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The Quiet Guardian
Huling Na-update:
2025-07-11 14:39:06
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Alejandro's Human Antidote Something Like Family
Alejandro’s POVI have been hunted, betrayed, experimented on by fate. But nothing in my life prepared me for a camera shutter. Click. Another moment captured. Click. A human mother beaming with pride, a father with a tired, content smile. Click. Zenith’s fingers twined in mine like they belong there, like I belong there.Even now, hours later, I can still feel the echo of it. That snapshot in time. That strange warmth that did not come from fire or instinct, but from them. Her parents. Humans. Ordinary, brilliant, selfless humans. They did not question me. They did not probe too deep or demand apologies for my silence. They just… trusted her. And through her, they trusted me too.I sit on the edge of the bed in the guest room that I have not used once, a quiet hum buzzing in the back of my mind. Not danger. Not alertness. Something softer. A feeling I have no name for. Is this what it feels like to be safe? Even Inferno is unusually quiet.He is always humming beneath my skin, a blur
Alejandro's Human Antidote Of Brunch and Bonding
Zenith’s POVThe smell of rosemary and baked eggs floats through the air before I even open my eyes.At first, I think I’m dreaming again, dreaming of lavender-roasted potatoes, grilled tomatoes, buttery croissants, and... lemon zest? But no, this isn’t a dream. Because the bed is soft, and the arms around my waist are real, and the person currently humming a ridiculously smooth tune in the kitchen is most definitely not me.“Jandro?” I mumble, sitting up groggily. He is already plated everything, sleeves rolled up, face calm and focused like cooking is just another way to center himself. When his eyes meet mine, I get butterflies. The silent kind. The kind that land softly but stay there, fluttering. “Good morning,” he says simply. “Hungry?” I blink. “You made brunch?” “You said your parents were coming.”I gape at the spread, homemade flatbreads, shakshuka, a tower of berry pancakes, and fresh juice. “You’re not a boyfriend,” I whisper. “You’re a fever dream.” His brow arches. “What
Alejandro's Human Antidote Introducing Him
Zenith’s POVThe first rays of morning light peek through the sheer curtains of the villa, painting soft lines across the wooden floors. Outside, the storm has passed, leaving the air dewy and quiet, like the world itself is holding its breath. I sit up slowly, blinking against the light.There is a weight in my chest. Not heavy, just full. Full of everything that happened last night. The shadows. The blood. Alejandro disappearing into the darkness without hesitation. And now… He is here. Curled beside the fireplace we never got to use last night, his head resting against the armrest of the couch, one arm slung loosely over his stomach.He is shirtless. The dried streaks of blood along his torso make me wince, but what breaks my heart more is the exhaustion on his face. Like even sleep could not steal away the burden he has been carrying alone for years. I quietly rise and pad into the bathroom, dampening a soft towel. My fingers tremble, but I walk back and kneel beside him.I touch
Alejandro's Human Antidote He Dominates The Threat
Zenith’s POVBy the time we get home, my head is still swimming. I keep staring at the house keys like they might start talking and explain the emotional rollercoaster they have thrown me onto. But of course, they do not. They just glint smugly under the hallway light as I set them on the kitchen counter.Then something strange happens. Alejandro rolls up his sleeves and walks toward the fridge. “I’ll cook tonight,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I blink. “Wait. You cook?”He does not answer. Instead, he just opens the fridge, grabs vegetables, eggs, a tray of marinated chicken I did not even know we had, and starts moving with calm precision. I hop onto a stool and watch in amazement as he sets up like a chef in a Michelin-star kitchen.Within minutes, the kitchen smells like heaven. He is fast, precise and very elegant, even in the way he slices peppers and tosses spices into the air like he is communing with them. “Where did that come from?” I ask, genuinely
Alejandro's Human Antidote A Place That Feels Like Forever
Zenith’s POVSince it a Saturday, we decided to go on a date of sorts. I initially wanted us to go on a picnic but my broody mate, refused. Vehemently. I then proposed going to the art gallery and I could see him visibly relax. Now we are here and I am not disappointed at all.The light in the gallery is golden and soft, like a dream carefully curated for painters. I twirl in the center of the wide corridor, my sketchbook tucked under my arm, eyes flicking from canvas to sculpture and back again. Every piece sings its own language. Bold reds. Gentle greys. Chaotic texture. Minimalist peace.I glance back. Alejandro is stand near a sculpted panther, arms folded, chin slightly tilted. He is… oddly still. His dark clothes, that permanent storm in his expression, makes him stand out like a thundercloud in an otherwise blue sky. But somehow, here, he fits. Not like art, no. He grounds it. “This one looks like you,” I tease, pointing at the panther statue. He glances at it, unimpressed. “It
Alejandro's Human Antidote Warmth For A Wolf
Zenith’s POVThe warmth of the blanket is not what wakes me. It is him. Alejandro. I do not know what to call it. Maybe a flicker, a thread, or a shadow of a memory that is not mine, but felt like mine.I sit up in bed slowly, not startled… but heavy-hearted. Like I have been traveling all night, through the thick of forests, past blood and fire, through pain that does not belong to me. Except… it does. Because it belongs to him. My Alejandro.I press a hand over my chest and whisper into the quiet, “I saw it again.” Not just the flashes from before, but everything. The loneliness. The way he ran with nothing but instinct and sorrow. The glowing bracelet. The monsters that wanted his blood. His mother’s voice in the dark. And that cabin in Oregon, haunted by silence.It was not just a dream. It was him. He never asked me to understand him. But the bond, this strange, beautiful, quietly burning thing between us, it is showing me who he is. Without permission. Without warning. And I do
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