✜ for vernhao (any au)
[ ✜ ] my muse collapses in front of yours, all bloodied and bruised.
(kingsman!au)
he breathes in, and out— rinse and repeat, just like he was taught. there was no room in this occupation for unnecessary motions — he was to remain calm and composed at all times.
still, the sight of his partner slash rival slash mentor collapsed on the ground in front of him made his heart race. he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the adrenaline of causing those injuries, or the guilt of striking the man he loved down. he wants to worry, but doesn’t, as that’d only break their oath. he won fair and square, and pity would only serve to wound minghao further.
“it’s over,” he speaks into his earpiece, holstering his gun. he hears a voice telling him to fall back, but ignores it, instead choosing to look back at the fallen man. he stays quiet, solemn, but something in him feels pride. he knows this isn’t enough to finish off minghao— not when every trick he used having been taught by him. medics should be arriving soon, and in a few months, or even weeks, he’ll be back, as aggravating as ever— but still.
his feelings for minghao were complicated, a hot mess of bruised knuckles and heated kisses. love was definitely not the word to use here, it was more apt to say he was obsessed with him. he wanted all of minghao for himself, all his firsts, and all his lasts— and oh, was he ever determined to get his lasts.
“and that makes it 7-24 to you.”
