Summary: The man you have no business pining over makes an unexpected reappearance in your life, albeit in less-than-ideal condition.
Word Count: 4.6k
Tags: mafia au, blood/injuries (<- despite the tags the whole thing is still soft)
Author Notes: another submission for the Oneus Trope Bingo hosted by @oneusficevents ! This is for my “mafia au” square. I’ve never written anything like this before so I’m nervous to post, but I hope it’s enjoyable
Annoying, you think, that an entire beverage is going to remind you of a man you can’t have. Especially a beverage as widely versatile as tea.
You turn off the timer and go back into the kitchen, taking the teabag out of your mug. You’ve been branching out to new teas since the first evening you’d tried it in the safehouse, sampling them little by little. You now own a small village’s worth of tea boxes, after watching in horror as your best friend swiped her arm along the shelf of teas at the store and into your cart, insisting it was her treat. You’ve found you don’t care for straight green tea or matcha (green bean water, more like), but you like jasmine just fine, peppermint too. English Breakfast is okay, just not as malty, and chai is good if you add more cream than usual.
Tonight, though, you’re allowing yourself to Admit and Mope Over having feelings for a made man. Which, naturally, means your tea is his favorite, Irish Breakfast. You set the teabag in your spoon and wrap the string around it, wringing extra tea into the mug. You’ve gotten rather good at it with practice.
You turn to throw out the teabag when you hear a muted thump from somewhere in your apartment.
You stare, unmoving, at the teabag dangling in your hand over the garbage bin. It swings gently back and forth, and you try a deep breath. One, two, three four. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
By the end of the deep breath, no more noises have come. You drop the teabag in the bin and turn back to your mug, only partly aware of reaching for the sugar. Pal, chill out. Someone came home across the hall and dropped their groceries. The box of Christmas decorations finally teetered off the shelf in the closet. Kids down below jumped too high on their bed and whacked into the ceiling.
Your phone vibrates sharply against the counter, and you drop your spoon with a clatter. You crane your head aside to glance at the screen.
LEEDO: u can say no but do u mind if I stop by?
You snatch your phone clumsily and fumble to the app with live feeds of your security camera. A raven-haired man in office slacks and dress shirt is leaning heavily against your front door. As you watch, his knees buckle under him, and you hear another thump as he crumples against your doorframe.
“Shit,” you hiss. You drop your phone on the counter and hurry to the front door.
Geonhak catches himself heavily on the doorjamb as you ease the door open, a final defense against collapsing entirely.
“Hi,” he murmurs, sounding for all the world like he’s fine and not a man who can’t stay upright.
You drop to your knees, trying to figure out where it’s safe to touch him. His entire left side, from head to toe, looks to be spattered in blood.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, guiding his right arm over your shoulders. You brace your hand against his back, heaving upward.
You manage to stay balanced, most of his weight on you, and stumble back inside. You’re careful to keep your hand at the center of his back, away from the side that’s drenched in red.
He sags back against the door as you shut it again, relieving you of crutch duty. Flipping on the front hall light, you try to get a better look at him. His side is littered with bloody hand- and fingerprints—probably from staunching the blood flow, you take a guess. There’s so much blood, it looks like so much. The blood on his face has trickled down from a matted spot in his hair.
“What can I do?” You ask, surprised at how calm you sound. “What do you need?”
A corner of his mouth quirks slightly. “Just towels.”
His voice is cottony, so un-Geonhak-like. A sliver of ice sinks into the pit of your stomach.
“Just….” You take a tentative step back from him to see if he’ll stay upright. He leans more heavily against your front door, and your hands hover there in front of him. “Just….don’t move.”
You fly into the kitchen, feet barely touching the ground, and yank open the drawer of tea towels. You grab the entire stack and flip on the sink, running a few under cool water. Your eyes catch on your mug on the counter, and after a second you grab it and bring it all with you.
Geonhak’s face is tilted towards the ceiling when you return, eyes closed. A thin line of blood is slowly trickling down the side of his neck. In the light of the entryway, positioned as he is, he looks like a hero straight out of a classical painting. Lordy. No man has any business looking this good bleeding out.
You set the mug gently on the hall table next to him and close the distance with the towels.
His head drops back down, eyes opening at your approach, and you offer him a wet towel. He murmurs his thanks, taking it and mopping his neck and face roughly while you unfold a dry one.
You rake your gaze over him carefully, heart pounding. His hair has grown out a bit since you saw him last. You note in the part of your mind that isn’t panicking that it suits him, although everything suits Geonhak. Gingerly, you scrape your fingertips along his hairline, combing his hair off his face and checking for more injuries. His jaw works and his throat bobs once, and you replace his thoroughly bloodied hand towel with another damp one.
“‘Woong’s in Chinatown tonight, won’t be able to get here for a half hour,” Geonhak says as he works, and you realize he’s apologizing. “He’ll take me to the safehouse and out of your h—”
“Like hell he will,” you say, swapping him for another fresh towel. “Finish mopping up and we’ll take my car.”
“Hwanwoong will come get me,” Geonhak mumbles, eyes closing as he prods at the spot on his head.
“And I said like hell,” you reply, your free hand going to the buttons on his shirt. “This needs to…move…so you can get to the spot on—oh, don’t look at me like that, you’re bleeding.”
“Interesting way to ask me to take my shirt off,” he murmurs with a shrug, smile as dangerous to your pulse as ever as his free hand starts unbuttoning.
Once he’s undone the first four, you shove another damp towel inside and grip at the injured place on his side firmly, making him hiss. Serve him right, flirting while bleeding out on my doorstep.
“Hold this there, tightly. Be right back,” you say, taking another bloody towel from him and scooping up the others.
You pause for a second, then gesture at the mug of tea. “For you.”
Within moments, you’ve thrown the bloodied towels in the drum of the washer to deal with later and grabbed several other things on the way back.
Geonhak’s finishing a long sip of Irish Breakfast when you return. Wordlessly, you hand him a few ibuprofen. A smile plays at his lips as he accepts them and downs them with tea.
“Off,” you say as he sets the mug down, waving vaguely at his blood-sodden shirt. “I’ve got something clean.”
“It’ll just get dirty, too,” he says, already undoing the final few buttons and shrugging it away.
Any other time you would admire him shirtless, but your focus now lasers in on the injury. After all the blood he was wearing, it’s surprisingly smaller than you feared. “I don’t care if it gets dirty, too. I have my first aid kit—”
“Just—” he winces when he presses against his side wound too hard, then sighs softly, “just…if you’ll drive me to a safehouse, I’ll get Keonhee to patch me up.”
Ah yes. Keonhee. A trained medical professional. Someone of actual use to him. “Let me get my shoes.”
You watch from the corner of your eye as he takes the oversized hoodie you offer him and finagles it on gingerly. You’ve grown so accustomed to Geonhak in office attire that anything else looks unfamiliar on him. You’re right, though; anything suits him. Your heart doesn’t seem to notice the oddness, twisting at the knowledge that the hoodie is yours.
Your staring doesn’t escape Geonhak’s notice.
“Don’t usually wear this kind of thing,” he says as you exit the apartment together. He leans into you for security as you lock your door.
“And why not?” You ask, heading for the stairs at a stilted pace.
Your face bumps into his neck as he stumbles, and he swears and apologizes under his breath. Despite the clear excitement he’s had tonight, you notice he still smells like the pine and eucalyptus soap you’d seen in the safehouse shower. You immediately try to ignore this.
He shakes his head as you both begin slowly down the stairwell. “Not taken seriously in street clothes. Look too young.”
You can feel him wincing with each descending step, and you slow your pace, keep the hand at his back soothing.
“Well, who wouldn’t take you seriously right now?” You ask as you reach the exit. You pause to heave your free shoulder against the door when it sticks. “Now? When you’re bleeding a concerning amount?”
“I’ve had worse,” Geonhak says mildly, misstepping and staggering against you as you exit into the night. You catch him, free hand landing against the front of his torso, and you mumble an apology as he winces and straightens again.
“Surprised you survived with these reflexes,” you mutter, hobbling with him through the parking lot in the warm summer night air.
You lay a towel along the back of the passenger seat before Geonhak sits; blood sounds horrible to get out of a car. He wordlessly plugs an address into your GPS once you start the car, and then you’re on the road.
The car is quiet as you follow the first few directions, save for the occasional GPS voice. Geonhak extracts his phone from his back pocket, wincing all the while. He taps away at the screen, likely notifying the safehouse and Keonhee, as you follow the directions onto a street that sounds vaguely familiar.
“Should I, um. Worry about being followed?” You ask, glancing at the passing headlights in your rear view mirror.
“Mm-mm,” Geonhak says, shaking his head slightly and pocketing the phone again. “Our guys got him.”
You refuse to consider what “got him” means in this context.
“I’m sure it’s pointless to ask, but what happened?”
Geonhak sighs, leaning back in his seat with a wince. The silence carries for a few minutes, and you begin to assume he won’t answer when he finally speaks.
“He didn’t like what happened at your shop this week.”
You stiffen as you stop for a red light. A blue-eyed smirk you’ve come to hate flickers to mind. The man who was the reason you’d met Geonhak in the first place; the man who was the reason you’d had to hide for a week in a safehouse meant for organized crime members. “Him?”
Geonhak leans his head back against the headrest, eyes shutting as he adjusts the towel against his head. He gives no indication to confirm or deny.
That isn’t allowed to be the end of it. “But nothing really even happened. He just…came in, to intimidate me again. And then he got spooked by your uncle and left.”
A corner of Geonhak’s mouth curls. “Technically, he was humiliated by a crime boss over muffins. To a lot of these guys, that’s something.”
Over muffins. The space in your chest for breathing begins to shrink. It was your fault. That man, the one who’d tried to convince you to let his boss run dirty money through your store, who kept showing up at your new storefront to intimidate you, had hurt Geonhak. He’d been so mortified by Geonhak’s uncle, who was there to defend you, that he’d taken it out on the man’s nephew for good measure. Not on you, who actually owned the store; him. Geonhak was hurt because of you.
“Breathe,” Geonhak says, voice firm.
You gasp in a breath and blow it out shakily, easing on the gas as the light turns green.
“Slower than that. There’s enough air,” Geonhak soothes.
You shake your head, each breath coming heavier and quicker. I did this to him.
He starts counting, and you take a deep breath and hold it like he taught you, blowing it out unsteadily. It does little to settle your jittery pulse, your whirling thoughts.
“Promise it’ll be over soon,” he says, glancing at the GPS. “In six minutes. Just drop me off at the front door and—”
“I—you’re kidding, I’m not just, just—leaving you somewhere,” you protest, grip tightening on the wheel. “You’re covered in…Geonhak, I did this to y—”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”
His voice is so suddenly sharp that your mouth snaps shut without another thought. His mouth is set in an even line, blue flame behind his eyes as he stares out at the road.
“You are good, and you are innocent, and you did not do this to me,” he says, voice dangerously even. “I won’t have you taking blame for that shithead. I won’t.”
You swallow, trying another slow breath in, out. You nod.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
He blinks, still watching the road, but the hardness in his eyes dissipates.
“Me too,” he admits. “Shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“No, it…I mean, I don’t mi…it’s—” You stammer, trying to figure out how to say you missed him without saying it outright.
Eventually you snap your mouth shut, face burning. You see him glance at you out of the corner of your eye, then lean further back into his seat.
“You, um.” A smile is playing on his lips. “The tea, earlier....I didn’t think you drank tea.”
Your face feels even hotter. You swallow. “…I do now.”
He doesn’t say anything the rest of the drive, but that smile stays in the corners of his mouth.
The address, an old brick bungalow, is different from the last safehouse—probably closer to where you live, you assume. The porch light is on, and you see movement in a window as you park along the curb.
“Stop, just—would you hang on a minute?” You huff as Geonhak opens his door, unbuckling.
You hurry out of your seat and around the front of your car as Geonhak tries to ease out by himself. He grunts in pain and stumbles over into you, and you sway as you attempt to keep balance for two people.
“I got it,” he says, trying to straighten, face twisting in pain.
“You really don’t,” you say firmly, locking your car and helping him up the walkway. “Cut the heroics.”
It’s Keonhee who opens the door as you reach the five little stairs up to the porch. You’re surprised to see him in pajamas and glasses.
“Up you get, come on,” he says, coming to Geonhak’s injured side and gingerly lifting his other arm over his shoulders. Keonhee glances over Geonhak’s shoulder and smiles at you, somewhat of a grimace. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but…”
Your smile is also half grimace, remembering the first time you met him, when he treated your black eye. “Agreed.”
Keonhee’s taller than you, so when he straightens, Geonhak’s arm stretches up higher, and he hisses.
“Son of a bitch, Keonhee, ow,” Geonhak grits through his teeth.
“Yeah, yeah, get inside, you big baby,” Keonhee mutters. “I know for a fact you’ve had worse knife wounds before.”
Ice drops into your stomach; a knife. That man had gotten close enough to hurt Geonhak with a knife.
With Keonhee in the lead, the three of you shuffle sideways up the porch stairs and through the front door. To the left of the entryway is a little kitchen. To the right you see a small sitting room, with a couch covered in a few sheets. The coffee table has a spread of little tools that remind you of emergency room procedurals on TV.
“In there, if you don’t mind,” Keonhee says. “I made coffee before I remembered you drink tea, Geonhak, so there’s coffee if you want it.”
“Water for them,” Geonhak manages, panting as you help ease him to lie down across the couch.
You stick your tongue out at him but don’t argue. Your mind and body are starting to catch up with the shock of an injured Geonhak, and you don’t want to make yourself even more jittery.
Keonhee disappears briefly into the kitchen, emerging with a glass and a mug. You take the water gratefully, hiding yourself in the glass as you swallow back half of it.
When you lower it again, Keonhee is seated beside the couch and inspecting Geonhak’s head wound. He swabs at it with alcohol wipes and clucks his tongue.
“Stupid, but not awful,” Keonhee says, fighting a smile as Geonhak swears violently under his breath at a firmer prod. “Probably won’t even need stitches. Just bled a lot.”
“You’ll bleed a lot if you don’t cut that out,” Geonhak grumbles. Keonhee snorts and scoots back, lifting the hoodie to get a better look at his side.
“Need a few stitches here, though,” Keonhee says, pausing when Geonhak jolts from the rubbing alcohol sting. “Ribs hurt at all?”
“Not as much as yours will if y—shit,” Geonhak hisses at another pass of the alcohol wipe.
“Look at you, king of the streets, brought to your knees by antiseptic,” Keonhee says, grinning.
Geonhak glares at him, breathing heavily. “I say king of the streets one time, back in high school, and you won’t let it die.”
“Nope.” Keonhee pops the “p” and reaches for a few things on the coffee table.
You take a deep breath, setting down your glass with shaky hands. “Uhm, if I needed the bathroom, where…?”
Keonhee’s eyes are understanding. “Down that way, on the right. I’ll be quick. He’s seen worse.”
You hear Geonhak’s “fucking hell” from the living room before you close the bathroom door behind you.
You lean heavily on your hands against the sink and rest your forehead against the mirror, allowing yourself a moment in the whirlwind of thoughts. Knife wound. They got him. He’s been hurt worse before.
He came to me. When he got hurt, he came to find me. I got to see him again.
That’s what feels the most shocking, that he’s here, you’re here, back in his world, when you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. You know he’d told you it was for your own good that he keep a distance, and you didn’t think his reasons were bad. It still hurt, though, to make such a connection with him and then watch him disappear from your life like he’d never been there.
Well, now you’ve seen him again—covered in blood, admittedly, but nonetheless. He hadn’t been a figment of your imagination, after all. He’ll be on the mend soon, and then…
You gulp. That’s what’s scariest. How fleeting being here, being back in his circle, feels. You wish for selfish things for a brief moment—for a few more nights of Irish Breakfast, a few more conversations, even one more exchange of banter, for wounds that need time to heal, time you can spend with him. The thought that he’ll slip away again forever after this is…
A soft knock on the door startles you a little too much. “Hm?”
“He’s all patched up now, all fine,” Keonhee says. “Just needs a couple days of low activity and he’ll be back to normal.”
You sniff, leaning back off of your hands. “Good. I…good.”
There’s a pause. “I’d like to take a look at you when you come out. Customary check.”
“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, coming out.”
You reach up to itch a spot on your cheek and blink when your hand comes back wet. You wipe under both eyes, hands coming away damp. When you glance at your reflection, you grimace at how blotchy you look. There’s no way to hide it, so you sigh and brace for the inevitable, opening the door.
Keonhee studies you for a moment, then says, “let’s see if I’ve got tea somewhere after all, hm?”
It feels a bit wrong to dig through his cupboards and pantry like this, but Keonhee encourages it, clapping your shoulder when you find an old box of orange pekoe.
“You’ll be staying tonight, of course,” he says after he cleans out the coffee pot and begins brewing plain hot water. “At least until the shock wears off.”
You purse your lips as you retrieve two mugs. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome…”
Keonhee scoffs, putting a tea bag in each one. “Please. You’re more tolerable than he is, swearing at me over a little scratch.”
“Is it really that minor?” You ask, watching yourself run a thumb over the lip of a mug.
“He’s just fine,” Keonhee says, firm and reassuring. “He’ll be back to intimidating us all at full capacity far too quickly.”
The nobler side of you relaxes at this. Your less noble side wishes for a few more days of bed rest. You try to ignore the less noble side.
“Perhaps I should worry more about you,” Keonhee says, studying you. “You’ve been well?”
You laugh once. “Oh, yes. I’m just fine. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of a single made man until this week, much less tangled with any of them.”
You wince inwardly at how bitter you sound. Ridiculous.
Keonhee hums, taking the now-filled pot of hot water and pouring it into the mugs. “I see an awful lot of made men, but that doesn’t necessarily add or detract from any tangles. Surprising, how much you can see of them without being involved.”
You don’t know what to say to that. You realize with a pang that you’re almost jealous of him, of his ability to be involved but not involved.
He frowns at one of the mugs as it steeps. “I should go check how he takes it, I can never remember—”
“That’s alright, I’ve got it,” you say, waving that away and preparing both mugs.
Keonhee’s quiet as you labor over the tea. When he speaks, you can hear a slight smile.
“Good. I’ll go make up the air mattress, then, if you’ve got this under control.”
You make your way back into the sitting room slowly, trying not to spill either mug. Geonhak has every pillow propped up behind his back, an arm slung over his eyes. You frown when you see one of his ankles in a brace.
“You didn’t tell me your ankle was hurt.”
A corner of Geonhak’s mouth twitches. “Only twisted a little. It’s why I couldn’t keep better balance.”
He lowers his arm from his eyes and looks up at you. You lift his mug, nodding at it, and he inches his way further upright, grimacing.
“Let’s see how badly Keonhee did on this cup,” Geonhak says as he takes the mug.
“He didn’t make it. I did,” you say, sitting gingerly by his knees and blowing on your mug. “Two sugars, no cream. Strong. Brought the spoon when you want the bag out.”
You set your mug on the coffee table, now cleared of surgical instruments, and lift your teabag into said spoon, twisting the string round and draining the excess. You feel Geonhak’s silent, studying gaze and try not to let it fluster you as you find a wastebasket at the end of the couch to toss the teabag.
You take a sip of the tea, then blink. “You know, I always thought orange pekoe would be…well, orange flavored. But this is just another black tea.” Hmm. Suppose it can’t hurt to have around for guests, so the nicer teas can be for you.
“Damn it,” Geonhak sighs softly.
You glance over at him as you blow on your tea, raising an eyebrow. He’s cradling his tea placidly against his stomach, eyes shut.
“You make it so difficult.”
You blink. “So difficult to what?”
He opens his eyes and meets your gaze. “To stay away from you.”
Your lungs feel suddenly empty. Oh. Some warm and electric feeling zings up your spine.
You look down into your mug, pulse skipping. “…I see. My hopelessness when it comes to tea, back at it again.”
When he speaks, you can hear his smile. “Might play a part, maybe.”
You take another swig of tea, bracing yourself. “I wish…I wish you wouldn’t stay away, but I, you know, I get it. Promise.”
You shrug a shoulder, grimacing.
He purses his lips, then sets the mug down. “Mind getting the bag for me?”
You set your tea down and grab the spoon, finagling with the tea bag in his cup.
His fingers brush against your knee, backs of his knuckles rubbing gently back and forth. You swallow, throat surprisingly dry for how much tea you’ve drank, tossing his teabag and setting the spoon aside again.
“Don’t like when you’re in danger,” he murmurs.
You nod, picking your mug up again with shakier hands than you’d like.
“Don’t want to be the reason you’re in danger,” he says quietly.
You nod again, tilting your head thoughtfully and taking a sip of tea. “Keonhee’s got a lot of your guys in his life and he’s not in danger.”
“He’s under my uncle’s protection,” Geonhak says, not unkindly.
You shrug a shoulder. “Well…think I might be now, too. He intimidated that man into leaving and then left a hundred dollar tip for his muffins.”
Geonhak laughs once, and his hand opens on your knee, resting warm and firm.
“Touché.”
You take another sip of tea, gathering courage, then drop your hand to your knee and curl your fingers around his hand.
His gaze makes you feel shy, but you don’t look away, drinking in the way it feels to be looked at like this.
He shakes his head at himself, smiling wryly. “Knew exactly what I was doing tonight. Might’ve been easier to go to a few different places, but I went out of my way.”
His fingers squeeze yours.
“I just missed you,” he whispers.
It’s a good thing you hear Keonhee clattering back down the hall. You’re not sure you have the power of speech anymore.
Keonhee forces Geonhak to give up two pillows (“you have all the other pillows in my house, fiend, surrender one to me and to the guest”) and pushes aside the coffee table to make up your bed. It’s a good thing you were already in pajamas, you think as you sit at the edge of the air mattress. No need to sleep in clothes, unlike Geonhak, despite your hoodie.
When the lights go out and Keonhee goes back to bed, you spend a while staring up at the ceiling. You realize, too late, that there was caffeine in both of those teas. Late night caffeine intake versus shock exhaustion, fight.
“There’s, um.”
You glance over at Geonhak on the couch. He’s looking up at the ceiling, too. “There’s this place on the other side of town, a bar? But it’s got cats, like a cat cafe. Hwanwoong tells me you’d really like it.”
You purse your lips, fighting the massive grin threatening to take over your whole face. “I’ve heard of it. It’s got some cat pun name, yeah?”
“Yeah, I can’t think of it, either,” he says, laughing softly.
His hand reaches out and finds yours in the darkness. “Wanna try it with me, maybe? Like, in a week or two, obviously, or Keonhee will put my head on a stake.”
You laugh quietly, squeezing his hand. “I’d like that.”
His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, gentle. “Okay.”
When you finally fall asleep, your hand is still in his.
On the run from a team of assassins when your plan to overlap their leader’s power goes south, you find yourself in a pickle. Left broke and on the side of the road by your own team, Gunhak – a biker on a journey across the country – finds you, and he’s too vengeful to let you go down alone.
DETAILS — [ 18+ | drabble | 10.2k ]
PAIRING — biker! gunhak x ex mafia! gender-neutral reader
GENRES — mafia! au, romance, thriller, violence, smut, angst
WARNINGS — mafia activity, abandonment, high-speed chases, mentions of wanting to kill/end a life, blood, unprotected sex (do not), oral (reader! receiving), hair tugging, nipple-play, cum-eating, dirty talk, physical altercations, riding a bike with no helmet (illegal), death, violence
The sounds of the locks clicking were so vivid. Tired eyes coated with sleep; your pupils fought to help you see your surroundings. Vengeful expressions on your team's faces, only one word came from their mouth. "Inevitable."
Your body was hurled from the moving vehicle, the harsh texture of the road against your skin making you hiss. Two loud thumps came from ahead of you, the bags you were traveling with discarded onto the same road.
The streetlights of the long highway were blinding, impotently laying in the middle of the abandoned thoroughfare as tears rimmed your eyes. Limbs clamoring against the pavement, your knees dug into the ribbed street as you looked up at the stars. Bright, each one flickered, the clearest one at the farthest length beaming you in the direction the car was traveling. You stood, the vague argument your sleepy form had overheard from your team deciding on when to kick you out brutally coming to your mind as you hurled forward and fell back down. Almost too exhausted to move, you found your strength once more, standing to lift the two backpacks from the ground and onto your shoulders as you wobbled down the empty road.
Something important on the ground far behind you, the leather cover's sound as the piece hit the pavement didn't catch your senses. You stumbled to keep up with the illuminating star overhead, watching the colors around the ball of air change from the heat of the stellar and your eyes playing tricks on you from exhaustion. Your heavy lids continued to droop as you walked, the loud sound of an engine revving behind you making you halt and spin on your heels.
A high-powered engine meekly gaining on you, the rider’s stance was focused. Leather jacket paired with gloves, the motor roared in your direction, your feet dancing beneath you. The determined rider lingered forward, shaded helmet so engulfed in the pitch dark that you could nearly see your own reflection spinning around and dashing off.
Building’s passed by your pacing form, the dark streets of the city nothing compared to the nightlife you had seen in the movies. Only enlightened by the dim street lights above, some of the bulbs flickered, some were completely out, but none of them stopped the person on the bike from tailing you. The blocks your feet ran were nothing to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, body ignited by a source you had never felt; but a danger you were all too familiar with.
The alleyways were unwelcoming as you twisted and turned them, the rider keeping up with your form but keeping a distance. Your eyes matched with every corner, every dark space, nothing lighting the match that would keep you safe. In one final pull to Emerald City, you found yourself wound up in a dead end, your body slamming into the wall as the motor behind you halted.
The person’s fingers clenched the clutch, the black and green rimmed vehicle barely screeching as they leapt from the machine and bound towards you. Large frame panting beneath the layers of clothing and thick leather, their gloves fingers pressed into the shaded helmet. The crown of the biker being removed caused your knees to grow weak, falling backwards into the brick wall as you panted.
“Are you alright?” His soft eyes met yours first, the blonde hair on his head blowing from the hollowed breeze of the wind. The same leathered glove stretched out, his fingers elongated and gesturing your own grip to take his. “I am so sorry I chased you-“ The man was almost as startled by himself as you were of him. “-but I saw this on the road, and it matched your face. I thought it might be important.”
The bounded ID in his hold was being returned to you, your form still stationed on the ground nearly weeping at the true sight of your face as he opened the button and showed you the card. Your hands pressed into your face, cold and dirtied palms from the ground now lingering the pigments onto your skin.
He took in your disheveled form but continued to hold out his free hand. The man seemed gentle as he pulled you from the ground, features stern and the opposite of his glare as he offered you a toothless smile. “Long night?”
“No kidding.” Your laughter turned into a somber sob, his hand not leaving yours. You watched his brows knit, his eyes leaving your face to notice he had forgotten to let go.
“O-Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologized a second time, a faint laugh at the end of his words. “Again. U-Uhm – I’m Gunhak.”
The man’s sudden introduction had your stuttering on your words to give him your own name. The lift of his cheeks as his eyes rummaged the skinny puddles of the alleyway bared his next question with hesitation. Gunhak’s helmet had been placed on the handles of his bike when he stood, the second hard breeze of the deadening night seeping through the cracks of the buildings and rutting the sturdy hood against the steel vehicle. Your form hopped at the sound, eyes matching with his silenced bike before his hands rose in the air.
“It’s alright. Why are you so jumpy?” The small flood of questions left his mind and out of his mouth, the confused expression on his face leading you to believe that he wasn’t filtering the curiosity he spoke. “A-And why did you run from me?”
“T-This is a lot, Gunhak.” You mumbled out, the man’s eyes lighting up at his name coming through your hoarse voice. “Please, I didn’t mean any trouble. If anything, I’m more of a nuisance than you would believe.” You wanted to bite down on your tongue, keep from explaining too much, but the man hung off your every word. “Listen, okay? Just, don’t follow me. I can take care of myself, j-just watch your own back.”
Your form made it towards his side until your back was met with the adjoining wall. Eyes glazed over with the bags returned to your grasp and the ID safely in your possession, you slid against the harsh brick wall until your positions had shifted and you were on the outskirts of the alleyway.
Gunhak’s eyes silently pleaded that you would keep talking; explain it all, fill him in, although he was a stranger. But you found yourself bolting, bags clinking with the items inside, running into the night as the only sounds in your ears were the patters of your shoes against the concrete and the scuffing of his boots as he ceased his following at the edge of the alley, watching you depart from him with tears streaming down your face.
It was a moment where everything shifted. Your life has been tangents of you working for yourself, living for yourself. But as your shoes stomped against the sidewalk, you realized something: Gunhak had seen your identification card. Your real identification card, not the one you gave out to keep your cover on the downlow.
The wind whipping past your face dried the tears into your cheeks, nose sniffling as you slowed your pace. Taking in your surroundings, the thin hoodie over your torso was hardly enough to keep you warm on such a chilled night, the breeze nipping at the skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes watered a second time from the bitter air, a familiar sound of a roaring engine coming up on you again.
Gunhak held a place in your mind you had yet to unlock, even on the first encounter. The man’s hospitality had you reeling to understand him, but the thought of putting him in danger – if he wasn’t in it already – made you want to turn yourself inside out.
“Find something else of mine to return?” You asked as he slowed his bike down. His gloved hand reached up to press into the shield, the pane of glass clicking as it was lifted from the helmet, allowing you to hear him better.
“Where are you headed?” His hand was barely on the gas handle as he reared the vehicle forward with your walking pace. Head turned between watching you tilt your head and to keep an eye on the road at the same time. “y/n!”
The use of your real name brought your body to shudder, the word so unused – so fresh and expired at the same time. Your eyes turned towards him first, watching his legs walk his bike forward and stop to turn off the engine, silence filling the space between you both an additional time.
“Gunhak, please.” You sighed, the exhaustion returning to your bones as you stumbled on your own two feet. The man looked ready to jump from his own bike to catch you, the little sight of his face through the crack of his helmet’s shield letting you see the anxious look in his eyes.
“You’re too tired to be walking.” He read your exact situation so easily, his tongue carrying the conversation faster than your mouth ever could. “At least let me drive you to the nearest motel.”
Your body twisted to face him, the shivering of your limbs lifting him from his seat. Gunhak’s tall form lifted and stood before you a second time, his hands rustling in the bag attached to the back of his bike as he pulled out a second leather jacket. Shaking the article, he pushed out the sleeves as he opened it wide. Inviting eyes gleaming at you from a few feet away, his smile begged you to come forward.
The sight of him being so kind - so considerate - had your knees weak. The straps of your bags slowly released from your shoulders, falling to the ground as you allowed him to guide your arms through the coat and onto your body. Already warming up to the thick fabric and Gunhak, his scent filled your nostrils, the cologne faint but there as he lifted your bags from the ground.
One bag tied down to the back of his bike like his own, the other was pulled back over your shoulders by Gunhak’s focused form. His light tugs at the bag to assure it was secure made you rock forward, his arm traveling around your waist to pull you back and stand you up straight freeing every breath of air stored in your lungs at once.
“S-Sorry. You’re just rocking all over the place. When’s the last time you got some real sleep?”
“When does anyone get real sleep these days?”
You shook of his question, watching as his leg swung over the bike and he kicked on the engine again. His hand rose to gesture you to climb on, your leg swinging over like his own. You felt his arms twist back, his gloved hands taking your own to wrap your hold around his waist. You felt him lightly chuckle at your nervousness, his fingers guiding your own to latch securely together for a strong hold. Head turned against his back, the bike roared to life as he jolted it forward, taking off into the night with you clinging to him.
You believed that the wind lashing by you as you ran was enough, but as you were consumed by the frigid air of the night riding on the back of Gunhak’s bike, you had never felt so awake. The lights of the city still glowed in some places, red beaming closed signs all around lighting up the streets as you moved more inside of the walls of buildings. Designed trees and bushes on the sides of the road, the spectating lights of cars shadowing the motorcycle brought your head to snap around and your firm grip to loosen.
His voice muffled from his helmet, you heard Gunhak call out “Hold on.” The man was unaware of what he had gotten himself into, two black cars closing in on his vehicle. His own head turned to gaze into his rearview mirrors, watching as one of the black SUV’s got outstandingly close.
“What’s going on?” He shouted back at you through the headset of the helmets, your form tightening to hold on to him as tight as you could. Inevitability had caught up to you, the rounding sounds of the covert cars trying to pry Gunhak in between them no match for the man well bounded.
Your words went muffled as he revved the bike, speeding far ahead of the cars. Trees whipped by like lightyears, bushes had leaves pulled from the stems just from the extra wind created by the racing bike, and Gunhak had managed to get the two of you in front of the cars. Dangerous turns made by the man at your mercy, he guided you through green lights until the fourth light turned red and captured the prowlers by surprise. A breakthrough in the speeding chase, Gunhak broke through an alleyway too skinny for the cars to follow, their brakes screeching much like his own had not long ago.
The streets went silent again, the harsh panting of the man in control of the bike bringing tears to your eyes. Cowering behind him as your hands shook against his abs, his knuckles tightened around the handles of the bike as he sped into the parking lot of the motel. A dark space between two of the buildings, he brought your world to a standstill in one quick movement as he parked the vehicle and put down the kickstand at the same time he lifted himself away from you.
“Don’t speak.” He growled as he tossed off the helmet. The shield was on the handles again, his marching form grabbing his bag from the back of the bike as he stomped off up the steps towards the office.
Minutes passed, only silence and your heavy breathing in your ears. You shook with anticipation, the look of boiling blood within Gunhak’s eyes making your view shift upside down. The man had only signed on to help a stranger, and now his life was being threatened by a group of people he didn’t even know existed.
“Come on.” Jaw clenched and teeth gritting, he tossed your second bag over his shoulder, his free hand gripping at your wrist as he tugged you along down the sidewalk to another building. He was fuming, the tight grip on your limb making you wince and stumble behind him – he didn’t even spare you a glance. The tables had turned, the danger you put him in getting to him on the first go, and by the time he had you in the room he paid for, your back was pressed against the wall.
“G-Gunhak, I c-can explain.” You cried out, his body releasing the bags onto the floor as his forearm pressed into your chest, heaving you against the wall.
“Explain? Explain. You’re going to somehow explain why two huge SUVs just attempted to run us off the road? Smash into us? Doing something even worse when the drivers and passengers actually got out? What the fuck was that, y/n?” His nostrils flared in anger, the once fluffy blonde hair on his head stuck to his forehead and temples from the sweat pouring down his body. Anxiety in every nerve - his form read as intrepid, but his eyes read as horrified.
“I told you before! When we were in the alley-“ You broke out, voice cracking as you yelled at him. The man didn’t waver from the rise in your tone or the shattered bits of your voice, his eyes squinted as they stared you down. He wanted answers, and your time was running up to tell him. “You found my ID. You’ve seen my face; you know my name. I was on your bike, so now they’re going to be after you, too.”
“Who?” His eyes finally blew, a mixed expression across his face like he was living in a real-life action movie. Pupils the size of quarters, you watched him finally take in the situation.
“I tried to kill my boss. I got ditched by my group, and now his team of assassins are after me.” You spat it out in the simplest way possible. The man’s grip against your body released your feet back onto the floor as he bit down on his tongue. He was petrified - you could see it in the lines of his face and the pout on his lips – but as his brows knitted, you knew the cogs were turning in his head.
“What did he do to make you want to kill him?” He asked slowly, tongue pressing into the roof of his mouth as he swallowed.
“He was mistreating everyone. My team, his own; I’m surprised he still has anyone on his side.”
“So, you were doing it for a good cause?”
“Do I look like a killer to you, Gunhak?” You asked, lashes batting against your face as his nose crinkled in thought. Your hand reached out while in the process of balling into a fist, playfully hitting his arm as he hissed. A smile was slowly growing on his lips again, his own eyes blinking at you as he caught his breath and let his mind reconnect the dots.
“No.” His head shook lightly, face to face with you. Your eyes glistened in the dim lamp’s bulb of the motel room, Gunhak stepping back from you to give you room. “Good.” His head bobbled in the opposite direction, the nod modest as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Then I guess we can be roommates for the night.”
Your eyes both shifted to the surrounding room, your eyes falling on the single - but double - bed against the wall before meeting each other’s gaze again. “This is going to be a long night.”
The steam of the shower had released your tense muscles, finally clean of the dirt from the road and the past you had been let go from. The room was freezing as you stepped out of the bathroom, Gunhak’s intense gaze falling on your hardly clothed figure as you pulled on his extra leather coat for warmth. You missed his lips curving upwards, the wrinkles in his forehead when he walked past you to take his shower – you even missed the loud thump of his heart as the door shut to.
Sound of running water filling the void of silence in the motel room, your eyes caught sight of his opened bag. The few layers of clothing sprawled out of the top made you laugh and shake your head, moving over to press the multiple fabrics back inside and zip it up. His scent was resilient, all around you as the lightheaded feeling of smelling his testosterone made you shiver and pull back from the bag. A loud noise echoed as the article turned sideways and released the items inside onto the floor as it fell off the bed, your panicked wheeze bringing a laugh from the man’s throat.
“Looking for something?” he questioned, your form spinning on your knees to see his head tilted down and gaze strongly staring over you. Shirtless body cascaded with drips from the shower not yet dried, he had showered in minutes to assure you weren’t left alone - purposely aware that you would get curious about him.
“I-I was just putting your clothes back in.”
“Mhm~” he nodded. “Not snooping around trying to understand me?”
The thought had exceeded your mind multiple times now, pure curiosity for why the man is the way he is staying in your frontal cortex until you gained answers. Your brows furrowed, staring between him and the remaining clothes on the floor as you lifted them onto the bed. He knew what you were thinking – he had the last time you were talking of him in your own mind, and as his lips moved, you could almost speak his sentence word for word in your own voice.
“You won’t find anything in there.”
“Just as mysterious as me, I guess.” You laughed, placing the last item back into the bag before his arm moved past your peripheral. Veins bulging from his taut arms, your pupils dilated at the sight of his golden skin, watching his limb lift the heavy bag from the bed easily and put it on the floor beside your own.
“You’re not a mystery to me anymore.” He grinned, your eyes squinting in his direction. The thought on the tip of your tongue, the flash memory of his joke came to your mind just as he issued another deep laugh. “I found your ID before I even knew you.”
“Ah— right.” You almost pouted at your mistake.
Your body fell back against the mattress with a huff, Gunhak’s form pressing down into the mattress as he pulled the covers from under you to place above your legs. You sat up to pull off his jacket, placing the thick fabric at the end of the bed as you laid back down, his awkward form lying beside you. Lights diminished in the dark room, the flicker of the red vacancy light from outside made you blink rapidly. You felt him shift, arms going under his head as his eyes shut gently, ignoring your eyes watching him.
“Gunhak-“ Your voice rose faintly, a slight hum coming from the man in response. “Why are you alone?”
“I like being alone.”
A simple response, you couldn’t have expected him to say more. Witty and down to the bone, Gunhak’s face held two forms just like his personality. He seemed to be cutting in certain ways, his hunger for a purpose guiding him on his bike like a boat floating in whatever direction the water took it. But at the same time – he seemed compassionate. He was too quick to help you for you to believe him wrong or disconsolate, the beads in his eyes like small light bulbs illuminating his path, and now your own.
“But why are you?”
“I’m just on a road trip, y/n.” Your name falling from his lips was still new to you, your eyes opening wide as you hardly turned to face him. He seemed entranced with what was behind his eyelids, his chest rising and descending in a way that you knew he was still conscious – still listening.
“What are you running from?”
His eye closest to you peeled open, his frame swiveling on the bed until he was facing you with his head propped up from his bent elbow. So rapt by what you had just said, he ignored the filter in his mind – the same one as your own that you had destroyed when you told him about yourself and your past – sucking on his bottom lip as the muffled words came out.
“I like running from nothing and everything at the same time. Makes life worth living and gets me into a lot of trouble. A lot like my new acquaintance with you.” His free hand was in the air as he spoke, the padding of his index finger coming down onto your nose with a little pat in the same moment he mentioned you.
You had been so unhinged when he met you, so lost – and then found. Gunhak had pulled you off the road in enough time to give you the chance to run. Had he not been there, those cars would have managed to find you in a moment’s time – you’d be roadkill instead of lying beside your knight in shining armor as his eyes leered over you.
In tandem with the light, you caught his body rocking back and forth. Another mental debate between the man and his morals, you were the first to break the filter again. Body curving to match his, your form slid against him as your lips sealed a kiss. Just as the sun meets the moon when it sets, you finally felt the beat of his rapid heart. Your mouths were as attached as the beating organs, his arm gliding around your back as his lips merged and deepened between your own. He was guiding – just as he had been – allowing you to fall back into the mattress. Keeping his bearings, not rushing the moment, he lingered over you as he broke the kiss, your eyes matching for the first full time.
Seeing him - not just the person that had found and returned your identity, not just the biker that had trailed you down the road out of concern about if you had a roof over your head to sleep under that night, not just the man that willingly pulled out his second and only other jacket to place over your shoulders - you saw Gunhak for who he was. A man on a journey for a life worth asking for, he was filling a void – one that included pressing his lips so gently against yours that he was trapping a moan at the back of his throat.
The silked lips diverged from yours to litter your neck with light kisses, the softness of his mouth like a new paint brush on a canvas. His hand moved to hold the side of your face, index finger grazing the shell of your ear as his thumb pressed into your cheek. Gently, he ran the rough pads of his digits down your neck on the opposite side where his kisses lingered.
You were in a new state of mind, purely relaxed below the safe aura of Gunhak. His eyes fluttered shut as the kisses moved lower, your own opening to watch him take his sweet time with you. One hand following the frame of your body, the other bent at the side of your head for leverage - Gunhak's body vibrated with anticipation.
Unable to hide the fact that your face was on fire, the moment his palm molded over your chest to reencounter the hold on your face, he lifted his head from you to peer into your eyes.
"You don't get kissed often, do you?" His voice deeper than what you were used to, your head could hardly shake in response to his words. So filled with life and lust, the man was creating butterflies in your stomach just from hovering above you. His scent is so strong in your nostrils, clean and refreshing. You finally allowed your eyes to close again when his hand met the trim of your shirt, raising the fabric to cover the skin in more kisses. "I find that charming." he laughed.
"I find you charming." The sentence that left your mouth was purely your mind on autopilot from the rush of sparks running through your every limb, his mouth stretching in a smile. A single second, you allowed your gaze to accompany him. His irises were glistening - not with just lust from the friction of your body against him, but the quick pace of his heart in his chest from the compliment.
"I'm not used to being told these things."
"You should be." Your words almost startled him, your hands gripping at the tight t-shirt on his torso as you tugged at him. He rose back upwards until he was aligned with your face again, the second call for your lips to kiss at his bringing a whisper from your mouth. "I'll be the one to say them from now on."
"I quite like that." The toothless smile that made your head fuzzy regained in your vision, his head tilting to match your lips as his hips grinded down into you. Not forceful, the weight of his body guided him down skillfully like he knew where to be, your body reacting accordingly by jerking up into him. "Ah~" his hiss was melted with the buildup of his face falling into the crook of your neck, your hands clamping around his shoulders in time to pick at his shirt.
Gunhak didn't have to ask, prying from your arms to pull the tight shirt off his body and into the floor beside the double bed. Your eyes found the ripples of his abs - the same ones you had clung to when the chase ensued - lifting your hand to scope out the size of the muscles. He took into account that you had felt them before, his cocked brow in your peripheral almost comedic when he gripped at your wrist and pulled your hand to meet his abdomen.
Your eyes felt like they could roll into the back of your head, mind counting each divot and taut muscle as he smirked down at you. So allured, his back arched to recount his position above you, your shirt going higher and higher as his hand traveled to meet your body. Nipples hard and just as solidified to his touch as the rest of you, your mouth fell open at the feeling of his lips attaching to one of the sensitive buds. So delicate, light sucks were given to the erect spot, his mouth matching the other one as muffled moans of his name fell from your lips. Syllables unintelligible, he continued to move his mouth down lower, index fingers tracing your skin until they were met with the waistband of your pants.
Diligently, his eyes paired with your own. The respect he held for you didn't abate his arousal or obedience to your comfort zone, your nod in his direction guiding the fabric off of your body. He didn't waste a moment before his mouth was attached to you, licking stripes in the form of patterns with your fingers gripping at his hair.
You couldn't hold in your noises, the vibrations of his mouth moaning your name while pressed against you leering you into one of the hardest orgasms you had ever had in your life. Sight white and hands scratching at his bare shoulders, his tongue pushed flat against you to lap at your juices, moans pornographic from the both of you. Finally pulling from your body to let you catch your breath, you watched the back of his hand move before his mouth, tongue taking the last of your orgasm from his lips before licking at the liquid.
His nose flared - the second time you had witnessed the sexy habit of his, except this time he wasn't livid. Face dipping to press a kiss to your cheek, your hands found his lower back. Your eyes clenched at the feeling of his hardened length below the thin fabric of his pants, gasping at the sensation that ruptured your sensitive crotch as he rutted against you. The dimples of his back fit your fingers as you traced the spots, his hands matching the waistband of his pants to glide them down.
Every subtle motion he created made you see stars, your lips finding the skin of his jawline to nibble with your teeth. He didn't hiss, a groan muffled by the tilt of his head to allow you the space to keep going - a distraction to keep himself from exploding. His cock was throbbing as his hand wrapped around the base, your head nuzzling against his neck when you felt him press against your entrance. Your body lubricated from his tongue and actions, he glided into you with ease, his forearms shaking. He felt heavy over you, your hand rushing to lift his chin to catch his attention.
"Was this your plan all along?" Your question mulled in his brain until he released a chuckle, filling you deep - almost to the brim as your words were nothing but a joke.
"Yeah, actually. I enjoy getting pretty people into bed, boosts the ego."
The taunting was halting as he bottomed out in you at the pull of his length and pushed in a second time. Your mouth fell open with only his name escaping your vocal cords, the ruffled sound of him gripping at the pillow below your head brought your hips to suck him inside of you deeper.
"I think you're doing a good job." Vague praise brought sparkles to his eyes, the same brow as before cocking as he pulled out and slammed into you.
"Am I? You're not whining yet. Not even screaming my name." Your head jolted back with his thrust, his cock coating your walls with sheer pleasure as his gut went tight. You could see him losing his grip, the floating feeling he once gave you growing in his own gaze.
Eyes squinted up at the man, your hand met his hips, pulling him to wrap your legs around his waist. So filled into you, captivated and pleasured - his head fell against your shoulder as he pumped small thrusts into you.
The whisper of your voice in his ear had his body not only relaxing his muscles, but his cock throbbing as you clenched down on him. Milking him of his orgasm, the man shivered, bare skin pricking with chills for the first time the entire night. You watched his cum leak from his tip as he pulled out of you, the sheets becoming absent-mindedly stained from your hand jerking him off until completion. "I don't need to scream to make you cum, Gunhak."
"Fuck-" The thick, white liquid left spots on your shirt as it spewed from his cock, his body falling forward until you were pinned between his light-coated, sweaty body and the mattress.
A light squeak of his name had his body lifted from you, spinning to lay on his back next to your form as your eyes went heavy. His body left you for a moment to retrieve a towel, cleaning you of the mess he made.
The strong-minded man you were admittedly falling in love with spared the heat of his body from you, all except his arm that masked over your stomach. Hardly held in his embrace, your mind began to drift into a slumber, the feeling of his fingers tracing your scalp through the strands of hair soothing you into a sleep in an instant.
"Sleep well, for once." He cooed quietly. "I'm here."
Tranquility in all directions of the room, your shut off mind awoke to his form pressing into the air. Your face didn’t have time to contort in confusion as your head turned to meet the sound at the door, Gunhak’s index finger pressing against his closed lips. A signal to stay silent, he pulled at your wrist to follow him up before he handed you your clothes. One limb at a time, your body reconnected with the once discarded fabric, his movements at an expeditious rate alarming you.
His ears were used to this, your bags lifted from the ground and over your shoulder. The lightest jingle of the keys moving into your fingers rang in the dark space, the click of the motel room’s door knob startling you. Gunhak was quick to push you in the direction of the bathroom, your body racing towards the window over the toilet in the same moment that the door came barreling open.
“Go!” Gunhak’s eyes went wide as he yelled, three of the four assassins that had been trailing you breaking into the room with him now in their sights. You shook as the pane of the window tilted open, his bike’s keys rocking against the frame as you tossed out the bags and made a leap out yourself.
You didn’t look back – you couldn’t, but the sounds of the fists pummeling into Gunhak was enough to have you shrieking. One harsh punch to the face, and he was on the ground – your eyes matching the blood on his head as you fell down the wall. Collecting the bags, your feet stomped against the cement pathway towards the parking lot. Gunhak’s bike sat untouched, the door of your room still open wide as you heard a loud cry come from within it.
Seconds after you darted for his bike, one of the assassins gripped a pen from the nightstand of the bedroom. Little effort was necessary to launch the staked item into Gunhak’s leg, the man that had once stood barreling back to the ground. Nothing like in defeat, his head lifted – making sure his eyes paired with each of the men.
“I can do what you want.” He gritted at them, eyes barely watered as he hissed at the sharp pain in his leg. Fist clenching around the blue-inked writing utensil, he pulled it from his thigh muscle. Wincing from the blood, he tossed the pen to the ground. “Just give me time.”
Strands clung to the back of his bike, you placed the bags under the ropes such as Gunhak had them, your main focus on putting the key into the ignition. The metal screw clicked into the bike, your fingers turning it and fists meeting the handles. A rush of air came towards your side, eyes illuminated in the hopes of finding Gunhak at your side again – but it was a larger man. His form was gaining on you, a rush of adrenaline in your veins as you pressed at the gas handle and sent yourself off.
You had watched Gunhak guide the bike attentively, even felt his muscles contract as he controlled the vehicle. With the help of your memory, you allowed the bike to guide you – riding in circles as the man attempted to keep up with you. Gunhak’s form left out of the motel room, stumbling down the steps in time to reach his bike. He looked disheveled, hair sweating down the strands and his skin as he panted to catch his breath. From the race of the man tailing his bike, you hardly had enough time to notice the hole through his jeans was leaking blood – your mind set on getting out of the lot.
But the man was too close to give you time to swap places, Gunhak’s injured leg swung over the running motor as he held onto your waist. Your eyes pleaded that he not go through with this, tongue almost unable to form words. “I hardly know how to drive one of these things!” You called out over the roar of the engine, his eyes clamping as he shook his head.
“Just get us out of here! You’ll figure it out.” He gritted, eyes pulling back at their cold glare in order to give you the confidence you needed to step on it. His actions were the right ones, your fingers gripping at the handles just as he had in a moment of danger. Mind on pure auto-pilot, you let the star above guide you from danger, Gunhak’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist causing you to focus.
Your hands worked accordingly, rushing the vehicle out of the parking lot and too far from the assassin on his feet. Parting in a bolt, the darkened night all around was instructing you in the direction you were meant to be in, Gunhak’s form clinging to you as the wind whipped past. Grip tight but balance unsteady, his arms layered over your own to grasp over your hands, his own arms guiding you in the direction you were going. No helmets, no belt, you were nearly out of your mind driving the bike of a man you had only met hours prior – but as his arms tightened around you and his head laid on your shoulder, you couldn’t find yourself to care.
This was what he had gone on about. The rush of running from danger and being within it all at the same time, the freedom of his bike and the long roads ahead dark or lit – but he never mentioned the hold of someone.
The engine of the bike slowed in your grasp as you turned into a dark alleyway. Your heart beating out of your chest, all that was in your ears was Gunhak’s laughter. Your head tilted to see him in your peripheral, the wide grin on your face making your blood boil until your own body laughed.
“What?” You questioned, shaking your head at him. “What’s so funny?”
“You make a good get away driver.” His teeth broke through his lips in a Cheshire grin, his eyes rising with his smile and chest puffing with his cackle.
Your laughter fell when you rose from the bike, sight of the hole in his jeans frightening as you crouched down towards his thigh. Prying the helmet from your head, he lifted the shield on his own to give you his full attention, breathing in the cold air with tight breaths.
“It’s hardly even a puncture.” His head shook as you gave him an uneasy glare, his hand running over the spot as he winced. “Not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Your poor leg has a hole in it.” Your voice was cold towards his careless tone. His arms reached backwards to undo the zipper of his bag, another one of his tight shirts pulled from the black carrier. The fabric was placed between his teeth, a clean rip and tear giving him a long piece to wrap around his thigh. You were apprehensive at his actions, the feeling that he’s done this a few times way too noticeable. The curve in the apples of his cheeks made heat gather in your face, a single wink of his eye making you roll your own.
His head tilted up towards the sky, the shining stars above dictated by the brightness of the star that had guided you down the road. “So, what now, boss?” He was toying with you, mind elsewhere until his eyes found your face again. “What’s the next move?”
“I need to take care of this once and for all.” Your voice was small but confidence large, the rise of his lips bringing a deep cackle to bounce around in his chest. “My team made a mistake for throwing me out. We’re not too far from the base now.”
“I say we pay your boss a visit.” Gunhak’s face was bright with colors under the gleaming stars, the signs of the businesses and shops along the road lighting up his face even in the dark alleyway.
Gunhak’s gaze was deeply staring into your own as a passing engine roared. One of the large cars from before sped past the alleyway, your form leaping against the bike and into his arms. His hold was so instinctively wrapped around you – just as it had been – but it changed. A sparkle in his eyes when you pulled from his chest to peer down at him, his lips didn’t have a moment to react before you lifted his helmet and collided them together in a chaste kiss.
“Does danger turn you on, y/n?” Slick, Gunhak’s arms pulled you back towards the bike the moment you moved away, your form clambering on the back as he started the motor up again. Your helmet went over your head within a second as you heard his shield click back down, your hiss into the headset within the hood making him laugh.
“You kinky bastard.” You hissed in his ears, arms back around his abdomen as he started off. The same sensation of butterflies regathered in your stomach at the feeling of his abs, his smirk gone unnoticed as he let the bike run and the two of you rush off towards the road once more.
The air was more of a shriek as the wind picked up, the leather jacket bound around your body and the shield on your face protecting you from all things headed your way – all except Gunhak, himself. He had pried his way into your situation so effortlessly that it almost made you laugh, but at the same time – it pained you to know he cared so much. An innocent person on a trip doing who-knows-what finding another troubled person in their path – the man had a knack for woe with a plastic shield over his face.
The main road was still just as lit as before, the sidewalk you once ran down to escape the same man driving the vehicle you now rode on the back of taking the breath from your lungs. Harrowed irony, the block of the sidewalk brought a smile to your face as you cradled his form tighter, warmed by his trilled laugh in your ears. Orange light after yellow, it was as if the road was turning skinnier, two black masses on either side of the motorcycle capturing your attention from the sentimental place.
All things circle around, and if they didn’t – you’d never have anything to learn from. Or in your case, run from – the two black cars approaching you getting closer than what could ever comfort you. The phrase was cut short even in your own mind, the scraping of the painted cars on either side of Gunhak’s bike exploiting a squeal from you.
How the two cars of assassins had managed to recuperate and configure your movements, you’d never know. But as they trailed you too close and bashed into your riding forms a second time, you felt the heat of your body rise and your mind let go.
There are so few moments in life that push adrenaline through a human’s veins: stepping out in front of traffic on accident, missing a step, almost drinking or eating something too hot – all because you weren’t paying attention. So what are the moments where your full attention was on the circumstance, and yet you still managed to have a close call with death called? Fate.
The brush of the heavy cars at your sides held you closer to Gunhak, his loud cries of pain as his injured leg was bolted to the bike making you wince. His calls out to you saying it would all be okay were only muffled words to you, his hand closing in on the clutch to run the bike forward not enough to escape the death grip the cars had on you. You could feel the energy of the men inside of the vehicles, see their smiles through the windows – but you all but feared them.
There are three types of people in the world – that of which you are sure of in life. The Sleepers: those who allow others to do all their dirty deeds for them. The Wakers: those that recount all that life can throw at you until you finally awaken and see the light. And the worse of the worst, the Dealers: those sentenced to make anyone and everyone’s lives a living hell for the sake of their own tolls. Things they’ve done that they can never repay or regain, their only purpose now to take and take.
The Dealers, in your case, were the assassins. Assigned to kill you off, pull and throw you back with your mouth on the same hook – they forgot the most important part. The Wakers know their weaknesses, and they are fighters who are a hell of a lot more prone to getting what they want over what they need.
The wedged space between the two cars was hardly a break to make any moves, Gunhak’s fingers so tight around the handles that his knuckles were white. They requested a battle, but he answered with a rebuttal. High speed down the road gave a kick to their vehicles, only half a second for gameplay as the bike was removed from between them. Gravity had its causes for bringing things down to the ground, and just as their wheels were connected with the sides of the bike, the two cars collided with one another when the barrier between them escaped.
Flashing lights not at all sirens or medical transportation, it was the cars spinning on the roads. A game of chicken you never signed up for – a death wish written by the man controlling the bike. “What are the odds that these guys are just as bad as your boss?” Gunhak asked over the microphones within the helmets, your choking voice hardly a reply.
“You can’t play a puppet without using your hands.”
The analogy was enough to have him nodding, the pull of his fist around the handles sending the bike back towards the two cars. Now head to head, the blinding lights made you clamp to Gunhak like he was your life source, the two cars speeding in your direction enough to make your heart stop beating in your chest. Tempo faster than electricity through a wire, the silence of your body allowed you to hear the man who had single-handedly taken and caressed the organ in a short amount of time.
“I swear, if you let go and I never get the chance to tell you how hard I’m falling for you!”
Your blood boiled, teeth gritted and voice high-pitched. “Not the time, Gunhak!”
Inch by inch turned even thinner as you neared the lights of the heads of the cars, Gunhak’s body not shivering a single bit. You could feel him take in a breath, every motion and atom surrounding you turning the situation into a movie scene. Gunhak’s words were specific to his silent plan, the tilting of his body dragging his foot against the ground as he pulled at the clutch and allowed the bike to swivel bringing your soul back to its carcass.
The skillful man has spun the template into a new pattern, a new form, and you were now ahead. Unlike the chases you had experienced within the same night, the cars chasing after you didn’t feel like you were their prey – but their ally.
Keeping their distance, Gunhak’s eyes would meet the vehicles every so often, the large building of the corporation coming up sooner than you had expected. He was in over your head, just as you, and by the very second you pulled up the driveway of the same building you had spun away from with your team just as the sun was setting – something clicked.
Even with your team at your sides, it didn’t feel the same as Gunhak lifting his form from the body. They never offered you their hand, pulled a helmet off your head, or even sent death glares towards those trying to kill you. The double cars of those trying to hurt you leaped out in a quick pace, Gunhak’s eyes blazing in their direction as they all halted on sight.
“W-What do I do, Gunhak?”
The temptation to keep moving brought your arms to swing around him, his hands at your shoulders leering you backwards. Head in the game, heart next to his – a nod of his head guided you in the direction you had wanted to go for years.
“You take care of your business now, baby.” His lips pressed into your temple so delicately. “I’m right here.”
The same halls you had walked down many times – sometimes bleeding, crying, wailing, but now they were only memories. The fixation of a Sleeper in command had consequences, the man almost cowering the moment your form pressed through his door. He couldn’t form words to back you down, to lighten your gaze – he knew he had gone too far, and that this was the end.
“Why did you do it? Why go to this extent?”
He shook too much to respond, the man that had oftentimes sent you out on a mission like a starving, rabid dog now as pale as a ghost at the sight of your poise. You had lost so much to him - to the lifestyle of following another’s orders - that you had even been blinded by what was right in front of you. No battle is truly fought alone, and as one of the assassins broke from Gunhak’s fight – the elapsed sound of more fists pummeling into the man brought a wretched expression across your face – someone finally had the upper-hand, but it wasn’t you.
How many times do you have to see a face to have it etched into your mind? Once – maybe a hundred? You never even recognized the same partner to the boss being lowered from his position and sent out to do the deeds you left blank. You never took notice of the pain in his own partner’s eyes – and up until the gun was lifted at your head, you never knew the true meaning of love. The feeling of just wanting Gunhak’s arms around you before the bullet flew through your skull was thick enough to have you quivering. The man’s eyes were dull as the gun clicked, his wrist popping as the limb snapped in a separate direction from your form. Missing you by almost a centimeter, justice had been served – your boss was dead.
“I-I don’t understand.” Your head shook back and forth in dismay, the assassin's gaze following the floor to the door. Even evil can’t bear to witness some sights, that is how you know how cruel the world can be.
You left out of the building with chills across your skin and a single word on your tongue. Gunhak — a word you could repeat again and again, a name you couldn’t fathom being the same man stood before you completely unharmed the moment you made it out the door.
A Waker in his prime, completely neutral, Gunhak had long found his place in the world. “Y-You?”
“Me.” He nodded, lips forming a thin line until a pout overtook his mouth. A two-timed man in love, what a coincidence.
“Your mistake was my gain. I thought I had lost you at one point, but you were right below the brightest star in the sky.” He was speaking in riddles. Although you knew it was a setup, that he had been employed with getting to you first, every ounce of your body still wanted to run into his arms. “Do you still trust me?”
“Explain all of this to me, Gunhak.” You barked gently. A woof of the smallest dog with the bite of the biggest – he knew better than to shade over his identity any longer.
“I was hired by your boss to find you before they did.” He claimed, pointing towards the three assassins – the fourth still within the walls of the building. “Like I said, coincidence. I lost you when you disappeared from your team’s car, but found you when I noticed your identification was in the middle of the road.”
“Lucky me – my killer found my ID instead of a normal person.” You hissed. “What the hell was all of this, a game?”
“When I am hired for these jobs, no one tells me the details. They tell me who to take care of, and they send me on my way.” His eyes never let the sparkles go, the tone in his voice sounding genuine. “I never know how bad things are until I hear them for myself. You told me at the motel about how horrible your boss was, and it clicked.”
“What clicked?”
“That I was about to get my ass kicked by the same guys after you because they don’t know why I am here, either.” His words were layered, lips moving frantically to explain it all to you. Even without him speaking it directly, you could see the pain in his face – you knew he hated seeing you frustrated with him. “y/n, I got away from those guys because I told them I was on their side. Not to kill you, but I saw what was in you in them.”
“Where the problem lied.”
“Your boss has taken more lives than I ever will, and he was only serviced by your team for the last few years. I’ve been riding on my bike being hired by strangers since I was in high school. You don’t mess around with all of this, but the emotions are so much worse. They wanted him dead more than you and I combined.”
“And it’s over.” You nodded, staring down at the paved driveway as you kicked at a lone rock. The Waker had found you – a Sleeper – and awoken you. Protecting the Dealers from a terrible fate, he had been in three places at once – and you only knew him to be a stranger that wanted to help.
“Everything you’ve said-“ Tears pricked your ducts, threatening to pour from your eyes from the lightest blow of wind as Gunhak rocked on his heels in front of you. “-you meant, right?”
“I don’t know about you-“ His lips rose into a smile, body taking a step forward to close the gap between the two of you.”-but I’ve never attempted to say ‘I love you’ to another human being while racing head first into two cars.”
His hand cupped your cheek to pull you into him, lips pressing so hard against one another that the skin burned. Teeth almost against teeth, you heard the chatter of the other men as they broke from the two of you, disappearing into the building to go to the missing man. Finally giving you peace, you had what you had been hoping in your arms – Gunhak holding onto you so tight like he was convinced you’d leave him. Seeing a man that held his fist up for you - that fought by your side while meant to be on the opposite - react so intensely, you couldn’t hold your emotions in any longer.
“I care about you too much.” He whispered.
The tears broke from your eyes, hot streaks running down your face as he pulled from your lips. The same gentle touch he held from the beginning, you knew he was never a threat by the way the pad of his thumb brushed away the tears only to let the liquid sink into his own skin. The motion done through the kiss, you pulled back to catch your breath. Eyes clenched shut, you felt his paced breaths begin to relax your muscles, your face in his chest listening to the quick thumps of his heart. Nothing had changed between the two of you despite the quarrel and different positions – Gunhak was still the same man that offered you a ride to somewhere safe, the same one who took you with passion and fire in his loins and soft kisses pressed to your lips, the same one that held you in his arms like you would escape in a mist.
Bestowed by the situation, you had to give credit where credit was due. Not every person on Earth would travel to replenish concord to the world, but that was just what Gunhak’s journey was about. Routed in every direction at once, fate had brought him to cross paths with someone he was meant to kill – but he found love and resentment in that same person. Like a fairytale, the knight had replenished a commoner to see the bigger picture, his chin resting against your head as you breathed him in.
“Hey y/n?”
“Yes, Gunhak?”
“I’m still on my road trip.” He grinned, face meeting yours as the tips of your noses collided. A gentle moment of skin on skin, you brought your cheek to his cheek to express that you knew where you were in the moment.
Alone on his journey, he, too, had never experienced this moment. No one had matched his tale enough to connect with him like you, the sparkle in his eyes like a memory in your mind you couldn’t put your finger on. The accuracy of the glow, the joy of the flicker, the lights that united the spot to be the leader.
“Yes.”
“And there’s room on the back of my bike for a passenger.”
Your eyes left his face for a moment in thought, the bike receiving hardly a glance. Eyes drilling to the sky, the gleaming, deep blue color was fading into a light purple as dawn awakened. Memory of hobbling down the road with your bags barely grasped on your back floated into your mind, the vague image of what had guided you giving you a moment of true tranquility. The star in the sky was the same shape of the sparkle in Gunhak’s eyes – it wasn’t the star that had guided you, but him. The world has a way of filling in the blanks, leading you to nowhere and everywhere at the same time, and as you peered back towards the man’s face — his lips formed words you couldn’t hear over the sound of your heartbeats syncing.
“What happened to you enjoying being alone?” You asked with a light laugh, his shoulders shrugging with a hefty chuckle from his chest.
He smiled, the sparkle in his eyes so bright that it was as if the star was only meant to be in his gaze and nowhere else. “Life’s no fun without a partner in crime.”
“Is he asleep?” You asked as Geonhak came back into the room after tucking your son in for the second time that night. He’d wanted a bed time story from Geonhak, not from you. He didn’t care that Geonhak was asleep on the couch. Your stories weren’t the same and he couldn’t sleep without a story.
“Mmm.” He nodded, closing the door as quietly as possible and tugging his T-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the chair by the dresser. When his eyes met yours, he had a very serious look on his face. “I think we should have another.”
“Really?”
His lips pressed a warm kiss to your cheek as he leaned over you. His sweatpants were the next item to get discarded on the chair, leaving him in just his briefs.
“Really.”
“Even though you already don’t get enough sleep?”
“He’ll be lonely without a sibling,” offered Geonhak, his lips were now pressing kisses to your neck as he crawled onto the bed.
“He’s got me and you,” you offered, tilting your head to give him more space to kiss your neck. It wasn’t that you didn’t want another, it was that between work and your son, Geonhak barely got enough sleep as it was.
“What about when he gets to that stage where we aren’t cool anymore?” He asked, pulling away from you so that he could meet your gaze. You laughed at that.
“You mean that stage where I’m not cool? You’ll probably still be cool.”
Geonhak chuckled, his warm breath drifting across your skin as he leaned in again.
“Just humor me, okay?” He murmured, shifting his weight so that he was completely over top of you. He played with the hem of the t-shirt that you were wearing, one of his, then pushed it aside, letting his fingertips brush up your side. You placed your hand on in his shoulder, letting it drift across his soft warm skin to his neck, ready to pull him in for a kiss. “Just one more.”
You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance. “Fine.”
“C’mon, you’ve been thinking about it too,” he teased. “You always said you wanted two.”
You couldn’t deny it so instead you placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him in for a real kiss. You pulled away first, pressing your forehead to his.
“You know that you don’t need to make excuses to have sex with me, right?” He chuckled, kissing you again.
“Not an excuse. Just...extra incentive,” he offered.
A/N: I got carried away. Normally my timestamps are not this many words haha
A beat thrums through you, a beat that makes your organs feel as though they're rattling around in your body and your ears throb in a way that isn't entirely pleasant, but which reminds you of the life in your limbs. Geonhak is on the stage behind the drums; he's the person creating the beat that connects the crowd through the shaking in the floor and the air waves.
The song winds down and the last note is hit, Seoho's harmonies still ringing in your ears and your drink clutched tightly in your hand from the sheer power, from the awe that comes with their music, from the love you have for these boys and their passion.
The next song starts soon and the beat is back, different and the same, thumping through you at a different tempo but with the same force, because he knows what he does with people's bodies when his beats start up. He knows the control he has over you in the way his movements thump through the entire room, the way sweat trickles past his hairline and over his temple, the way his arms flex and release rhythmically. The beat weaves through you and the other people present, keeping you rooted in place and yet jumping; unable to move but dancing with all of your might.
An immortal being falling in love with a mortal never ends well. That’s what he had been told, but you can’t stop love. And nothing, not even a few centuries can stop him from finding it again. Even at the cost of his immortality.
A/N: The number of chapters and their names are subject to change, depending on whether I get carried away or not. Hopefully, I can actually keep this schedule. This is both a masterlist and my “roadmap.”
“Him, much cleaner this time, in a large dining hall, sat at the other end of a seemingly endless table, his eyes on you and a sweet smile lifting one side of his lips. Him watching you from the corner of his eye as he takes a sip of mead and turns his attention to the man across from him.”
A staff member had quit, no one was sure why, but you’d gotten their position. So you were now ONEUS’ athletic trainer. You’d had the certifications for the job and you’d been waiting for a space to open up, but you’d never expected it to be for an idol group. Especially not for ONEUS. You’d expected to work with back up dancers or trainees.
You were incredibly nervous about the job. It wasn’t just the responsibility of having to take care of idols health. It was working with Leedo. The visions hadn’t happened since the last time you’d been around him. There was the possibility that it was just a coincidence, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was the catalyst.
If that was the case, would it happen again? Would being around him make you incapable of doing your job properly? You didn’t have time to worry about it. This was what you had been working for all along. Nothing was going to stop you from doing a great job. The fans and the boys and the other staff would all be counting on you.
The boys greeted you warmly as you entered the room. You returned the greeting with an enthusiastic bow to each and a promise that they could count on you.
You came to Leedo last. He smiled warmly.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
You stared down the long table in disbelief. There he was. The man from the street. He was cleaned up and well-dressed. He could’ve passed for a lord. He very well could’ve passed for a prince, if you were being honest with yourself, but you knew better than that.
He caught your gaze and gave you a nod and a soft smile. You glanced back at him a few moments later to find that he was already looking at you. You stared back, challenging him and his lips twitched as if he was trying to hold in laughter. A smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lifted the chalice to his lips. He looked away as he turned his focus to one of the men across from him and joined the group in quiet conversation.
They were an odd group of men. Five of them had arrived before the stranger from the village. They were quiet, graceful, and detached from everyone but the other members of their small group. Their armor, clothing, weaponry, demeanor. Everything. It all spoke of something far from your home. You’d took the stranger as a mercenary, but cleaned up and reunited with this group he didn’t seem so much like a mercenary anymore. They all seemed like distant royalty.
“Your highness, I see you’ve made it back in one piece,” he said quietly. He was standing outside the dining hall, shoulder against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. You paused, turning to face him. He seemed much bigger, much more intimidating in these clothes, in your space, in your home. It was strange. He should’ve seemed less intimidating in these clothes and in this castle. You held power here. He acted as though he were right at home though.
“I see you’re not actually just a mercenary,” you retorted.
“It would appear we misjudged one another,” he smiled. “You look much different.”
“As do you,” you offered, giving him a very obvious once over. “So what brings you here, exactly?”
“Take a walk with me?” He pushed himself away from the wall and you were reminded of exactly how much bigger than you he was.
You hesitated before nodding and letting him lead you down the corridor. He walked with his hands behind his back, the fingers of one hand wrapped loosely around the wrist of the other. He glanced at you occasionally to make sure that you were keeping up with him. Once you were a good distance from the dining hall, he spoke again.
“I’m here because someone has a suspicion that a certain royal is up to no good and someone should keep an eye on them.” He turned to look at you as he said this. “The prince thinks this person is plotting against him. He’s brought my men and I in to keep an eye on them as well as other members of the court.”
“Who is this person?” You asked cautiously, already having a pretty good idea who he was referring to.
“I think you already know.”
You nodded.
“Did you tell him what you saw today?” You feared the worst. Even the king wouldn’t forgive what you were doing. But this man was here and he was letting you know why so maybe you had a chance. Maybe the two of you could come to an agreement.
“No.” He was silent for a few moments before he stopped completely and turned his whole body to face you. “As I told you before, I saw what was happening. I know what the people are up to and I know why. I want to understand more. If what I know is true, then I’d much rather be on your side of things when this goes down.”
“Here isn’t exactly the best place to discuss this,” you explained as some people appeared at the end of the corridor. He nodded. You glanced at the people and then looked back at him. You weren’t sure that you could trust him. He could just as easily be trying to get information from you to share with your cousin, the prince. “Can you meet me at the stables tomorrow at noon?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at noon,” he nodded, then offered you a bow before leaving you on your own. Before you met him you’d think of a way to make him prove himself.
“Him in the middle of a muddy street, shoulder brushing against yours. Leather armor battered and coated in dried mud. A grey horse by his side. Both man and beast looking travel-worn and dirty. A steady hand and soft apology.”
Someone outside the door called out to him and he got up from his seat. He cursed under his breath, letting his eyes linger on you for a moment.
“I need to go now. Try to be careful. Take care of yourself,” he warned. He was out the door before you’d even had time to respond. You waited a few minutes and then exited the dressing room, hopefully unnoticed. You didn’t care what he said. Your presence in the room would definitely have some people asking questions.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentler than you’d expected. He removed his hand from your shoulder when he was sure that you were steady. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you nodded. You looked up at him then. Even covered in mud, you couldn’t help but take notice of the sharp features. Everything about him was perfect. Like he’d been sculpted from marble. Your eyes met his deep brown ones. It felt almost like he could see into your soul. Like he knew every secret that you kept locked away. Like he knew you on some deeper level. A shiver ran through you.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” The deep voice again. You nodded quickly, unable to tear your gaze away from his. There was something off about this man. He was different than anyone that you’d ever met. You were intrigued.
The horse by him snorted and you broke the eye contact to look at it.
“Would you like an escort to wherever you’re going?” he asked, following your gaze to the horse. The man and the horse both looked thoroughly exhausted. They appeared to have been traveling for an indefinite amount of time. Running to or from something.
You also noted that the dirt on the horse, reached the saddle. You were already slightly muddy and getting on the horse wouldn’t help your situation at all. You wanted to keep your borrowed attire as clean as possible.
“No, thank you.” You offered a slight bow. He nodded.
“Once again, I apologize,” he offered the bow this time. You had started to walk again, but he called out to you. He nodded his head in the direction that you were headed. “Might I suggest that you proceed with caution? There’s a rebellion brewing and there’s some people there that might disapprove of someone like you in their midst.”
“Someone like me?” you scoffed at that comment. He raised his eyebrows and a smirk tugged at his lips.
“No offense, but you pretty much scream ‘royal’.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. You’d borrowed the clothes that you were wearing from your attendant in hopes of not drawing attention to yourself. He was adorned in battle-worn armor, and sword was at his side. You’d never seen any of the soldiers at the castle wearing or carrying anything similar.
“And you scream ‘mercenary,’ but you came out fine.”
You and the man stared at each other silently, sizing each other up in the middle of the street. He broke first, chuckling to himself. He sighed, turning his attention away from you momentarily.
“I apologize. You must have your own reasons for going there and I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing.” He bowed and then continued to lead his horse down the street. You glared at his back. He paused again after a moment, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Just remember that if something happens to you, it will only worsen their situation. You will not help those people by being brash.”
With that bit of advice instilled, he turned away. This time he didn’t stop again.
You hesitated before deciding to continue your journey. The stranger had a point. If you were injured or killed, the king would reign fire upon them. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help them. You saw them, understood them, your father had been one of them.
But they needed you. You weren’t about to let cruel power hungry prince destroy their lives. Maybe they knew the same thing that the mercenary knew and wouldn’t dare let any harm come to you.
When you came to, your hand was pressed flat against the wall in front of you, like you’d been using it to hold yourself up. Your head was spinning. Your heart was racing as you glanced around to see if anyone was there. The hallway was empty.
This time the deja vu, or whatever it was, had been stronger. The memories had been so vivid, down to the tiniest details. It had felt like you were there. You’d felt his hand on your shoulder, not just seen it there. The emotions were so raw, you could still feel the determination to help the rebels. You empathized with them and you didn’t even know their cause. You’d never experienced anything like this before. It was almost terrifying.
