Kyungsoo POV
 

"Why are you so perfect Kim Jongin?" I whispered softly as I watched him from my apartment window with a pair of binoculars. Old music from the 1930's played loudly from the antique record player in the living room and the smell of spaghetti still wandered in the air although I have finished dinner nearly an hour ago. Jongin, the tanned dancer always practiced his routines at this time in his bedroom and I always made sure that I watched from start to finish. He placed his left leg on his bed frame for stretching then made his way to the CD player on his study table. The dancer pressed 'play' and on went the graceful classical music, which drifted out his open window and into the streets of Marseille, France. I was not much of a dancer, but I could tell that he was the best. Posters of famous ballet dancers adorned his walls and pairs of ballet shoes hung from his bed post. Every pirouette and every grand jetée was not thought out.. Jongin felt it in his soul, it was his style. That's why I loved him and he loved me because I loved him.
 

Suddenly, after his big finish with his long legs crossed in an 'X' and his arms up high, we made eye contact. I immediately ducked down on my squeaky lounge chair and tossed my spy gear to the coffee table in embarrassment. After a wait of about ten seconds, I peered over the window ledge and found that he has pulled the curtains close.
 

"Dammit," I hissed, gripping tightly on the ledge. Glancing at the clock, which sat on the table, my eyes widened once I processed that it was already 1AM. I scrambled out of the den and into my bedroom where my crisp white lab coat and scrubs were perfectly placed on my bed. I stripped completely, throwing my black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to the floor and pulling the dentist green shirt over my head then slipping into the matching pants. I pulled my arms through the sleeves of the white lab coat then grabbed my keys from my dresser, which had a mirror above that had a frame covered in Jongin's pictures. Most were just magazine cut outs, but some were my own. I raced out the door and into the dimly lit hallway, fumbling through my keys to lock it. Finally, I found the correct key and locked the oak door, pausing once I heard a distinct noise. The record player I left playing.
 

"Ugh!" I exclaimed rolling my eyes in annoyance then re-entered the flat.
 

A crescent moon was out that night, which I loved. I loved pressing the elevator button more than once, blankets that just came out from the dryer, the sound of trains, and the adrenaline, excitement, and thrill that Jongin gave my life everyday. Walking into the white themed hospital, the secretary, Mrs. Junhee Wu, greeted me with a kind "hello,"
 

I made my way to her desk and signed my name in the black binder, which she handed to me with a timid smile. I met the brunette's large eyes then trailed my view to her neck that displayed a few love bites and some possible domestic abuse bruises. As I wrote in the time I got to work on the sheets, I stared at the beautiful young lady from the corner of my eye.
 

"What did Kris do this time?" I questioned, dropping the smooth Papermate pen onto her desk. She began to play with her short locks and eyed the floor in embarrassment.
 

"O-oh...nothing doctor. You don't have to worry about me," Junhee replied in a higher pitched tone, trying to use her aegyo to shoo me away. She always had that affect on the other doctors. I slipped my hands into my lab coat pockets then spun on my heels to the direction of my office.
 

"I don't have any concerns for you, Mrs. Wu. The question was out of plain curiosity," I called over my shoulder with a slight smirk. I strolled down the bright corridor to my office at the end. It was true, I had no concern for her. In fact, I didn't care for anyone, but myself and Jongin. I liked to think of it as a sort of game or test to see how long others can live and how long it would take them to reach their happy ending. In Junhee's case, I doubt that Kris would ever bring her a single red rose. I opened the entrance to my office and was greeted by the black walls, which I painted myself. The small room included my desk, a leather office chair, a tray of surgical equipment, and a pair of chairs for patients. In one of them sat a young man named, Zitao Huang, but Tao for short. He was a famous model in China and he visited his current boyfriend Jongin frequently if he had time. I envied his cat-like eyes, his charming laugh, his height, his perfectly styled blonde hair, and most of all, the fact that he had my Jongin. I took my seat in front of the celebrity and scrolled through his file on my laptop.
 

"So what brings you here again, Mr. Huang?" I asked as I read through his various procedures done by surgeons both in China and France. Of course, he always came calling for me.
 

"I feel like I want my face a bit slimmer. Maybe you could shave down my jaw a little? I know you'll make me look great, so I flew all the way over here!" The blonde grinned handsomely as he pointed to his prominent jaw line. I tapped my ballpoint pen on my desk impatiently, wanting the bastard dead. I dropped the writing tool suddenly and opened my desk drawer. I pulled on a pair of black surgical gloves and stood up. 




 

"I need to do a few measurements, Tao, so you may want to close your eyes. It may hurt," I ordered calmly. The blonde did exactly as I said while I reached for one of my scalpels. "Count to three if you'd like,"




 

"Okay. 1...2..3," Once he said the final number, I lunged forward, plunging the scalpel into his throat then traced across, taking his ability to speak. The model's eyes shot open in shock, pain, and agony. He grabbed his open wound with one hand and shot up, instantly running for the door. My victim turned at the knob, but it was no use. My door locked on both the inside and the outside for a reason. Why are my walls black? I'm sure you can figure that out. 




 

Inching closer to Tao, I twirled the sharp object in between my fingers cockily. He collapsed to the floor, holding his neck as he breathed hard. Crimson blood spilled all over the floor as he coughed. 




 

"You have everything Huang Zitao. You're beautiful, but I'm not, so I'll just erase that beauty for you," I smirked devilishly, kneeling onto the floor to his level. All of a sudden, he stopped moving. His hands dropped to his sides and I was left there in silence. "Oh? Gave up already? I was hoping to see those martial arts skills in action, but I guess it was a lie! You always lied to Jongin! You said you loved him, but you were always out with rich older men!"




 

I started to laugh hysterically as I repeatedly stabbed into his eye sockets. "You're trash, Huang!"




 

I cut his cheeks and forehead over and over until you couldn't identify him. The blood splattered on the floor and black walls as I sliced. Two times, three times, four times....twenty times. I stared at my work and grinned. His corpes, lifeless, bloody, and ugly. It brought me such delight and joy seeing that one of my enemies have been wiped out from the world.




 

~~~
 

The next day, I had Zitao's body packed in a wooden crate, which was boarded onto an export ship. I left instructions to a worker on board to throw it into the sea, never to be found. Very easy to get rid of since he wasn't my first.
 

I straightened my thin black tie as I entered the concert hall along with many other spectators. We all took our seats in the large room and within minutes, the auditorium was completely packed just to see the amazing dancers. The red curtains drew open and the audience began to clap happily as the first ballet dancer entered, dressed in all white. The whole crowd remained quiet in shock towards the artist who danced so gracefully just like a painter's paint brush against the canvas. Every , perfectly pre-meditated, his facial expressions feeling the classical song, Study in E Minor by Loeschhorn. Every pirouette and every grand jetée was thought out. This was not the Kim Jongin I loved. What had happened? Instead of passion in his face, he wore sadness, but why? 
 

The song ended and the ballerino bowed with a large grin plastered on his angelic face. The audience threw white roses onto the stage, knowing they were his favourite. Instead of white, I tossed a single red rose. Since after all, red had always been my favourite colour. In confusion, Jongin picked up the odd flower out of the bunch and looked in my direction just before the curtains closed. I felt a smile crawl onto my face and butterflies in my stomach. After many years, Jongin had finally noticed me. The rest of the show was a blur to me and the only pupil I could see was him, my true love. 
 

Once the performance had ended, the audience filed out quickly, talking amongst one another about the concert. Everyone dressed in black formal attire or plain dresses, it would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack to spot me. I scurried down the cobblestone steps to my car, which was parked rather clumsily in the lot. To my embarrassment, half of my black Audi was parked in the space and the other half nearly touching the car next to it. As I searched for my keys, I suddenly felt a hand gripping on my shoulder. I spun around and came face to face with the one and only Kim Jongin who stood about five inches above me. He was dressed in a dark tuxedo and his eyelids sparkled in the sunlight due to his crazy amount of glitter and eyeshadow. The tanned dancer smiled kindly and presented the red rose he received from me. 
 

"Pourquoi rouge?" (Why red?) Jongin inquired, taking a step closer, almost to the point where I could hear him breathing. The scarlet petals of the flower seemed to droop already, even though it has only been nearly half an hour. I sighed deeply and unlocked my car door.
 

"My favourite colour. I thought you'd like a red one for a change," I replied once I sat comfortably in the driver's seat. I wanted to kick myself because of the stupid answer. 
 

"Do you live in the apartments called, Le Oiseau!?" The ballerino gasped in realization that I was possibly the stalker looking through his window. I nodded nervously, wishing that somebody would just drop a grande piano on me just like in those movies. "Yes! You're the one who cooks the best food! I can smell it through my window! I would love to try your cooking someday,"




 

Did he not notice me watching him practice every night? Did he not notice the camera flashes when I took his picture? I sighed in relief and smiled brightly, content with my opportunity.




 

"You can come over if you want," I answered taking hold of his hand and pulling him towards my car. Jongin happily tagged along and we drove through the busy streets of Marseille. We soon arrived to my apartment building, which was surprisingly busy in the lobby, probably due to the concert. I dragged Jongin to the elevator, which dinged immediately once we stepped before it. He giggled at how eager I was to cook for him. I pressed all the floor buttons and smiled eagerly.
 

"Why'd you do that!?" He asked in surprise.
 

"Just a habit," I explained.
 

Finally, we reached my floor and we strolled down the dimly lit hallway to my apartment suite. The corridor, quiet as usual and the smell of my neighbour's cooking wandered in the air. I halted in front of the entrance and pulled out my keys. I turned to my idol in worry and swallowed hard, remembering the mess I had left.




 

"Please wait here for a second," I ordered as I slipped into the room, making sure I didn't open the door too much, allowing him to see anything. I hastily ran for the knife on the dining table, which was covered in crimson, quickly throwing it into the sink along with the dirty dishes. Before leaving the kitchen, I spotted the blender that was filled with human fingers and more blood. Breathing hard, I dumped the remains into the compost bin and ran some tap water on the blood stains. I didn't want to keep my love waiting, but I definitely did not want him finding any of these. I sprinted to the guest room where a body sat soundly on top of a black garbage bag. The human being's intestines and stomach spilling out from his sloppily cut opened torso, his fingers chopped up from the blender while he was alive, and his eyes wide open. Park Chanyeol was his name. He was tall and cute looking. Chanyeol called himself Jongin's best friend, but I couldn't stand him talking to my dancer everyday. I exited the bedroom and locked the door shut behind me.
 

"Come in!" I called outside as I took in deep breaths to compose myself. Kim Jongin entered curiously while he kicked off his shiny dress shoes. I threw off my tuxedo blazer on top of the sofa and re-entered the kitchen to begin cooking. "Have a seat anywhere,"
 

The dancer hopped onto the French Rococo style couch with a big smile. 
 

"You have a very nice house...uh..what is your name exactly?" The tanned man inquired, slightly embarrassed that we never even got through introductions. "I can't believe I'm here. Who knows? What if you're a serial killer or something?"
 

I chuckled as I the stove to boil some water. I glanced at the still dirty dishes and bit my lip. Please don't come into the kitchen. 
 

"It's Kyungsoo. You probably won't remember and how would I know if you're not a serial killer yourself!" I joked cheerfully. I heard him laugh from the living room, which brought a smile to my face.
 

About half an hour passed and I started serving his kimchi spaghetti, careful not to spill anything and embarrass myself. I sat beside Jongin on the couch and picked up my fork. 
 

"So have you heard anything from Tao lately?" I asked, careful not to make myself sound too suspicious and weird. He paused, his fork stabbed in the middle of the pile of noodles. 
 

"Nothing. He was my ex for nearly five years now. Tao goes here and there, he could even be dead for all I care," he replied, his gaze shooting straight to the floor, his aura turning dark.
 

"How about we talk about our likes and dislikes? You know, to get to know each other,"
 

"Why not? My absolute favourite scent is cherry. I could marry anyone who smells of them. For dislikes, I hate anyone who lies,"
 

~~~
 

That day felt like yesterday, but it was more than a year ago and we have never spoken after that. I guess he just saw me as a fan or a servant giving him his meal. I wore cherry perfume everyday after that. I got it from Bath & Body Works, but it was a bit too strong for my taste, though I thought I'd get used to it just for you. The smell caused headaches and made my head spin, but every morning I would rub it on my wrists. The saddest part was that...you didn't even notice when I walked passed.
 

Kim Jongin kept dancing and more and more people started to recognize his talents. Many scouts in North America wanted to hire him, but he always refused because he had the desire to stay in France for somebody special. As I walked down the cobblestone sidewalks of Marseille, the sun shined brightly on my porcelain skin and the birds sang beautifully. The street venders sold snacks on the sides and musicians played their instruments proudly. I stopped by a newspaper stand, which carried the latest crime, gossip, and political news. 
 

"The Last Dance! Kim Jongin, the rising ballet star(also known as Kai) brings a curse to this country! Everyone who associates with this dancer, vanishes without a trace. Victims so far include, model, Huang Zitao, music teacher, Park Chanyeol, waiter, Byun Baekhyun and barista, Kim Minseok," the front page of each magazine read. I smirked, knowing a ton of police officers were searching far and wide for the missing people and for the culprit. Of course, I had my reasons for their deaths. I couldn't have Minseok going out for lunch with Jongin alone, now could I? 
 

"Bonjour Kyungsoo!" A woman called from behind me. The familiar voice forced me to put on a fake smile and a bright expression. 
 

"Mrs. Wu! A pleasure. How is your husband nowadays?" I greeted the woman kindly, taking note of the fresh wounds on her knuckles. Her hands were so pale and perfect, it was a shame they got torn up, really. The brunette played with her hair before speaking like always and looked at me cutely.
 

"He's..." 
 

"You tried to fight him. You know better, you're no match for him. The guy is over six feet tall!" I cut her off in a sort of harsh tone. I didn't feel bad, I was annoyed at how stupid she was, so that night, I called her handsome jerk of a husband near the dance concert hall where Jongin performed daily. The blonde man towered over me, the moonlight illuminating half his face and the rest was left in shadow. If he never got with Junhee, she would never have experienced domestic violence, and I would not be stressed out over her own issues. It was all him. Kris Wu had to be erased. 
 

"Why did you call me here Kyung-" and before he could finish his sentence, he dropped to the ground, bathing in his own pool of blood. I wiped my cheek, which left behind Kris' blood on my fingertips. The scent of iron and rusted metal filled the night air and the vintage street lamps allowed the blood and gore to sparkle. Suddenly, I heard quiet voices, causing me to run and hide behind the stone pillars around the concert hall. Peering to the side a little, I spotted Jongin and Oh Sehun skipping down the worn out steps covered in moss and cigarette butts. They were hand in hand and I hated every second of the event. I gripped my handgun tightly and aimed right to the blondie's head then pulled the trigger. Bang. Sehun's legs lost their strength, making them bend and allow him to collapse. The ravenette dancer hurriedly dialled an ambulance and dropped to the stone steps in dismay. His eyes tearing up and his hands shaking, he scanned the scenery until he caught my eye. I tucked my gun into my pocket and sauntered out of my hiding place. I looked to Sehun then switched my gaze to the distraught dancer. 
 

"You loved me. I wore this stupid perfume, I spent my money on every show you performed at," I spoke quietly, stepping closer and closer has he slowly backed away. "You came to my house and ate my food. You accepted my flower and now you act like you don't know me,"
 

Jongin's dark eyes widened in fear as he stopped in his tracks, realizing who I was.
 

"I got rid of so many people just so we could be together freely. You have no idea how hard it was and this is how you repay me!?" I shouted psychotically as I quickened my pace towards him. 
 

"I NEVER LOVED YOU KYUNGSOO! You're stuck in your little fantasy. I knew you stared at me through that pathetic window! I gave you a chance through kindness and you repay me by killing everyone I know. I NEVER DID AND NEVER WILL LOVE YOU! YOU'RE CRAZY!" Kim Jongin screamed back, his hands balling into fists. I was eventually an inch away from his body where I could see every detail of his fear filled expression. I leaned to his ear and whispered, "and I always thought you would forget my name,"
 

Bang.