It felt cold, the weight of death riding with him as his partner in life; he was tired. The sound of the city began to blur together with the sound of the rain tapping angrily on the top of the car, he could hardly see anything outside of his tinted windows. It was only mid day, and yet, it felt like a dark night. The street lights hung heavy through the constant pour of rain, the sidewalk invisible against the grey buildings and sky. There was no color, safe for a few lights and signs; but they too were bleak. His sadness and anger was overwhelming.

Two more soldiers had fallen today, their bodies mutilated through torture; their deaths far from swift. The number of dead have been quickly rising in the mere course of two weeks, these two men making it a total of seven already. He had been to the scene of every death, witnessing the untampered death scene of his precious family. But today was different, his fingers twitching in anger as his blood ran thin; he could feel his heart breathe as heavy as his mind. This was a massacre.

The driver pulled up to a building on the outskirts of the Zhang family’s East district, Yixing feeling unable to move as his eyes found the bowed heads of the men waiting for him outside of the building. Shrouded in black, they all wore the heavy burden of grief on their shoulders; some men so struck by pain that they stood in the rain with no protection. Opening the door, his motions were fluid and confident as his men rushed to provide him with cover. He did not have to worry about the rain penetrating his body, though it had already stolen his mind. It was as if the world wept for their loss just as they did.

All he could do was hold a hand, a signal to his men, before stepping out into the rain. He stood there, his eyes meeting those of the sky, feeling its sadness. It wailed for their heartbroken family, it's soft touches brushing through his hair, tugging at his clothes. The wind was leading him to the building, pulling him closer as if to indicate that it was time to bear another heavy burden. His heart reached out against his chest, following the wind. He bore a strong facade, his chin held high as his feet began to slap quickly against the wet pavement. His stride held purpose, anger, and the overwhelming feeling of caution. These killings were spread too far over the territories, happening not only on the East side, but the North and West. These crimes were too consistent in pattern and rage to be mere squabbles over borders. The killer always left his signature at every scene, laying a black feather laid upon the eyes of the fallen; though, it was not remorse that the killer expressed to them. Take away a man’s sight, take away his power.

The building was in desperate need of repairs, the glass of the windows laying on the ground in decrepit decay; the stone crumbling under the weight of age. This structure was abandoned, not even Yixing’s men used it. ‘Why are they here?’ His mind expressed his remorse, wondering why they had to die in such a way. His soldiers were only to greet death in the midst of battle, that right having been ripped away from them just as easily as their lives were taken. Left to rot in a ruin of a once strong building, their bodies were as worthless as the caved in ceiling; the rain pouring in to take witness to the crime. Oh how Yixing desperately wished he could question what it had seen, to find the man who had taken so much.

His feet had carried him to the heart stopping scene, his breath taking cover in his lungs; it dared not to leave just as he dared not let it. If he let that breath leave his chest, his feelings of pain would desperately rip free and run rampant in his mind. All he could do was purse his lips, his eyes scanning the scene of death. it was as ugly as the sky, dark and ruined.

The two men hung from their ankles, their arms hanging limp as their fingertips gently brushed against the ground. They were suspended by heavy chains, the edges sharp as made obvious by the blood staining their pants. But it was not their ankles that stole his mind, it was the state of their bodies; these were the most mutilated. It was as if the killer had carried an unstoppable rage in him, their shirts torn off as their ribs were adorned with the swollen anger of fresh bruises. They had been pummeled to the extent that it was obvious that their ribs had been broken, their faces adorned with the same coloration of remorseless red and purple. But their torture had not stopped there.

Yixing’s eyes had traveled to the knife that lay carelessly abandoned on the cement floor of the ruins, stained with the blood of his soldiers. He stared at it for as long as his mind would allow, taking in the strange details of the knife. The guard between the handle and the blade had been removed, every component of the weapon lay slick with red; even the pommel bore the dents and burdens of blood. It was obvious that the man had also beaten the men with the knife, his eyes finally trailing back up to the bodies. Blood trailed down their broad torsos, raw slashes littered their bodies. The skin and muscle had parted to reveal the interiors of the men's’ bodies, the muscle and veins bulging out of their once whole skin. The cartilage and skin hung in torn strips, it had been done savagely, as if to inflict the most amount of pain.

As if their pain had not been enough, the wall behind them stood adorned with their blood. A message bleeding into the very divots of the stone, taunting Yixing further. There stood the message, the blood obviously taken from the deep slits in their necks; blood had been sloppily smeared around their necks. The killer had been careful to use both men’s blood, a message of something Yixing could not understand. “It is time to pay, blood taken for blood spilt. It’s just begun.” Yixing could feel his chest begin to tighten, the killer’s signature feathers clung to the wall, hugging the bloody message.

“Leave, now.” Yixing finally dared to breathe out, feeling the pressure under his tongue begin to build as his stomach churned; he could feel the blood drain from his face. He felt light headed, dizzy as his eyes met the confused ones of his men.

“But boss-” One brave soldier dared to question.

“Now!” He bellowed, almost instantly regretting the decision as his gag reflex began to take effect, leaving him slightly hunched as he glared. “Canvas the area, search for anyone who saw or heard anything. Leave!” He repeated, the men all rushing out of the only exit in a gleeful escape of the gore that had presented itself to them. At their exit, Yixing stumbled to the corner, his arms desperately shoving the planks of wood that stood propped. He stood hunched, his hand making its way to his stomach now, the other supporting him against the wall. He attempted to hold back these revolted feelings, his mouth salivating as his gag reflex forced his head to lower. He couldn’t hold it back.

He stood, vomiting as he let out a brief sob, his eyes full of pressure from tears and stress. His eyes found those of his soldiers again, a small wail finding its way out of his chest before another round of stomach hurtling vomiting came his way. He could not stand the smell of his own weakness, or the blood the permeated the air. It was putrid, filling his nose with no mercy as he shivered; he could not handle death.

Never once had he tortured a man, though he had killed against his will. His victims had always had the mercy of a quick and painless death, saving them from the pain of life and burden when he must. His life would always remain haunted by his victim’s, their eyes flat and their faces emotionless; he had taken everything from them. He had never wanted to, unlike the killer that left Yixing vomiting with repulsion. The killer had obviously taken great satisfaction in the pain of his victims, Yixing’s heart wailing as loud as his lungs.

He could only try to think of better times as his back heaved against his now dry heaves, he tried to think of the times before he too had been a killer; the times when he was a child. He had been innocent and young, so full of hope and kindness, the entire world had been made from music and sunshine in those days. Every smile, every brush of wind, every cloud, and every action had been filled with thoughts of magic and future. He always looked forward to discovering the world, trapped in the compounds of his family’s large estate, his feet only tasting the freedom of the backyard. He had always wanted to become a detective, to be the hero. Yixing’s hoarse voice managed to choke out a cynical laugh at the irony of what he had become. He was no hero, he was the villain.

He fell to his knees, just narrowly missing his own vomit as he wailed his grief to the wind; he could not handle these feelings. He had not realized the sadness that had been growing in his heart, his body having stored them away, waiting for a day of soberness. He had missed his own death, it had been covered up by the pleasure of taking over the family business. That was the day his innocence had been sentenced to death, his body torn free from the pesky emotions of life. He was to be strong, he was to be a leader; and yet he was a mere child who only dreamed of happier times. He was weak and afraid.

His heaves withering away to nothing, he was left shaking as the back of his hand rose to wipe the tears free from his cheeks. Taking a breath, he stood to take the fallen planks of wood and replace them in their previous positions; he had hoped to cover the evidence of his weakness. But there was no covering the smell or the few remaining tells of vomit. He turned, giving up on further covering his disgrace to meet the eyes of Jongin. The man stood with arms crossed, body leaned against the wall without much care, his gaze thoughtful. He seemed unaffected by both the gory scene before him, but as well as Yixing’s vomiting.

Bringing himself up, he too, crossed his arms; his eyes glaring. He would not let himself be further judged by the man, though his heart weaped and continued to wail in ironic silence. His chest was caving in on itself, he was self destructing, and the man that stood before him was witnessing it all.

“It’s okay.” Jongin breathed, his eyes turning away from Yixing for a moment as he pushed himself free from the wall. He took a few steps closer to him, stopping just short as his arms unfolded; his eyes spoke of sadness and sympathy. “Well, I always thought the beast could feel something, but I did not know he would turn out to be such a child.” Jongin’s nature switched without warning, his face becoming snarky and vile, his nose scrunched up in distaste. Yixing had almost been hopeful for the man to comfort him, desperate for the comfort of compassion he had not felt in a long time; not since the death of his mother at age twelve.

He could not speak, his shoulders beginning their tremble once more, as his eyes teared up. His neck gave way to his grief and allowed his head to hang, his sobs slithering their way to freedom again. There was no response to give to Jongin, his pain too commanding as he desperately wished for a drink. He wanted to drown himself in more alcohol, despite the protests his liver would soon have in a couple of years. He did not want to feel.

“You’re pathetic,” the man paused to breathe out, his tone tense and strained, “I can’t even look…” But he trailed off mid sentence, the sound of sadness entering his voice to add to the grief in the air. Yixing did not have the courage to look up he felt the man’s arms wrap themselves around his shaking body, his first thought from logic was to push him away; but his desire from emotion wanted to pull him closer. His head lifted only enough to find its way to the crook in his neck, burying there for safety as he shook.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He confessed, his own arms lifting to wrap around Jongin’s torso. The man, in return, rested his chin on top of Yixing’s head. The embrace was tender and honest, though Yixing could not make sense of the raw emotions shared between them. A man that could so easily throw insults and careless words his way was also tender and soft, comforting Yixing despite having just claimed him to be pathetic.

“I don’t even know why I care about you, you’re a jerk half the time and a mafia boss on top of it,” he sighed, his hands moving slightly as he pulled the hug into a tighter embrace, “I’ve been trying really hard not to care about you, I can’t care about you.” He breathed out, his words almost pained as Yixing finally dared to lift his eyes. He could only see the wall beyond Jongin, decrepit and boring, littered with holes and cracks.

“If you were trying so hard not to care, maybe you shouldn’t have started what you did the other day. This tension is your fault, I was perfectly fine not caring about you either.” Yixing mumbled, his sobs withering away to mere memories as his eyes began to clear. He had a job to do.

“Was?” The man gently pulled back from the embrace, his arms leaving Yixing’s shoulders as their eyes met. “Do you care about me?” the question was hesitant and hopeful, but a hint of dread and pain lingered in the echoes of his words. Yixing let his eyes drift to the floor, unable to process his feelings enough to determine an answer. Jongin made him feel things he had not felt for a long time, be it anger and worry, or amusement and laughter. He simply made him feel.

“I think that sadly,” he paused, his stomach tensing as if he were going to throw up again simply from his uncertainty, “I do.” He straightened his shoulders, wiping the last traces of weakness from his face before lifting his head. He met Jongin’s eyes and let out a simple breath gauging the man’s reaction; he looked about as confused and concerned as Yixing felt.

But before any further conversation could be spoken, a scream pierced into the room, Jongin and Yixing immediately tensing, their bodies traveling to a less accessible part of the room. It was a natural reaction for them, their shoulders tensed and their eyes at the ready. Yixing’s men charged back into the room, grappling a rather small girl between the two of them; she couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. She screamed and struggled to escape, her eyes red with tears and panic.

“What is this?” Yixing demanded, his hand pointing to the girl as he walked back to the middle of the room; reclaiming his position of authority. It was obvious that the girl was terrified, her head whipping back and forth as she gauged her surroundings, her screams growing louder and more pathetic when her eyes met the sight of what his men had become. They still hung there, mere feet from them all.

“We found her hiding nearby, she must have seen or heard something.” One of them answered, his hands cruelly digging into her arm, it was obvious that he had no sympathy. The girl did not speak, her eyes wild with terror.

“Bring her back to my apartment.” The answer was quick and simple; there would be no sympathy if this girl knew who had killed his men.

The girl was thrown to the ground, her treatment rough and careless as her hands caught her fall. She half laid and half sat on the ground, her body quivering under the stress of fear as her eyes remained trained on Yixing’s pacing feet.

“Leave us!” He bellowed at his men, taking a step towards them as his arm swung towards the exit. He needed them to leave, he needed to feel alone with his troubling emotions and the cowering girl. But he could not be alone, as Jongin stood close behind him, so much so that Yixing thought he could feel the man’s body heat warm his back.

“Please, I didn’t see anything!” The girl suddenly wailed at the exit of Yixing’s men, still laying on the ground like filth; her thin limbs made a stunningly fast crawl backwards. But he had no sympathies for the girl, his loyalties and heart resting only with his men. She knew something.

“I know you know who it is.” Yixing spoke slowly, enunciating his words as his hands laced behind his back. His eyes had traveled to the ceiling once more, his feet beginning their slow trotting once more. He was not mad at the girl, specifically. He was mad at the entire situation, and more importantly, himself. How was he to protect his men, if he could not even handle himself? He could not stand the sight and smell of death, his stomach revolting at the mere sight. He could not tolerate his traumas, his memories, he couldn’t even go a day without drinking. Today had been his first sober day in a very long time.

“I don’t, I don’t!” She screamed, her chest jumping rapidly under the force of her sobs. Her reddened cheeks were overwhelming stained with tears, leaking into and down her chin. Her tears were bothersome and unnecessary, he had not intentions of hurting the girl yet.

“You’re lying to me,” Yixing paused, stopping his pacing, “You wouldn’t have been hiding otherwise.” He crouched down in front of her, his hands resting on his knees as he narrowed his eyes. He knew without a single doubt in his mind and heart that the girl knew something, anything.

“I don’t know who he was.” She trailed off, her breathing consistently halted by her sobs. Yixing was beginning to feel annoyed, but he let out a breath and pushed himself up. He turned and began to walk to his favorite spot in the room; his alcohol. But Jongin stepped in his way, shaking his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes further at the man, a little confused. The man was typically the one to pour him his drinks, without even being asked, and now he was preventing him from drinking? Especially in such a stressful time?

“Well, you’re never leaving here.” Yixing spoke, still glaring at Jongin before turning to meet the eyes of the girl again. She sat on her knees now, her hands twisting and picking at each other in her lap.

“What?” She breathed, her eyes wide as she scanned the apartment. She was most likely looking for an escape, though, he knew it would be impossible for her to leave on her own. Well, unless she jumped out the window.

“Until you tell us everything you know, even if it is just a description of what you saw-”, Yixing was cut off by the girl, raising his eyebrow in slight dismay.

“Okay!” She sobbed once more, wiping her eyes dry as they rested on the floor. “I don’t know who he was though, I just saw what happened. But I got scared and hid, I thought he heard me!” She spoke so fast and shakily that Yixing couldn’t be sure of everything that he was hearing. Kneeling down in front of her once more, his arms resting on his knees as his hands hung free.

“It’s fine, just tell me everything you can.” His voice rang a little softer now, his heart finally thawing towards the girl. If he, a mafia boss, could have such emotions and vile reactions to the murders; surely this girl must be suffering more than he.

“Um, I didn't get that good of a look, She trailed off, seemingly unsure as to where to put her eyes, “He looked kinda like…” She trailed off once again, Yixing feeling a twitch form in his eyebrow as his shoulders tensed. She couldn't get a single sentence out, his heart clenching for her while his mind groaned.

“Looked like..?” He pried gently, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he shifted his kneeling weight anxiously, his eyes trained heavily on the girl. She swallowed, her eyes lifting; but they did not meet Yixing’s. They instead traveled to Jongin, the silent man who stood behind Yixing with his arms crossed, his eyes heavy and dark.

“He kinda looked like him.” She whispered softly before looking back down. Yixing’s attentions were no longer on the girl though, his heart dropping down to his stomach as his body went cold, a heavy swallow choking him as he stood slowly. His breath caught in his throat when he turned to look at Jongin, the man having uncrossed his arms with furrowed brows now.

“Jongin?” He asked softly, his shaking fingers curling to form firsts as he pursed his lips. He could barely breathe and he did not know why, his heart beating so slow and heavy he thought that it would fall to the bottom of his chest cavity to die. His lungs had shriveled and his mind had gone blank, his entire body had shut down for no reason.

“Yixing, don’t be stupid.” Jongin suddenly looked angry, jabbing an angry finger at the girl. “You know I didn’t kill those men, I’ve been here.” He followed, his angry eyes moving to stab at the girl. But Yixing could only think of those moments, those hours where Jongin was nowhere to be found. His fingers gave up their tension and fell loose, his heart suddenly beating faster. It was grabbing his ribcage, rattling his bones as it screamed with emotions Yixing could not quite determine, for his mind had died. There was nothing but thin, illogical thoughts of nothing.

“You’ve been disappearing for hours at a time.” Yixing could barely breathe the words out, the whispers slinking free from his clenched chest. Jongin looked more baffled, hurt and angry than scared at his words; he was a good actor.

“I don’t think that it was him.” The girl suddenly spoke up once again, her hands lifted towards Yixing as if to comfort him; but that was impossible from the floor. Turning slowly, the words had given him some hope, his eyebrows lifting hesitantly.

“What?”

“I mean, he looked like him… But it wasn’t him.” The girl shook her head, nervously staring at Jongin before her body began to shake again. Her eyes locked on target with the floor, as if she were inspecting every grain that was etched into the hardwood. “He had longer hair, it was black. And he was wearing these long earrings and was dressed really nice.” She suddenly could not stop, the words pouring free from her as the panic set in. It would seem that the memories of the event had troubled her deeply.

“What earrings?” Jongin breathed, his arms folded once more. Yixing’s saddened and distrustful eyes grazing the man’s neck. The vein throbbed there, pounding angrily against his skin and muscles. “We need to know.” He added, almost as if it were a last thought. ‘Jongin wears earrings...‘ Yixing’s mind whispered, his eyes slipping up to look at the black gem like earrings the man wore. They were rather small, but flattering and cleanly cut.

“Feathers, they looked like metal feathers. But I couldn’t tell.” She whispered, Yixing barely able to hear her as he teared his sorrowful eyes from Jongin. The man had begun to swear excessively, his arms uncrossing as he walked in a circle, as if he were unable to handle being in his own body. But Yixing paid no further mind to him, he began to feel the pity for the girl overwhelm him. It took over his body as he himself began to shake, his lungs clenching. He was so weak.

“Thank you,” he paused, offering his hand out to the rather surprised girl, “this all must have been really hard for you.” He smiled gently, taking the girl’s soft hand into his as he helped her to her feet. Letting his thumb rub almost reassuringly against the top of her hand for just a moment, he released it and took a step back. His hand went to his stomach, feeling the need to hold onto his shirt as he made a slight bow to the girl.

It was obvious that these events would haunt her for the rest of her life, tormenting her dreams and influencing her nightmares. His heart wept for the girl, his eyes following suit as he straightened up. Taking a breath, he let no tears fall. His eyes had reddened and teared up, but no weakness would roll down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry that you lost your men.” She whispered, her hands clenching one another as her feet shifted anxiously. “Can I go home now?” She stuttered, her breathing broken with fear. But a small smile flittered across her face for a brief moment, Yixing give her a soft nod.

“Yes, of course.” He moved slowly to the small desk he had set up in his living room for in-house meetings, his finger gently moving to press a button that lay at the bottom of his office phone. It only took a moment to hear a response, his soldiers prompt and at the ready. It was obvious that they were all anxious to hear any form of news.

“Thank you.” She whispered, though, Yixing had barely registered his words as his mind drifted into his heart. Perhaps it had not been Jongin after all, but the seeds of suspicion and betrayal had already been sown. Yixing felt his distrust for the man only grow, consuming any form of logic and reason that he had left.

“Please bring three men up here, I would like them to take this girl home safely. No harm is to come to her.” He somehow found the energy and words to speak, his finger releasing the button as his arm fell loose to his side. Jongin was yelling something at him, but he could not hear. He barely even felt the man’s hand grab his arm, spinning him around. The world was much too quiet.

He could see the men enter the apartment, taking a bow before assuming protective positions around the girl. She paused for a moment to bow to Yixing, the men doing the same. They were gone. His eyes moved back to Jongin, the man’s mouth moving rapidly as he yelled, his arms waving and pointing. Yixing did not know what he was saying, his eyes focused on the man’s lips. He yearned for those soft petal like lips to fall onto his, dreaming of finding happiness in the man’s arms. He dared to let his mind think such things, feeling as though he did not have much else to lose. He was already haunted by his nightmares, why not his desires too?

The hand hit him hard, the pain startling as he had determined that he could feel nothing. The hand had come into contact with his face rather loudly, the pain bringing the sound back into his world. He blinked in surprise, holding his cheek as he furrowed his eyebrows at the man. How dare he?

“Are you listening now?” Jongin yelled, his surprisingly sharp finger jabbed him in the collarbone, Yixing wincing slightly at the force of it. But that slap had glued together the broken pieces of his reality, his shoulders tensing as he swatted the man’s hand away. With the grand renewal of his reality came the intense feelings of anger, betrayal and saddness. His own jaw set as his fist curled, coming into contact with the man’s jaw before he had any thought.

“How dare you!” He bellowed, his fingers unclenching just long enough to grab tight to the man’s iconic black silk shirt. Pivoting rather quickly, he brought the man down on top of his desk, objects scattering to the floor with a thunderstorm like sound. “How dare you think that you can do these things to me!” He swiped the man off the desk, throwing him to the ground as he rolled up his sleeves.

He did not know what ‘things’ he meant specifically, hundreds of things suddenly swarming to mind. The man had waltzed in here, pretending as if he owned Yixing right from the beginning. And Yixing had let him. He had let the man touch his heart, stupidly believing that the man would take care of it. But instead he had it gently, reassuring it of its safety before crushing it cruelly between his fingers. If Jongin really did care about him, he would not so easily disobey the laws set in place by his family, he would protect his heart too, not just his body. Yixing was no play thing, he was a damaged child.

“You just sent that girl to her death!” Jongin scrambled to his feet, various desk items swiping across the ground by the force of both of their movements. The man rolled up his sleeves as well, visibly grinding his teeth as he bared them at Yixing. “You know the killer is going to get to her, you should have kept her here!” He finished, rushing Yixing, his arms wrapping around his waist as they both went tumbling to the floor. Jongin had his body pinned down, but that did not stop his fists from forming once again to take a swing at his sensitive jaw.

Jongin’s own fists met Yixing’s jaw instead, his arms simultaneously blocking his punches while landing ones of his own. The pain that spiked in his nose and mouth was intense, his vision sparking for a moment as he blinked with shock. But the man did not stop there, his fists wailing into Yixing’s ribcage. He could barely breathe, the wind constantly knocked out of him as he gasped uselessly.

Winding his fingers through Jongin’s hair, he took his head and pulled down, slamming his head down into the hardwood floor. Rolling over on top of the man, the adrenaline kept him from feeling the severity of his injured rib cage. It was his turn to punish the man, his hands first pinning the other’s down.

“This can’t just be about that girl, you were an assassin for s sake! What do you care?” He bellowed at Jongin, feeling the spit fly free from his lips as he raised his fists once more. He could feel the heat of the man’s face as he landed one good punch on his jaw, his other fist coming into contact with his ribcage. Pinning his hands down once more, Jongin spit a mixture of blood and spit into his face, his lips twisted into a snarl of anger. The mixture of blood and spit only fuled his confusing emotions, stirring them deeper and faster into the pit of his mind.

“You think I’m doing something to you? What about me?” He bellowed, his entire body fighting to be free to attack Yixing once again. “What about all the things you’re doing to me? I’m not allowed to love you and yet I do! We are both the same, yet I can't be with you even if you wanted to be with me!” Jongin bellowed, spit flying free from his own lips as his body struggled furiously underneath Yixing's.

Yixing rolled off of the man, quick to regain his footing as he stumbled for a moment. His eyes were still wild with anger, his chest heaving under the unrestrained adrenaline pounding through his veins; but his heart beat swiftly for an entirely different reason. With his nostrils flaring, he pounded away from the man that scrambled to his own feet, his body functioning only on adrenaline. He slammed the door to his study upon entry, throwing himself against the wall. Sliding to the floor, he took a shuddering breath, the pain in his ribs slowly getting to him.

‘He loves me?’

Jongin bursts in, the anger unrestrained and raw as he stormed towards Yixing’s desk. But he did not have the energy nor will to fight the man again, he did not even have the energy to turn to look at the man, his eyes remaining on his desk. His head lay rested on his clasped hands, waiting for the punch that was inevitably coming. But instead, he was met with something thrown upon the deep oak of his desk. Letting one of his arms fall gently to the item, he realized it to be a picture, turning it over just to drop it again. His breath caught in his chest and his heart sank, already heavy with burden.

“I knew you were a monster, but I didn’t think you were cruel enough to let this happen.” Jongin’s voice was cruel and full of malice, but Yixing’s heart had taken too much to feel anymore pain from his words. The man had already shattered his heart and broke his trust, as well his body.

It was the girl, her body twisted and broken into a million different ways. Her face was beaten and carved, her fingers all removed and scattered on the ground around her. It was obvious that she had suffered greatly under the force of the killer's pleasure. Refusing to look further at the girl, his eyes found the words written on the photo. ‘Catch me if you can’. His heart stopped beating.

He swallowed, his eyes closing tightly as his lungs clenched once again. He was so sure that the girl would have been safe, that his men would have protected her. He could feel his tears form once again, his eyelids desperate to contain them as his shoulders shook slightly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice shuddering with a quiver as his breath came in short bursts. He was not sure if it was the girl or Jongin that he spoke to, but his heart sang for both of them. He had lost another life tonight, and a person he had not known he valued so much. Letting his eyes finally rise to meet the man’s, he realized that they too were filled with tears.

“I can’t believe you thought I was the one killing those men,” he paused, his chest bouncing as he narrowed his eyes in an obvious attempt to maintain his tears, “I could never do that to you and I don't know how you think I could.”

“You act as though I am the only one at fault.” Yixing barked through his clenched teeth and lungs. It was hard to get a breath in or out, let alone words. His heart simply hurt far too much, the pain worse than his ribs or his jaw. The man could beat Yixing all he wanted, but nothing would compare.

“You should have trusted me.” He sobbed, his shoulders squared and his fists clenched, but it was obvious the man looked more like a boy in that moment. His blonde hair cascaded over his teared eyes, the black pits seeming warmer and glowing in that moment. His cheeks and jaw were reddened with forming bruises, various cuts resting on his delicate features. They were both hurt fairly badly.

“I'm sorry.” Yixing cleared his tense throat, only wanting to bring the man into his arms. He wanted so badly to be forgiven for his entire life, to take the man away from all this nonsense. It was in this very moment that he realized where his confusing emotions and seemingly random stressed stemmed from. From the moment he had met the blonde haired man, he had wanted to better himself. To be a man worthy of protection. He wanted to be good, he no longer wished to lead his family. ‘I don’t want to be a mafia boss.’ He thought slowly, dreaming of a big house in a quiet and peaceful place. He wanted only to be with Jongin, to not worry about the stress of murder, mafias, rivalry, assassinations or the tensions created between the two of them. The man he barely knew had stolen his heart, and there was little chance of getting it back.

“I should never have let myself fall in love with you.” He breathed out, his own voice quivering as his bottom lip trembled. He pursed those two rose petals tightly, but it did little good to contain his small sounds of pain and sadness. It was true that they should never have fallen for each other, that it would never work between the two of them, they were doomed to an existence without the other. They were the new metaphorical Romeo and Juliet.

“I shouldn’t have either,” he let his breath meet Jongin’s, his tone echoing the same song of sadness, “but what's done is done.” His words stuttered, the warm tears finally making their way down his cheeks. Tumbling, he felt them roll into his mouth and fall free from his chin. He did not know this man completely, he did not know what he was capable of or what his intentions were. But without a doubt, Yixing realized that he loved him.

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Sorry for making you all wait so long! Had SO much to do! But now I have a lot of free time to write, I hope.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter, even though it is long and most likely scattered. I’m tired, so I will most likely fix any errors later. As always, feel free to comment and let me know what you think/mistakes I made/ etc!

I’m excited for these next couple of chapters~.

Also, let me know if I should mark this as Rated M for the slight description of blood/gore. I tried not going too much into detail, but uh....

EDIT*; BTW, I wanted to say thank you to all my new subscribers. While I was gone, I had quite a few people subscribe to this, and I wanted to say thank you to you all and I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it!

~SnobbyCoffeeAsian