#todesengel masterpost

The windshield wiper worked overtime, slamming down and up again faster than a pulse, practically thumping you awake. König cursed under his breath, and as the truck slowed to a stop, your body jostled slightly.

You lifted your head from where you'd been leaning it against the cold window. "Oh, shit."

Black, endless sky. Fat flakes rushed against the windshield, lit by the headlights. Beyond the vortex of falling snow, the road was completely white, blending into the land on either side — from what you actually could see, which was only a few feet ahead.

König had pulled over to the side of the road. He put his fingers to the radio and turned the dial up until the emergency inclement weather trill sounded throughout the front seat. He raised the volume. Behind heavy feedback, a garbled robotic voice reported a shelter-in-place warning that would last at least through to the next day.

You fumbled for your phone, hoping to look up a nearby motel or gas station. No signal—just the blank screen that mocked you with a perpetual loading symbol. König checked his phone, too, but shook his head in frustration. He reached across you, yanked open the glove compartment, and grabbed what looked like a pamphlet but was actually a map- and unfolded it until it spread wide over the wheel.

“Where are we, anyway?” you asked, but König didn't answer. You tried to peer over his shoulder as his finger traced the map, centimeter by centimeter along a vein of road that you were allegedly on. “And where are we going?”

"Nowhere, for now," König grunted. He killed the engine and yanked up the brake in one motion.

"What are you doing?!" You protested. "We'll freeze to death!"

"We need to conserve fuel. I will turn it on again in an hour."

An hour?

König leaned back, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I drive any further, I will get hypnotized. Or we will slide on ice. Crash either way. It is too dangerous to move until the storm is over.”

"They said that wouldn't be for another day." You said, stupidly.

König again didn't reply, looking out the window for a minute. He pressed the button on the door, and it unlocked. "Stay here," he instructed, and opened the door to get out. The wind howled, and the frigid cold rushed into the car cabin faster than König could close it, making your teeth chatter immediately.

You didn't have to be told. Like hell you'd be going outside in that.

Not to mention you were in no mood to help. Despite the emotional moment when König had recovered you in the bathtub, as you caught your breath over the several hours you'd been on the road, you'd been able to put together some pieces.

So he'd used your car—your grandmother's car—for his dirty work, his 'special consulting', you thought bitterly. That explained the cleaning habit. But why your car? Why did he involve you in all of this? What had you done to deserve this, ready to freeze to death in a truck with the killer who had trapped you and dragged you into this nightmare?

You eyed his dark figure in the rear view mirror. He was kneeling, doing something. You turned and saw that he'd left the pistol holstered on the middle compartment.

You weren't a violent person. But dark thoughts slithered up intrusively, whispering to you. It could be done, with him least expecting it, to pull the trigger and leave him out here. You could return to your home. Or you could keep going, driving the car until the gas tank was empty; free from everything.

Lost  in thought, staring at the pistol,  you flinched as the driver's door opened again. König looked at you, his eyes following yours.

Somehow, just this once, you were quicker.

You snatched the pistol and hurled yourself into the passenger door, boots scraping. König lunged, but you leveled the gun between his eyes before he could reach you.

"G-get back!" You screeched. "I'll—I'll do it! I'm s-serious!"

So König paused, did as he was told,  one hand slowly reaching up, the other holding something dark and heavy.

Your arms were trembling just a bit, from the sharp chill of the wind, or perhaps the fear. The gun was also surprisingly very heavy; you'd never held one before in your life. You hoped it didn't look like it.

"E-explain everything! Now!"

König blinked slowly, his expression blank. He lifted his other arm, and you gasped, almost pulling the trigger. He was holding what looked to be a black sleeping bag. König spoke calmly. "I must insulate windows. To trap heat." He glanced down at the gun in your hands. "I will do that first, then we can talk."

You hesitated, your finger trained on the trigger.

"It will also be easier to clean up blood and brains." He added, morbid humor rumbling low in his voice.

It caught you off guard. The pressure was already getting to you, turning your stomach, sweat beading along your hairline and lip despite the whipping wind. You gave a quick nod.

König climbed into the truck incrementally, wary of the gun pointed at him. As he said, he pushed the sleeping bag over the windshield, then retreated. He used the floor mat for his window, pushed his seat forward and down, and closed the door.

You scrambled to the flat top of the driver’s seat as you lost sight of him. He opened the passenger door next, then did the same thing with the floor mat that had been beneath your boots moments ago. He closed the door, and you kept the gun trained on him, trying to ignore the nerves in your healing arm and the other complaining of fatigue. He did the same for the back seats — now there was much more space in the truck, and the door's windows were insulated. He tossed in two large water bottles and what looked like a box of protein bars, climbed into the back seat right in front of you, shut the door, locking it, and then waited politely. No matter how spacious, his big body was still somewhat cramped; his knees were hiked up high.

You raised the gun to his face again. "Start talking."

König regarded you, still calm as if you were having a casual conversation. "What would you like to know?"

With the floor and all the power thrust suddenly to you, you weren't so sure. Swallowing thickly, you readjusted yourself, awkward on the back of the driver's seat, your boots digging into the storage fold as you pushed yourself as far back as you could.

"Did you kill those people?"

"What people?"

“Don't be stupid! A-all of them! T-the ones who kicked the door in—the 'police'—the ones on the fucking news, next to the one that... that...” You trailed off, your teeth clattering.

"I did what I had to do to protect us," König finally responded.

"What about the first one then?" You grilled. "The one that— that you put in my car?"

König wilted a bit then, quiet.

“S-so, that's what you do?” You huffed, trying to control your breathing, your tears threatening to spill if you weren't so hot with rage. “You kill people? Special consulting? Give me a fucking break!”

He met your eyes, and you got your answer.

"Why?!" You cried. "Why did you use my car?!"

König's broad shoulders sagged. He looked down, around the truck’s interior. "I was going to help you," he said, but it was stiff, calculating. He was lying. "I… ran out of time for what I… needed to do… that morning. I was trying to think of the job, but…I was… distracted," he explained quietly. "by you."

"Me?" Confusion contorted your face. "So it's my fault now?"

"No! No, I thought I could…" He began, then started over, shaking his head. "I thought I could— I wanted to—"

“You used me,” you snapped, accusation lacing, poisoning the words. It all made sense now. He was just being nice to get access to you so you could take the fall for his nasty crime. He'd seen you in the park and thought you were an easy mark. It was his lucky day when he found you in the parking lot, wasn't it? Yeah, that was it. The steps would lead back to you, your license plate, and you'd go down instead, arrested, or killed by the goon who thought you'd somehow killed his friend, were in any way involved. “You were going to leave me, right? Did you feel bad or something? Did you?”

König was silent for a heartbeat, then two. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I cannot take back what I have done. But…" He did that thing he always did, searching around with his eyes for words before he spoke them.

Then he locked eyes with you in a way that made your breath hitch. He spoke, confident and assured. His eyes were wide, the whites showing, the pupils dilating in storming ocean irises. "I would slit my throat before I let any more harm come to you."

The profession, piercingly sincere, froze you; the words warmed your ears and, at the same time, confused you even more, making your face hot before sending the heat through your chest. You clenched your teeth, shuddering and shaking. Your arms were very tired. So, you'd found out some semblance of the truth, although you still weren't sure about everything. He mumbled something, and you snapped back into focus. "W-what?"

“Are you going to shoot?” König's eyelids were lowered as he looked at you through his lashes.

You realigned yourself, adjusting your arm to aim back square between his eyes. “I'm thinking about it.”

He… laughed? Low, an amused chuckle.

Confusion made you hesitate. Big mistake. In a blur, König lunged—a shadow over you. You squeezed the trigger, but nothing. He ripped the gun from your grip, twisting your wrists painfully and tossing the weapon onto the dash. You thrashed, desperate, but he shoved you into the backseat. The car door slammed into your shoulder, knocking the breath from you. Still, you clawed for the handle, but it was locked—just as it always had been.

Also, as he always had, he moved quickly and quietly. He pinned you down, your wrists immobile in his iron grip. He was laughing, amused as you squealed and squirmed in fear, a little mouse with its tail in the cat's paw. He reached back, still holding your wrists, and held the pistol so you could see it.

"If you're going to threaten to shoot, you're supposed to take the safety off, hm? Watch."

He used his thumb and removed the safety with a click. He brought it down, and you tried to struggle, but he only pinned your arms down painfully more. König was atop you, straddling your hips. Your legs kicked uselessly, trapped between his body and the tightness of the cabin. The cold metal barrel pressed against your pulse at the base of your jaw, and you stilled, terror rendering you frigid.

"Not a fucking toy, see? Not nice to point it at someone. Is it?" He jostled you, and you shrieked.

"Is it?" He snarled.

"No!" You squealed.

He scoffed and pulled it back clicking the safety back on, tucking it into his waistband. "That's right. You must not be this way, Engel." He lowered himself, his face close enough to your ear that his warm breath came through the mask. Horribly, something dark pinched beneath your belly. You didn't want to think about it, but it was present, searing, flickering heat. Undeniable.

"Will you be a nice little angel now?" He growled.

You couldn't help it. The feeling between your legs flared, making you whimper.

His huge body rocked above you, and he made a low noise in response. A rumbling predator, jeering over his prey. "You know I like you sweet. Will you be sweet? Tell me." He murmured.

"Y-yes," You gasped.

"Say it."

"I-I'll be sweet."

He released you, and you scrambled out from beneath him, pressing yourself as hard as you could into the backseat corner.Your heart pounded in your chest.

"Very good." König harrumphed. He retreated, leaned back, and turned the engine on, with a casualness as if nothing had happened. The heat began to blow throughout, more concentrated now with insulated windows.

"Get as warm as you can. We will leave it on for ten minutes."

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ So you both sat that way, in an uneasy truce, for hours.

Your body was cramped. You were restless and upset; you wanted to go home. There was no home to go back to. Confusingly, you didn't really want to go home, either.

Like a feral kitten trapped in a shelter, you pressed yourself into the corner with your hackles raised. You stiffened and hissed if he neared you, even as he offered olive branches of bottled water, protein bars, and the book you packed. You refused, even when your stomach growled, and your tongue went dry. Even then, you kept your eyes on him, distrustful and hoping your rage reached him.

It didn't seem like it did. König sat with his arms folded, his head leaned back, eyes closed in a doze as he passed the time. He didn't speak to you, but he wasn't acting like you'd held a gun to him, or him to you. That he hadn't pressed a barrel beneath your chin and growled in your ear.

You didn't want to think about the confusing way that made you felt, either.

Once or twice, he exited the car — bringing the pistol and the keys with him — to ensure that the exhaust was clear of snow and debris. Every hour, he'd turn the car on for ten minutes, letting warm air flow through the cabin and listening to the weather report on the radio. But it trilled the same, and every ten minutes of warmth offered less and less relief as the temperature dropped deeper into the night.

Eventually, even in your coat, you were shivering, your teeth chattering. All the light had faded, so König was just a large shadow in the powerless car. You heard his even breathing. How was he not freezing as you were? Also, your eyes were stinging and heavy. You were dozing, too, but fear and cold held you up, awake. Your arm still ached a bit, but if you took any of the drugs, you knew you were done for.

The clock on the center console read minutes before midnight; the wind still howled, and König's even breathing filled the dark. Then you saw his breath fog in the air before he spoke, and you jumped.

"It's past your bedtime." He said in his rumbling voice.

"S-so what?" You hissed, trying to keep your shivering jaw steady and your tone mean. As if you'd let yourself fall asleep around this monster.

"You're cold."

"S-shut up. Y—you're cold."

"I am." He agreed. "I would like to sleep, too."

"So do it." You countered, irritated. What game was he playing at? "W-what's stopping you?"

You couldn't see his eyes. You couldn't see his expression, so the plainness of his next statement threw you off hard. "I am saying it will be easier if you come here."

Silence as you let that sink in. "You're insane."

You saw just barely the outline of his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "It will be easier for both of us to lie down. Sharing body heat. For safety." He explained. "It will only get colder," he added.

No way. Absolutely not. No fucking way.

"I'd rather die." You declared. You saw a puff of your own air in front of your face as you spoke.

About ten minutes later, you were sighing loudly and cursing as you shuffled uneasily to his side of the truck. König, joyful to get his way, allowed you to come closer, unfolding his arms from his chest. You climbed over his legs, and he drew you easily onto his lap before moving to lie in the backseat with you between his legs, his long limbs hiked up and encasing you.

You flinched when you heard something unzipping — but it was his jacket. "It's alright," he murmured, trying to reassure you into relaxing your legs. You tucked them as much against yourself as you could, making yourself a tiny ball.

With his hands, he pulled you close to his chest; the warm comfort was almost immediate. He fit against you almost perfectly; the soft weight of his belly, fat shielding relaxed muscle, filled the curves of your spine and warmed your back. The cloth of his mask draped over your hair. He sighed, and you thought it sounded almost like relief.

One of his arms, a massive bear paw, folded heavily over you, the other one crooked and tucked behind his head. You were about to protest — but thought better of it. You placed your own head there, and he adjusted, giving you more room. You'd been wondering what they'd felt like ever since you'd touched the muscle the second night you'd met. Now the flesh, bundled in a jacket, was soft against your cheek. His smell — the one you breathed in so deeply when you jumped into his arms, barely a day ago - enveloped you fully. It was…comforting?

Your brain and guts tied themselves in knots over the conflict between what you wanted to feel and how your touch-starved body responded. Your eyes almost immediately sagged, but nerves trilled all up and down your spine. His closeness, his warmth — why was it almost painful, yet it felt so good?

"Okay?" You heard him whisper, the warm breath making the back of your neck stiffen.

"F-fine," You grumbled, hoping he didn't hear your heart lurching against your ribs.

But now you could feel, so close, the beating of his own heart right against your vertebrae. Behind his steel exterior, it turned out he may be human, too. Needing warmth, too. Maddeningly, you felt your inhibitions soften; you remembered the tenderness he'd shown you. You probably could've ended up killing you both, and he still managed to be forgiving. How much he had continued to protect you, to keep you safe. As much as you had been through, he had also gone through so much to try to save you.

Neither of you spoke. There was nothing you could work up to say, especially here, enclosed in his arms. But it was for safety, for warmth, you insisted to yourself. He was right.

Perhaps you could extend him just the tiniest bit of grace.

I would slit my throat before I let any harm come to you.

It was hard to argue with it as he curled around you, weighing against your body. You missed your childhood bedroom, your pillows, the tick of the clock, and the fan spinning above you. But, if it weren't so cramped, dangerous, and you weren't both in rough clothing that poked and warmed you as much as they rubbed your skin raw… this would almost be nice.

You felt König's arm tighten around your waist, snuggling you into him. Like a great big dog, he let out a sigh, his breathing slowing down with yours. Sleep clawed up your body with the newfound warmth, pulling your heavy eyelids all the way down.

When your consciousness surfaced, your eyes still stayed closed. The air felt cold, like you were back in your bedroom with the AC blasting, wrapped in layer after layer of blanket. Instead, Königs massive body was wrapped around you. Something angled pressed against your shoulder — soft enough that you recognized the heat beneath his nose, buried in the crook of your shoulder, and the rough stubble against the exposed skin it brushed. His hood must have flipped up while you slept.

All was quiet, except for soft breathing stirring against your ear. From little cracks of the home-made insulation, light shone into the truck, but otherwise you were still blanketed in gloom.

You shifted just a bit, and to your surprise, he rumbled in protest and pulled you closer, like you were a stuffed teddy he had no intention of releasing. Your mouth was dry, and your lips were chapped, and you opened your mouth to say something until you felt something else.

Pressure. At the base of your spine, poking the vertebrae, down the curve of your ass in the soft leggings you still wore.

Oh god.

Perhaps it was a trick of the stiff fabric of his jeans, or some rollover of the jacket of his shirt — he wouldn't possibly be so—

Well. Then again. His hands, his height, his heavy gait.

Heat curled shamefully, rising in lazy, low-licking flames beneath your belly button. Perhaps it had been the fatigue, or the length of time since you'd felt sensations this intense. You had been too depressed, too distracted. Now the feelings, as if they'd been repressed behind a floodgate, began to rise. It was hard to be logical, too, with one of your feet still in the realm of warmth and sleep.

That's what you said to yourself, at least, as you began to shift your hips against the stiffness emerging from König's pelvis. Once, twice.

He didn't move, his breath still even and slow on your shoulder. You arched your ass just so against him, biting the inside of your cheek. Not you, but you, inside yourself, a base instinct, was asking for more. It didn't want you to think. So you didn't. You pushed your ass against him, seeking something — relief for the ache that now flared between your thighs.

Movement. You froze. Caught.

König's hips were flush to yours, and with that last movement you made, he responded in turn. His breath did not stop in its evenness, but his arm shifted from around you, his hand drifting down over your torso. His great fingers curled into the bone of your hip and squeezed the flesh inward. Hard.

Your mouth formed an O shape. It ached, ached — it felt so good.

His other arm still supported your head. With his hand, he easily pulled your hips against him, pushing his swelling length between the curve of your ass and sliding you up. There was little movement that could be made, really. He was a huge man, cramped in a tight space, with your body making it no better, no matter how small you tried to keep yourself. But friction was your friend. That, and just a slight shimmy —

There. The apex of your groin, grinding against hardness beneath the canvas of his pants. He slid you back, and your clit, beneath the cloth of your rapidly dampening underwear and leggings, slotted hot against him.

Perfection.

Your body shuddered, something that had wound itself inside you growing taut, an instrument plucked with every motion back and forth.

König's breath puffed hot in your hair. You felt his bare mouth just behind your ear.

Your world tilted, a heady haze in your mind. Pathetically, it didn't take a lot — you only needed a little stimulation, a little bit of back and forth motion, and you could feel the ache and swell, closer, closer —

Thump!

A loud noise startled you both. König sat up, and you yelped as he brought you with him, so you both were lurched erect. He kept an arm protectively around you, the other pulling his mask down. He then reached for the pistol. After long minutes of listening, König nudged you off of his lap and — frustration at the unfinished business biting behind your teeth — you moved away.

König used a finger to peel back just enough of the floor mat against the window. The light glared, and you squinted, turning your head away. It seemed all was clear, so he quietly unlocked the door from the front and opened it up.

Thumnk!

Snow fell heavily from the disrupted door. König, understanding now, turned and pulled the sleeping bag off the windshield; a sheet of ice and snow had slid from the roof of the car and now lay in lumps on the hood.

The motion of the car had perhaps disturbed it a bit, and it melted now in the brilliance of the winter sun.

"Oh, Christ," You puffed out a sigh of relief, and König tucked the pistol back in its holster, also relaxing, letting out a bemused huff.

Taking down all the insulation, the sun glared back harshly against your eyes from the snow, making you rub the sleep out of them. You got out of the car, every joint and limb aching and creaking from the cramped sleep. König, too, was tilting his head to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders back… and adjusting his pants.

Face heated, you turned away and pretended to keep stretching, the snow crunching beneath your feet, sinking up to your calf with each step. Later, you were perched in the open passenger-side door, chugging water and chewing on a protein bar in silence, refusing to meet König's eyes as he packed everything away, adjusted the seats, scraped the windshield, and dug the truck a bit out of the snow. He didn't ask for help, and you didn't offer.

When he finally got in the car, ready to go, awkwardness seized you, made you frigid, and made you overthink.

"Engel," König said softly. He placed something on your knee — the map. "Do you know how to read that?"

No. Not really at all. "Kind of?" You lied.

König looked at you for a moment. He reached over and pinched your cheek gruffly but affectionately, then started the engine of the car until it growled to life. You put your hand just where his fingers had been on your newly hot cheek, pretending to wipe it off, but, really, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

König was acting weird.

No, that wasn’t it—he was distracted, distant all afternoon.

After agreeing somewhat on the plan and a destination — another, somewhat nicer motel, a good distance away — you both washed and packed up your things. Your clothes all smelled faintly now of the alyssum petals you'd thrown when you left the motel behind to start on the way. It would be a few days yet until you two would come to the impasse to head to your old city. For that reason, you decided to be as sweet and well-behaved as you could.

König had come around the front, and in his gentlemanly, insistent fashion, opened up the door for you and helped you climb inside. But his attention was elsewhere, and he wasn't staring at you fixedly as he usually did. When he got in on his side, he was texting some number rapidly on his cellphone.

He clicked his tongue and tossed his phone into the cup holder. You watched the world stream by—a cloudless, cold winter day perfect for driving. Boredom crept in. König stayed silent, mind miles away. You flicked on the radio to fill the emptiness. A familiar classic drifted through the speakers, and you nodded along, humming quietly. For a moment, you let yourself believe this was just a normal road trip, a long-held wish come true: seeing new places, traveling far, if only for a minute.

Although the circumstances were frankly more baffling than you could've ever imagined.

König seemed to return to the present somewhat in response to the music. You made light, sparing conversation about signs you saw, the beauty or bareness of the landscape, cars and license plates, and what kind of music you liked. He would answer in his usual clipped way, or grunt in acknowledgment, which eventually led you both back into silence. He was away again, turning over whatever it was in his mind.

A plucky little oldie came on, and you saw 'König's face light up behind the balaclava. "I liked this one when I was a boy," He commented lightly, tapping his finger against the wheel.

You immediately took notice; this was perhaps the first time you could remember he'd offered up information about himself voluntarily. "In Austria?" You carefully asked, and when he nodded, you pushed just a bit more. "What was it like, living there?"

The muscles around König 's eyes relaxed, and he gave a sidelong glance at you, as if surprised you'd asked. "Not as different as you'd think." He replied, emphasizing with a delayed shrug of his shoulders.

You weren't satisfied. "What were you like?" You dared. "As a boy?"

König was silent momentarily, his eyes flickering as he was taken back, somewhere you weren't sure of. He chuffed with quiet laughter and shook his head. "I was…" It looked like he couldn't find the proper word. "It was no good to be how I was, and to also be the biggest in the room, yeah?"

After a moment of taking what he said in and belatedly realizing he didn't intend to elaborate, you slowly nodded. "I think I get it," you affirmed him in earnest, hoping to maintain this fragile moment with him, a rare opening up. "I know the feeling of being…different from everyone else."

"I was too visible, too," König muttered. "It was no good. Not many friends."

You reached out, brushing his arm with a gentle touch—then quickly pulled back, fidgeting with your seat belt. You drew a steadying breath. "I wasn’t as visible as you, but they always seemed to sense it—whatever ‘it’ was. Like a joke everyone knew but you, right? You were never in on it, never managed to be. You always paid the price for it.”

König’s eyes remained fixed on the road. When he finally spoke, it was even, but careful. "It was a lot. To be around people. It was harder to make friends. I often preferred…"

"..to be alone." The words slipped out from both of you at once. For a moment, surprise flickered between you, our eyes connecting — and in the following shared silence something warm and deep passed between you two.

And more complicated and confusing than anything before.

Though it felt much longer, the spell broke after less than a second; both of you looked away at the same time, you out the window, him back to the road. You felt yourself newly brave, for just a moment. On an even rarer occasion, you acted on speaking something without thinking. Just feeling. "I probably wouldn't be good at it," you offered quietly, the music almost drowning out your words, "but I… I would've tried to be your friend."

Regret burned in your cheeks. That was corny—too much, too vulnerable. You clamped your mouth shut, berating yourself in silence. Maybe he hadn’t heard. He didn’t respond, not right away.

Until you felt the delicate pressure along your knee, the squeeze on the kneecap. His wide palm slid up your jeans so that his hand rested on your thigh. It retreated for just a moment to turn up the music, then settled back down to hold your thigh as he drove with the other arm slung over the wheel.

You leaned your head against the cold glass of the window, smothering a smile.

---

You felt the sun on your face and woke to the acrid smell of gasoline. The pump clunked, signaling that Konig had filled the tank. From the windshield you picked out the tall, dark form of Konig; He was on the phone, a good distance from the truck, his foot on the curb. Though the balaclava and thick hood of his jacket obscured his mouth, you could tell he was speaking. You also knew that whatever was keeping him on the phone like this didn't spell anything good. Even if it were his mysterious 'connection', whom he insisted was trustworthy. You weren't so sure.

You stretched and yawned, twisting in your seat. A flash of white caught your eye in the backseat. Blinking slowly, you took notice of a plastic bag you hadn't seen before. You assumed it was likely things he'd bought while you'd slept — maybe more of those protein bars; you were hungry — and nosily peeked inside. A sharp, black angle jutted up— a box, and a cylinder, a plastic container, a bottle of…? You reached a little bit further in to jostle the bag, pull the handle forward. Gold letters on the front of the box showed two letters —XL — and the plastic bottle had a flat cap, the label equally light in color.

Lube. Lube, and extra large condoms.

The driver's door easing open made you practically jump ten feet into the air, whirling back to sit forward. You whirled your boiling face away, trying to pretend to look at something, anything outside the window.

"Oh, you're awake. Hungry?" Luckily, König was still staring hard down at his phone before pushing it into his pocket.

"No! I mean, yes!" You shrilled, and only then did König look at you. You smiled, a bit too big.

"Good," König nodded, unfazed. You exited the gas station and went down the road a little farther to a one-story, low-roofed building with a small parking lot; a 24-hour diner, not unlike your favorite one from home. When you were seated, you could almost laugh; how much had changed since the last time you'd sat down to good diner food with this big man on the other side of the booth.

He knocked your knee beneath the table with his, his long legs encasing yours as he stretched them out. "Order whatever you like," König encouraged tenderly. You didn't hesitate to follow, though. Two coffees, several shared sides, and two oversized, juicy burgers with all the fixings later, you were full to bursting. No meal had been as satisfying since you'd left town.

The teenaged waiter returned for your scraped-clean plates. "Care to hear about the dessert special? Tonight it's the chocolate angel food cake."

You and König looked up at each other conspiratorially, smiles breaking out on both of your faces. He gave you a nod, and you smiled at the waiter. "That sounds perfect, thank you," You chirped. As he retreated, you let out a sigh. Genuinely, you'd felt better than you'd had in a bit; just enjoying the food and the moment. Looking at König, however, dimmed your smile a bit; he looked pensive, bothered. König rested his large forearms on the table. He'd lifted his balaclava to a folded hat to eat. It had been a while since you'd seen him in the shining direct light of a diner; he looked a little more bedraggled, his beard growing out and significantly more gray. He stroked the underside of his chin, mentally away from you again.

In your good mood, you decided to be brave again. It was getting easier and easier with König, anyhow. "What's up with you today?"

His gaze flickered to you, and you felt the familiar roaming of his eyes, but still it was a little more pensive. You knew the expression well at that point. He was trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. "It's nothing." He replied curtly.

You shook your head. "Don't do that." You murmured. Strained as your throat was, you tried to make sure your tone was gentle. "I'd…rather know. Whatever it is."

König's jaw set, and he scratched at his beard a little longer, what you could now interpret as an anxious fidget of his. He exhaled. "I will talk. You will listen, okay? Until I'm done?"

You closed your lips obediently, and tilted your head.

"We're…" König ut himself off, thinking in overdrive, then he sighed again. "We're almost out of money. I was supposed to get the second half of payment before we left, but..." He kept his voice low, leaning in, so you did too. While he spoke, he kept his eyes trained in one spot on the table. "I can stretch it thin if it were just me, but…with two of us, it's harder," Frustrated, he rubbed his jaw, dragging his fingers down his bearded chin. "I need to work. Do you understand?" Finally, his gaze settled on you, stormy blue pools of water below knitted dark eyebrows.

You didn't reply — what could you say? So he went on. "I have something. It's small, but it will get us to where we need to go, until I can go back to working regularly."

Working. As in, killing. The feeling of normal you’d allowed yourself before, shattered into a million pieces.

"Angel chocolate cake," The waiter announced, making you both jump back to allow the plate, with two spoons, to sit between you. As delicious as the slice looked, you weren't as hungry as before.

"And," Konig shifted his eyes, his body uncomfortable, clearly, at speaking of it out loud at all. "It will be about a day's journey out of our route. But it will be closer to your city."

"My city?" You mouthed. Then you blinked in delayed understanding.

Konig nodded. "We will go there afterward, mm? Like you want?"

He dangled the visit home like an incentive, but the price was staggering. Konig always spoke with finality—this wasn’t a request, it was a decree. There was no room to say no. Still, he tried to sweeten it in the only way he knew. He talked about killing like it was just another chore—annoying, inconvenient, but routine.

Because of you, no less. It would've been easy for him to continue on his own without harming another person, but because you were being dragged along, now things were strapped enough that there wasn't a choice. A nasty feeling coiled through you, threatening to bring back up your dinner. The world felt surreal, warping, darkening.

You felt sick. You shot up on unsteady feet so hard the table scraped in protest, the world tilted.

He reached for you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. "Engel—"

"Don't!" You hissed, lurching away. Throwing your napkin down, you stormed out of the diner, pushing the door open, the eyes of other patrons and the waiter searing into you; you knew—but you couldn't care. You needed air. Your stomach began to ache.

The air, dark with dusk, responded sharply onto your cheeks, offering little relief. You made it as far as the truck, leaning your shoulder against the bed, holding your middle. You couldn't even bring yourself to get into the car. Guilt, disgust, anger, fear, knotting and turning over and over in your chest, flooding it with cortisol. Guilt, especially pronounced. You'd asked, and Konig had given you your answer. But you couldn't handle it.

Moments later, you heard the swish of a bag. König approached carefully. He had put the cake in a to-go box, the bag hanging from two curled fingers on his side, the other hand shoved in his pocket. He tossed the bag into the car — next to the other one you'd discovered earlier, you noted- and closed the door, leaning against the side of the car to mirror you.

You kept your head down, your face hot and your eyes clammed with tears. You felt two fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up. He unfolded his hand entirely, the warm palm cupping your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Engelchen. Ich bitte Sie um Verzeihung." He murmured. “You deserved the truth.”

"It's my fault," You rasped, your lip quivering. “If I weren’t here—”

König shook his head vehemently, letting his hand slip down to your shoulders. "Do not say that again.”

Your head lolled, feeling heavy as he held your shoulders, your body limp as he pulled you closer to him, your arms hanging at your sides. "Do you have to?" You whispered, hoarse.