𐙚⋆.˚

Yves gulped the increasing spit and distress down their throat as a loud hoot caught their attention. They jerked their head to the side, only to see an owl gaze at them, tilting its head to the side. For some time, the creature locked its eyes within Yves' own. Their hand reached over to their chest and clutched it. Terrifyingly, that wasn't the problem.

It was the gunshot that blew half of the owl off.

The bird plunged to the ground, with no sound coming from it any longer, just the twitches of nerves until it ceased moving. Blood splattered on the branch, the ground, and the corner of Yves' face, and common sense took control of their pitiful body, and they ran.

Their glasses fogged from their heavy breaths, almost blinding them as they continued forward through the twisting labyrinth of the forest. Trees became one with one another, creating an illusion in which they were convinced they had to be locked within a never-ending circle, as four bushes became one and the passing wildlife disappeared step by step. They were lost, further from civilisation, tripping on rocks and roots that seemed destined to try to make them fall. Yves was convinced they were about to get their head blown off because no matter how fast they ran… there was always a gunshot that got closer and closer.

With each shot, another body would drop; the woodland creatures would cry out just mere seconds before. It felt as though Yves was ushering these poor animals towards their own demise; another animal they passed, another corpse left behind, it felt as if there was blood slipping through Yves’ fingers each time. Yves ran forcefully past a tree, quickly hid behind it, and slid against the wood. Shielding their wheezing mouth with their hand, they listened carefully to the horror of the crunching sounds that were far too close for comfort.

Yves' body was trembling in pure terror, their head foolishly turning the corner of the tree to see a deer running across the path they had left behind. Before they made the same mistake again, Yves turned their head back, and the deafening crack of a skull shattering into pieces exploded into the darkness. Oh God. There was something mucky moving around that Yves couldn't make out, a gross, slimy sound that was accompanied by the smell of iron and bile all at the same time. This was nothing like the warm smell of bread that they would make at home. They should have just stayed in bed, allowed themselves refuge under the sheets; if the world had grown too horrifying, they could have just looked out of the window. They should have…

When they looked down, they noticed a beating heart resting beside their foot and screamed.

There wasn't any more time to think, and instincts took over even as their body burned from the overwhelming agony of human limitation. Another gunshot called out in the darkness, but their beating heart drowned out the sound; they couldn't hear if another body had fallen.

Time seemed to stall for the fool; a pounding head, an overworked body, and blurry vision were a sign of disaster for any human being. Tapping across their body, they checked around for any wounds. Nothing, by sheer luck; they weren't the target of a stray bullet, with only the blood of the deer on their shoes. They fell onto the ground and rolled over to see the moon blessing them with light. The night sky glittered with so many stars, all of them almost dancing around the moon as if they were performing for Yves. Yet, every time that they blinked, it felt as if another star had disappeared. Were they going mad? Had they lost their mind? No. It was all within the confines of their exhausted mind; there hadn't been any stars missing, there weren't any dead animals, and most importantly, there was no mysterious being hunting them.

They had to be sure of it; after all, the gunshots had stopped. It had to have been their lack of sleep; unable to rest properly for the past few days, Yves' mind had to have been playing tricks on the poor thing. Their hand reached out and wiped the disgusting amount of sweat from off their forehead, and they closed their eyes and gave their body some time for a well-deserved rest. It was still dangerous in the forest; wild animals could come up and tear into them, but at least a wolf didn't have a gun. Plus, with the knife tucked away in their pocket, they had some chance against a feral, hungry predator.

What was Ryker up to? Yeah, what was their friend up to? Knowing them, they would be running around asking questions and getting stuck in this level of hell just like them. Yves's laugh was so strangled, they got into a choking fit, holding onto their stomach as they couldn't control their laughter or coughs. Fingers dug into the dirt below to force themself onto their knees to spit up the built-up saliva onto the ground below. Ryker. They wanted to be with Ryker right now instead of alone in this shitty forest with no idea where to go.

A soothing hand patted their back, relieving them, and helped them spit out anything that was going down the wrong way. So softly, in a deep voice, it spoke to them. "You forgot your gift." Something wet started to drop onto Yves' neck and head, and when they wiped it away, they noticed the dark red against their fingertips. Their breathing picked up again, and they collapsed and started to crawl away, Yves’ body trying to fight against the grave reality that came slamming against them, and a hand grabbed their ankle, pulling them closer and closer. A cold, metal object pressed against the back of their head. It moved up until Yves' skin was freed from this cold danger and was replaced with a dreadful unknown.

Their ponytail flicked to the side as if a cat was playing with a dangling toy. The gunman spoke, "You've been ignoring me; it almost hurts my feelings enough for my finger to slip."

MOVE. Yves needed to move, right goddamn now, and stop just lying on the floor like an idiot who was desperate to die in that moment. Their body needed to pump as much damn hormones into their organs and get the fuck UP. Scraping their knees against the grass, they got back onto their feet without turning around at all, and the figure behind them laughed. Its horrendous sound got louder no matter how far Yves got before a loud BANG that whizzed past their ear. Where there was once tree bark, now there was nothing but a smoky hole that flooded Yves' body with enough dread for it to fill their engine and run.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Each bullet whirred past their head, some far, and some so close that they could feel the wind that passed by their ear. Their body hit against the trees, tangled in bushes, and had them hiding behind rocks every time that maniac cocked his gun and took fire. There was no way they could outrun him; every time they looked behind, they could see those bright-yellow eyes in the distance with a thumping walk that kept up with their pace. Yves cried under their breath, praying to whatever God was out there that this would be a swift death.

Sometimes, Yves was convinced that someone was playing a sick joke on them: the knife that they were carrying for self-defence? Used to cut themselves free from vines that tried to choke the life out of them, each slice only bringing less time to their weary body, and paranoia drove them forward into mistakes when the knife slipped out of their hand on the wrong turn. "Shit!" They hissed out. There wasn't a moment when they could go back for the knife again either, not when a bullet hit the ground where the knife landed.

However, determination could only get you so far.

One wrong turn became their doom, tripping and rolling onto the ground, until their back hit against the rocky terrain and their foot was far too twisted for the idea of walking to even be an option anymore. Pain shot up their body like a strike of lightning, and they wailed out. This was it. With nowhere to go, no way to escape, the only option they had was to wait. Maybe Heaven would be nicer than the world they were trapped in.

Bringing the shining, silver cross to their lips, they kissed it goodbye as death made himself known. A shadow cast against their shivering body. Slowly, they looked up to those terrifying eyes that narrowed in such a sinister fashion while the bastard had the nerve to smile. But before they spoke, the barrel of the gun pressed against their body and glided against Yves until it kissed their lips. A sick sense of exhilaration ran up their body, fighting against common sense and their will to live. The gun pushed apart their lips to open them, and soon enough.

Dante pulled down his mask, leaned in, and kissed them.

Their throat burned from the scent of blood that coated his jacket. The cold reminder of hell still tormented them as he kept his gun against their body. Yet, the rough texture of those lips that they had kissed many times before enticed them. Yves wrapped their arms around his neck and dragged him further until the two of them crashed to the ground in response. The gun rattled as Dante's hand moved to their hair to pull their head to the side. Somehow, in this moment, Yves was finding it hard to breathe more than ever before. Their hands pushed against Dante's chest, smearing blood against their palms.

When Dante pulled away, he laughed.

"Did you have fun?" He asked as his lips brushed against the corner of theirs. Yves grumbled under their breath and pushed him away.

"I don't know," Yves started, "I twisted my ankle, I'm exhausted, you got blood on me, and I lost my knife." They ended it with a scoff and rolled their eyes, but they refused to let Dante go. He attached the gun to his side and wrapped his arms around their waist to yank them up.

"It was your idea," Dante stated, and Yves' face lit up hotter than boiling blood. "I'm just asking if you had fun. Simple question."

Yves looked away, noticing the scraps against their skin from tree branches; their hair was tangled and nearly falling out of place, their heart still pounding from the anxiety and stress from the chase, and currently? They felt physically like shit from all of the running they did. Dante's gloved hand wiped the sweat off their forehead and neck, some sweet words about bravery that Yves couldn't tell were playful teases or genuine compliments. The answers lingered on their tongue. But now, this was a matter of pride on the line.

"It was fine."

Dante invaded their space; his hair tickled their face as he stared at them, his eyes hinting at childish amusement. "Just fine? I don't remember you being a liar." He used one arm to readjust them, and on impulse, Yves wrapped their legs around their waist and yelped.

"Average," Yves answered quickly. Dante raised an eyebrow and grabbed their chin with his index finger and thumb and smashed their lips against his own. The nasty taste of his mask coated their tongue, and they gagged in disgust. "Ew! You left your damn mask on!"

"You didn't deserve my lips a second time after you lied to me." He said, reaching into his pocket and placing the now-cold heart into their hands. Yves cringed at the sight, and Dante nodded his head in agreement. "But you deserve your gift either way."

"Dante, this is disgusting."