatantly disrespected by the envious hostess who was then assured to have been jealous at the situation afterwards. Something he would cherish to wish that Eris did out of her own volition, not just to spite the bitter girl. 

He gazed down towards his fiddling fingers, readily thinking of just how this plan would be put into action, and just how easily it’d been explained to him like any other topic of conversation. It’s unlikely anything bad would occur, thoroughly flickering through their conversation anxiously so he wouldn’t miss out any important detail. Madame Rare seemed calm about the situation, and she clearly stated how she’d managed this type of work before, so he assured himself to lay all his trust on this single woman. As such, something about finally having the proposition set out in front of him with transparent instructions guiding him through it all, he doesn’t exactly consider his own feelings about the matter until he’s looking at the picture of the man who’d acted out of pure greed and tortured him. Reminding himself that this perpetrator was and still deserves what’s eagerly coming to him; his karma. Sure, Harvey would be stooping down to his level, that with jotting down exactly what sorts of acts he’s intending to commit—the recollection of efforts to searching up torture methods through old books at the library, but wasn’t strong enough to stomach the gore. Unsure of himself when the time came to actually commit these heinous acts, Harvey Harvington doesn’t have anything to worry about if Eris would be at his side to guide him through, and that was the only thing he was sure about. 

A lopsided grin takes grace upon her plump lips, half-lidded eyes raking their gaze over what little of his body protruded through the custom tux. Only wishing to see what more was underneath than what she’d initially skimmed over before at his home, but initially scolded herself for thinking such things about her client. “Shush, lovely, appetizers are coming,” as if on cue, the waiter she called ‘Bell’ proceeded to intrude in with two large plates balanced on either of his hands. This big, hefty smile that made Harvey uncomfortable, setting down the first course of their entire dish. “As quick as ever, Bell. Tell Cook Morty I’ll swing by to catch up with her later, too.” 

“Alright, darling. I’ll also make sure to bring more champagne,” hand on his hip, Bell motions towards the food, “provechito, mis amores!”

The food smelled wonderful, much to Harvey’s delight. Unwilling or, more so, unable to eat anything other than microwaved canned soup at home had taken quite the toll on his appetite. Decreasing it greatly. Thinking about how one single bite might as well fill his stomach entirely, he didn’t wish for all of this good food to go to waste, scolding himself for ordering so much. Picking up the large tweezers to pour some salad onto Eris’ plate, then filling his own with about the tiniest amount that wouldn’t concern anyone. His lip twitched slightly, just the right amount which made the woman across from him arch an eyebrow towards his reluctance. 

It wasn’t her place to pry, but she couldn’t help herself. “¿What’s wrong, you don’t like salad? We could order something else, if you’d like,” there was still the slightest hint of alcohol laced in her voice, but Harvey could also tell apart the tone of concern. Casting it aside because surely, he must’ve been hearing things. “I can call Bell back to ord—”

“No! No, uh-sorry. So-Sorry for yelling, I—. Sorry, I just-,” picking up the fork on his side, he pierced through a flap of fresh lettuce coated in bittersweet sauce, “it looks so good—the food. I can’t possibly eat it.” He swallows thickly, chewing on the vegetable slowly. 

Understanding the situation much faster than she’d liked to, the woman stands from her place on the opposite side of the table to settle the chair towards his left, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh. “¿How long have you gone on like this? Your trial started approximately six months ago, but there was still three months prior to gathering evidence and hiring lawyers and all that jazz. ¿So, I’m thinking—a year?,” Harvey’s stomach coils harshly, feeling his chest turn suddenly freezing cold, feeling an anxious shudder down his spine as he stares at the appetizer on the plate. “Earlier today, I could tell the obvious weight loss. At first, I imagined it being mere muscle loss due to not being able to exercise as much as it looked like before everything occurred, but this confirms my suspicions.” The hand on his thigh trails up to his wrist, devoid of its hand, fingertips tenderly trailing the healed stitches. 

He doesn’t look at her, instead peers towards the other clients inside the area. Just hoping they weren’t looking. “¿Wha-What .. What are you talking about?” 

Inhaling sharply, Eris leans back against her chair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it, sweetheart. Not to me, not to anyone. You don’t have to,” pressing her lips together, the alcohol in her system is suddenly gone, and all her attention is placed on him. “¿Is it the fact that you can’t eat because of your cheek, or your hand?,” He evades her gaze, staring at the ground. “You’re a man, Harvey. ¿Grown men don’t need anybody’s help, right? ¿Is that what you’re thinking?,” ‘¿How did she ..?’ He finally has the courage to look at her, or give in to her assumptions, at last. “Don’t put yourself down like that, sweetness, everybody could use some help every now and then. Being helped doesn’t make you any less of a man. It’s okay to feel like this, love, you’re only human,” ¿was this truly okay of him to like being tended to like this? He recalls not even Eun-Mi could figure out how to comfort him whenever the weight of his worries became too much for him to handle, no matter how much she tried. Instead, he held it all in, so that no one would ever have to worry about him again. But, yet, here he was, trying so hard not to cry like a knee-scraped child. “¿Would you like me to help you?” 

In the end, he could only nod. A single tear spilling down his cheek, being immediately wiped away by the pad of her thumb. The same hand coming up to ruffle his curls, coursing a careful path through his scalp, taking the utensil from his shaky hand before scooping up a small portion of food. Like a child, his jaw went slack and he opened his mouth just the minimal amount to where it wouldn’t hurt him, taking the mixed vegetables off the fork and softly chewing them down. There’s silence between the two, comfortable; he feels intensely safe in her care, like nothing bad would happen, like no one would ever dare hurt him. 

He licks the sauce from his lips, “¿How do you do that?” 

Eris cocks her head, “¿Do what?”

Harvey gnaws at the inside of his uncut cheek, “‘Make people feel safe in your presence.” 

“Flattering, toots,” a haughty laugh exits her red-tinted lips, “but I don’t think that’s enough flirting to get me into bed. You’re going to need to try harder than that, honey.” There’s this silly, playful smile which tugs at her lips the more he looks on, as if these words he expressed—so deeply from the bottom of his heart—had been mindlessly thrown around by other people who were only wishing to sleep with her. 

Shaking his head, he eats another bite of the salad, this time with a crouton to add further flavor. In between chewing, “I’m not flirting,” he swallows, taking a slow sip of champagne. “If I was flirting, you’d certainly know,” a teasing grin, he attempts to derive from the previous topic, but is suddenly unable to, “but, I mean it. I haven’t felt this .... this, I guess the word is, good since .. forever. Ever since what happened at the stall, my whole life started falling apart. The .. . . woman I thought loved me left, my child is afraid of me, I don’t have a stable enough job to keep me going. ‘Only reason I’m still making a living is by the benefits I started receiving a month ago; the house I live in is in my name so it was left to me. Even then, there’s still so much I have to do and pay,” until now, Harvey had never once allowed himself the option to think that maybe, all of this had happened for a reason. 

Maybe it was life telling him he didn’t belong anymore. 

Again, he shakes his head, wishing to rid himself of these plaguing memories, his disgusting feelings. The sense that, yes, he didn’t want to continue on anymore. “I .. I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. All .. All I ever do around you is just lay my burdens on you. We haven’t known each other long, but I feel like you could tell me my whole life story from how much I’ve already told you,” grabbing the fork from her hand, he smiles windedly, “I can .... I can feed myself now. Thank you, Eris.”

After a long pause, Eris exhales, wondering what words would be okay to say. “Well, that’s certainly true, Harvey,” resting her temple on her fisted hand, she pokes at the ravioli sitting untouched on her second plate, “but, I don’t mind. It’s reassuring to know my presence brings you comfort, as that's all I’ve ever wanted,” a smile, soft and sweet, looking at the bundle of bracelets on her wrist, just barely hidden under her sleeve. “My children are all I have, too, I don’t have anybody else but them. Maybe you don’t have anyone at your side right now, love, but .. I’ll be here until then. Think of me as your free therapist,” he watches her, coddling something under her button-up, revealing it to be a tattoo. “If I hadn’t turned out like this, I .... would’ve enjoyed becoming a social worker, a teacher, a daycare attendant, a pediatrician,” the phrase on her skin tints a faded rainbow of colors, in messy writing read the words ‘we love you!’ as if a child had written them. A symbol which she presented proudly, caressing it with her fingertips. “Since you’re so hellbent on being guilty about sharing your traumas with me, I’ll share one as well.” 

“You don’t have to, .. if you don’t want to.” 

He’s right, Eris doesn’t have to. Although there’s this certain part of her that feels some sort of confusion as to why she’s suddenly so eagerly open to confessing all her secrets and most darkest thoughts to him—the client who she’s known for less than a full complete day—she bites her tongue down and hides the tattoo once again. That pretty smile still gracing her features, “I can’t bear children,” is all which falls from her lips, looking up at a shocked Harvey, “so, I chose this line of work instead,” she shrugs her shoulders shortly afterwards, scooping up three of the stuffed pasta and bringing it to her mouth. Harvey felt there was more to what little information she shared about herself, a bundle of emotions wishing to be shared with someone, anyone. But, it never came. A hint of hope sparked a flame in his chest, hoping she would continue to lay out what had been keeping her mind so occupied. Instead, she stayed still for a while, noticing how she hadn’t even breathed in half the minute she was staring at the jewelry on her wrist. “Now we’re even, toots.” 

Beckoning towards the food, she encourages him to take a bite off her fork, beef ravioli now sitting inside his mouth as he chewed ever so slightly to attempt and appreciate the flavor. “It’s good,” he comments, nodding along, “better than the salad.” 

A laugh, contagious, “Hey! The salad’s my favorite.” Giggling between eating, the both continue to munch on the appetizers as little as they could, much to Eris’ encouragement. 

Dinner came and went once Bell returned, sharing each other’s food with one another. The woman stopped drinking after realizing she would need to be the one to drive both of them back home, especially after remembering how his abode was thirty minutes out from her own. Dessert consisted of black sesame seed macarons and coffee-based tiramisu, Eris’ favorite, whilst Harvey finally chose a slice of ube cream cake which looked all the more appealing when it came to their table. The cook and baker themselves came out to chat once the rest of the customers began exiting the restaurant. 

Cook Morty was a short, burly woman with kind blue eyes and bushy eyebrows, brown curls and hairy arms. She didn’t speak much at first, but once realizing how much of a talker Harvey appeared to be after many compliments on her cuisine, both were taken with each other. Telling stories of their lives, surprised when they shared the same interests of the paranormal world, both babbling on about some childhood memories about said topic Eris didn’t quite understand. Nor did she want to interrupt their talk, enjoying how much of a chatterbox Harvey appeared to be when not in a state of sorrow. Meanwhile, the baker turned out to be a man named Agustus, tall and older than he appeared to be with an audible accent—an exhausted college student who’d been offered the job after winning a pastry competition at his school’s festival. Scouted by Eris herself, eagerly hugging the woman when he noticed her sitting at the bar speaking with the earlier mentioned bartender Harvey found out to be named Cher. A bubbly girl who wouldn’t take her eyes off him, though not in the manner of finding him attractive or interesting as he first imagined, more so inspecting him whenever he chimed in the conversation with Eris, with furrowed brows pouting each time the older woman would turn her attention towards him. 

Though, at least she wasn’t as bad as the earlier hostess. 

Noticing the clock turn 22:40 off one of the large clocks on the wall, he wondered how the time had passed them by when it’d felt like meager minutes. Pondering if this was all real, if the universe was giving him this one opportunity to have fun and not have to worry about the outside world. Rather, remembering that none of this would’ve been made possible had Eris not invited him. It was her he had to thank for such a wonderful outing. Harvey then had the tremendous opportunity of being introduced to the rest of the kitchen staff once he’d commented how much of a great cook he was as well, dared to go against Cook Morty in a small competition judged by Eris, Agustus and Cher. 

“No, no .. I couldn’t possibl—I mean, going up against someone like Cook Morty would be great!,” Ruffling his velvet curls, he looks down towards his missing hand, “But, uh .. I know I’ll lose in terms of time. Using one hand won’t do me much good.” 

Slapping one hand down to his shoulder, Morty nods her head with diligent understanding of his position, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, Mister Harvington,” placing the back of her hand upon her forehead dramatically, she side-eyes him. “Miss Valentine was really looking forward to eating your food,” she whispers into his ear, a hint of encouragement somewhere about her voice, eyes flickering towards the mentioned woman in deep conversation with Cher, “just don’t tell her I told you.” A shrug and a nudged lip, beckoned by the other staff with leering gazes and nods of approval. 

A second, two, before finally tugging on her wrist, a fierce look in his eyes which meant war, “Alright, Cook Morty, you’re on!” 

NOVEMBER 15TH — 23:06

“I can’t believe I won ..” 

Eris sat on the couch adjacent to the one Harvey was sitting on, gerbil cradled in her hands as it slept peacefully in her warmth once accustomed to her touch, smiling up to the still shocked man removing the knot of his laced dress-shoes. He watched her whilst she continued to soothe his pet, inevitable grin beaming softly towards her. “Believe it, toots. You won fair and square, even Morty was more than surprised when both Cher and I chose your meal instead of hers,” she laughs at the recollection before sighing, unclipping the claw off her hair before it cascaded down her shoulders, ruffling her waves. “She said I was biased towards you ‘cause you’re a client, but it was the honest truth. You know how to make a mean meal, sweetheart; ¿where’d you learn how to cook .. what’d you call it .... stuffed peppers?” Slumping against the chair, the gerbil Harvey called ‘Soups’ crawled up into her blouse, nestling into her breasts.

Blushing, he cushions his stump in his other hand, smiling, “When I was married, it was quite difficult for me to hold down a job long enough to even get a first paycheck. Bad luck, I’ve always called it,” he attempts to unbutton the clasps of his shirt, huffing when he couldn’t. “Eun-Mi was our primary income, she made just the right amount to be able to handle all the utility bills of the house. But, I felt useless because I wasn’t able to contribute anything when she was working so hard to make ends meet,” glancing around the area, a flash of past memories hound his mind like a film off an old tape, “instead, I devoted my time to learning how to cook, clean, and all that jazz. I’d have food ready by the time Eun-Mi was home, Toby liked when I took him to school, the house was always spotless because it was the least I could do.” 

Nodding along, the woman gazed around the area as well, photos hanging off the wall, many with Harvey and his family. “Well, that’s too bad,” he quirks a brow, and she stands up from her seat to place the gerbil back into its cage, then sitting down in front of Harvey to help him unbutton his shirt. Eyes which skimmed her down, a ragged breath when her cold fingers brushed past his warm flesh, leaning further in without his knowledge. “I bet she misses your food, and now that she’s not here to taste it, ¿would you mind cooking for me instead?” Harvey doesn’t seem to notice her eagerness, or just doesn’t show it enough for him to see it. 

Halfway down, her digits eventually halt, and he wonders what had suddenly caused her to stop. Being met with her fingertips trailing the casted outlines of his wounds, tethered flesh bound and stitched together, burns which’d turned his pretty pale flesh into a soft, pastel pink, protruding flesh which formed the shape of thick veins. Humming, Eris’ hands travels along his chest, tracing the many scars on his skin with absolute wonder. As if he were a work of art. Harvey’s breath hitches, the words dying at his tongue, watching the woman as she gradually increased her phantom touch, carefully treading across his skin as if grazing him any harsher might break him apart like a porcelain doll. 

Glossy-eyed, he hovers a reluctant hand over her wrist, not sure whether he enjoyed the feeling of warmth, or if he should be allowing this type of behavior when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be the type of man to just take advantage of a woman. “I wouldn’t mind ..,” no, in the end, he admits he wouldn’t mind committing more indecent acts. Eris might be the one woman who’d made him feel such tender things, attempting to recall if his ex-wife had ever been this delicate when handling him. How he wished she would continue probing at him. Coming to his senses, he reels back from the sensation as the woman then moves onto unbuttoning the last of his shirt, sending one single glance his way with this tempting smile. “I mean ..-uh, I .. I wouldn’t mind cooking for you, it’d be my pleasure to ..-to cook for you.” 

A grin graces her features, standing to her heels as she smoothes down her slacks. “Then, I’ll swing by whenever I’m in the mood for some homemade food,” stumbling over her high heels, she jumbles with her keys, silently making her way over towards the front door. He tags along, sustaining her by her hips. “For now, I’ll leave so you can rest. It’s been a long day, and I’m certainly tired, so you must be, too,” fumbling with the key, she swings the door open and smiles back at him, “I’ll keep you updated, toots, don’t you worry.” There isn’t much stopping the woman from attempting to get into her car, leaning against its side for support when she realizes her feet are becoming entangled. 

He holds her shoulder, “¿Are you sure you can drive yourself back home? ¿Isn’t it a thirty-minute drive from here? It’s dangerous out here at night, I wouldn’t want you to crash or, worse, get carjacked. ‘Might even get pulled over by driving as erratically as you were driving earlier when en route to here.” Watching as she opens the door, she pinches her eyes for a second, seemingly thinking about something. 

“Come on, sweetness, if you’re wanting to invite me into your bed, you could just ask. I don’t think I’ll say yes, though. Much to your dismay,” she sways a bit, holding herself by the door’s handle, “I’ll be okay. If I drove us here, I’m sure I could drive myself back home without much cause for concern. Worry about yourself, love.” Pulling out a tiny handheld gun from inside the purse she held in the passenger side, she unlocks it, as Harvey steps back from being in its direction. Somehow knowing she wouldn’t directly aim at him without cause for.

Laughing awkwardly, he nods earnestly, though insists with a tug of her wrist. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind you sleeping here for the night. I have a guest bedroom.” Watching as she placed back the now locked pistol into her purse, she mutters something under her breath before finally standing up and closing the door to her vehicle, locking it with her keys. A sigh escapes him, grateful he could convince her. 

Leading her back inside by her wrist, she kicks off her heels by the door, walking to wait by the start of the hallway as he comes and takes her down a narrow hallway, four rooms, two fully furnished ones. One which Eris was sure Harvey would be sleeping in, whilst the other looked more like a children’s room, biting her lip to stop herself from commenting anything about it. A third sat at the far right of the long aisle, with a mere bed and two nightstands at its sides. Walking in as he presented the canopy bed to her, decorated in a brown comforter set with white lace running a pretty design amongst its surface. Comforting, she eagerly throws herself onto the mattress like an immature child, stomach down as she plants her face onto the blankets, inhaling the scent of fresh laundry wafting about in the air. Fingers gripping the sheets as the cool surface of the comforter chilled her skin, making a mental note to ask where he shops for such luxuries later in the morning. 

Harvey looks the other way, wary of over analyzing the scandalous position she’d settled herself into. Certain she hadn’t done it on purpose. “I’ll .. I’ll get some clothes for you to sleep in,” he waits by the doorframe, “I don’t have any of my ex-wife’s, but I’m sure my own will fit you.” Out and in, he brings back a large white shirt and baggy sweatpants which he was most sure would fit her. Maybe a bit tight considering they were men’s clothes. Placing them beside her, he leaves her to change. 

The door opens after a couple of minutes of waiting, and he backs away from the frame as she walks out with crossed arms over her bosom and a hunched knee behind her, “¿Are you fucking with me right now?,” Hinted humor laced in between her voice, Harvey flinches with both hands raised to the air in self defense. “This shirt is tight as hell, and these bottoms are not compatible with my backside,” pouting without clear intent, she hides herself, “I even had to take off my bra’ for me to fit into this.” 

Wide-eyed, he shakes his head with waving hands. Well, one waving hand whilst his other wrist flung around the air wildly, “I ..-I really didn’t .. I me-I didn’t intend to .... I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable in any way, Eris! I swear! Those two are my biggest clothes,” rubbing his forearm, he backs up into the wall, as if wishing to disappear from view. “They fit me quite loosely, they should be able to fit you just fine.” 

“¿Now you’re calling me fat?” 

“I’m not! I swear I’m not!” 

After a moment of awkward silence, Harvey comes to the evident realization of Eris’ twitching smile morphing into a big grin, muffling a chuckle underneath the palm of her hand. “Sorry, lovely. You’re just too easy to tease,” another fit of giggles and she sighs, “honestly, though, these don’t fit great. But, it’s fine. It’ll do,” shrugging, she turns to enter the guest bedroom once more, “see you in the morning. Thank you .. for the clothes, and for letting me stay here.” She tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, Harvey just barely managing to see the faintest red of her colored cheeks. 

Before he forgets, “Eris!,” Excusing himself, he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, remembering he was once again exposed to her. This time, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “Sorry, uh. ¿Re- .. Remember at the restaurant, when I wanted to tell you something and Bell had interrupted?,” She nods, “What I wanted to say back then ... I .. I wanted to thank you. For everything—for tonight, for helping me, and for introducing me to some wonderful people. I haven’t had fun like that in such a long time,” staring into her eyes, he swears he could see the warmth seeping through as she beams with content. “I’m grateful I met you.” 

Through a sappy grin, the woman cocks her head, “I’m grateful I met you, too,” hand on the door handle, she slides it an inch away to fully closing, “good night, Harvey.” 

Smiling back, “Good night, Eris.”