âOf all people, Iâm the one thatâs acting weird?â He mumbles to himself, just as the throwing knife is thrown, passed his fingertips to become lodged in Chanyeolâs thigh, just below his hand.
It was always known that Kyungsoo had terrific aim.
A devilish smile appears on his lips, watching as blood begins to pool from the wound and stain his best friendâs jeans. Security floods his veins; his best friend would stay by his side, for forever.
Yet, the idea finally strikes him that Chanyeol just has one last escape, made possible by the blood dripping onto the kitchen floor. Kyungsoo grabs the paper towels and rushes to his friendâs side, tears in his eyes as he suddenly feels regret for even thinking of the idea of hurting his friend in the first place.
âIâm s-sorry, Yeol,â he stutters, sniffling as tears are rolling down his cheeks, the roll of paper towels shaking in his hand. He tears off a few pieces, tossing the roll aside as he stretches his hand out, trying to make the paper towels stop the blood flow from his friendâs thigh.Â
Owlish eyes hesitantly meet his friendâs, reflecting the careful, kind image of himself he had built in highschool. It was the facade he had always used to trick bystanders and lure in his prey.Â
âI donât know what came over me.â
With his bottom lip quivering slightly, he briefly licks his bottom lip as his hand holding the paper towels teasingly strays between his friendâs thighs far enough to touch the zipper to his pants.
He lifts his gaze from the food, meeting Chanyeolâs with a meek smile. âItâs only macaroni and cheese,â he mumbles, hanging his head over the bowl.Â
His eyes begin to narrow, holding a slightly sharpened gaze as the spoon scrapes against the porcelain bowl, the sound echoing around the room. As he takes a breath, about to say something, his throat tightens and heâs suddenly registered unable to speak.Â
When Chanyeol pulls away, his own gaze becomes saturated as a slight smile twitches at the corner of his lips.Â
âItâs nothing,â he repeats to himself, trying to reassure all of the joints in his body that think otherwise. He then stands from his chair, taking his bowl and spoon into his hand. Looking down at his friend, he mumbles a quiet, âlet me take your bowl from you,â before returning to the kitchen and running the water.
He starts to clean the bowls, using simply his hands and the power of warm water to wash the fake cheese down the drain. Glancing up from the sink, his gaze rests on his friendâs back.
âSo, Chanyeol,â he says with a light smile as he sets the bowls onto the counter to dry. âWhat has been your favorite way of killing someone lately?âÂ
He pauses, tilting his head slightly as he turns off the water.Â
âYou know, sometimes I really like to find a happy family, get in their house, and make their kids watch as I shoot their parents in front of them.â His gaze darkens, hardened with the feeling of jealousy. âHappy families really do make me sick,â he says, moving almost silently toward his collection of knives.
His fingers wrap around the handle of a throwing knife, one of his favorites he had bought while visiting Koreaâs countryside.
âUsing a flamethrower to burn them alive would be fun too, but I personally am a lover of seeing blood splatter.â
He narrows his eyes slightly as heâs holding the knife is his hand, aiming for his friendâs thigh.Â
Business has been slow all day and Kyungsoo wonders why.
Heâs resting back in his chair, feet rested on top of the counter, waiting somewhat patiently for the dust floating through the window to stir.Â
The old TV. lucky enough to have lasted since the nineties, rests at the corner of the ceiling. When the news returns from its break, Kyungsooâs lazy eyes fix onto the distant screen as he opens a box of Marlboros.Â
âToday is a great day for the entire country.â The anchorwomen says, her wide smile accentuating her incision marks. âThe police have just released a statement, regarding to the once Cottonmouth gang.â He flicks his lighter to ignite the flame, lighting the cigarette nudged between his lips, suddenly intrigued.Â
She continues, smile wide as Kyungsoo shifts a little in his seat, trying to hear over the buzzing sound of the fan behind him. âJung Jooyoung, the leader of Cottonmouth, has reportedly been taken into custody.â
Wisps of smoke pass from heart shaped lips and curl in the air as he exhales, then pulls the cigarette in his hand as he holds it between his fingers. His eyebrows rise, interested in the other details of the case. He can hear his heart practically beating inside his ears, eyes widened as heâs beginning to figure out that without having Cottonmouth means his job has been done and his profits have been made. The lap of luxury is calling his name.
âThe police have begun to make efforts to arrest the rest of the members of Cottonmouth, now that Jung Jooyoung is-â
The remote makes a loud crack when Kyungsoo slams it against the counter, knuckles turned white as he canât help but remember a bright, happy smile he once knew. Itâs been stained on the insides of his eyelids since they had first met. Hurriedly, his other hand shaking, he sucks in the toxins as he steps out beneath the stars, watching as innocent lives peek out from their hiding places, sniffing the air before the start to laugh and cause commotion.Â
Itâs lively and Kyungsoo hates it. Things he had never experienced himself flash before him - a childhood, stability, a sense of security, and what heâs most jealous of, happiness.
He needs his happiness back, if he had ever truly experienced it in the first place.Â
His cigarette falls to the sidewalk as thunder claps in the looming clouds and runs down the street, pursuing a smile he had known through his roughest times.
Heâs able to smell her scent as soon as she steps in.Â
Flowers. Disgusting.
The scent seems to hit his tongue, irritating his throat and enacting his gag reflex.
As heâs standing behind the counter, crimson hair disheveled and the sleeves of his shirt carelessly shoved up his arms, he stares at her, exchanging gazes with a prim female.
He doesnât recall her at first, until she calls his real name. It bothers him further, because not only does he just remember the sound of her voice, he canât remember where they had even met. Although, judging by her clothes and the way she held herself, sheâs related to a gang.
He knows, especially with one of these, he has to be careful where he steps. All it takes is one complaint to the boss before his bakery is blown up with his own gunpowder.
And Kyungsoo prefers selling his gunpowder over igniting it.
Although heâs admittedly a fan of miniskirts and oversized chests on his females, free is always a great price for a night of fun, as what the woman is suggesting. He can see her now, having those long, curly brown strands being forced this way and that, splayed randomly against the bedsheets.
He decides that he likes the image he sees in his head and takes the risk for repercussions.
He doesnât bother to have said a word yet and simply steps out from behind the counter to flip the sign to closed, followed by locking the door, shaking the handle a few times to make sure the door is locked.
Once heâs finished, he turns to her, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, slinging the keys in circles around his index finger.
hello again! first of all, i want to apologize for my inactivity! please know that i had to have an emergency trip to see my family and spent a lot of time with them. i am back now and i donât see any kind of reason for me to disappear again in the future. second, iâd like to apologize for my inactivity, as well as myself forgetting plots and possibly posts i have neglected to reply to! please shoot me an ask if this is your situation if i donât respond within the next few days!
Oversized Batman pajama bottoms hang loosely around his waist, wearing a torn, and most noticeably, bloody white undershirt, yet the blood is dried and seems to have been tried to be washed out before. A plush, brown blanket is held in his arms. He lifts his head, a light smile spreading across his cheeks.Â
He crosses the room, flicking on the lights in the living room to partially illuminate the living space and meets Chanyeolâs gaze with his own.
âNo, no need to apologize.â He says, smile widening on his face. âI had brought this blanket for you, you know,â he adds, walking closer to the couch as he unfolds the blanket before throwing it over him. He fixes the blanket around his guest to fit him, not forgetting to let his hand linger a few seconds longer over Chanyeolâs waist.
He stands up, running his eyes down his friendâs legs, making sure the blanket is tucked in everyplace. âI figured you must have gotten cold,â he mumbles, crossing his arms across his chest and drops his eyes to the floor, letting out a quiet huff.
Lifting his head, smile returning, he starts to walk toward the kitchen, oversized Batman pajama bottoms gradually beginning to fall from his hips, exposing his navy boxers underneath. As he bends over, digging through the pots and pans beneath the stove, he asks over the sounds, âAre you hungry? I could make you some mac and cheese like old times!â
Once heâs found the right pot in mind, not bothering to wait for Chanyeolâs reply, he puts enough water in the pot to make macaroni and cheese for two.
He moves to grab two boxes of macaroni from his cabinet, but when he opens the door, he pauses, gaze fixed on the mustard bottle sitting next to the two boxes.
When he had first had his kitchen made, he had always made sure to have every bottle facing him at a perfect angle for when he would cook at the stove, but now the bottle is resting with the label facing directly straight.
Most people wouldnât notice the slight difference in degrees, except for Kyungsoo. His eyes narrow as he slowly closes the cupboard door and begins tearing open the boxes of macaroni and cheese, eyes fixed on nothing particular as his mind is focused on the sinking feeling resting in his heart.Â
The macaroni and cheese is finished cooking within a few minutes, and Kyungsoo pours about a third of the potâs contents into one bowl, and the rest into a larger one. He places the bowls on a simple, small dining table, along with the utensils, and calls in Chanyeol to eat.Â
He takes his seat behind the smaller bowl, blowing at the steam continuing to rise from the macaroni before putting it past his lips. He leaves silence between them for a few moments, except for the sound of Kyungsoo blowing on his food and the dulled sound of the city nightlife from outside. Only a single light above them supplies them with dull lighting, causing shadows to flicker across their faces.
He hasnât looked at Chanyeol yet since he had given him the blanket, not making a word until heâs finished with his portion. He plays around with the leftover cheese at the bottom of the bowl, swirling it around to make different shapes.Â
His hand freezes as he mutters, âWhat were you looking for?â then raises his head from the bowl, balling his hand into a fist and hits it against the surface of the table, rattling the porcelain bowls. A smirk spreads across his face, teeth peeking between his lips, eyes hidden behind his messy red hair. âYouâre my guest, arenât you? Youâre supposed to ask me for help if youâre looking for anything. Iâd love to give it to you.â
He rises from his chair, leaning onto the table as he looks down at Chanyeol, voice weak as he asks, âCome on, tell me and Iâll give it to you.â
He stares back at him, momentarily frozen as Chanyeol continues to deny any association with a gang, yet tears continue to roll down his cheeks and the water from his wet hair is rolling down Kyungsooâs angles and planes.
âYou promise?â He asks, tilting his head down slightly, glowering at him through the wet curls of his hair. âThen explain yourself before I have to kick you out.â
Kyungsoo lets out a light laugh; heart-shaped lips quivering, threatening to return to a frown. âThen whyâd you come back, like this, if you arenât going to kill me?â He murmurs, voice strangled and forced. âWouldnât it be a better story to just have you kill me? After I had waited for you to come, after all those years, practically built myself for you to come back, and all you do is put a bullet in me. Wouldnât that be better than dragging me along like this?â
He steps away, walking to his bedroom to go to his safe. âDo you want money? How much do you need? I have billions in here!â He yells from his room, unlocking the door and takes out a wad, his hand barely able to hold onto the stack of cash.
He returns to the living room and tosses the cash into the otherâs hand, gesturing towards his bedroom.Â
âYou can take the whole safe, if you want to. Take all of my money, take my life, take my guns. Take it all. I donât care anymore.â
Turning his back to Chanyeol, he returns to his room and slams the door shut behind him.
Later that night, Kyungsoo wakes up from his bed, the bright, city lights from outside peeking through his window.
âChanyeol?â He whispers, rolling over on his mattress to glance at the safe.
The air in his room is still.
He sits up, bundling a blanket into his arms as he tries to tell himself that no, Chanyeol is just asleep on the couch, that he wouldnât have simply left.
He knew he hadnât dreamt it.
He opens the door to his bedroom, the hinges creaking in protest, breaking the silence of the night.
âChanyeol,â he calls, peering out into the darkness of his own home, eyes widened in the darkness. âIâm-Iâm sorry I got mad at you.â
The expression on Kyungsooâs face slowly cracks away, the happiness being slowly drained from his face to be replaced with shattered, broken feelings. His eyes resemble a doeâs, tears gathering in them as his jaw sets, staring at his apparently once best friend.
âChanyeol,â he whispers, bottom lip beginning to tremble as he sucks in a breath. âWhat happened to you?â
He takes a step forward, closer to his friend, balling his fists at his sides.Â
âYou had told me we only had each other, remember? That itâd just be us against the whole world.âÂ
He releases a short huff, smiling slightly as he looks at the ceiling, running his hand through his still wet, cherry red hair. Trying to swallow the tightness in his throat, his Adamâs apple bobs as a tear runs down the side of his cheek.
I have reasons continues to echo inside of Kyungsooâs head, unable to unsee his friendâs lips shaping the first words spoken to him by his best friend in years.Â
He lets his hand fall back to his side, hurtful and now angry eyes returning to look at his friend again as he takes the last few steps to close the distance between them, standing at Chanyeolâs side.
âYou dumbass,â he murmurs, a torn smirk appearing on his lips as he remembers what heâd say in school, ruffling Chanyeolâs hair like he would in school when their difference in height wasnât so great. âWhatâd you do? Did you start doing drugs? Got a girlfriend and donât want to go back to being dirty together?â He asks, tilting his head as he messes with Chanyeolâs hair. He ruffles and plays with it, until an idea suddenly comes to Kyungsooâs head. His hand suddenly freezes, entangled in the otherâs stands before slowly pulling his hand away as he mumbles, almost terrified to voice his idea. âY-you, you joined a gang, didnât you?â Before adding, much more sure of himself, âyou joined someone, I know it.â
He moves abruptly, hand moving from resting on Chanyeolâs shoulder to gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to stare directly at him, eyes irritated and red as tears are running down his cheeks.
âWhy the hell did you join them without bothering to see me?â He screams, clutching the fabric of the otherâs shirt in his hand tighter. âI wouldâve paid you more than they would if youâd just joined me, and you wouldnât have to even move a fucking finger!â
Moving his face closer, the tips of their noses only centimeters apart, he closes his eyes, the hold on his friendâs shirt becoming much more desperate. âWhy donât you just kill me to get your mission over with. My chest being ripped open would hurt less than this.â
There he was, standing in front of the door of Mr. âD.Oâ.
The steam is thick when he finishes his shower, carefully stepping onto the bathroom tile as he wraps a towel around his waist, tying it at his side.
He opens the door, glancing at the TV right when a new episode of Pororo is about to come on, and decides to instead sit at the couch until the commercials come on. Yet, the moment he sits down, the doorbell rings throughout the rooms in his apartment. He jumps at the sound and scurries to find the remote, resting between the two cushions of his couch. He only manages to turn it down to a low murmur before he throws the remote back onto the couch, running a hand through his wet hair as he moves to answer the door.
Releasing a sigh, he slides the lock over to open the door just a crack, showing only half of his frame. He pulls his wet bangs back, grunting a âCan I help you?â before he meets the eyes of someone he would never forget.
âChanyeol!â He exclaims, grinning widely as he fully unlocks the door to his apartment. He then moves to throw his arms around the otherâs neck, feeling years younger and for once, not having to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Only after a moment, he realizes how it might seem awkward with how Kyungsoo is dressed only with a towel tied around his waist and pulls his hands away, instead resting them on his friendâs chest, giving him a few pats with a wide grin still plastered across his face. âCome on, Yeol. Come inside,â he says, giving his friendâs chest another pat before opening the door completely, hand wrapped around the otherâs wrist as heâs dragging the taller inside. The door closes behind them with a nearly silent click.
He leads Chanyeol into the living room, the kidsâ commercials already starting on the television. He tells him to make his place home, then asks if he would like any tea or coffee, wringing his hands as he does so. He breaks eye contact momentarily, smile faltering on his lips and a flash from scars made years ago flash across his eyes. âWhat brings you here, now of all times?â
Gymnophobia: My muse accidentally sees yours naked.
These answers are considered as AU unless stated otherwise!
Cleaning hotel rooms may be his job, but that doesnât mean he canât have fun along the way.
Heâs making his daily rounds around the rooms of the high-class hotel, having to pick up the trash from the traveling celebrities and the used condoms of sexually active millionaires. He makes their beds and washes their sheets for their room to be ready for another night. He disregards the notes left on the memo pads, meant for him to read, usually scribbled with, âHope to see you tonight,â only to be replied with a, âNo thanks! Enjoy your stay.â from Kyungsooâs end.
Sure, it can be rocky when you arenât respected by a majority of your guests, but the job does come with its perks.
The room 211 is stuck in his head as heâs resting in his own room, graciously given to him by the hotel manager, sipping down a cup of cheap, complimentary coffee.Â
He canât remember if he had taken the towels or not, and these kinds of forgetful things bother him.
By midnight, heâs unlocking the door with his master key, just to quickly make sure he was right so he can finally fall asleep in his bed.
But when he swings the door open, his eyes fall onto the bed, and notices that this room is very much occupied. He stands at the door, frozen in place as he watches a blondeâs pair of lips part, letting out a mewl as a man takes him from behind, his hands fisted in his locks as heâs holding him down.
Kyungsooâs tongue runs along his lips, shifting his weight as he tugs at his tie. His eyes become clouded with lust, beginning to feel uncomfortable inside his dress pants. He begins to unzip the zipper as he steps closer to the bed.
âExcuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind if I joined you?â
Agliophobia: My muse nurses yours after an injury.
These answers are considered as AU unless stated otherwise!
The lights are dimmed inside his apartment, moonlight peeking through the curtains above the bed.Â
Slowly, Kyungsoo draws his feet closer to the bed, eyes fixed on the figure lying beneath his covers. Tears gather in his eyes as his hand reaches out to nudge the personâs shoulder, smiling through the tears as he runs his hand over the otherâs arm, patting him gently.
âI should have known,â he says, tears gathering at his chin as he moves to kneel at the bedside. Thereâs still steam rising from the cup of coffee on the nightstand, one Kyungsoo had left before he went to finish work.Â
He starts breaking down when he sees his face.
Frustrated, he runs his hand through his brown locks, tugging at the ends and twisting the strands in his fingers as heâs choking on his sobs.Â
He rasps, drawing in a breath to scream, âWonshik!â as tears fall onto the blanket. His smaller hand moves to rest over Wonshikâs, his fingers wrapping around his hand through the blanket.Â
His head eventually falls to rest against the mattress, sobs silenced, leaving the sound of only one heart beating.
Mastigophobia: my muse punishes yours for something either smutty or angsty.
These answers are considered as AU unless stated otherwise!
âWe donât need another thing jammed in this office, do we?â
Kyungsooâs victimizing eyes met his coworkersâ own around the office, making the men shift in their seats and women to turn away. Everyone in the office knew to stay out of the bossâ way, especially when he was taking justice into his own hands.
âThat bitch must have known I was after him,â he mumbles, retracing his route from the entrance, to Chanyeolâs office, then back again. He has his hands clasped behind his back, head down as his dress pants brush against each other with each step, until he suddenly collides with a figure taller than him. Coffee becomes airborne and the cup is long forgotten on the carpet, leaving a boss soaked in coffee grounds and whipped cream splattered across burgundy tie.
Chanyeol only has the chance for his eyes to meet Kyungsooâs furious ones until heâs pressed against the wall, openmouthed kisses being pressed against his neck and fingers digging between the buttons on his shirt.
âThought you could get away from me?â He breathes, fingers beginning to fumble with the buttons to get his employee undressed. Chanyeol takes a breath to reply, but Kyungsoo already had ahold of his tie and pulled down on the silk to cut off the tallerâs windpipe, leaving him only to submit.
A cruel smile stretches across Kyungsooâs lips while holding the otherâs bright blue tie twisted around his forearm, cold and lustful eyes meeting his employeeâs own as the sense of fear gradually sets in. âThe only one that has access to my stapler is you, and you just had to fuck it up, didnât you?â He asks, gradually raising his voice and tugs on the tie once heâs finished to accentuate his point. He grits his teeth, setting his jaw as he dares for Chanyeol to pull at the tie, to beg for air, but his employee has learned from experience and waits for his time to breathe as tears are prickling his eyes.
The smile falters, giving way to a smirk as the tie falls free from Kyungsooâs hand, leaving Chanyeol to gasp for breath. The smaller sets his hands on either side of his employee, glaring up at him as he progressively sinks to rest on his knees between his employeeâs legs.Â
Excited, his tongue peeks from behind his teeth, running the muscle along his lips as he raises his hand to trace around the zipper. Kyungsoo closes his eyes before he leans in, first tugging down the zipper before the pants follow after, only to be replaced by his bossâ head sucking wet splotches against the outline of Chanyeolâs cock, still withheld inside his boxers.Â
Kyungsoo lifts his hand from the floor, his eyes fluttering open to give Chanyeol a glance as his fingers slip beyond the elastic waistline of the otherâs boxers. He feels something beneath his tongue twitch, and decides to give his employee the pleasure of continuing.
He closes his eyes again, inhaling the musky scent of everything Chanyeol as his hand finally slips the boxers down to pool around glossy, leather shoes. Short, yet thick fingers wrap around Chanyeolâs cock, making only slow, careless pumps as Kyungsooâs tongue is lapping along the base.
Once heâs had enough, he re-situates his lips against the head of Chanyeolâs dick, purposefully just missing his slightly parted lips to have the feeling of precome and his own saliva brushing against his cheek and to hear another desperate whimper from his employeeâs side. He opens his eyes again, his naturally larger eyes crossed as he looks at the length in front of him before meeting the eyes of the man above him, and makes a final gesture of licking between the slit before slowly edging Chanyeolâs cock past his lips.
Yet, as his eyes are trained on Chanyeolâs expression, as soon as he recognizes the fire in his employeeâs eyes and the first sense of control, Kyungsoo suddenly pulls himself away and stands on his feet, wiping his hands off on his employeeâs suit with a smug grin. âIf I see you jacking off any time today,â he says, lips already beginning to look a little swollen, âthen youâre fired.â
The shorter gives his employeeâs arm a pat before he turns around, humming a random tune as he returns to his office.Â
Merinthophobia: my muse finds yours tied or chained up.
These answers are considered as AU unless stated otherwise!
Kyungsoo has a thing for damsels in distress.Â
Heâs walking home at night underneath the night sky and city lights, carrying a bag of freshly purchased manga from the closest bookstore. Although, around this time, gang activity is at its peak, Kyungsoo finds it easier to dodge bullets and only speak when spoken to than having to sift awkwardly through seas of people that wonât take a second before telling him that if his eyes were smaller, heâd be able to focus on where heâs going.
Itâs not his fault that heâs sensitive when it comes to his eyes.Â
When heâs about to reach his apartment complex, his peripherals catch something off in the alleyway. He stops and casually turns his head to not attract attention to himself, before meeting the eyes of a women duct taped to the side of a building; wrists and ankles bound, tape over her mouth.
Curiously, he steps forward, dropping the bag to leave the volumes of manga in a puddle, forgotten to a pretty face. He stands a few feet away from her, running his eyes down her body until reaching her ankles, then back to meet her eyes. âWell,â he begins, flashing her a smile. âSeems like youâre in some kind of a-â He stops, eyebrows furrowed when heâs unable to remember a stomach churning pun from the old days. He rubs at his forehead, looking up at the stars as if they hold the answer, until he remembers. He points at her, releasing a light chuckle. âA sticky situation. That was it.âÂ
He steps closer until he has closed the distance between them, yet the top of his plume of red hair only manages to reach her torso. He lifts his head to adjust to the height difference, making the pride in his chest swell to be reclaimed. âI can promise you, Iâm really tall. It may not look like it now, but Iâm well above six feet.â He claims, slapping his hand against his chest. A grin spreads across his face as the rush of security makes himself feel a little better, but he wants to make sure this woman knows who has the control.
His grin widens, holding something cruel behind it, as he lifts his hand to rest on the top of her thigh. âYou know,â he says, running his hand over the inside of her thigh. âThere can be worse things that can happen to you than having to hear a bad joke and a guy lying about his height.â
these answers are considered as AU unless stated otherwise!
There is a point in everyoneâs lives, no matter how distant from normal human nature one may be, to feel a certain fluttering in their hearts when someone passes by.Â
Although Kyungsooâs story is short and there is still much more to be written in a romantic sense, heâs standing inside the local grocery store before the sun has bothered to climb above the horizon to choose which type of fresh flowers would his ill neighbor like to brighten up her day.Â
He doesnât love her, no. Itâs not like heâs having to slap himself in the face after sheâs passed by him in the hallway or anything. Itâs not like he stands outside in the hallway at ungodly hours just to see her, pretending to busy himself by first painting over the back of his door to then marveling at how wonderful the new paint looks against the walls, just to get another glimpse at her.
Heâs never spoken to her since the day heâs moved in, because theyâre just neighbors. He doesnât suddenly feel skittish and have his heart pounding in his ears. Kyungsoo is just a loner that doesnât go well with talking to people and prefers sitting on his couch alone, watching people ruin their lives for the sake of network television. Itâs an easier way to live. But is it the most enjoyable?
It happens almost too quickly; clutching a bouquet of pink peonies and daisies in his hand, his other clenched in a fist, knocking a few times on her door. He knocks gently, the small series of knocks leaving an echo in the empty hallway to ring back into Kyungsooâs ears alone. Suddenly, a rush of thoughts flood into his head, thoughts of making his own neighbor cry and to be shunned from ever seeing her again. âSheâs sick,â he mumbles to himself, eyes downcast as he hears her voice from behind the door. âIâm not telling her I like her. Iâm giving her flowers for her to feel better. Itâs completely different, Soo.â
When the door swings open, scarlet rushes to fill his cheeks and compliment his perfectly styled red hair. He hesitantly lifts his head to look back at her, gaze as pure as the pink flowers in his hand. âI,â he stumbles, his eyes closing momentarily as he tries to recollect his thoughts before opening his eyes again. âI hope youâre feeling better.â He says, and outstretches his hand holding the bouquet with a light smile.
You are approached by a stranger. The stranger is female, and while she is niceâyou think that there is something off. She asks you about your business, being incredibly vague about why. Saying a friend referred her, you note that she seems to be very persistent, and always glancing over her shoulder. She seems very suspicious of her surroundings, and seems to want details on your supposed âbusinessâ (referencing your illegal acts!). You have the option of somehow getting the girl off your case, or giving her information on your illegal occupation. While getting her off your case might be a bit dangerous, if your information is given to a strangerâyou risk word getting out to the authorities. Choose wisely, and best of luck to you!
Bells clacking against the surface of the old, wooden door break the stale air and startle the dust that an angel from long ago had dusted upon them. Light greets the dirty tiled floors briefly before the door is shut behind a new customer, and the door is left to swing back into its frame. Kyungsooâs eyes open and moves suddenly in his chair to sit up straight, startled from his mid-afternoon nap of a slow day. Smacking his lips a few times, he stands and returns to the cash register. He briefly glances over her before meeting her manicured eyes.
âWhat can I help you with?â He asks, mumbling the words as he rubs at his eyes, trying to fight off the weariness that continues to plague him. She returns his stare with her own sharp one, taking only a moment for her cherry red lips to turn into a smile. He hates her already.
âWell,â she starts, carrying the syllable to signify she may approach a subject other than purchasing cakes. His eyes ignite with lust at the first image that comes to his mind, heartbeat picking up as his eyes fall to rest between the womanâs shoulders. The walls in the bakery had only heard gunshots for the longest time, and Kyungsoo is just about to reach the end of his impatience. His index finger twitches at his side, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable within his pants, when she responds. âIâd like to know if there were, if Iâm allowed to say, other options when it comes to the cakes I can buy.â
The air catches at his throat, suddenly lifting his head to stare back at her, albeit having to look up at her, and holds a sharp, suspecting look in his gaze. âNo,â he manages to wheeze, shifting his weight to one side as heâs trying to not give into her. Sheâs tempting, but he has to remember that being by himself for one more night is far better than having cuffs around his wrists, never to see the exchange of his weapons into cold, hard cash again. He forces himself to swallow his fear before he continues. âWhy would you ask that? All this bakery has are cakes. Iâm sure if you want some more type of serious cake, you could go into the city and purchase one there.â She responds with a tightlipped smile and releases a short laugh. His own smile falls from his face as heâs beginning to realize this will be a tough one.Â
Her smile widens, sparkling white teeth being showcased to him, dazzling him with her beauty. âYouâre such a cute boy. You know, my friend told me about you. About you and your guns,â she claims, pointing a well-manicured red finger at him. Before she can continue, Kyungsoo knocks her hand out of his face, leaning onto the counter and glaring up at her at the same time. Heâs practically seething now, irritated from being called a cute boy and feels the need to show this lady exactly how cute this little boy is. His wide eyes glare at her, boring back into her dazed, inquisitive ones, until his hand moves beneath the counter for the baker to grab his scorpion, paired with a silencer, and aims it at her forehead. He sees her body freeze in fear and a senile grin spreads across his face. âD.O, plea-â she begins before her body slumps onto the floor, crimson oozing from her forehead.Â
He releases a sigh, setting his favorite sidearm in its hiding place beneath the counter, then grabs the landline and dials a number he knows almost too well. âHello? Yes, this is D.O. Iâve got another one that needs to be cleaned up.âÂ
