Word Count: 921

He is king. He`s always been king. He can feel his royal heartbeat beat in his chest cavity. He can hear the mighty beats as if drums vibrate loudly in his ears. Kris is king. Kingship is Kris. He’s always known that his place is at the top where he can play with his pieces. Where pawns are protection and knights are loyal.

Today, like any other day, he reclines lightly in his chair. A dark chair, not quite black but not quite brown either. It’s a soft leather, antique and worn. He crosses his leg in a manly sense, lost in thought. In front of him is a wooden chess board with pieces scattered around the board. The white, the opposing team, is all defensive, caging their king in with minimal pieces attacking. The black, Kris, is offense; king in the open; knights and bishops trying to break the white’s front line. It’s as if a battle has been stopped in the middle of the biggest moves. An empty chair sits across from him, as if he is expecting someone who never showed up.

Hearing a slump from across him, Kris looks over with an excited glint in his eyes and is thoroughly disappointed to find Chen picking up the white’s queen. “Put it down.” Kris growls a deep, disgruntled sound.

Chen places it back, slightly askew, putting his hands up in defense, “Calm down, Kris. I just came to report findings.” Kris leans over, adjusting the queen so it stands in its original position. Chen watches him with slightly turned up lips, almost annoyed. “Rose still won’t saying anything.” He reports, looking back up at Kris.

The king smirks, “First name basis, are we?” He leans back again, tilting his chin up in a move of superiority. “Are you sure, she didn’t say anything?”

“She keeps spitting on me, each time saying ‘over my dead corpse’ and some colourful language.”

Kris leans forward, picking up a black rook, “How is a little girl so strong?” His eyes flick up to Chen, “She’s a daddy’s little girl, she shouldn’t be this strong.”

Chen stands up, “I’ll look into it.”

“Be sure you do and, Chen, keep an eye on her.”

As the Abductor turns away, he knocks down the white queen causing it to roll off the table with a wooden clunk. “You watch her.”

Kris stands up, walking over to Chen and standing in his personal space. He stands close enough that Chen can feel his breath on his face, “I gave you an order.”

“You should ask.” Chen’s eyes flick down and up, his stance swaying nervously.

“Do I ever ask?”

Chen gulps before taking a step back and turning away, “No, you don’t. I’ll go see if Xiumin is available.”

“You do that.” Kris stands a moment longer as Chen walks out of the room, closing the door behind him causing the space to echo a lonely sound. The Boss turns back to his game, picking up the queen and rolling it in his fingers. He stands at the window, watching the outside window. He watches as the expensive gallery across from his building is gathering more and more amateur critiques. He dark eyes scan the crowd, noticing the Dealer calmly conversing—fliting—with one of the artists. The woman’s shoulder length brown hair softly swayed in the light breeze, capturing the attention of the cool wolf. He watches as she talks with a joking manner. Her hand movements are large and exaggerated and Kris notices Xiumin laughing quite honestly at her jokes. The girl moves softly yet vividly expresses her opinions although when she laughs, Kris watches as she covers with a hint of an unconfident personality. Her round cheeks round even more as she smiles to the Dealer. An unsuspecting rabbit befriending her predator.

He watches the conversation with light interest for a while until he notices something that catches his breath: she’s looking right at him. She’s watching him watch her. It gives the wolf an eerie feeling causing him to break the eye contact and move out of her line of sight to steady his suddenly beating heart.

—

A few hours later, as the moon had risen up above the horizon, Kris stands once more at the window. His heart has calmed, thankfully. The wolf is still a little shaken by the woman’s piercing gaze. He grins, maliciously, fangs glinting in the oddly red crescent of a moon.

The king is intrigued.

He watches the glowing art gallery with a lovely passion, wondering which of the amateur artists could be that girl. Lost in thought, it takes him a few steady heart beats to realize the girl is standing on the stairs, looking up at his window once more.

“She can’t be looking at me…” he mumbles to himself, peering around his dark room. Not one single light has been put on, the only thing illuminating the window is the barely breathing moon. Kris looks back down at her as she stands with a deadly statue body.

She waves. Her eyes reflecting the moon’s rays as she watches him.

He waves back.

Kris watches as her teeth flash gloriously in the red moon making it seem as if she’s bleeding from the gums.

He shivers, suddenly cold. As he follows her body in the dim moonlight shift from off of the stairs towards his building, Kris begins to wonder who truly is the prey and predator in this unspoken moment.