My HSR Oc Is A Medic So This Is So - Blog Posts

half return - Kafka x Reader

1051 words | no warnings | BELOW THE CUT!!!

note: this one is just a short imagine I had for a half-baked idea

“You seem lost.” From between her lips, a puff of smoke is exhaled, and the cigarette is offered to you– enticing, yet with heavy consequences should you take it. Though, considering your current company, you fear you might be too far gone to care for consequence. You take it, pressing it against your own mouth. The taste of Kafka’s lipstick is bitter, an unknown flavor, but distinct. 

“I don’t understand why you had to do it.” 

“Elio said it had to, so it had to. I would’ve thought you’d been able to piece it together by now.” 

“Did you have to abandon her?” 

She falls silent at the question. Instead, Kafka leans forward on the railing of the balcony, fetching another cigarette from her pocket. Above you, the hotel’s balcony is covered by an awning–the only thing keeping you both dry from the rain. It falls fast to the street several dozen floors below, and the distance seems to call to you. 

“Destiny’s Slave said it had to be.” 

With a click, she lights the cigarette. 

“I wish you hadn’t done it.” 

“I wish I hadn’t either.” 

You wondered how Stelle must’ve felt. You wondered for hours, pacing the hotel room waiting for Kafka to return from Herta Space Station. Silver Wolf stopped by every half hour, at first out of duty, and then out of genuine worry that you might’ve been on the verge of causing harm to someone. 

Was she afraid? She’d have no memories, you were told. Everything you’d ever done with her cumulated to nothing but the set up for a pawn to be used by Elio’s great future. Kafka had done her part, certainly, and she was the girl’s favorite. But you loved her. You loved her so much, as if she were made from your very skin and you only felt nauseous imagining how scared she’d feel when she woke up with a Stellaron deep inside her. 

Beside you, Kafka tries to gently settle her hand on your shoulder. It’s shrugged off quickly.

“Don’t touch me.” 

“You know the rules. So do I.” 

“I begged Elio. I begged him not to let this happen, not to let her go.” 

“You know just as well as I do how stubborn he can be. The script says she’ll find her way back to us, some day.” 

“You can’t be alright with this.” 

She exhales, smoke rising into the air. 

“I only do what I’m told.” Then, she turns, with something of a sly grin. “And with some harmless fun on the side to pass the time.” 

The joke isn’t funny. She must know it, but times must be desperate considering you’ve shrugged off every invitation for intimacy since Elio showed you the script. Kafka didn’t need to agree to this, and yet she did. She chose to be the one to abandon the child you practically raised together. 

“I miss her. I miss her so much.” 

“Give it time, dear. She’s strong. She’ll get into trouble, but nothing she can’t get out of.” Her hand guides your face towards hers– and you let her. Even when she sounds somber, her face betrays nothing. It’s the way she’s always been. Is she grieving too? Or does she lack anything beneath that pretty face?

“She’ll be back. So, why don’t we enjoy this temporary time alone, hm? Relax a bit.” Kafka plants her lips against your cheek, then against your jaw, and further into the crook of your neck. As much as you’d like to pretend there’s passion in it, you can’t tell her true intentions. Is it boredom that draws her to you? 

In her spare hand, the cigarette continues to burn. You jerk away, and she pauses, pulling back by only a fraction. A cool breath is blown onto the newly forming bruises, but you put the sensation out of mind. It’s a method of distraction, and only that. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” You mock. “Stop acting like this isn’t… like you didn’t just leave my kid.” 

Kafka has enough sense to withdraw at least, and an uncomfortable gap grows between you two. The rain is cold, and the thin sweater you’d put on does little against the wind. You knew what would happen today, and yet nothing could’ve prepared you for the sinking dread of knowing it had truly happened. The reality is always harsher than the expectation.

Stelle wasn’t yours in any traditional way. But you taught her what she knew. You told her stories, you brushed her hair, you mended her clothes when she returned from a mission. 

“Kafka,” you begin carefully, “I don’t think I’m staying with the Stellaron Hunters.” 

Nothing is said. Her cigarette returns to her lips.

“I have to know she’s alright.” 

“You have a bounty, you know.” She reminds you. 

“And?” 

“It’d mean a lot of trouble if the IPC picked you up. Don’t put Bladie and I through the hassle of getting you back.” 

Between your fingers, you twirl the cigarette she gave you. Then, you drop it over the side of the balcony. You lose sight of it quickly, and you don’t care to search for it as you turn around to face the glass door. Kafka doesn’t stop you as you slide it back, and pause at the threshold.

“Elio’s script doesn’t need me, does it?” 

The pause is all you need to know. You step through the door, back into the cold dark hotel room. Kafka watches from the balcony as you gather your things, the only sound being that of the rain falling outside. Once your things are packed neatly, you place down the burner phone Silver Wolf provided you at the beginning of the mission. It sits on the bed like flowers over a grave. 

You never were that much of a Stellaron Hunter. Not like the others. Your specialties were only needed to ensure no one died of infection or malnutrition– but medicinal expertise was a common commodity these days, and they’d find a workaround easily. 

Turning back to the balcony door, you meet her eyes. Goodbye isn’t as hard as you expected it to be. Was that how she felt? 

“I’ll see you. Eventually.” You say, before slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door. 

“Eventually.” Kafka sighs.