#oneus.fic

prologue.

Over fifty missing bodies. People had been issued missing, one after another over months at a time, and yet not a single sign of them had come up in the search parties. Not a fingerprint, not a discarded piece of fabric, and much less common but still possible, not even a note.

How do so many people fall off the face of the earth without a single sign, you might ask? Well, for one, they don't.

The chief had clicked your office door shut, the blank walls only condescending as you sat with an equally blank mind. Staring down at the array of files on your desk, glaring over at the cork board covered in photographs of all the victims; from an insider's perspective, you could tell there was no common link. Each person stood different. Identical victims were more common in serial cases. Some type of link, string, figure of similarity that could be caught by the naked eye, or at least a professional's.

Yet there was nothing. Their lives were different, some rich, some poor, some old, some young. Every arrow pointed in a different direction, which rendered you clueless to a motive. But it assured one thing: this was a serial killer—one on a rampage through the city, and that was most dangerous.

Fingers pressed to your temple, you were truly out of your element. Not new to the world of crime or kills, this case brought your knowledge to a dead end. No start, no evidence, no clues, no task, and zero directions. What were you to do here?

Palms brushing against the vanilla folders opened thrice in one session with the chief of the department, you were on your last limb. You had nothing to tell the families struggling with pain and loss, no words for those locking their doors with added bolts at night from the fear that they were next. It was human nature to be scared, but what could bring someone to cause such chaos?

The white letter hidden beneath the piles of folders held all the answers seering your mind. Plastic gloves pulled over the skin of your hands in order to not tamper with evidence, the printed name on the back of the envelope stumped you.

Ravn, the name written in black ink dried to the enclosed letter as you ripped open the lid and pulled out the single, folded printer paper. You could see the same ink littering the inside, could make out single letters within the words, but nothing could have prepared you for what was written inside.

"The bodies have been in my safe keeping. They drop like flies in a window, their cuts and bruises fresh. But there are too many, too fast. I cannot keep up with them under these conditions. Something must be done, someone must be stopped. Come alone." Written in calligraphy, the alias named Ravn cut their words sharp until the letter read straight to the point.

Here was what you had been wishing for. Bodies of the victims, lacerations that can be transcribed as signatures, links that could bring the killer forth in a matter of time. All from one donor, the strange one called Ravn.

An abandoned mill's address read at the bottom of the page, one long shut down. Possibly a place harboring the so-called Ravn holding onto the bodies. Nothing like this had ever been registered in a case before. With everything on the line, you couldn't hold back the weightlessness of your body rising from the desk to escape to the destination.

So much death, and not a single red flag in your mind. Anyone would have seen what was ahead of them long before they stepped into that old, wooden building. Black ink written from a feather, harbored bodies held onto for a reason, words written in such a way. He was right before your face: death, but you were too far gone to realize.

one.

The moonlight emitted shadows as you walked. You couldn't ignore the matching frame to your motions, limbs swing in tandem with your own. But it was fluttering, almost translucent, and encased in small flame-like patterns. Fetched and followed, it was what brought you within the abandoned building.

Creaky metal beams, decaying wood, and shattered windows. Had you been with a partner, they would be advising you to leave right this moment. But the clatter in the distance, one room brighter than the rest: it kept your feet from moving in the opposite direction.

His back was to you, huddled over the cold body of a victim. Almost stiff, the lace on the trims of his shirt were your last concern as you noticed the sharp knife in his hand poking around a gash from a blunt object.

He didn't need to see you, it was clear he sensed you coming into the building from long before you made an appearance behind him. "I don't usually ask for help from the authorities." He claimed as if he was embarrassed, but his hands didn't shake like that of a nervous person.

It was only when your eyes met your full surroundings that a gasp left between your lips and the man spun on his heels. The deceased were all around, displayed on operating tables and rolling carts in the same way a morgue is set up. It was obvious they had been here for a long while, the smell slipping up your nostrils nearly making you faint.

"Sorry!" He moved fast on his feet, running his index finger through an open jar of vapor rub. In an instant, his gentle hand was cupping your cheek as the opposite swiped the gel at the edge of your nose. The smell subsided, your eyes watering from the minty scent now stronger to your senses. "Takes a while to get used to."

"You're used to the scent of death?"

His eyes shifted from your face, smile fading as his sight caught the floor. A gentle brush of a towel to his finger, and he was headed back towards the victim that originally had his attention.

"Please excuse this. All of it, in fact." His voice was shallow, hidden in the howls of the city floating through the cracks in the windows. "Usually I work alone."

"Are you Ravn?" The question seemed stupid slipping off your tongue now. The man had accompinated you as if you were non-threatening, even made physical contact with you, and now you questioned that he was the right person.

"In your line of work—" his sentence sounded condescending. "—don't you usually ask questions right off the bat?"

"I was a little more concerned with the scent of the multiple bodies around us right now." Admittedly, you were already in over your head.

His head tilted, eyesight watching your frame move around from where he stood to the other side of the victim. They were cold, pale, and lifeless: and yet you wished they would speak of what truly happened. Ravn was knee deep in the wrong side of the situation, and appeared as the blank space in a detailed painting.

"I am Ravn," he nodded, but kept his sight on the body before him. "And this looks bad." Aside from his lips forming a short-timed pout, his face stood still. "These people—" he sighed within his words, but even he couldn't explain this much." "—I found them like this."

His position got darker by the second.

"Every laceration, the death sites, and these victims: they're all at random." His cold, black eyes found yours, your nod making his lips run thin.

"This is what I've been working with this whole time now." You sighed. "It's all out of rage. Wrong place, wrong time. Makes me ill just thinking about it, and more standing in the middle."

The man nodded, eyes filling with remorse. Ravn, riddled with insight on the case and set dead in the middle without your recognition, seemed to understand your position on a personal level.

"You and I both." Another short smile, and the silver tools left the body of the victim.

They were recent, name floating into the precinct not long before the letter sat on your desk. It was odd timing, and even worse seeing the poor person in reality other than their name alone.

"My job requires me to work fast, you see?" Head aimed equally with your face as his arms opened straight, palms on the cold counter below the body, he spoke slowly. "Snapping fingers, fast."

Again, you knew this all too well. Lives depend on time, and your entire job revolves around working on a timer.

"This serial killer, it's backed me up so much I can no longer keep up. It's costing me my position." His job, something you should have questioned the moment he mentioned it, appeared far more important than yours by the mention of it.

"Then, what are you doing with these bodies?" Peering around the room, a shiver snuck up your spine. It was fuller than a hospital at its busiest hour, and still had room for more. "Why are you holding onto them? And why are you the one taking them?"

For the duration of the case, no bodies had been stored in your own morgue at the police station. Night by night, people would vanish from the city only to never be seen again. Almost like the killer was right under your nose the entire time, and could go invisible.

"They're here where the killer would last check." Ravn's voice wavered more now than ever, the vibrations seeping into your own nerves. "They're safe with me."

An explanation, why they went missing twice in a row: once alive and another dead, was finally given.

"And who are you, exactly?"

The man pressed his hands down so hard on the metal table that his knuckles turned white from loss of proper circulation, his eyes scanning your serious face. He seemed to not believe in your question, and was answering only to entertain himself over your response.

"A colleague." He said plainly, hands regaining blood flow as he rose them in the air and rubbed at his wrists. "A necessity."

"Then why do you work alone?"

Your question made him still, brows creasing. "You and I are the same, remember?"

"I had the choice of joining a team, or turning over the case." Your mouth moved smoothly, but he was straightforward.

"My occupation is purely solo." His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, allowing you to see the small, brown specks fluttering within his irises. "As I said, we're on the same case. Only we're in separate jurisdictions. I've had run of my side, but you seem to have stuttered."

It was a dig, but you stood your ground.

"I am a last resort to your operation?"

"Plan, more so."

Your fists balled tightly, recreating the whites of his knuckles on your own. Sensing your anger, his throat cleared and his eyes grew soft. "I am letting you in now. Trust me, this is far past my rules and regulations. My job is truly on the line now, as I assume yours is too considering I am your first lead in so long."

Your growl was so under your breath that even you hardly caught it, but he still smiled lightly. His hands stretched, index finger pointing down at the victim below. It was there, and you had missed it. Something unseen by eyes before being claimed by Ravn, an "X" was marked on the wrist of the victim.

Your eyes blinked out of fear and recollection, fingers fiddling the notebook out of your bag's pocket to re-read your own notes. Something new, and a second break to the case in one night with the help of your eclectic partner.

"A link—" you whispered, bewildered.

"They're on all of them. It's only when I touched them that I noticed it. Is it in your notes?" A single shake of your head was all the response he needed. "Write it down." He quietly advised, the watch on his wrist moving from his peripheral to the front of his face.

"I must take my leave." He sighed, looking at you through the long, deep locks of his hair.

"L-Leave?"

"It's my work shift. I still have common-day work." He nodded with his own words, taking short steps backwards towards the door. "Please, stay as long as you need to. Don't turn them in or else all will be lost."

"I-I, uhm." Your stuttering was cut short, the frame of the tall man exiting the room with a small smirk on his lips.

"Take your time." His voice echoed longer in your mind as he left, hands pulling the bag from your back and setting the case files on the desk opposite his.

The room was cold, your coat doing nothing to calm the neverending shivers quaking through your form. How could Ravn stand this for so long? You didn't understand.

"Found bodies. Matching X's on wrists. Common links coming abroad. Ravn?" Your notes seemed slimmer than what you had before. So out of context, and painful to read such short descriptions of such a deep case. "A forensics team would be delightful right now." You chimed to yourself.

The man was more eccentric than anyone you had ever met. Usually, people within the case were there all along. They wouldn't show up a quarter of the way in, and they most definitely wouldn't be so vague about their positions or knowledge.

Ravn, the man made you shiver again. His desk sat empty-seated, and way too easy. Closing in on it with the wheels of the chair under you guiding you, your fingers caught the first handle of the top drawer. Breathing unsteady, hands shaking, it was just what you hoped for.

A letter titled "Notice of Grim Corporations." followed by a list of reasonings and ending with a final sentence explaining his soon-to-be resignation. "Failed to show up on time. Inserted self into cases higher than his position. Went against words of superiors. Involved in an altercation with a representative."

Ravn had racked up more indications of worry for you, and he wasn't even in the room.

The page slipped back where you found it, not an inch off, and your brows didn't unfurrow on the short ride back over to your desk. The wheels of the chair squeaked, but your mind raced a thousand miles an hour.

Ravn, the victims, talk of the serial killer, a corporation, a resignation from a list of reasons, and a representative. It was all too much to take in at once. Thoughts speeding to a stand-still, it was one mere image going through your frontal cortex that halted your world.

Your feet slid across the floor with dread, the name scribbled onto the tag at the end of the empty cart being lifted by your fingertips. It was new. Certification, the name not on your missing victim list, and a sudden realization of where all the arrows had been pointing this entire time.

The man, the being more-like-it, was farther than you could comprehend. And he knows who's going to die next.

two.

Notes jumbled, mind scrambled, and cold tiles beneath your shoes: his voice brought your back to straighten out. Ravn, almost a shadow in your peripheral vision, walked into the room with blood dripping from his fingertips.

“Ravn?” Almost tossed up from your seat by your own strength, your shivering form before the man didn’t make a single difference to him. Once aligned, like he had everything in his mind to figure about this case—he walked with a hunch until his back pressed into the torn leather chair of his desk with a huff.

A deep purple bruise formed on his cheek, appearing painful but ignored by him as you moved in closer. His dark hair fell over his forehead, covering his eyes and making him seem more of a cloud than he already was.

“What in the hell is any of this?” Your voice was shattered, anxiety in your lungs as your bones shook. Almost over the edge, your mind. “Blood. Why is there blood?” Questioning his appearance seemed to overlap the racing accusations in the front of your mind before they slipped out of your mouth. “Am I working with the killer?”

His smile was forbidden, seen only for a glance, and his eyes held as colder than before.

“What a backwards question.” His mouth shuttered at the sight of his own hands, palms to the ceiling and a stricken expression worn on his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea so early into our partnership.”

A scoff at the back of your throat meshed into your speech. “Am I meant to ignore the fact that you know who is next to go? To die, their name meaningless and just another on the list?”

“You finally looked around.” The tone in his voice was bored, but his eyes glistened in light of the sky turning dawn outside.

“How do you know these things?”

“Take a look for yourself.” His voice was gritty, making you spin slowly on your heels. Pivoted, shivering, and more afraid of him than ever.

The new victim’s body laid just as still as the others. Drained of color already, cold and filled with seams of the evil doings towards them. Your hand couldn’t muffle the scream leaving you, Ravn’s sudden appearance behind you and his hand at your lower back making you shift away from the scene and out into the dark hallway.

“Disheveled clothing ripped and bloodied, just as always. It’s like a continuum, this horrid work.”

Zoned out, your legs carried you back inside, but the dreadful scene was no easier to deal with. Ravn was so calm, his notebook now in his large hands being written into with the similar tactics done to the poor victim.

An ‘X’ on the wrist, another body, the strange man scribbling the forensics into his notebook, and the sun rising above. Clueless, once more, wasn’t the correct word to pinpoint where your mind was at. This was a three-ring-circus, and you were just the audience.

“The killer always wears so many clothes. I’ve never seen their face, only watching them do the last of their work and make an escape. Strength is an understatement, but they don’t seem so threatening as they leave. How is that?” Pen against his bottom lip, he thought aloud.

Ravn now letting you into his head was almost as confusing as your notes. Messy, baffling, and insane-sounding.

Pacing back to your seat and falling down like a heavy rock descending a mountain, you wanted it all to pause. A recap of what you know and don’t know would be helpful, but with a rushed case like this—impossibility was the top lead.

Head in your hands and sight trying to block out the dim lamp on the desk, you felt the puff of air before you smelled his deep cologne. Ravn, positioned on the peak of your desk with his feet still solely on the ground, spoke from his gut. “Been a while since you got a good night’s rest, huh?” He watched you with dark eyes as you tried to not leer out from exhaustion, the adrenaline abating in your veins from the chain of events.

“How can I sleep when more people die in one week than I can count on both hands? What do I even do?”

Sorrowful, his eyes beady and attentive on your form. It was almost like a mirage you awaited to see, his speckling sight staring into your own eyes. It almost meshed the sound of your phone ringing in your pocket, the green button sliding to answer only to be blared with the shrieking sound of your chief’s voice. Your location was asked for, but you didn’t even know how to form a single word in response before he clicked the call away. “Stat”, his voice claimed.

Ravn’s arm caught you by surprise, the tight hold on your wobbling form giving you the idea that you rose to leave too quickly. His face so odd, strange and gloating, broken at the sound of your voice. “What is it?”

“I can take you to the killer.” Tongue twisted, voice caught and silenced in your throat, and a scarred expression on your face made him continue. “But this is going to be difficult.”

“What part hasn’t been difficult so far?” You huffed, his head slightly nodding in agreement.

“You’re going to have to watch and not make a move. Can you do that?”

Sheer perplexity, he was asking you to not do your job. Like the matter at hand was smaller if you just played nice, and things would all work out in the end. His choice of words was sickening, but made sense in hindsight.

“You have to let me work. You have to let them work.”

“You want me to watch this serial killer take someone’s life?” Your voice was pained, his calming face making it narrow out into disbelief. “You want me to w-watch someone die? I can’t.”

“I-I’m sorry.” His stutter caught you off guard more than the tears appearing to fill his eyes. “But they’ll already be dead.”

three.

The cork board was filled with the same faces you had seen lying on rolling cards and operation tables, relentless and restless in your bones. White board filled with new bullet-points, all too confusing to consider but too important to erase and rewrite. Red string connected so few things taken notice of. The alluring man’s name written in calligraphy—larger than others, the Grim Corporation in a smaller font beneath, and the serial killer framed in a boxed further down. It was like a roadmap to a place you had never, and would never, travel to. So many confusing trails, dead-end cul de sacs, and places not often gone.

The aggressive turn of the door handle startled you, the black dry-erase marker in your hand flying forward and leaving a thick line through Ravn’s name on the board. He cleared his throat, your chief at your back stunned into stillness and a quick silence.

“Chief?” Your voice was small, but enough to get into his ears. The grimace on his face was so horrid like he was seeing the face of an old enemy and didn’t know how to truly react. His hand rose upwards, flat-palm in your sight as a tell to give him a second. His eyes shifted over the board in high speed, pupils dilating directly at the visual of Ravn’s name written and added into the case.

“This is—” he begins, voice so groggy. “—is y-you are in way over your head, dear. So far. Like home-run ball fleeting from the field into oncoming traffic, far over.”

You were unable to mention your confusion at his reaction before he spoke again, cutting away at your voice as he always does.

“This is so much larger than just you. Please—and I beg you for this, give the case over to a team. Before you lose your head, or more importantly—your life.”

“Trust me, I am neck deep now, sir.”

His head turned at your calm response, brows furrowed and eyes blood-shot. The man that had overseen the entire case since the first body hit the cement and lost its soul; he, too, had been in too deep throughout this entire process.

“I am on the right track now. So close, I can feel them breathing on the back of my neck.” Your off-putting metaphor was too on point, the chief shaking his head in worry but not able to speak his reasonings. “I have a chance. To put these people and their families to rest, that's all I am working for now.”

“In over your head.” Was his last words, your body returning to your desk only for sleep to finally pull you in.

In nightmares, your control is so little. Even lucid dreaming has no real hold on the horrors of the mind when the body rests. That is how being the authority when a killer is on the loose feels. Watching, waiting, finding every little puzzle piece to get the big picture. You were originally working from such a small bit of the image until Ravn leapt in and gave you all four corners. Each piece was something new, riveting and keeping you on the edge of your seat; but still you had such large middle parts to configure. Only this time, the pieces alongside the picture look nothing like the image being made.

Eyes peeling open to be met with darkness, it was your basic survival skills to stand up straight and feel the brick wall at your back. An alleyway cascaded with nothing but moonlight just as the abandoned building had been the night before, you shivered from the cold air of midnight. The office you fell asleep in had faded away and left you standing in a new place: a new puzzle piece.

Ravn stood, dark and tall, in a way that was so ominous. Like seeing a ghost for the first time after years of non-belief, a shadow crept in on him. Moving slower one second and faster the next, your heart thumped in your ears and mouth couldn’t form the words fast enough.

“Ravn!”

Faint, diminishing with the same wind that carried it, he heard you. A solid, seamless voice in his ears he had grown fond of brought him to duck and miss the assailant. But it wasn’t enough to protect him, the otherworldly bits seeping inside of your own surroundings. A solid fist to his gut, and Ravn was breathless. Small sounds, grunts of pain and eyes narrowing in on the figure before him; this was where things turned.

“Working with the cops now, are you?” Only in horror movies could you hear something so disturbing, yet intriguing enough to continue and absorb it all no matter how scared you were. “Have you sunk that low, dead one?”

“I’m not dead yet.” Response tired but there, Ravn shook in his shoes and stood up straight.

“Oh—but you will be. Your magic is nothing compared to the world I have creat—” A sudden halt in the killer’s voice made you blink rapidly, a single touch of Ravn’s hand to their shoulder silencing them. Your body felt faint watching them sink to their knees, an ill appearance in the visual alone.

His form turned, Ravn’s eyes finding you behind them. No matter how shallow you felt within the case, what little you brought to the table: Ravn gave you something to work with. His palm floated over the killer, their body visibly heavier until the final sight of them was too obvious. Face like stone, eyes open and staring at the sky, and chest still: death was finally upon the bringer of chaos, but at a cost.

Ravn’s long legs bent at the knee, his lips just outside the shell of the killer’s ears as he whispered something to them. Eyes so sad, world so still, the fluttering black specks and dark cloud surrounding them took him away in an instant and left you standing alone with the one you had been searching for.

Finally able to feel your limbs, you maneuvered to the carcass in a fast motion. Cuffs on your belt pulled and latched onto them out of precaution, it was too eerie of a surrounding to not believe in their death. Even the call over your radio didn’t sound real until others showed up at the scene and witnessed the serial killer at your feet.

Still in time, black marks covered their every vein and a painful expression lied on their face. So ill-looking, everyone hesitated to lift them onto a backboard and begin to take them in. A mattress was no comfort, no words leaving their lips in the duration of their holding for questioning. And no matter how much you pried, requested for any sign of remorse, the only true sight of what they were was when a smirk rose on their lips and their eyes went dead.

Unknown causes. That was the label on their page of the case. You wanted to walk outside into the dead of the night, pull at your hair and scream your lungs out, but even you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation. Drained, overseen and underseen all at once, your attempts to bring them back went unheard. No adrenaline shot could revive someone so evil, and no words spoken by them could erase what had been done.

The lonesome feeling of the world growing colder made the sight of the smoke enwrapping your form seem normal now. Same as Ravn had gone, you found your vision clouded until he sat before you. Good as new, fine and ripe; but you, sick and distorted.

Eyes closing and peeling back open to find him smiling, the first thing you saw was the name tag clipped into his black shirt. It read “Youngjo.” as if he had a name within a name, your startled response seemingly rehearsed in his head.

“No one ever gets used to this.” He claimed, the sound of his voice calming you at once.

You felt your body grow sore the more you sat up in the chair, Ravn staring at you in concern before pulling at your hand to help you sit all the way up.

“That was a nasty fall. I’m glad you didn’t hit your head.” Your brows furrowing made him nod, recollection of the sudden exhaustion making you pass out just as the cloud took over now refilling your mind. You were so cold before, now wrapped with his blazer and warming up by the minute. “I’m only used to taking out bad humans, so please excuse my physicality.”

“B-Bad humans?” Your palm felt the knot growing on your head. The displeased look in Ravn’s eyes clearly was for himself as he went on, but you couldn’t help but notice how his hands ran along his legs like he was holding back from reaching for you.

Your sense of reasoning had been dismissed for the case, overtaken by the need to find one person and end all the terror around you. It didn’t hit you until now, how much you had learned but ignored.

There are limits to humanity. Those who trespass on the edge of insanity are considered lunatics, but they play a part within the circle of life. Someone loses their meaning of the world, goes out on a limb to create madness, and sanctifies all that matters. They make people hold their children closer, marry the one they love, and turn the volume up higher on the TV when watching the news.

The ones who bring fear into the hearts of the innocent, and leave everyone wondering what would drive someone so mad: where exactly do they come from?

"If I told you I don't fear those I work for, I would be lying." Youngjo began, his teeth almost chattering with every word. "Corruption, chaos, and limitless communications have always been a part of your world, but they're too outlandish to understand—aren't they?"

What he was saying confused you, nonetheless.

"That's because their doing is otherworldly—our world." His teeth clenched together and hit tone got deeper as he went on, but you could see the worry in his eyes. "This is their doing. The killer on the street. The representative of their business."

Representative. It has come up a few times now.

"Their hire is to bring in numbers. But this killer, more serial now than most, has gone way out of the league meant for jurisdiction." You wanted him to bite into the true fuel that had him running, but the truth itself scared you to your core.

"So I was brought in. Severe backup, I guess." He seemed almost disappointed in himself. "And for once, I couldn't do my job alone."

And now, you.

"It was our job to stop this serial killer. But it was my job to make sure they got their penance. That is our only difference."

“Y-you mean to tell me, I really was in over my head.”

“And out of your element. As you are here, now.” He chuckled at your disposition, but kept his eyes warm as they looked over you.

“And where am I, exactly?”

His office had sucked you in, looking almost more alive than the man himself. It took all your might to understand that you were both just two people in the position of work, doing the job you’re meant to do, but getting caught in the crossfire. His world inhabited the same as yours, and fate of the worst brought your paths to cross.

“Welcome to Grim Corporations.”

four.

“What are you?”

“Do I really need to explain?” Ravn, now Youngjo, had been sat on the edge of his desk staring at your disturbed looking form for a matter of minutes now. Processing, worrying, feeling betrayed and used, all of it was in your eyes now.

“You’re It, aren’t you?” You asked in a slow tone, his brow rising in an obvious way and paired with the same smirk he flashed before. “The grim reaper.”

“There are many of us, actually. This entire corporation was created to give life to the dead.”

Perspective, it makes up everything. You were simply a pawn, a small speck in the large image of the puzzle. For once you understood: you had never been the one putting it together.

“I was a ‘rushed death’, as they call it.” He began, mouth moving like he was ready to pull back his own curtains and reveal his real world. “As a service for my good deeds, I was gifted a position here.”

“Life after death exists.” Hushed and meant to be in your own head, he nodded.

“My downside was that I was never truly good in life, either. I stole to survive, worked my way up the food chain of my corrupt job to make ends meet, and never thought of what was outside of my own eyes. But I never harmed anyone, and that seemed to open the door for me in the afterlife.”

You listened like this was a novel, the personal diary of the man you had come to know but not understand. Ravn, a mirage, became a full blown figure as he showed you Youngjo.

“Even though I never brought anyone any dismay, it truly felt like I did when I took this job. It was a second chance I believed didn’t exist, and I was stupid to take it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the cost was more than moving on. I didn’t know how I obtained the job, let alone the truth behind it. Death was around me all the time, it was all I grew to know.” Youngjo, tortured by life even after death, found solace in seeing you exist. “You were the first real soul I had come across in so long. I was so grateful to find you and make you a partner for my last case.”

“But you gave me everything.” You halted him in place, confusion sending you back into the seat in wonder. “The bodies, the forensics, the locations—even the killer.”

“Truth be told—you gave me them. I saw them all while working through you. The human range of emotions are a powerful thing. Every gut feeling, worry, sense of losing humanity while human: it guided me to finding the killer long before he got the true kill. But sadly, my job doesn’t allow me to get between a representative and the dead.”

There was that word again. His anthology pulled at your brain and made you think: just what were they to this operation? Crazy people given a task to go along with? Create the chaos necessary to cause death and hysterics?

And then it hit you. His specifics on getting “between” had been there before. The resignation letter wrote it in a proper way, you just didn’t have the correct example to connect the dots.

“You have gotten between them before. The killer, they were sent out by the corporation?”

“Do you really think an innocent human is capable of going so mad so easily? You said it yourself, you couldn’t believe someone would cause such chaos.” His point was made more than once, and he even reclaimed your own to help you understand. They were the cracks between the pieces, the ones overlooked but needed to fit the puzzle together.

“But t-this is so messed up.”

“It’s the way of the universe. People have died since the beginning of time, we’ve just been there to collect their souls and guide them into the next life.”

“They don’t always make it to that new life.”

“The mind of a detective.” He chuckled, crossing his legs and holding up his chin with his palm in focus. “No, some are forced to join the corporation as reapers. Simple transaction. Some just can’t go through, can they? If they all did, how full would the other side truly be?”

He didn’t have to say it, but it was on the tip of his tongue. That forcefulness was immorally done, Youngjo’s quick death a symbol from one of the released serial killers sent out by the same business that recruited him. They needed new reapers to fill in old positions, so they used death at their expense. A horrible cycle, and one ever-turning.

It was only when the familiar scent of coffee in your nostrils startled you back into your reality later that day that you really grasped it all. Your chief busting inside your office and barking an explanation of the bodies being found at the old mill meshed into your deep breath of reality. The case was in closing, and all those lost were moving in the circle to move along or gain a new position.

Relief rushed through you despite how terrible things are in reality. Out of your control, your world returns to a small circle, and your body leaning back against your chair to cradle your head and bring you rest.

And rest finally came. Weeks of sleeping so hard you woke with energy, worked at a good pace, and found tranquility in reminding yourself that the outside world remains just as fucked up as your own.

The dip in the mattress made your heart skip, his scent floating back into your nose with a deep breath. Happiness in your mind, his frown swallowed your excitement. His term finished, he was finally out, but not all stories have happy endings.

“When a reaper is resigned, they are free to rest peacefully.” He spoke lowly, taking his time to explain.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

For the first time, real tears dripped down. Warm against your thumb as you held his face, his voice was so small that it almost didn’t sound like his own. “That means I can’t see you again until you die.”

epilogue.

The eyes staring back at you were so beady and filled with love. Youngjo had seen the ins and outs of life time and time again, yet he was so stunned by you. Someone so brave in a cruel universe only catering to pain and chaos. He could only smile as he cried from his attachment to you.

His own hand rose to your face, thumb now mimicking the circles you made on his cheek. He could touch you without any real harm, not send you to sleep or make you worry. He can’t kill you just by thinking about it, and that to him was most freeing. Lips closing in on your own in a deep kiss, feeling him pull away from you was most dreadful.

But again, the world works in a circle. You watched his eyes grow estranged, a scroll appearing from thin air as he skimmed over the words written. “Something was written smaller than anything else in my contract.” He begins. “I was tailored in so fast I didn’t think it was important, so I just signed so I wouldn’t leave yet.”

“What was written?” You whispered, watching him contort into pure bliss as he reread the small font.

In the smallest letters drawn in calligraphy just as he writes, he read: “In addition to the option of rest, another life will be stored for the soul’s use after their term if another good deed has been met.” His words stopped, a sob breaking through his voice. “A good deed?”

He sighed, well knowing that his first life was nothing but mundane and spite of survival. The tasks done were resourceful to him now, but they were never defined as a good deed. It was clear, so clear, that he sees himself as evil.

“You brought people to rest, souls in the afterlife and families living alike.” Your eyes watered in tandem with his, faces mere inches from one another. “And you saved my job. This case was all I had, my last chance. That’s why I was so adamant to solve it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have the chance to help anyone again. And you helped me.”

The scroll turned golden right before your two sets of eyes, the man before you shining bright. The thick lace of darkness that had been above him for so long lifted, healed right under your sight. Life was replenished to him as if he had never gone in the first place. “I’m not evil?”

“You never were to begin with, Ravn.”

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.”