It's so inconvenient. Normally I don't mind crying, it's better to just get it out of the way, but not like this. The blurriness impairs my vision and is making me take longer. It's the same reason I didn't want Clover to see me cry. I can't waste time, I can't answer questions, I just need to move as fast as possible before the police get here and take me back.

At least I had a good five years. Five years of flowers and pets and life. I'm not particularly scared of prison. I'm scared of losing everything. I guess it was inevitable with an ability like mine. I'll never have a normal life.

I wipe at my face and try to stop the tears but it's no use. I was already so upset about losing everything that's made my life worth it. Then he just had to go and make me kill one of the most sacred things to me. Flowers are everything. I can keep them alive. I'm supposed to keep them alive. They trust me to keep them alive.

I walk through my apartment and directly to my fishes' bedroom.

I can't think of anyone who could take them in. Definitely not Delta. My best bet is probably to just take them to a pet store. If I even make it that far. I guess it's worth a shot, I hope I can find one with enough vacancies.

I cover my hands and my forearms, though I'd wear more if I wasn't in such a haste just to be safe. I grab some containers and my small net and get ready to fish them out of their tanks.

Franny and Octavious never even got to make up. They'll never get to swim together again. I'm sure when I take them away from each other they will be so sad they left on such bad terms. And there's nothing I can do about it.

I catch Franny first and immediately fill my smaller container with water. I then move her into her new temporary home.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her, voice cracking. I begin to twist the lid shut with shaky hands, and that's when I hear a noise.

Footsteps. Heavy, probably belonging to a decent sized person. I hear them walk through my apartment and cross my living room. I hear him come upon the fish room, I even hear him enter, but I'm too busy to be dealing with a stranger in my house. Kind of. I'm assuming it's Clover, but still, we've only met once before this and it ended with me stabbing him. How did he even get in here?

"...Sunny?"

I still don't answer him. I just don't want to. Sorry that I don't want to have casual conversation with Solace's golden boy who is about to take me to prison and be congratulated for god knows how long afterward. Like he wasn't already loved enough, when he brings me in his reputation will increase tenfold. If that's even possible.

I sniffle, wiping at my face to keep my vision clear so I can focus on packing up my fish.

"Sunny, are you crying?"

Right. I think crying is one of those things I'm supposed to be embarrassed about. One of the things I'm supposed to hide. It makes other people uncomfortable. Except, my emotional regulation hasn't improved much since I was child due to my strange development. I don't care, I'll cry in front of anyone. Sorry for being sad? The only time I try to hide it is when I'm on a time crunch, like now, or near someone who may try to physically comfort me. If he didn't want me to cry then maybe he shouldn't threaten to take away everything that makes me happy.

Not threaten. That's right. It's not a vague threat, this is real law enforcement. He's taking me in today. Maybe I could convince him to take the fish to pet stores for me if I don't have enough time. I doubt he will say yes, but it's worth a shot.

"Yes," I respond simply, wiping at my face again since saying it aloud does not help at all.

I hear footsteps begin to advance on me again.

I don't pay much mind to it. Two down, eight more fish to go. I can do this. I'll get my friends somewhere safe before they take me in. I'll figure this out. I have to, if I don't then it's just gonna haunt me the rest of my time in prison. The rest of my life.

I put another one in another container, apologizing to him too, but when I turn to grab yet another one, I run straight into a person.

I collide into Clover's chest, forcing me to stumble backward. I can't help but look at him in surprise, taking a step back and feeling confused. Why was he standing so close to me? Did he want me to run into him? Why? I cut his chest open, it definitely still hurts.

I tilt my head up to make eye contact, ignoring the urge to wipe at my wet cheeks so I can get the tears out of the way. When my eyes land on Clover's face, he looks nothing like the guy I just saw in my shop. He looks... concerned. He looks like he cares. Like my distress is bothering him for some reason. I have absolutely no idea why that would ever happen, though, so I'm probably wrong.

I doubt that's it though, because again, what did he expect? Did he think I'd be happy about going back to prison or something? Did he not think I'd take the hero I hospitalized seriously when he tells me I'm under arrest?

Clover tilts his head at me. "Why?"

I stare at him for a long, drawn out moment, trying to figure out if I missed something. I don't think I did.

"Is that a serious question?"

Clover purses his lips at that, appearing conflicted. I decide to just cut to the chase, willing to do anything to protect my fish, including asking the guy arresting me for a favor.

"If I don't have time to take them to a pet store or something, can you do it for me? I-I don't know how long I have."

Honestly, this is probably the only time during this confrontation that I've been embarrassed. I hate asking people for things. I hate having to ask him to do me a favor at all.

Clover just stares at me. The confusion on his face is so human that for a moment, he doesn't look like Clover to me. He's just Milan Wolfe. I wonder what changed his mood so drastically. I still can't believe he's shocked.

"Why do you seem so prepared for this?" He asks quietly, not answering my question, which irritates me. I have a list of priorities right now and answering more questions is not on it. I need him to promise me this, because if he doesn't, I'll never forgive myself. I'll never sleep again. I'll spend the rest of my life worried about them.

"I always knew I'd end up back there," I tell him dismissively. "Do you promise?"

Milan does not acknowledge that either, and I don't appreciate being brushed off like this. I decide to just go back to packing them up since he's not answering my very important question. If he won't help them for me then I need to hurry.

"Back where? In prison?"

I nod. I begin dipping the net back into the water and catching another fish. Then, absentmindedly, "it's where I grew up."

"Where you grew up." Milan repeats, and there's something off about his tone. I'm not sure exactly what to be honest, and again, I don't care. If he's not going to help me then why would I even deal with his questions? "Institutionalized."

I wasn't very serious before, but now I'm starting to actually wonder if I'm missing something. He sounds strange. Whatever, I'm not talking anymore. I'm busy.

After I put the fifth fish in her container, I make to put her down and head to the other tank so that I can get the rest—halfway done, almost there—but then my arm is grabbed.

I jump, turning to look at Milan with wide, terrified eyes. There are still tears smeared all over my cheeks, my rose red eyes glassy and my jaw still trembling from all the fear I'm feeling. Milan scans my face, staring down at me, and I can't help it. I look down at our contact, at his hand wrapped around my bicep.

I can't breathe. Someone is touching me.

I don't know what I expected the next time Clover and I had any sort of physical contact, but it wasn't for it to be the most distracting thing I've ever experienced in my life. Both of the other times, I touched him. Not this time. I'm breathless. I can't focus.

I look back up at him, trying to remember what his question was. Anything to get him to let go of me so I can think clearly again. Maybe if I answer him then he'll finally stop.

I sniffle, narrowing my eyes while clutching my fish container tighter in my hand and closer to my chest like a sort of comfort. "Yes. I am a biohazard. People were scared of my ability so they put me in isolation when I was a kid. Now can you please answer my question?"

Milan is frozen. Staring down at me. Holding my arm in a firm grip that seems to be tightening. It's growing increasingly difficult to think. I practically feel sparks shooting through my body originating from our point of contact. My heart is racing, my breathing labored, my eyes watery.

A tear rolls down my cheek. Milan follows it with his eyes.

He lets go of me. Drops my arm, and it makes my chest feel strange. Something akin to disappointment.

Milan is already turning toward the exit when he snaps in a tone harsher than anything else he's used, "never mind."

I blink. He's already walking toward the door. I can't help but begin to follow him, confused at his sudden change in demeanor. What happened to the cockiness? Acting like he caught me in a checkmate or something, but now he's fleeing.

"What?"

"You're—I don't know. You're an informant, I'll check back soon."

Alright, I don't know much about police work or law enforcement, but I'm pretty sure police informants are supposed to agree with the arrangement, not just do it because they were ordered to. Why isn't Milan waiting for my response?

Would I even be eligible to be an informant? I don't think so. I have a body count in the triple digits, I'm not exactly treated as a common street thug. Whatever, either way I'm not telling him anything about Monarch. Absolutely not. Obviously it beats prison, but still. I'd have preferred he at least have a conversation with me, not whatever this is.

Clover already has the front door open. I speak before he can step through.

"Does this mean I'm not going back?" I can't help the hope in my voice. They way I hold my fish in my hands like something precious, chest swelling at the possibility of getting to stay with them. Getting to keep my shop. Not losing anything, after all.

Milan doesn't face me.

"Yes, Sunny," he answers, using my name for the fourth time since arrival. He must like it or something. His voice doesn't give much else away, talking in an irritated rush. "You're not going back."

Then, he's gone.

I stand in the center of my living room, frozen, with tear streaks down my face. I hold my fish in my hands and stare at the door Clover just disappeared through.

So, I'm free, after all. He changed his mind, decided I was more useful as a police informant. Still, I never agreed to it.

Now that Milan is gone, the atmosphere of my apartment feels strange. Like there's something missing.

My arm tingles where he touched it. I absentmindedly reach up to run a hand along the skin and see if that will soothe the strange ache. It doesn't. I try to just ignore the sensation, for my own sanity, already far too confused to focus on anything else.

What on earth just happened?