Kafka's head turned to her, eyes still gleaming with a playful gleam that hadn't faded for even a second. His grin was almost devilish now as he leaned closer again, elbow resting lazily over the back of the seat.
"You know what?" He said, voice low, daring. "Why don't you try it?"
Olivia blinked. "Try what?"
He tapped his cheek, gesturing for her. "Try calling me a bad boy. Just like I said earlier. You know..." His smile widened. "...touch my face a little, give me that cold look again. Insult me, Mom. I wanna see how I look like when you say it."
Her breath caught. Her fingers began to fidget again, curling and uncurling in her lap, as her eyes darted away.
"K-Kafi..." She mumbled, clearly panicking. "I can't...I really can't do that."
Kafka's grin turned smug. "Can't, huh?"
"No! I mean, you're not a bad boy! You're actually a really good boy. The bestest boy in the world." She blurted, now flustered beyond control. "You're...You're really sweet, and funny, and you help me with everything, no matter how bad of a mother I may be."
He snorted at that, but she went on, her voice barely audible near the end. "A-And also one extremely perverted little boy...but still a good boy."
Kafka raised a brow, clearly delighted. "So I'm a perverted good boy, huh?"
She looked down, cheeks flushed. "W-Well...yes. But I can't call you a bad boy. That's just...it's not true."
"But Mom..." He said, resting his hand gently on her shoulder, brushing his thumb in a sensual manner. "It's not like you're really telling the truth. It's just playing along, isn't it? I promise I won't be hurt. Not even a little. Even if you call me a bad boy. Actually..." He leaned in, lips curling teasingly. "...I'd prefer that. The way you say things in that icy tone...it sends a shiver down my spine."
She stared at him, mouth open.
"I know, I know." He added with a self-deprecating laugh. "I sound like a total freak. Embarrassing, right? But still..." He gave her an encouraging nudge. "...give it a shot?"
Olivia bit her lip. But his gaze was gentle, even excited. And something in her didn't want to disappoint him. So, gulping once, she nodded, straightened her back a little, and met his gaze.
Kafka also waited, eyes sparkling with anticipation as she took a breath. Then another. Finally, after what felt like centuries,
"Y-You're...a bad boy, Kafi." She said softly.
Then, with a bit more courage.
"You're such a bad boy!"
Her face turned red as a tomato the moment the words left her mouth.
"H-How was that?" She asked, visibly trying to catch her breath. "Was...Was that okay?"
But Kafka didn't cheer or grin. Instead, he looked at her with that same teasing smile, except this time, it was the kind that clearly said: not enough.
He tilted his head. "You know, it was good, Mom. But..."
Her stomach dropped. "But?"
"You didn't have that icy look you had a moment ago. Your eyes were all soft and sparkly, like you were trying to melt me with affection. That's not what a punishment looks like." He laughed. "It almost felt like you were the one being punished by having to say it."
She pouted, flustered again.
"You need more of that scary face." He said. "You know the one. That cold, terrifying, soul-piercing one. That's the one I want."
"You really are messed up, Kafi..." She muttered under her breath. But nonetheless, she nodded. "Okay...I'll try again."
He leaned back in amusement, waiting.
With a deep breath, she tried to remember how her face had felt earlier. The kind of rigid control she kept up in meetings, the mask she wore when talking to clients, the intimidating aura that made people run away.
She squinted, tensed her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and instantly felt her face start to cramp from trying too hard.
Kafka's smile faltered a little.
"I...I'll say it now." She said through gritted teeth. "You're...a bad...boy a really...bad boy"
Kafka blinked. There was a pause and then he raised his hand, palm out like a director calling cut, unable to watch her anymore.
"Stop."
"Huh?" She blinked in surprise.
"Mom...right now..." He said slowly, trying not to laugh. "You look like you're trying to pass something in the bathroom. And it's not going well."
She stared in disbelief at what her son was saying about her.
"And hearing you call me a bad boy while looking like that, is not what I had in mind."
Olivia's cheeks flushed instantly, and she gave him a sharp little pinch at his side.
"Kafi!" She gasped, scandalized. "Y-You can't just say things like that so casually...!"
He only raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face deepening as she pouted and turned away slightly.
"I'm trying, okay?" She mumbled, folding her arms but glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm doing my absolute best here...even though it's so hard to do so."
Her voice cracked a little, but she powered through, tapping her fingers against her elbow in frustration.
"That face...it just doesn't come naturally, Kafi. Not when I'm around people I trust. Not when I'm around you. You think I can just bring it up on command? Like I'm flipping a switch?"
She puffed out her cheeks, letting her irritation shine through as her eyes narrowed.
"And instead of supporting me, here you are, teasing me...and sending me off to the bathroom like I'm some little girl who got stage fright."
Kafka's expression softened, and he gently rubbed her shoulders, the teasing look in his eyes giving way to something quieter.
"Sorry, sorry." He said, his voice low. "I know you're doing your best, Mom. I really do. But seeing you struggle like that...it just kind of hit me hard. I couldn't bear it."
She blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone, and her pout melted into something more fragile.
"I really wanted to make you happy." She said, the words small and honest. "I really wanted to do what you said...but." Her voice broke again, and she looked up at him, gaze soft and a little misty. "That face I make...it only ever shows up when I'm around people I don't know. Strangers. People I don't trust."
Kafka sat quiet, listening carefully. She moved closer, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
"It's not something I can pull out when I'm with someone I love. With you or Abi...it just won't happen. Because I trust you both so much. Because I love you with all my heart." She raised her eyes to meet his, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "...Especially with you."
There was a pause. Then she added, softer now,
"It especially won't work with you, Kafi. There isn't a single thing you could do, or a single day that could pass, where I'd ever look at you with that cold, distant face." Her voice trembled, just a little. "Even all the way to the end of my life...I just couldn't. I love you too much for that."
Kafka's heart thudded in his chest, and his own cheeks darkened slightly. That raw, open sincerity in her voice, how much she truly meant every word, was too much...He couldn't take it.
So instead, he laughed quietly, trying to cover up how his pulse was racing. He pulled her into a tight hug and murmured against her hair.
"It's fine...It's more than fine, Mom. You don't have to over-exert yourself for me. Hearing that you love me that much...that's more than I could ever ask for."
Then he pulled back a little and gave her a pointed look, a teasing glint returning to his eyes.
"Though..." He said slowly. "...you did say that you especially can't look me in that way. Not Mom. Almost like you're saying you love me more."
She jolted, her eyes wide. "Wha—?! I didn't say that, Kafi!"
But he ignored her and leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear as he whispered.
"What if I told Mom that? That you said you couldn't make that face with me...because I mean more to you than she does? Wouldn't she be...just a little hurt?"
"No! No no no, you can't tell her that!" Olivia panicked, grabbing his shirt, looking up at him with a desperate expression. "Kafi, I didn't mean it like that! I just, I, That's not—!"
Kafka burst out laughing, gently cupping her shoulders.
"Relax." He said, grinning. "I'm just teasing. I won't say a word to Mom. Promise." He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'm just happy you love me like that. That deeply."
She melted at the kiss, blushing again, but then blinked as a thought struck her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief now.
"But what about this?" She said slowly, turning to face him with a look of anticipation. "What if you do it instead?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do what instead?"
"That face. The cold one. What if you put on that scary expression? And then say something mean to me? Like...call me a bad girl or something." She blushed but kept going. "Maybe if I see it...I can learn how to do it. So I can practice. From you."
Kafka tilted his head, amused. "You sure you can handle that, Mom? What if I really go cold on you? Might give you emotional damage or something."
She stood up straighter and puffed out her chest, slapping her palm against it in a dramatic show of confidence, which only made her chest bounce slightly in the process.
"I'm not scared! No matter how cold or scary you look, I know how much you love me. You love me, and I love you, and that's all I need."
Kafka blinked at her display...then nodded slowly.
"Alright then." He murmured. "Let's give it a shot."
Olivia braced herself, expecting a small frown or maybe a simple grumble.
But instead, Kafka's expression shifted completely.
His gaze darkened. The blood in his skin went missing. His whole face went serious, and the warmth in his eyes vanished like mist in the sun. Even the air around him felt different, like a drop in temperature.
Olivia stiffened, a chill creeping up her spine. She hadn't expected that. Not that.
That wasn't new. She has seen it last night before but she had totally forgotten about it, but it now suddenly came back
And it felt terrifyingly real.
Just as the sparks began to crawl over her skin, prickling in waves of heat that made her limbs go soft, Olivia blinked, her breath catching as she saw that new expression on Kafka's face.
It wasn't the teasing smirk she was used to, nor the gentle gaze that melted her resolve. This was something else entirely.
He then leaned in, slow and careful.
"You asked for this, Mom"
He whispered, low and velvety, brushing his lips just near her ear, not touching, but close enough to send her heart tumbling into her stomach.
Her eyes widened, the breath she'd been holding slipping from her lips as a tiny gasp. She didn't even notice how still she had gone until she felt his breath again, this time even closer.
"You're such a bad girl, Mom." He murmured, voice dripping with sarcastic disbelief. "Such a...bad girl, asking for something like this. Acting all innocent outside like you don't even know the meaning of the word temptation."
"...But asking your son to call you a bad girl, you truly are a dirty little bitch under all those clothes that can barely contain that sexy body, aren't you?"
The moment those words entered her ears, the heat that had been curling gently in her chest now flared, rushing all the way up her neck. She felt it in her ears, her fingertips, her thighs.
Her face turned a deep, helpless red, then impossibly redder. And she couldn't speak, she couldn't, because there was something about the way he said it.
Like he was peeling back everything she tried to hide. Every shy glance. Every flustered laugh. Every soft yes.
And all she could do was sink, curling inward in her seat as if that would hide her trembling. But it didn't and it was quite obvious as to how much she liked it when her son degraded her...