“The Wicked's Haven”

Come dowsed in mud, soaked in bleach

As I want you to be

As a trend, as a friend, as an old memoria

{ Come As You Are, Nirvana }

He opened his hand free from the pocket of his ripped up jeans and smelled it. The stink of metals and rusted cans greeted the point of his perfectly sculpted nose. And then, as he stepped forward to take the road, an unanticipated honk from his side startled his busy thoughts. He stepped backward and let the sedan pass, but didn’t let it all go by without his hand over the matter. He kicked the left tire in reprisal and cursed under his breath. He concluded that the driver had noticed him when he – he was pretty sure the driver was a male – pressed the honk a few seconds in recognition. It pretty much gathered a trace of attention. He didn’t want that this moment so he could only roll his eyes and curse more and continue on his track.

Cars passed in neon lights. He didn’t bother waiting for them to stop nor walking on the pedestrian lane. Treelam Road was a demanding street and is considered as the town’s main road. Mobiles with no plate numbers, busted windshields, missing side mirrors ruled the place. The crowded stores with cashiers who were always terrified of the imminent ruthless robbery mobbed the sidewalks. There was no day that had passed without a little bit of ruckus. But people are used to it. You choose to live on the wicked; you choose to play with the wicked.

Choi Seunghyun’s lip coiled into a smirk. This was where he belonged.

He realized that he already had reached the convenient store on the other side of the street when he nearly tripped on the tin cans that scattered on his way. He kicked them away and reached for the broken handle of the glass door. It was cold, almost bruising against his warm palm and he didn’t even get the chance to pull the steel handle when it detached fully from the plywood that has been obviously put up to support the almost useless handle. He cursed sharply while throwing the knob and went on by pushing the transparent door by his right shoulder instead.

His eyes roamed the store. The huge change on the look didn’t escape his knowledge. It’s been what? Two, three years since the last time he breathed the stagnant air of the ragged town. He didn’t want to do the math; hell did he even know what the date today is. But one thing he’s solely sure of is that he spent more than sufficient time inside the jail. Robbery, getting into rumble just for the sake of it and getting out completely injured, gate crashing, vandalizing government properties, and the list goes on. Two, three years spent inside the stinking prison was thoroughly short and he’s just roughly thankful not to cause his whole life paying for something awfully horrible he had committed. He was born to be a criminal, and that was another thing he was sure of.

The store was nearly vacant. His eyes darted to the wall clock sloppily nailed on the back wall. It didn’t change. It was the same old circular clock – which color has faded – he had seen years ago. He moved forward, vanishing into the columns of practically emptied racks. He searched for useful things to get. He spotted a pack of menthol and as he reached out his arm to take hold of it, he heard the wind chimes rattle and the faint thump of a closing door. Someone just entered the store. He picked the menthol and kept it on the pocket of his torn jeans. He continued looking for necessities he might need for the following days. Unfortunately, he couldn’t steal big chunk of items. He was in no mood for a fight which he will obviously encounter before he step outside the tedious store – or not. The sly sneer slinked into his face. Of course he could get whatever he wanted. A young schoolboy couldn’t be so hard to handle.  Good thing he never lets his penknife leave his body. In case of urgent situations, at least he is ready. He grabbed loads of items he didn’t bother checking and threw them hastily on the basket lying on the floor. The store has a basket, oh how lovely. He grabbed its end and strutted down to the counter, his hand already reaching for his little comrade kept on the inside pocket of his faux leather jacket. He was already steps away from the counter when the rack beside him fell down, random valuables scattering on the granite floor. It caught his attention and his eyes spontaneously found the suspect of the slight rumpus.

Park Bom couldn’t imagine how pathetic she must look with the gaze she’s been receiving from both the cashier and the admittedly tall man before her. She’d been spying on Choi Seunghyun for a few moments and she was sure that the man was up to no good. And that was why, my friend, she was currently sprawled on the ground.

Seunghyun didn’t even look at her for a minute. Nor did he help her! He just continued walking to the counter like nobody’s business. She muttered an apology silently while helping herself to stand. She brushed the dirt off her dress and glanced cautiously to the man’s direction. She felt her heart do a sudden leap when the man looked back. Their gazes momentarily met. He cursed under his breath and pierced his stare so intently to her that it was almost palpable. He purposely dropped the basket in an alarming manner on the counter. Though he met hesitation after finding a witness, it dawned to him that it was just a girl. No harm she could give him. Or so he thought?

He was trying to carry on with his plan on threatening the schoolboy who is now in front of him when the girl protruded beside him. Oh, hell.

Bom stammered to find the right words to say but they won’t come. Guess she still has a hangover from the Head’s wrath.

The three stayed in silence, sensing each other’s want to speak.

The young schoolboy broke it. “Um, can I now proceed in billing your expenses, mister?”

Seunghyun’s hand had reached the penknife inside his jacket and was already pulling it out when Bom found her courage to talk. “No! Don’t,” It came off as a high pitched voice because of rashly spill of words. “I didn't... um,”

“I’m sorry?” it was the schoolboy.

Her heart started to beat in a rapid pace. She kept looking back the schoolboy’s questioning face and Seunghyun’s side profile. “I… no, I mean…”

“Dammit!”  Two heads abruptly turned to Seunghyun's direction. “I’m out of here!”

He didn’t like waiting, and most of all, he didn’t like being interrupted. Lucky for them he wasn’t in his disposition to cause havoc. As he passed the bothersome girl, he unintentionally brushed his right shoulder to hers. The stir in his body struck him down, his blood turning cold. He felt the sensation of draftiness and warmth in collision. He shuddered in distance. And so did Bom. She felt the conclusion dawn into her. It wasn’t the first time she felt that kind  of sensation. And it spoke one thing: that guy was her mission. So she’s been right. But one thing was oddly inappropriate. The sensation of knowing your temporary charge didn’t cause to feel fear. So why did she? She damped her parched lips with her tongue. She was in for a total destruction.