"TAKE THREE BREATHS."



SAM FANART BY WWSIPFR. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK!

warnings; slight sexual content



The words that Mathew said weighed so heavily on your mind, you had to go to the library just to find some peace. Some place quiet where you could sort out your thoughts. Luckily, it seemed to help.

You wrote all your thoughts down on a random piece of paper inside your bag. It was a whole jumbled mess of words, but at least it helped you get all your feelings out, and you felt better by the end of it.

You had a plan. When you got home, you'd ask him right away, and not beat around the bush to find a "right" time. You doubt there would ever be a right time to have the conversation you wanted to have with him. It was going to be difficult no matter how hard you planned for it, no matter if you found the "right" time.

Getting on the bus home, you avoided asking Google to help you. You didn't want to see all the online articles and forums about cheating, not when you didn't even know if he was cheating yet. Online searching for answers wouldn't give you what you wanted. The one who knew what you wanted the best was you. No one else could read your mind but yourself.

He had to be home by now, right? You had been out for a couple hours and he usually always liked to be home when you got home from being out for a long time. Of course, he didn't know you skipped your lecture, but you were out a long time nonetheless.

But of course, Kieran wasn't home yet when you arrived.

The car was still gone and the inside was eerily quiet, a soft snow starting to flurry down outside. You kicked your shoes off by the door and peeled off your socks, tossing them into the laundry room to be washed later.

You didn't like it. The silence. Being by yourself only made your thoughts go rampant, and that also meant your anxiety. Small intrusive whispers started to pop up in the back of your mind. Poisonous thoughts that was making you lose the confidence you gained earlier.

So much for having a plan. Now you didn't even want to go through with it anymore. Him not being home right when you got home seemed to set your whole life off the rails.

Damn it!

You cleaned to distract yourself. You wiped down the counters that didn't need to be wiped down, you vacuumed the rug that was spotless, you even went as far as to clean dishes that were already put away. Anything. You'd do anything to stop thinking, to keep your attitude that you had earlier, the confidence to do anything.

But what if he says yes?

You scrubbed the plate harder. Knowing very well the thoughts would only worsen if you pushed them away, you decided to challenge it.

Okay, what would happen if he did say yes? You would have to leave him. You'd have to save up money, divorce him, find somewhere else, and leave. The conclusion made your heart pound faster and your lungs squeezed out all the air they had. You didn't want that, no partner would want that, but if he said yes—you'd have to do it.

More thoughts swarmed your mind.

What if he tells you he's in a gang?

Fuck. What would you do? It was hard imagining a scenario for something like that, which seemed so unlike Kieran to do. But that would explain the cuts, the weird times he was leaving, the busted knuckles, the phone calls. What would you do? Call the cops?

Yes, of course I'd call the cops! Don't be stupid! you quickly chastised yourself. Even if you loved Kieran, he'd be safer in prison than he would be out on the streets. Plus if he was in a gang, wouldn't that mean drug trafficking? You scoffed. No way Kieran did drugs. You doubted he even sold them. He wasn't that immature.

He could be.

He wasn't! No way!

You gently tossed the plate to the side and it clattered against the counter. This wasn't helping at all. Pushing the thoughts away, countering them, it didn't make your anxiety feel any less strong than it did from before. In fact, you felt even more anxious! Thinking about divorcing Kieran, or worse, reporting him to the police, it made you want to throw up.

What about Mr. Morosov?

You stopped and leaned over the sink, hanging your head low. Maybe Mathew was right and it was all about his father. From what you knew, his father was a kind and gentle man, at least that was how he seemed at your wedding. But you didn't know how he was in private with Kieran. You knew very little about his parents, especially his mother. Kieran always looked closer with his father than he did his mother.

If all of this was because of his father, you'd have to do something.

You couldn't pull the reason of it being his family matters because you were now apart of his family. You took Kieran's last name. His family business was also your family business, you took that weight and responsibility the moment he put the ring on your finger and said "I do".

You dried off the now extra clean plate and put it away. You started to pace around the kitchen, glancing at the front door with apprehension.

You made your decision. Today was the day you'd finally ask Kieran all the questions you wanted to ask him, you'd share how you were feeling, and you'd listen to whatever answer he gave you. Even if that meant being hurt in the process. Steeling yourself, you leaned against the counter and chewed on the edge of your thumb.

Just because it could be something bad didn't mean it had to be. Maybe it was nothing! Maybe you were just overreacting!

It was funny that you were relying on the words of a stranger to help you have confidence. Any normal wife would be able to confront her husband and not have a huge meltdown beforehand, but here you were, on the verge of throwing a fit just because you imagined your husband cheating on you. Maybe you were just stupid.

You paused when you heard the crackle of rolling tires. Glancing out the window, your blood went cold when you saw the car pull up the driveway. You shakily fumbled to put your hands somewhere; at your sides, in your pockets, on the counter.

Wait, why were you trying to look natural? It wasn't like you did anything wrong.

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. The world started spinning extra slow and the clock on the wall was nonexistent. Your senses picked up and everything seemed far too loud.

The car door slammed shut. Footsteps walked up the porch. The doorknob slowly turned.

He walked through the door with arms full of groceries. Snow speckled his black hair, his knuckles were a faded red, and his shirt was broken. Buttons were missing and his tattooed chest peaked out. He kicked the door shut behind him and placed all the bags down. Your mind went numb but for some reason, your anxiety melded into extreme exhaustion.

Another day. Another night. Another weird situation of him coming home looking like he fought a bear to get inside.

You had so many questions but when you opened your mouth to ask, they all retreated behind your teeth. Was he cheating? Or was he in a dangerous situation? His knuckles were a faded red, and obviously he washed them to try and hide it, but he didn't look hurt. More like he hurt someone else. You hadn't a clue what to think anymore. Some days you thought he was cheating, some days you thought he was in a gang, some days you thought he was in both.

Maybe you just didn't know who he was anymore.

You still didn't know who was Sam was. Kieran hadn't mentioned a thing and his lips were zipped shut. Sam, his possible mistress, could she be getting into fights with him? Maybe you're too much of a pacifist for him? You were aware that he was a violent person, only he wasn't violent around you, and he was better than what he was compared to when he was in high school.

No way he was beating the woman. Kieran was violent, but he wasn't an abuser. He was only violent with people who deserved it.

Why were you even thinking of him in that light?

"Котик, can you help me put these away real quick?" he hummed.

You leaned against the doorway. Staring at his clothes, you opened your mouth for the second time, but what you wanted to ask didn't come out. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed a smudge of red on his shirt. Was it blood? Or lipstick? Mathew popped into the back of your mind.

All of this could also be his father's doing. Mathew didn't think he was cheating on you, and you had faith that that wasn't the case. Mathew seemed to know Kieran a lot more than you did; the thought made you feel a tad bit bitter.

"Hm?" he turned around when you didn't answer, tilting his head with a worried smile. "What's wrong?"

Before you could respond, he turned away to start putting things away, waiting for you to spill yourself to him. Your head thudded against the doorway and you closed your eyes. Everyone had their breaking point, and now that you were finally at yours, you finally understood why people said it felt like they were falling.

Ask him.

Do it.

You said you'd do it, so do it.

Stop procrastinating.

Just ask him.

Stop being a coward.

Do it.

"Kieran," you mumbled.

"Yes?" he responded, putting away a box of cereal in the cabinet.

"...are you cheating on me?"

A single action could change the course of someone's life. A single question could shift the way someone perceives reality. In that moment, when you saw Kieran stop in time, you were convinced that your heart wouldn't be the same. When you first thought about asking such a question, you were scared of what the outcome would be. However, now, you realized just how much exhaustion could wear down dread.

You felt relieved. So so relieved. Your knees almost buckled underneath you the moment the words slipped from your mouth.

He slowly looked back. His eyes were the size of saucer plates, his lips parted. "I—What?"

"...are you cheating on me, Kieran?"

You swore you saw yourself shatter in the reflection of his eyes. Like smashed glass with a baseball bat, his visage crumbled into something gut wrenching. You couldn't say what he felt was guilty, you couldn't read his expression enough to tell, but that look he had made your heart sink even further. As if he knew something that he would never share.

"No, I—no, (Y/N), I am not cheating on you," he answered. Placing down the next box of cereal, he swiveled around to face you fully and reached out to touch you. "Why would you think that? Is—is it because I haven't gone out on a date with you recently? I can—I can change my schedule. You and I can head out right now and—"

You pulled away from him. Everything was in slow motion; his hands, your thoughts, your emotions. He flinched when he saw you avoid his touch, his bottom lip suddenly threatening to wobble with each intake of breath.

"No, I..." your brows furrowed, voice cracking. "I don't want to go on a date, Keiran. I want you to tell me what is going on."

"...I don't know–"

"You do!"

He jumped back. It was like time rewound the moment he looked away. That game you always played with yourself, taking three gulps of breath, suddenly felt suffocating. Three breaths. Take three breaths. Your throat was swollen with curses and insults, eyes blinded with searing hot tears, and bones weary of the weight. You were rushed by pain.

"Stop acting like you don't know because you do, okay?! Kieran, I am done! I am DONE with you disappearing at odd hours, leaving our bed cold, and throwing me in the trash like our marriage isn't important anymore! What is sooo important that you have to answer phone calls every fucking time?!"

He was speechless. His green eyes were glassy with what you presumed to be tears, but through your own waterworks, you couldn't tell what was what anymore. He reached out again and you slapped his hand away. "(Y/N), I—"

"Is–Is it because I haven't fucked you yet?! Because I am sorry! Sorry that I don't need to have sex to be in love with you, sorry that the idea of intimacy fucking terrifies me!" you shouted, your voice filling up the silence of the entire house. "Or is it something else?! Have you just given up on us? I know I'm not a perfect wife, but I am trying! It's hard to be perfect when my husband doesn't even care enough to tell me about his work, or his day, or his life!"

Kieran ran his hand through his hair and stammered to say something to make up for it. Maybe it was another sorry, another feign of ignorance, or a blame to push your way. When he didn't speak, your heart oozed from your lips and painted your tongue red with heartache. You lashed out at him again.

"Do you know what it's like to go to bed every night in a cold bed? I sleep, you're not there! I wake up, you're not there! You come home with busted knuckles and cuts, you avoid answering any of my questions. Like, what can I do?"

The house was dead silent. You swore the crickets outside stopped their songs to listen in on your screaming. Kieran was rubbing at his face, his teeth chewing on his lips until it got raw. When he lowered his hands, you saw the tears that clung to his eyelashes. Kieran was never a man who never seemed to weep, the last time you saw him cry was on your wedding day.

He took a deep breath and his shaky hands took yours. They were cold from outside. "You, (Y/N), are my everything. I need you to understand that. I would do anything you asked, I would hurt anyone who hurt you. I would kill someone if you told me too. I love you. I love you so much."

Your expression hardened. As much as you adored him, loved his every breath and touch, you couldn't deny the hurt that brewed under your skin. "Then tell me. Are you cheating on me?"

"No, never."

"Then what is it?"

He hesitated.

A single question could change everything... just like a single answer could redirect every emotion into something else. His response told you everything you needed to know. Sure, he wasn't cheating on you, but he didn't trust you enough to share something else. Something so important it tested the strength of your marriage and his commitment to it. Maybe Mathew was right.

You pulled your hands away and this time, you didn't let him hold them again.

How you longed to hold him. You wanted him to tell you every trouble he had inside that beautiful head of his. You wished to comfort him with the things he was so caught up on. You wanted to wipe away his tears and cherish him with all the love you had. But he was the one not sharing now. You did your part, you asked the question, and now you had another problem on your plate. If he wasn't cheating, he was doing something else.

It had to be something dangerous based off what Mathew told you. He looked like he was honest about not cheating, but that only meant he was doing something equally bad if he wasn't willing to share.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Sniffling, your bottom lip wobbled, and all you wanted to do was wail. To punch the wall, to throw something, but all you were left was an exhausted body with an equally exhausted mind.

"...are you in a gang?" you asked, listing off all the things you've thought of before. "Are you in debt with something? are you beating people up?"

Kieran bit his lip. "No, my Котик. I'm not in a gang."

"Are you—are you having issues with something?" you whispered, voice cracking when you started to run out of questions. He was going to say no to every single one of them, wasn't he? "Is someone harassing you?"

Your mind flickered to what Mathew told you. His father. That had to be it. There had to be something with his family going on.

Kieran shuffled on his feet and he reached out. His fingers wrapped around yours and he pulled them close to his lips, kissing your knuckles, whispering desperate words he couldn't finish. "I—I..."

"Is it your father?" you asked, making Kieran stiffen up like a board. You swore his eyes darkened.

So that's what it is.

The relief was so strong that you swore your knees almost buckled underneath you. He wasn't cheating. He still loved you. My shoulders sagged and your fingers flexed out to brush against his lips, noticing that they were dry and cold from the weather outside. His breath was hot.

Why did he look scared? He stared at you through his lashes, his green eyes sparked with this emotion that could only be horror. Your stomach twisted into knots.

"Tell me," you said. "I'll listen."

Kieran ripped his hands away and rubbed his face. Your heart shattered when you saw how bad he was shaking. He wiped the tears from his eyes but they were quickly replaced. His breathing wasn't steady like it always was, it was shaky, and there was a tremor between his fingers.

He started to stammer. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he peered at you through the gaps of his fingers. He looked so pained. As if someone was actively ripping his heart from his chest, he was finally sharing the truth behind all his weird behavior.

"...yes, it's my father," he croaked. "He has been... talking about his business lately. And has been dragging me into it."

It had to do with Mr. Morosov. But how? And why? His father was a kind man from what you saw, but appearances weren't always what they seemed. You bristled underneath. No one could hurt Kieran. No one could drag him through the mud like this. You didn't care if it was his father, mother, or fucking Jesus Christ himself.

Maybe it was because you saw yourself in Kieran now. Your father always pushed his business on you, even now he did, talking about an heir and successor. You stepped forward and reached up to cup his cheeks, prying his hands away so you could see his face.

Dear heavens, he looked so vulnerable.

"It's okay, I'm right here. So your father is in the States? Is that why you've been leaving and staying away from the house all the time?" you asked.

He leaned into your touch and shuddered. Strands of his hair tickled your hand, pooling down his shoulders as his low bun came undone. "No, but he... brought his business into the States, and has asked me to, well, work for him. But it's a harsh business. And—"

"Do you have to beat people up?" you asked, eyes flickering to his bloody knuckles when he held your hand close to his face. "And all the cuts, scuffed up clothing?"

He frowned. "...yes."

"What is it?"

Kieran stepped close to you and he bent his head down, resting his forehead against your shoulder, leaning into you for comfort. "Bodyguard business... the reason I've been leaving is because of that. I just—I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be worried, and we need the extra money."

You were frustrated with him, and worried for sure, but you felt more relieved than anything. Now that you knew what was going on, you felt as if you could tackle anything. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him.

But relief didn't shake this feeling you had. While you trusted him, you had this gut feeling that he was still hiding something else. Something was wrong and you knew it. But what was it? It felt as if you were forgetting something, as if there was a question you should be asking. You bit your bottom lip.

"Is that all?" you asked, hoping he'd be able to shake this nagging thought in your head. "Are you in any more dangerous things?"

He leaned back and looked you in the eye. He pressed his forehead against yours and sighed, shaking his head softly. "I've told you everything, Котик. I swear."

He was lying. He had always been such a good liar, he had such a good poker face, but you could feel something was off. His fingers brushed away your stray tears, rubbing your damp mascara off on his fingertips. He was gentle and avoided smearing your makeup. He kissed your forehead and you melted.

You'd have to figure out what he was hiding later. Now wasn't the time, he wasn't going to share it no matter how hard you pried, that was clear.

You were caught off guard when he hugged you again, almost tackling you.

"H—Hey! Kieran!"

His hug was crushing. He nuzzled into your hair and inhaled, sighing roughly, squeezing you as close as he possibly can. You shifted away but he was quick to maneuver you. His lips landed on yours in a passionate, loving, yet heated kiss. It was searing. Your face warmed when his tongue brushed across your lip. The world seemed to melt when he continued to kiss you after that, deepening it further, leaving you breathless.

It was as if his personality did a major switch. One moment he was shaking and hiding his face behind his hands, now he was pushing you up against the wall and kissing you. Your brain quickly tried to catch up with his actions.

He was pouring all his love for you into his actions. His fingers grazed under the hem of your shirt and slipped underneath, massaging the skin of your waist and sides. His knee slid between your legs. You don't know how it ended up like this, but your back was against the wall, and his lips were suddenly on your neck.

"Kieran!"

He kissed your neck harshly. Sucking a small hickey on your shoulder, he slowly moved up, adding more and more until your neck looked abused. He kissed your ear and you shivered, whimpering when he teasingly bit at the shell.

His lips were hot against your skin. "Котик, I don't know why you'd think this... but I would never cheat on you, understand? I'd kill anyone who dared approach me under the assumption that I'd be with them over you. The idea of kissing, touching, fucking anyone but you makes me sick."

Holy fuck.

"I don't need to rail you to love you, Котик. I want to stay with you regardless. Of course, I won't deny... that sometimes I crave to bend you over and see what noises you can make, but I don't need that. I want it, but I can live without it, if that's what you want."

His fingers slipped under the back of your bra strap. He didn't undo it, he simply rest it there. It wasn't like he hasn't groped you before (even if it was over fabric), but this time it felt different. It felt like his hands were made out of lava. Your brain was fuzzy because of his kiss and all the hickeys he left.

This wasn't the time. You needed to brainstorm, to figure out ways to find out what he was hiding, but it was so hard to think. You couldn't push him away.

You weren't sure you wanted too.

"I can't live without you," he confessed. He started to grind his knee between your legs, making you gasp. His eyes darkened. "I would be miserable without you. You complete me."

It was hard to think straight when he was speaking and acting like this. His thumbs squished your cheeks, and then brushed your salty tears away. His eyelashes were still damp with waterworks and he looked tired, but he looked so adoring. But also so needy. His cheeks were a little red and his throat bobbed each time he gulped.

He looked like he was wanting to eat you alive. Your body shivered.

"And you can't live without me, can you? You won't ever leave me, right?"

You shook your head. Without him? You couldn't a life without him in it, that's why it was so painful to think of him cheating. As you told yourself every time you saw him, you truly did adore him. You loved him with all your heart. You've loved him ever since you started dating him all those years ago.

He grinned and nuzzled into you, burrowing his face into the side of the neck to pepper it with light kisses. "Yeah? You sure?"

You nodded.

"Good. Even if you wanted to leave me, I wouldn't allow it. You're mine forever."

Any normal person would have realized how possessive that was. However, Kieran had always been like that, ever since you two first started dating. Hearing him say those things were a relief. Your bottom lip wobbled and tears burned again. He loved you. He didn't desert you.

"I'm sorry," you choked, "I'm sorry I yelled at you and doubted you. I'm—I'm sorry."

Knowing he wasn't sleeping with another woman, knowing he still wanted you, it made you want to hug him even tighter. He leaned into you even more, almost crushing you against the wall with his size. His arms wrapped around you and he pulled every so slightly on your hair, not enough to hurt, to see your neck again.

"It's alright, I forgive you. Mm..." he kissed your neck again, "but I'm going to have to stop, Котик. I don't want to get to into the moment and do something that you don't want, okay?"

His hands cupped your face. Your heart swelled when he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead. It was so gentle. He brushed away your tears again and he smiled.

"You look so pretty," he whispered, "your neck covered in my hickies. What do you think? Hm?"

Your face blazed. Avoiding eye contact, you didn't see his sweet smile turn into a wicked grin, his expression darkened a tad bit. He gently curled his finder under your chin to turn your eyes back to him. His gaze was pools of liquid emerald and jade.

"...do you like it?" he asked again, leaned in closer. His lips barely brushed yours.

He knew how to make you melt and this was surely doing the trick. His eyes flickered between yours and your lips, pulling back ever so slightly when you leaned in, teasing you. His smile grew and a chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"I asked you a question, Котик."

Your nose scrunched up. "...yes."

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "Mm, I don't think I heard you."

"You heard me fine."

His eyes sparked. "I want to hear you say it again."

He was going to be the death of you. With his charming words, his perfect voice, and his dazzling looks; you were a dead girl walking. You grumbled a retort and he kissed you in response, this one much more slow and passionate than before. He hummed against your lips before he pulled away.

He stared at you intently. You couldn't read what he was thinking so you stared back, almost as if you two were having a staring contest.

"...my love, such horrible timing, but I have a question."

You paused. Out of the blue?

His grip tightened on you and he pulled you closer. "How did you realize my father was causing me so much stress? Of course, I understand your worry, and I'd never want to worry you—but I'm just worried is all. Did my father contact you?"

How funny that everything you felt before came rushing back. That feeling of suspicion arose and you paused, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Why was he worried? His father wasn't that bad of a man, right? Or maybe this had to do with what he was hiding.

No matter the reason, there was no way in hell you were going to snitch on Mathew. After all, he came to you first to talk about Kieran, and promised he wouldn't share your feelings on that matter to him either. If only you could speak to him now. He'd be able to give you some hindsight and help on the Mr. Morosov information that was just poured out to you.

As long as Mathew keeps his word, I won't snitch on him either. He seemed to truly care about Kieran.

"Hm?" Kieran tilted his head.

"Oh! Well it was just a stab in the dark," you lied, pulling away from him slightly. "I've been thinking about my father a lately, and how he stressed me out, and so I thought that maybe your parents were back in the States again and stressing you out. Heh, uhm, you know."

Kieran stared at you. A shiver shot down your spine His lip twitched but before you could question it, he was smiling ear to ear, pushing back a stray hair from your face. Maybe you saw wrong, but for a split second, he looked different.

"Ah, I see," he moved to hold my hands and squeezed them. "Of course you'd realize, you know how it feels to be stressed by your father's work. I'm sorry I didn't realize how stressed you were, my love."

You smiled. Why do I feel uneasy?

"Kieran, I don't expect you to read my mind. All I expect is for you to be honest with me and to trust me enough to lean on me when you need it."

He shuffled on his feet and lowered his head. He almost looked like a kicked puppy, the way he avoided your eyes. "...I'm sorry. I—I was going to tell you, but—"

You squeezed his hands as tight as you could. Maybe it was wrong of you to butt in to what he was saying, but you didn't have the energy to continue the conversation anymore. You wanted to lay down and take a five hour nap without waking up once. Your eyelids were tired, you were relieved and concerned at the same time, and your mind still wouldn't stop racing.

It wouldn't be mature to have a conversation when you were like this. That was just asking for an argument or misunderstanding to break out.

Now that you knew he wasn't cheating and he was worried about his father, it was one more step to finding out what else was happening with him.

"I forgive you. Now, before we both start crying again, we can put these groceries up, okay?"

He lit up when he heard you forgave him. It was as if he no longer had any problems, making you pause. He seemed awfully chipper for someone who just spilled their guts out about doing work for their father that they didn't like. He didn't even seem tired after crying.

"Okay," he turned on his beak and grabbed the milk to put it in the fridge, "so we're good?"

"We're good."

Your eyes zeroed on the speck of red on his sleeve. How jarring that it was blood. And just like that, you were even more unsettled. But after a day like this, and a conversation (explosion?) like that, you knew you had to do something other than sit by.

You needed the truth. Whatever Kieran was hiding, you'd have to find out what it was. Shame bubbled up but you quickly pushed it away; there was no reason for you to feel that way anymore. Mathew told you that how you were acting was reasonable and you had enough proof that screamed you needed to step in.

Your eyes narrowed on the back of Kieran's head. Even if it broke his trust in you, coming home with bloody clothes and knuckles was the breaking point. You didn't want to play detective and sneak into his things, but you knew you'd have to go behind his back for this one.

Your marriage depended on it.