CHAPTER 123: DON’T KILL ME, OKAY?

While Alice was distracting herself by picking random stuff in front of her, not sure what to even eat, Hades reached for the remote without looking at her, flipping through the options on the TV with methodical precision.

No asking, no explaining. Just moving until a brightly lit title screen bloomed across the wide display. A romantic comedy. Light colors, bubbly music, a pair of actors smiling far too earnestly at each other in the preview.

Alice’s brow arched almost instantly. "Really?"

"Mm." The sound wasn’t even a word, more an acknowledgement that he’d heard her, nothing more.

"You... like this type?" she asked, skeptical.

He didn’t glance at her. "No."

"Then why—"

"It’s for you," he interrupted, his tone flat but so absolute it left no room for denial. "You look like the type to enjoy... boring things like this."

Her lips pressed together. She couldn’t decide if she was offended or... maybe oddly warmed by it. He wasn’t exactly good at comfort. If anything, he excelled at the opposite, but there was something in the way he said it, blunt and clinical, that felt suspiciously like effort.

She leaned back a little, watching him from the corner of her eye. He was still facing the TV, as if giving nothing more than that.

It was ridiculous. She knew he was doing this for her mood. But he’d rather choke than admit it outright.

"Thanks," she muttered under her breath, though she doubted he’d acknowledge it.

True. He didn’t.

The room filled with the low hum of dialogue from the movie, actors trading fast, light lines while she picked at the food nearest to her. A chocolate, a piece of fruit, then another chocolate. She wasn’t sure what to eat, the abundance almost as awkward as the silence between them.

He didn’t touch any of it. Just sat, one leg drawn up, his hand loose around the remote, eyes steady on the screen.

And... the movie wasn’t bad. Against her better judgment, she found herself following the story. The absurd scenarios, the ridiculous misunderstandings. It was simple, easy. Something she didn’t have to think about too hard.

A quiet, unguarded sound escaped her at one particularly absurd gag, a tiny laugh, nothing more. But the second it slipped out, she caught herself, pressing her lips together again as if she could erase it.

She shouldn’t feel lighter. Not here. Not with him. But she was indeed feeling lighter.

The pain and tears from earlier suddenly felt distant. She was just in this moment.

And then, of course, came the rom part of the romcom. The leads, finally past all the banter and misunderstandings, leaned in close, framed perfectly in soft golden light. A kiss deepened on screen, the music swelled.

It was ridiculous, harmless... but the moment hung heavier than it should have.

She glanced sideways and startled. He was looking at her. Not just idly glancing, but watching.

"What—?"

"Close your eyes."

She blinked. "What?"

"Don’t watch things like that." His voice was low, almost lazy in delivery, but there was a firmness under it.

Her mouth fell open. "You... you can’t just tell me—"

"I just did." His gaze was steady, unreadable, like this was nothing more than stating a fact.

She stared at him, torn between bristling and... whatever strange warmth was creeping up her neck.

The TV played on, the couple still lost in their onscreen moment, but his eyes didn’t go back to it.

Her eyes narrowed, but the smirk pulling at her lips was hard to hide.

"Are you... shy?" she asked, voice light, teasing.

At this point, she had long forgotten her self-consciousness about her bare and ugly face.

His gaze flicked to her, flat and cold. "Have you lost your mind?"

That only made her lean in a little, curiosity sparking. "You’ve never kissed a woman before, right?"

The question hung there, playful but almost too direct. She paused halfway through, the corner of her mouth twitching as if the thought had just occurred to her, an epiphany she couldn’t quite keep to herself.

"...No. Actually, that makes sense. You probably haven’t kissed a woman before."

His jaw shifted, subtle but enough to give him away.

The offense was immediate, faint, but there.

It was almost adorable.

She broke into a laugh. Small, but real. The first one since this morning when she’d been flirting with him over the phone.

His eyes narrowed further. "Are you having fun?"

The question landed heavier than she expected, and her laughter thinned out, lingering awkwardly before dying completely. She cleared her throat, glancing back at the screen.

The couple on TV had apparently decided the living room wasn’t enough. Clothes were coming off in messy heaps, furniture getting shoved aside, the sound of overexaggerated moans spilling into the quiet room.

She shifted uncomfortably.

Then his voice came again, steady but with something sharper underneath. "Have you done it?"

Her head turned sharply. "...What?"

Hia gaze didn’t shift. "With a man."

The words were blunt, almost clinical, but the way his eyes stayed locked on hers made her pulse skip anyway.

Her cheeks went hot before she could stop it, her spine stiffening as if sheer will to look unaffected could protect her.

"Why—" she started, voice an octave higher than usual, "why are you asking me that kind of question!?"

He didn’t even blink. "You started it."

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I didn’t—"

"You did," he cut in smoothly, almost lazily. "So answer."

The weight in his tone made her chest tighten. The teasing from before dissolved into something denser, something she could feel pressing at the space between them.

She tore her gaze from him, looking anywhere, anywhere... but his eyes. The plates. The flickering TV. The condensation sliding down a glass bottle.

"That’s none of your business," she muttered, popping open a can of fruit juice and lifting it to her lips.

His gaze lingered on her for a beat too long. Then, with the faintest curl of his mouth, he said, "You’re a virgin."

She was mid-sip when the words landed. Sharp and casual all at once, and the juice caught in her throat. She coughed, nearly spilling it down her front, eyes flying wide. "What... what the hell?!"

"It’s obvious," he replied smoothly, like he’d just commented on the weather.

"Obvious?!" Her voice pitched higher, half disbelief, half outrage. "How is that even... why would you... what’s wrong with you?!"

"The way you look at me," he said simply.

She stared at him as though he’d grown horns. "What? I don’t look at you anyhow! You’re just... oh my god... you’re making this up right now, aren’t you? Is this like... s-some weird power trip for you? Do you get off on saying random crap to see how I react? Because let me tell you—"

Her rant snowballed. Louder, faster, words tripping over each other... until he moved.

No warning. No extra word. Just a slow, deliberate lean forward until his face was right in front of hers.

Her voice cut off instantly. Her lips parted in surprise, her breath stalling when his came warm against her cheek. The room felt smaller. Hotter.

His hand lifted, unhurried, almost lazy, until his fingers brushed her cheek.

Her breath hitched. His thumb swept just under her eye, slow, deliberate, the kind of touch that felt far too personal.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Melting for me."

Her skin burned. She just kept looking at him like he had lost his mind. Or rather, she had lost hers. Because why was she just... there?

He tilted his head, smirk curling at one corner. "Still going to deny you’re not a pervert?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Just a shallow exhale she hoped didn’t sound like a shiver.

The glow of the TV flickered over his face, catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the glint in his eyes. For a heartbeat too long, neither of them moved.

And she realized dangerously that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to move away.

She was the first to break. Her voice came small, almost unsure, as if she wasn’t certain she’d actually spoken aloud.

"Don’t kill me... okay?"

His brows drew together slightly, as if she’d thrown him off balance.

But before he could make something of it, before he could smirk, tease, or cut it down, her hand was already at the back of his neck, warm and firm, pulling him in.

And then her lips were on his.

His eyes widened, startled. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. As if his body hadn’t caught up with the fact that her mouth was on his.

She tilted her head, tentative but stubborn, like she’d decided, and the consequences could go to hell.

She was trembling. And she didn’t know if it was because she was scared he’d push her away... or because she was terrified he wouldn’t.