CHAPTER 36: BLACK...

Chapter 36: Black...

"The roses?" Danielle repeated, her eyes narrowed a little as she stared at them. Their petals managed to shine under the pale hospital light, too perfect, too red.

They looked out of place, almost mocking her weakness.

Theo hesitated before answering. He moved his head briefly toward her, then back to the flowers. "They’re from Frank," he finally answered, keeping his tone professional.

"Frank?" Danielle’s voice carried quiet disbelief. "He barely knows I exist...he doesn’t even like me."

Theo forced a small shrug. "He said he wanted to wish you well."

Something in his voice was strange, like he was trying to convince himself rather than her.

Danielle’s shoulders sank, but she didn’t say anything right away. She looked at the flowers again, wondering why she felt so disappointed.

"They’re beautiful," she murmured.

Theo nodded without a word.

Danielle looked at him carefully, thinking why he sat so stiffly beside her bed, his fingers pressed against his knee. For a second, she wondered if maybe he was the one who brought them.

But then again, Theo never did anything romantic or personal. He was careful, guarded, like a wall that refused to crack.

"I don’t like them."

Theo turned his head toward her, a small crease formed between his brows. "Why not?"

"Because they’re not from you," she stated almost too softly for him to hear.

Theo didn’t say anhyhing, and he looked away before she could see his reaction. He couldn’t let her know that he personally picked them for Danielle.

Danielle watched his suspicious behaviour...deep inside, she wanted to ask why he was lying, but she stayed silent.

Something about the way he looked at the floor made her realise he didn’t want her to know the truth.

Maybe the truth would only hurt more.

"You should rest," it sounded like an order.

Danielle nodded just a little, still staring at the crimson roses as he left the room.

Her head felt tangled and slow. She wanted to believe the roses were from him, but now she would never know for sure.

Outside the hospital, the world was gray again. The rain had stopped, but the clouds hadn’t moved...

Far away, on the other side of the city, a different energy was haunting the air. It was the kind that came from places where the dead slept.

Ethan was standing near a small grave, tucking one of his hands in his coat pockets, and another had cigarette burning lazily between his fingers.

The wind blew through the cemetery, but he didn’t care about the cold. He was dressed in all black, like a man attending his own funeral.

He crouched down slowly, looking at the tombstone with a strange sort of amusement. "Bae," it read, carved neatly into the stone.

Someone had placed lilies there earlier...they looked fresh, white, and pure.

Ethan smiled thinly.

He plucked the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a stream of smoke over the flowers. "White lilies," he muttered. "Theo’s favorite for the dead. Always trying to look holy even when he’s filthy."

Ethan’s smirk deepened. He picked up the lilies one by one and held them between his fingers as if they were fragile secrets.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw them to the ground.

The cigarette that was burning low in his hand, Ethan decided to press it into the soil, right above her name, and let the ember die against her grave.

"Hey, Bae," he called for her softly, moving his chin up. "How’s it up there? You get to wear your pretty dresses again?"

The wind travelled louder...it felt like Bae was telling him to go away.

But Ethan didn’t care, and so he crouched lower, his voice turned into hush. "You always wanted to be a princess, didn’t you? Too bad you ended up in the dirt."

He chuckled quietly to himself. "You were soft, Bae. Too soft for this world. Theo tried to protect you, but you broke anyway. Like glass."

For a moment, his facial expression looked different behind his eyes, like there was some spark of satisfaction.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bouquet of black peonies. Their petals were velvety, and strange against the gray world around him.

He laid them down over the crushed lilies. "These are better for you...Pretty, but they don’t beg for attention. They die slow too. Kind of poetic, don’t you think?"

The wind blew harder now, lifting strands of his hair across his face. He straightened up, brushing off the dirt from his knees.

He took one last look at the grave and smirked. "You know, Theo’s still chasing ghosts. Still trying to be the hero...But he’s forgetting something important. I don’t kill heroes." He bent closer to her name. "I turn them into monsters."

Ethan’s eyes shined coldly as he stared down at the grave, as if speaking to her soul. "You’ll see soon, Bae. He’ll come for me again, and when he does, he’ll lose everything that’s keeping him human. That’s my gift to him."

He took another cigarette from his pocket and lit it, watching the flame flicker in the wind. The smoke curled through the air like a dark halo around him.

Ethan knelt once more and crushed the lilies completely under his boot, twisting his heel until only broken stems remained.

He blew out smoke and smiled. "You were always too weak to stay alive. But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure your brother joins you soon."

His tone was weirdly serene, almost kind, but his eyes were empty...like a man who had long forgotten what it meant to feel remorse.

When he stood up again, he looked down at the grave one last time and said, almost as a whisper, "Tell Theo I left him flowers."

He turned and walked away, leaving behind and on purpose the crushed lilies and black peonies...

That was his cruel message written in silence.

Because Ethan never sent flowers without meaning war...It was a clear death threat to his brother.