An hour and two glasses of wine later, you were still boring your eyes to the empty chair that sat across you. It was the second time this week, wishing that you could drown with the embarrassment of getting stood up into the dark red that pooled at the bottom of the glass.

“So who’s the douche?”

He looked different from the photos your friend sent, was he really this good looking? You stare at the sudden interruption who adjusted the jacket of his navy suit with a casual shrug as he sat down. Once settled, his gaze pierced yours and a smile curled his lips to flash a set of perfectly straight, white teeth.

“I think you’ve got the wrong table.” You inform as politely as you could, as handsome as this stranger was, he was someone else’s date for all you know. And getting into a hair pulling fight in the back exit of this damn restaurant was the last thing on your list.

“My date stood me up, and so did yours, I assume?”

“Tell me about it.” You groan, rolling your eyes in irritation and he laughs, deep with amusement.

“So let me guess,” He clears his throat before propping an elbow to the table, pressing a thumb on his lip and he lets out a lopsided smile, “College student working part time, sick of spoiled frat boys, looking for something more serious –preferably older?”

An abrupt scoff snorted out of you, “Excuse me? You’re pretty smug for a stranger.”

“So it’s true?” He leans back to his seat with a proud smile.

“Whose online profile did you get that from?”

“It is true.” He was grinning from ear to ear, highlighting the high of his cheekbones and if it weren’t so goddamn charming, you were sure to smack it off his face.

“So let me guess…” You trail off, looking at him for a snarky remark but for some reason you couldn’t.

There was something uncanny about him, not anyone would strike up an unexpected conversation this way. He succeeded in grabbing your full attention, so much so you couldn’t quite dismiss the quick and sharp movements of his eyes from you to the space over your shoulders.

“What do you do anyways?” He diverts his focus back to you in a snap and you could tell he was somewhat taken aback.

“Well, I kill people.” The two of you share a brief moment of silence, slightly bothered by the dark undertone of the joke he just told. Then you laughed, pursing your lips together with a nod too many.

“That’s a good one.” You clasp your hand lightly at the base of your neck, quirking a brow his way. “My blind date is a serial killer, classic.”

A smile crawls lazily on his face, tugging his lips to a side smile as he breathes out a silent, short laugh.  

“So it’s a date then.” The calming bass of his voice hums in his chest and you were still caught up with his previously morbid remark to reject the idea.

You could tell he tried his best to be engaging. But you knew that his attention was transfixed elsewhere, continuously twisting the silver, circular faced ring that adorned his index finger.  Halfway through, he became increasingly distracted, finally excusing himself to the restroom for a moment or two.

He came back not long after and you note the odd strand of hair, out of place from the slicked rest. You catch the new glint in his eyes and you were tempted to ask him what god sent moisturizer he used to have such dewy skin. He was strangely put together, swearing that he looked different from before. Slightly frenzied, slightly affected.

The least you could do was fix his terribly loose tie for dinner that he insist was on him, gliding your fingers over the silky material to pinch it back in place. He stood stiffly, somewhat perplexed at your gesture.

“It’s just your tie.” You let out a low chuckle, tracing your eyes over the faint beads of perspiration that lined his hairline. The place was perfectly air conditioned and a frown twitched your features as you try to put the pieces together. What exactly happened while he was gone?

He steps back briskly as if he noticed your curiosity.

“Thank you for tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” He suppresses a smile, shaking his head at how forward you were being. It would’ve been fitting if you were the one that paid for dinner.   

“I’d take you home, but I’m not like other men.” The look on his face was honest, almost like he was disappointed.

“That’s okay. Who knows you might kill me on the way.” You meant to , wanting to brighten up the suddenly solemn air. Yet he kept a straight face, eyes darting to everywhere but you.

“Yeah, who knows.” He laughs bleakly before taking his time to bow deeply, bidding you his goodbye graciously like it was his last time. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, goodnight.”                                                 

//

Who would have known that he would ever see you again? Not even a name was uttered or a means to contact you, but none of that mattered. He led a destructive way of life, scattered with dead end, temporary relationships that he tossed away when they no longer served him a purpose. It was a life he’d always known, incapable of surviving any other way simply because he was detached from the norm ever since his first kill.

Having a hundred percent success rate, his name was no stranger amongst the elite. Minho was a notorious mercenary, hired by the highly privileged to execute their own fair share of dirty work.

Stable relationships were a foreign concept to him; he had long accepted that home, in whatever shape or form, was never made for people like him.  

He didn’t need a name, or a number to be reminded of you. The second his eyes rested on your face that he remembered so well, he found himself breaking out into a smile before he even knew. He was quick to look away, pushing in an extra effort to control his face if he wanted to be anywhere near convincing.

“You –again!” You thrill, eyebrows raised in surprise as you stop him in his tracks. People busied their way around the two of you and he remains indifferent to your greeting.

“A month ago…?” Minho only blinks, acting like you were just some random stranger he bumped on the streets. Despite his cold response, you were beaming infectiously and it proved to be more difficult than he imagined it to be.

“Blind date…? Serial killer…?”

He was caught miserably, lifting his brows to signal his overdue realization. How could he forget that he managed to coax you into a presumably innocent case of blind dating? When in fact he managed to kill a target he’d been chasing for months at the back alley of some fancy restaurant.

“You, again.” He presses a faint smile, nodding ever so slowly.

You were clad in casual wear –a white t-shirt tucked into a flowy skirt. Tresses loose over your shoulders, you looked different than the last time he remembered, but still beautiful.

“Yeah, me again.” You hum a chuckle, rolling your lip between your teeth when silence coats the two of you awkwardly.

“Listen, do you want to grab something to eat or–”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He cuts you off short, leaving you to stare at him in a daze. “I might just kill you, remember?”

“And I’m an illusionist.” You retort jokingly. As much as he wanted to say yes, Minho knew he would be digging you a deeper grave.

“I’m sorry, I’ll pass.” There was no need for him to be sweet about it, if anything leaving you with the least desirable impression of himself would do everyone a favour.

You stood there, unmoved by his rejection and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt a speck of guilt. Before inflicting further damage, he opts to brush past you without a proper goodbye. He knew getting involved with anyone brewed trouble and as he speeds through the crowd, Minho prayed desperately that this would be the last he would see of you.

//

“Will you take the trash out on the way?”

“Sure thing. Have a great weekend, Mrs. Lee!” You chime on your way out, thumping your back against the exit door with two hefty bin liners in tow. Half laughing to yourself when you realize that you just wished your boss a happy weekend when it’s supposed to be the busiest time for a typical restaurant.

The back alley of the place had always given you the creeps, swearing that the walk to the dumpster felt like a light year away. Not to mention that someone had knocked out one of the lights, leaving it to flicker eerily with every step you take.

You heave each bag hurriedly, dumping it over the rest of the pile and just as you were about to flee out of there, your ears perked at a peculiar sound.

Allowing a few seconds to make sure that you hadn’t heard it right, your heart shot up when you heard it the second time. It was gruff, like a pained grunt, stifled by the two rows of dumpsters further into the alley.

Every fiber of your being pushed you to make a run for it yet the small voice in your head chained you firmly in place. Something –someone, was possibly hurt behind there and your mind swirled with the worst. Particularly the part where Mrs.Lee discovers your lifeless body tomorrow morning, splayed out with the remnants of this night’s trash and kimchi stew.

You hated yourself for having to play hero, your tongue pushing curses under your shaky breath as you tail the sound warily. The darkness thickens the further you were from the door of the restaurant, squinting through the dim light for whatever it was that seemed out of place.

And sure enough as you rounded the dumpster, your eyes could make out a figure, slumped against the side and you let out a loud yelp, almost tripping over your own feet. Your voice bounced against the two narrow walls and it didn’t take long before you could register the face you just encountered.

Even in low light, you could make out those thick brows, furrowed in an excruciating manner. He hissed sharp intakes of air and you could tell he was struggling hard not to make a sound. Your eyes roamed his broad figure, falling onto his clenched fist that was planted on his side.

Blood soaked his shirt and you gasp, feeling your knees scrape the gravel as you kneel automatically at the sight.

“I-I’ll call someone –you need the hospital–”

“No.” He grips your arm sternly, and you couldn’t believe your ears at the rash protest.

“You’re hurt! You’re bleeding–”

“You need to go.” He looks at you through a half lid glance, words strained in a whisper, “Now.”

“You’re not okay, please, let’s just–” It looked as if he was going to blank out, drowsy eyes barely focused on anything and he squeezes your arm once more.

“Someone’s coming to fix this.” He swallows heavily, gathering all the strength he has left to tip his head up, looking at you dead in the eye this time.

“Leave.” 

There was a stubborn pleading in his eyes and there were many things in life that you weren’t sure about. But leaving someone to bleed dry was definitely not one.

“No.” You your lips nervously, “I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

A million questions ran through your mind, fighting the urge to ask him because he could barely breathe on his own let alone hold up a conversation. Why do we keep meeting like this?

He would show up at the most inconvenient and strangest of times, leaving you quite the impression –one that made him hard to forget. But the one thing that you couldn’t wrap your head around is how he was nothing like the person he was the first time you met him in that restaurant.

“Go!” You didn’t think he could so much as whispered a word, leaving the shock of his voice that he bellowed towards you.

“Minho –what the ?”  A voice riled behind you, and you spin around, feeling like your heart might plough its way out your chest.

Your neck craned up his trim legs, failing to see his face hidden by the cap he had on. He was agitated, running a hand over his face to his mouth at the sight of the person behind you.

“Hyung –get her out of here.”

“I sure as hell don’t know what’s going on here and believe me, I don’t want to.” You ignore his hissing demand, not realizing how tall this person was until you got to your unsteady feet. “But he needs the hospital, like right now.”

That was when you knew how the two must be close friends. Idiot number two here did not hesitate to grab you by the arm, complying to idiot number one’s command. Your words must have gone into his ear and out the other with no regard by the looks of it.

“You have no business here.” He tugs you away from where you stood, dragging you further out. You catch the sharpness of his eyes, and you yank your arm from his hold angrily.

“He’ll bleed to death, you know that right?” You press, walking up to his chest in hopes to intimidate him but he remains unaffected.

He looks at you and a part of you hoped for an answer, but his long legs swings the other way, paying no attention to your warning.

You were about to march back to where the two was, only to pause when you see them emerge out, with him limping against his hyung for desperate support. Something wasn’t right and you held your tongue, wanting so much to ask which hospital they were heading to. The second they walked past you like you were some insignificant speck, you knew that it would just add to the pile of your wasted efforts.

It might have been the shock that still buzzed through you, but you swore that before the door of the passenger seat slammed shut, Minho looked back.

//

Minho lost track of time. New set of faces from the opposite table signals his obvious extended stay, but this was the least of his worries.

You’re not okay, please…

From hunting down drug fuelled gangs to dodging away hired snipers, he never thought that those four words could stick to him more than anything he’d ever heard. It was mercy that many begged him for, but never his wellbeing.

Your voice was wired in his mind, playing on a constant loop that he couldn’t quite put a stop to. He sat by the cafe on the other side of the street, the one that faced the restaurant you waited tables for.

It was his fifth visit, alternating between days to avoid suspicions from the cafe’s staff for his unusually long stays. He cursed his conscience, one that he thought he never had. For triggering feelings of sympathy and curiosity towards another human being that had nothing to do with him, nothing to do with his clients.

Thoughts of settling down come and go, never taking it seriously simply because for him, it was another life away. It would be a lie to say that he never wondered how things would have turned out if he hadn’t strayed away into what he does now. Clichéd things that he thought many took for granted, like getting married and have kids, maybe have a cat or two. Not things like keeping a tally of victims and blood stained hands.

He knew he was in trouble when his usually sharp eyes missed you crossing down the street, striding towards his table with a face less than impressed.

“I see you’re still alive.” You were glowering at him from over his table and he snapped awake from his string of thoughts, “What are you, a stalker?”

Still baffled by your sudden entrance, he was left staring at you with his tongue tied.

“I’m not here for you.” He mutters after a while.

“Bull.” In all honesty, he saw this coming. You weren’t going to be all happy go lucky after the cold shoulder. “Five times, really?”

He was surprised at your keen eyes, feeling increasingly stupid for not having a rational excuse for your, quite frankly, spot on accusation.

“I’m not–”

“You’ve never apologized before have you?” You smile sarcastically, “Well, normal people would go up to them nicely and say ‘I’m sorry for being an .’ Not stalk them to their workplace and eye them from across the street like a creep.”

Minho could only take in the shrill chiding with a blank face, finding it hard to dismiss the dozen pair of eyes that suddenly probed his table.

“Excuse me, miss. Is this man bothering you?” A woman from the adjacent table pokes in, whispering towards you as she looks at him suspiciously.

“Him? Nah, don’t worry –wouldn’t hurt a fly.” You swat your palm in midair with a small pout, and Minho couldn’t help a smirk tug his lips hearing the irony.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Five times should be enough for you to know that I’d be off my shift, no?” You quip and he scoffs out a smile for the first time.  

“You know, you should smile more.”

“Why– I’m charming aren’t I?”

“No. You don’t look like you’re plotting a murder for once.”

Minho was in a fit of amusement, rolling his tongue in his cheek as he bites back a huge grin.

“What’s so funny?”

You’re a ing delight –he held back the thought, chewing his lip before subtly shaking his head with a smile.

“I’m sorry, for everything.” He himself couldn’t believe his own mouth, silencing you with his apology.

Minho knew perfectly well that he was risking it, but seeing this now, it seems like he’s got a head start anyway. “I’ll buy you a drink?”

//