CAN'T YOU SEE?

Glasses reflect Vein’s flashlight, two small moons in the dark. Liu Xiao raises an arm to cover his face and shield his eyes. His book shuts around his thumb, a makeshift placeholder. Beneath him is a blanket. The city noise fades around here, accompanied by the flutter of nocturnal wings and chittering insects; it’s the perfect spot.

He found it by accident. A note to return to later bled into a routine he rather enjoys. He prefers this. The night. The chill. The dark. It’s only you, Vein had said. Liu Xiao furrows his brows in almost-annoyance. Only you. That might be ruder than the bright light.

“ …I was reading, ” he says. As if it explains everything. It should, he thinks. Vein’s smart.

Still. He tips his chin toward his side. Dimly, a solar-charged lamp flickers by his thigh, its glow barely visible. Yellowish warmth illuminates little more than a page at a time. The moonlight may be more productive — but again, he prefers this.

“ You skipped dinner. ” Not a question. Why else would Vein be out here, tracking him down by the phantom scent of spring rolls? “ I’m sorry to disappoint, ” he says, but he sounds peeved by Vein’s lacking poker face. “ You can’t eat me. ”

  xia fei shouldered the kitchen door with a nudge, setting down a crate of empty bottles. a few steps out and the shadows swallows him. it’s narrow, the alley. just enough for outstretched arms to reach both sides. the area’s soaked and puddled by rain water. barely lit from the ambient, useless kitchen lights behind him, the door staying open a crack. his mind was in too deep with his tasks, too keen on work and escaping the downpour; he felt it before he fully saw it. the shift, the air taut with tension. there’s footsteps where there should have been none. a stack of empty crates come tumbling, and pain flared white-hot along the length of his upper arm. the sensation is fire, then ice - he feels his movements lag a heartbeat behind his thoughts, as he spots a knife handle sticking from his arm. he hears the low growl of a familiar male voice, but his head needed another second to catch up - but a second is no luxury he can afford ( like the rest of his shitty life. ) a metal edge slides through red-stained fabric, through soft skin and muscle tissue. the knife is retrieved from his arm, causing xia fei to fold - staggering back and half-way stumbling deeper into the dampen alley. sharp, sunset-gold eyes narrow to even sharper slits. the figure follows him, ranting on about shitty drinks and shitty meals and an even shittier customer service experience. great. his blood-soaked hand releases his arm - recollection failing to remember when he even grabbed it - pawing cold, wet concrete until his fingers clasped something hard enough to use. he should have known. in jobs like this, dignity only clothes you until the moment someone strips it off. but xia fei has found himself biting more hands than he should be. a flaw of his that’s been giving him more grief than he’s willing to admit. thinking this night would be benign was laughable. rookie mistake. now he pays with his blood pouring from the open gash in his arm, tainting uneven ground with puddles of red. screw this. if he’s dying here, saving face would do him no favours. he’s expected to be broken in the presence of an ‘elite.’ expected to cower, or plead his case for a second chance, redeem himself in the eyes of a low-tier mobster who’s full of it. instead, he meets him with only a darkened glare. xia fei couldn’t give two shits to coddle a wannabe gangster who’s deluded enough to think he’s someone important. self-made millionaire? a roundabout way to describe a trust-fund baby more like. he and his whole bloodline can fucking rot. his rant barely registers anymore, as xia fei’s head was busy remembering advice of a former patron: break the bottle. no one's walking into those jagged edges.

he reveals himself once the attacker, a certain quick tempered young man he'd grown to loathe, closed in on xia fei despite the broken bottle held before him. vein didn't take kindly to his belongings being mistreated, not in his establishment or otherwise. ❝  ah! that shade of red doesn't suit you, felix. what a shame... only a real jackass would ruin such a nice uniform, and for what? ❞ vein's patience wore thin at this display. a needless attack on an unsuspecting opponent. well- two could play at that game. jack's dumbfounded, drunken gaze whips back at the sound of a second voice interrupting his tirade. vein simply moves faster than his intoxicated mind could muster. grabbing a tuft of that greasy brunet hair and forcibly holding his face close to the jagged edges of the glass before felix. all it would take, would be one fell swoop of his wrist to plummet his groveling face into the glass. a twisted grin. eager to watch the shards split the man's face into ribbons, until his below-average face was unrecognizable. until he gurgled on his own blood and choked before their eyes. he wonders, if felix has ever watched someone die before? if it might fascinate him, too. ❝ someone didn't get the memo, not to walk into broken glass... don't worry, it won't be our fault... you want to hurt him too, don't you?  ❞ it's a proposition for his unwavering silence as to what happens here tonight. sometimes, a little blood needs to be shed to level the playing field.