BBBLAAADEEEE - Blog Posts

from the gaps

── ♡ BLADE

❝ you'll admire him from this distance, even if he doesn't care. even if he doesn't want you to. ❞

for @prtgasluv ♡

Blade is the only man you know who can sit at a luxurious bar lounge with heavy shoulders and crossed arms.

From where you sat on plush red seats, painted under romantic golden hues, you can see the clench of his jaw and the tenseness of his muscles under his formal suit. This is not your first infiltration mission, having become your area of expertise over the years as a Stellaron Hunter. However, it’s your first time being ordered to bar any disguises. The reasoning behind Elio’s scripts hardly makes sense in the present moment, but they always fall into place later. Hence, you coincide when you were informed to discard your usual espionage tools in favour of fancy dressing and minimal makeup. You were grateful for Blade’s presence, at the very least. In case of events going south, he was your safety net in escape.

It is after observing the party attendees that it dawns on you why Elio didn’t insist on any drastic costumes. It is a small-scale event by sponsors of the IPC’s newest project. Sheltered, adult children of esteemed figures who were clouded in a drunken haze and completely unaware of the infamous faces attached to wanted posters on the streets. The scenario is a goldmine for you.

Beside you, you notice Balde’s vermillion gaze fall on the side of your head, and while the neutral frown on his face doesn’t fall, you know from his hardened stare that he is questioning your inactivity. You lean closer to his side when a pair of businessmen pass by you, and you stretch forward to speak in a hushed tone.

“Sorry,” You say, “I just needed some time to look at what I’m working with.”

The most crucial and taxing part of your line of work is observation. Their behaviours, their clothing, and what drinks they hold in their hand for the night are all essential to the personal profile you build of them. It’s how you’re clued in on what angle to approach them from. As you scan the room, your eyes land on a man. He wore a white suit, flashy and not entirely appropriate in the sea of black and blues. He has a small crowd formed around him, and you don’t find yourself surprised. Despite his… overwhelming confidence, he had a charming face and his smile was kind as he seemingly preached to his mini-entourage. With how animated his movements are, you can gauge that likes the sound of his own voice, and that finalises your decision.

“I’ll be back,” Is all you whisper to Blade, who merely raises a brow in response. You pick at any invisible dust from your outfit, before sauntering over in the direction of the mystery man. He doesn’t notice you at first, which works to your benefit as you manage to fit yourself into the group of people passionately listening to what he says. He seemed to be recounting a recent journey to the Edo Star, describing his experience with dramatic pauses as those listening in “oohed” and “aahed”. It’s a bit obnoxious, but you won’t deny the charm he has. He seemed to be a vivacious and humourful person, a rarity amongst a crowd so used to stifling formalities. Handsome to boot too. Yet, your type seemed to align with the exact opposite.

Unconsciously, your turn to spare a glance at Blade, only to find him missing from where you last were. You feel something uncomfortable swirl in the pits of your stomach, but you force your worry away. Blade is a grown man, who can move around whenever he wants. If you both were in danger, he wouldn’t have left without you. You force your attention back to your target ahead. His story seemed to be reaching its conclusion, and you make sure to make the occasional noise in surprise and amazement, louder than the rest of the crowd. You had to grab his interest before he could continue on another story. He finishes off with flair, sending the audience into chatter and comments. It’s your cue.

“What a time you’ve had. I’ve been to Edo Star as well,” You almost shove your way past the front line of people, hands exaggeratedly clasped together. At your words, bluebell eyes meet yours and a pleased smile dons his face.

“Have you, now? It’s such a beautiful place. I almost regret not being born there,” He takes the bait, inciting conversation and you ignore the stares at your back as you move forward. Limiting the physical distance will make the conversation seem one-on-one, drawing away the attention of prying ears. Over the years of studying human behaviour, one thing that remains factual is that humans power on such instinctive little behaviours. Nobody would even realise what you’re trying to achieve here.

“I feel the same way. Of course, I love my hometown but Edo Star can’t be beat when it comes to its ballads.”

“Absolutely! Have you perhaps heard of the classic Idle Sun?”

You nod enthusiastically to his quips, batting your eyes at him as you watch his ego practically inflate under your attention. It’s not long before the conversation has drifted from Edo Star, and the lounge. You manage to move him to the bar counter, and you bite back your smile when you see his drinks pouring in while he broaches on his line of work. You later learn his name is Bartholomew, and his father runs a global business that functions in close relations with the IPC.

“My father,” His words begin to slur, “Keeps hiding his work from me. Even though I’m the heir to our company, he doesn’t allow me to attend any of the meetings. How can he expect me to take over if I do not know the business!”

You sympathetically nod along, dropping a comment about how unfair the situation is to him. He perks up at your affirmation, continuing as his voice picks up a pitch.

“Well, he doesn’t know that I eavesdropped on his last meeting with the IPC,” His voice drops to a hushed whisper and you have to reel in your excitement as you lean closer to hear, your elbow grazing his. He opens his mouth, but immediately closes it and that’s when you notice that he’s not looking at you, but past your shoulder. Confused, you turn only to find Blade standing a few feet away. His arms are crossed in his usual position, and his jaw is set.

Blade is not a man made to be understood, but you like to believe that your doomed affection for him helps you pick up on his subtle behaviours. While all seems normal, he is missing his usual blank stare. His ruby eyes, normally dulled, have a gleam to them that you can’t decipher. Beside you, the young man purses his lips.

“Do you know him?” He asks you and you aren’t sure who you are more annoyed at; Blade for unabashedly blowing your cover, or your target who is still painfully observant despite the amount of drinks on him. Before you can conjure up an excuse, a melody breaks the tense atmosphere and the room is caught up by the orchestra stationed at centre stage.

“Oh, a dance,” You point out with a weak laugh. There is a pregnant pause before Bartholomew extends his hand. With a second’s worth of apprehension and a distracted glance at Blade, you take his offer and allow yourself to be pulled into the consonance of the music. Maybe after this dance, you can still recover your chances of sleuthing more information from him later. Thus, you tolerate his hand in yours as you disinterestedly sway to his movement. Thankfully, your dance partner hasn’t picked up on your ambivalence, his attention diverting from you to the orchestra and to another pretty lady at the lounge. If this had been a real date, you would have abandoned the ship by now.

There is a sudden shift Bartholomew freezes as if he had been shocked. At his sudden jerk, you almost trip on your feet, but recover only to find Blade behind him, a heavy hand on his shoulder and a look of deep disinterest marring his features.

"I believe it’s my dance,” Simple words are matched with a frosty tone, and you’ve only heard Blade speak like this to his adversaries. Bartholomew’s face goes pale before his cheeks flush a tinge of pink, as if caught in a compromising position.

“M-my apologies,” He stammers, unlike his usual demeanour, “I hadn’t realised you were already courted.”

What?

Before you can recover from your surprise, Bartholomew has already rushed away from the dance floor, successfully making his escape through the sea of bodies. You watch his disappearing back with wide eyes before you sharply turn to Blade who looks on as if he’s completely uninvolved from the scene.

“What the hell was that?” You splutter indignantly, but further complaints die at your throat when he takes your hand, pulling you close to him as his other falls on your lower back. You think you stopped breathing when he leans in close, his nose almost grazing your neck as he harshly mutters in your ear.

“Silence. You are drawing attention,” In this position, an outsider would think it’s a passionate embrace between two lovers. In reality, you feel like ice has been poured on you from the suddenness of it all. What reason would he have interfering with your mission, ones you’ve been doing almost your entire life? A hopeless part of you entertains the idea that perhaps there is a deeper meaning to Blade’s sudden intervention. That his stalking around, that his glare, that his distaste towards Bartholomew could have been jealousy. It felt like a small spark of hope, but your focus landed on the new presence of a guard and commander in the room, wandering around the lounge and speaking to different people. Blade didn’t intervene because he was jealous. He was attempting to warn you. You felt so small and insignificant in his arms.

“We have to get out before they reach here,” You hiss, refusing to meet his eyes in case he notices the tremble of your lower lip. He doesn’t respond and you let the gears in your head turn as you subtly look around the room. You spy an elevator a little ways away, the path leading towards it wide-open. It’d be an effective, temporary escape, but the guards on patrol would notice conspicuous people attempting to leave the lower floor. You survey the mass of people around you, finding that if you manage to sneak behind the orchestra, you’d have enough time to be securely inside the elevator before anyone can make chase of the both of you. You repeat your plan to him in a low voice, and he only grumbles in agreement. Suddenly, Blade drifts you closer to the centre of the floor, and you're caught up in the surprise that he knows how to dance. His movements are fluid, almost like second nature and it serves as another reminder that you don’t really know Blade, and there is an abyss that makes up the distance between the both of you. However, you refuse to let your heart be broken in the middle of a critical moment, and you attempt to follow his speed as he cooly weaves between drunken adults.

Just as you inch closer to your agreed escape point, you are suddenly tripped, and you cannot conceal your yelp when you feel Blade’s hand on your back shift to hug around your waist, your upper half tilted closer to the ground. That’s when you realise Blade dipped you, and you only stare up at him incredulously while he rewards you with blank eyes. The longer strands of his hair graze your face and you think if you could reach up just a little more, lips can touch. It feels so intimate, and you can’t understand the pit in your stomach that wanted you to pull him closer, and shove him away. You banish the thought quickly when he finally lifts you back in your standing position and that’s when you take note of the guard who had been eyeing you suspiciously. He must have found it odd that you and Blade were moving around so much and so quickly. Another near save.

You hadn’t realised you’d been gripping Blade’s arm until he shrugs and you sheepishly let go with a mindless apology, but he pays you no mind. With the guard gone, your exit is wide and clear and that’s all it takes for you both to step over, before breaking into a run. You almost crash into the back wall of the elevator while Blade swiftly presses the doors shut, shunning the yells of “It’s them!” and the shocked gasps of the audience. However, by the time they catch the next cart up, you and he would have long since disappeared into the night.

“Such an annoying night,” You begin, breaking the terse silence of the quiet ride up, “All of that and I didn’t get any valuable intel.”

Blade has his back to you, not a word uttered from him and you wonder if he’s even listening to your complaints until he speaks.

“I found all the needed information,” He states simply and you wonder just how many surprises he has in store for you tonight.

“You… do?” You question, suspect. You try to imagine the sight of him wandering around and socialising with people, merrily.

“There was a girl, and she spoke of it. I was passing by,” He keeps his version of events curt, and you sigh in relief that the mission did go as planned, just at the expense of your wasted effort. Your mind wanders to the dance, and the feeling of his strong arms around you. How for that split second, you could his every eyelash and see the colour of his lips. You hide the shaking of your hand behind your back, releasing a puff of air. The bell chimes and the elevator doors slide open, and you both begin swiftly traversing through the empty floor before security has time to catch up.

“Say,” You begin, huffing through the exertion. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

He does not lose his momentum, but there is a long pause. You’ve come to realise that Blade is someone who likes to take his time before he speaks, thinking carefully over the sparing words he uses. Now, however, the stretch is too long and you begin to worry you have poached a forbidden subject. The syllables of his name leave your lips in concern and he finally replies shortly.

“From someone, a long time ago,” From where you were, you could see his jaw clench and shoulders tighten. “It is not worth remembering.”

You don’t push the conversation further, silently following after Blade with your matching footsteps echoing through the halls. You watch his skin catch the glint of the moonlight from an open window, and you can’t help but think he almost looks like he’s made of porcelain under the shine of the night. Such an odd descriptor for a hardened man like him, but sometimes you feel as if it were possible. That one day if he’s pushed far enough, he too will break. For now, while he is still intact, you admire his beauty and ignore the wild thumping of your heart. You will take what you can from him, even from this distance.