So I wrote... a Malfatto x Il Lupo fanfic... (I'm bracing myself for unfollows)
Read more at your risk. Feel free to leave me feedback! In fact, feedback would be appreciated. (Wish I knew how to turn on replies :c)
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Malfatto prowled slowly through the dim, deserted alleys of the poor district. The cracked dirt path puffed up small clouds of dust with each footstep. It hadn’t rained in weeks. The dry, cool air did not reach his skin – he was covered from head to toe, and a bone-white, beaked mask completely concealed his face. He made absolutely no sound as he walked… silent and unnoticed, he slipped past barred-up doors and crusted windows. In this district, no one would ever approach him asking for medicine, even if they were desperate and dying for treatment – his lethal reputation precedes his image by fearful, whispered word of mouth. The doctor’s gloved hand brushed against the 10-inch long metal syringe hanging at his left side. It was loaded, and the only thing in this world that he relied on. Not a soul in this world trusts him… so he puts all of his faith in his bitter poison. He paused suddenly – a light scraping noise to his left. Nobody else ever walks in this area at night…
He whipped around, his boots cuffing the dusty ground. A flicker around the corner he just rounded… maybe a play of the light. The doctor tried to convince himself that he alone walked this path, and that he was a solitary figure in this world of harsh judgement… but something did not feel right. Breathing lightly in his tight, beaked mask, he took one careful step forward. This was too easy… He cocked his head, the sharp movement oddly bird-like. His breaths quickened, a cold sweat chilling him even within his fitted, leather attire.
“Malfatto.”
A voice from above, when?—
He peered up in time to see a tall cloaked figure silhouetted against the bright, round moon. Then, with an almost noiseless thud, the figure landed right next to him. For a split second, he was paralyzed with shock, but recovering instantly, he sprung back, landing low, the wind catching his dress as he snatched up the syringe at his side. But even his tiniest window of opportunity was too open. A gloved hand held his syringe hand in a firm grip. A light, warm breath fogged up his lenses ever so slightly… his breath caught sharply in his throat – close, too close. His free hand swung up as a swift punch to the gut, but was abruptly stopped. Then, before he could even blink, a slam into the nearest wall knocked the air out of his lungs. His head lolled downwards, no strength left in his hands as he felt his whole body grow limp from the hard impact. As his knees gave way, a hand caught his chin and he was lowered to the ground gently, in such a tender way that made his heart leap ever so slightly. His head was lifted and he looked straight into the stranger’s intense gaze… two gray, almost colorless eyes, empty… yet somehow… fulfilling. He gasped once, a sharp intake of breath that gave him a chance to twist his neck and turn away. He felt strength surging back into his muscles… but strangely enough, he felt no urge to break free. Safe… for the first time in as long as he could remember, the doctor felt secure in the hold of another person… but who--?
Before he could ask himself any more questions, he felt his hands get pressed firmly to the rough wall behind him. The stranger’s hands… he could feel warmth seeping into the cold of his stiff fingers. But Malfatto could not summon enough courage to look up at his aggressor… however, at least… he felt no fear. A smooth, cool dagger could pierce him between the ribs right now -- he could care no less at the moment. Warm, sticky blood could pump out of his wound as he was left weakly slumped against this crummy house… None of that mattered… or happened. It was just now he noticed his syringe, glinting even in the dim light, lying in the dust a foot away from him. A quick thought flitted through his mind – if he acted now he could break free, stab lethally once into the neck, and flee far, far away…
“… Malfatto…”
That voice – familiar? Perhaps, but… a man?
“Fiora has told me many things about you…”
Fiora. A flicker of hurt rage. The doctor snapped up and glared straight into the man’s eyes. But he could not hold his anger for long. Everything melted away… his eyes took everything out of him. Did this man never blink? Malfatto held his cool, unmoving gaze for a moment, much too long, and struggled once against his hold as he wrenched his gaze free. His lungs screamed out for air. Realizing that he had been holding his breath, he gasped a few times, desperately filling his lungs with air. His mask felt tight… even suffocating.
“I am not here… to kill you.” The man proceeded cautiously with his words. “People call me Il Lupo, the Wolf… and you, your reputation is even more dangerous than mine.” Out of the corner of his eye, Malfatto caught the slight twitch of a smirk on the man’s thin lips. A harsh laugh escaped Malfatto before he could suppress it. Even he could hear the shrill desperation in the choked sound. He longed to be free, away from this man, away from everyone… alone again, like he always was. Like he was used to, for all these years. But this man…
Il Lupo chuckled, a low sound that made Malfatto’s heart palpitate. “Relax! Why are you still so tense?” He smiled, shutting his eyes ever so briefly… then looked right into his eyes once more.
He couldn’t take any more of this. Instantaneously, Malfatto slipped free from the man’s hold, the back of his gloves scraping against the wall, grabbed his syringe in the same fluid motion, and ended with the syringe pointing murderously against the man’s neck. His other hand tightly gripped Il Lupo’s collar.
The man didn’t even blink in his defense. He shifted his gaze to the side, and looked up at the night sky, his smile tinged with a smirk the whole time. Malfatto stood up suddenly, wrenching Il Lupo to his feet as well. Malfatto was slightly taller, and he silently watched the other man, head tilted, waiting for a reaction. Fear, any emotion… Why did he not fear him?
Il Lupo laughed again, a soft, warm noise. He put his hands down, slowly, making absolutely no effort to push away the poison-filled syringe poking at his pale skin. Malfatto did not drop his hands. He wanted this man to surrender to him before he went for the kill. There was no way he was going to back down to prey so mocking of him.
His hand shook. One wrong twitch and Il Lupo’s life would be his… No… he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it… He pulled the syringe away from his neck, but did not loosen his grip on the man’s collar. Sheathing his syringe, he paused, and then adjusted the mask on his face. Silence fell, accentuated by the growing darkness around them. In a few hours, the sun would rise again. A sense of urgency pumped through Malfatto. He needed to go soon… but first, he had to hear out this man. He was curious, no less.
Smoothly, Il Lupo brought his hand up to Malfatto’s right arm. He slowly ran his palm up his sleeve before wrapping his fingers around the bandage marked with the doctor’s insignia above his elbow. Malfatto shivered. “You’re a doctor…” he started. A pause, a calm breath. “Yet not a single civilian ever seeks you out… What are your motives?”
Malfatto could not answer this. No one should ever know the answer to this question. He cocked his head, looking down at him eerily, unresponsive.
“Oh, I know all about your deal with courtesans.” Il Lupo smiled faintly, then shrugged as if it were no real matter. This unnerved Malfatto. This man really did feel no fear… nor remorse.
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