Yuu had never been naïve enough to ever believe that death was easy, or philosophical enough to consider it a beautiful and necessary part of the human experience. He had never had the faith to see the possibility of an existence after it nor had the strength to accept that there was nothing beyond it. He feared his own death but was fascinated by the demise of others.

In his youth he had noticed the numbness with which he faced the loss of his father as he watched the oak coffin disappear behind a tacky burgundy velvet curtain; his naïve mind barely capable of comprehending the fact that he was alone.

 Those around him praised his strength of character when he accepted the death of the only family he had known without the slightest flicker of sadness in his eyes. But as time passed and his flawless mask refused to crack, the whispers of gossip around him turned from praise to accusations of cold, cruel, heartlessness. And Yuu knew they were right. Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was empty. That just below the glossy sheen of his painted glass heart was a vacuum that had his soul dry of humanity.

It left him cold and hollow, dragging his feet through life with the only thing he knew he could still feel; pain.

Self mutilation had become a means by which he could remind himself to breathe, despite the depressive weight he carried in his chest. But the vacuum in the centre of his heart could not be sated and as the years passed even the sharpness of pain dulled til the tightness in his chest felt as though it would suffocate him.

Until now.

Staring blankly at the thick crimson that pooled in the creases of him palms, he could feel his heart moving in his chest like it rarely had before. It pulsed behind his ribcage with such vigour that he wondered if he would rattle to pieces with the force of the pounding though his body.

As his heartbeat slowly winds down back into its lethargic rhythm he watches the blood drip from his hands. The depth of its vermillion colour fading as it dries at his feet.

Was this all life was? He wondered quietly to himself. Was this offensively bright red liquid all there was to existing?

Red, the colour of passion, anger, lust and love, coursed through one’s veins, fuelling the basest of human feeling. Feeding the fire that gave birth to the soul and consciousness.

Life, the spark at the heart of existence, was blood red.

And it was when everything was drenched in it that Yuu felt the most alive.

As the last dregs of blood ran from his hands, Yuu wondered what colour his own blood would be. Would it be red and full of life like that that stained his clothes or would it be black and empty like the hole he felt in his chest. Devoid of passion, anger, lust or even love, completely devoid of life itself.

Wiping the stains from his hands down the front of his black dress shirt, he lets himself take one more moment to savour the congealed fragrance of iron that hangs heavy in the air before undoing the buttons and tossing the shirt over the lifeless face of mutilated figure at his feet. He can’t stand the accusing look in those eyes any more. Those damn black eyes that in death question his lack of feeling and bore into his own vacant expression till they expose the black-blooded monster beneath Yuu’s skin.

‘I’m sor-‘ His throat tightened suddenly, choking off the last syllable. The apology to the dead hustler at his feet breaking as the last dregs of decency inside him crumbled. An ugly realisation grew in the void that spent anger had left in the back of his mind. Killing stripped away the numbness, breathed life into the hollow of his veins, but it cut away at the small part of him that still held on to the morals his father raised him with. It sickened him to think that he was betraying the hope the man had in him, but the disgust could find no hold in him and soon drained away with the energy murder had brought.

Suddenly the mobile in the back of his pocket vibrates violently, breaking his silent contemplation. Jerked from his thoughts Yuu reaches back and pulles the phone out. His blood slicked hands fumbling over the keypad for a moment as he presses it to his ear. 

‘Yeah,’ he answers shortly. Already knowing who is on the opposite end of the line because of the caller ID he glanced at as he struggled with the phone.

‘Babe?’ the low worried timbre of his partner made him wince with guilt. ‘where are you? You said you were going to be home…’Yuu’s grip tightened on his mobile as his hand drew away from his ear, knuckles resting against his brow as he bit down the lump in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to hear the promises he’d broken, because it would only confirm what he had known about himself from the being.

He wasn’t worth the affection and concern that the other gave him. His mind recognised the selfish way with which he fed off the other’s love but harboured nothing for him in return. His heart was hollow and incapable of the slightest glow of anything. He should never have led the other on, not when he was sneaking off to try and find some semblance of feeling in himself as he stabbed or strangled the life from others.

‘Yuu?’ the small echo of his lover’s voice fell against his temple. ‘are ok, babe?’

The pet name made him want to cringe with how wrong it felt. It hinted at an intimacy between them that Yuu had struggled to fake all these years. He was hurting the other without them even knowing it, betraying the faith and loyalty they afforded him. He didn’t deserve them, not when he lived for the small moments after a kill when he could actually feel something.

‘Yeah, I…ah…I just…’ He trailed off pathetically. What excuse could he give? Nothing would forgive him for the crimes he had committed. He accepted that one day he would get caught and punished for the lives he had stolen. But the greater crime in his eyes now - while the excitement of spilt blood was still fresh in his mind - was the pain that he would cause the other when the façade he had built around himself came crashing down and he saw Yuu for the monster that he really was. ‘Akira, I…I‘m sorry but I won’t becoming home…ever.’

Silence, Yuu had always hated it and now as the implications of his words sunk in he hated if even more. Not giving the other a chance to hurt themselves further with questions, he snapped his mobile shut, severing the connection. He had told himself, as he’d cruised the poorly lit streets of the seedy end of town, that tonight would be the last one. No more risks would be taken he owed that much to his partner, who up until now had satisfied themselves on Yuu’s lies and empty, false affections. But now he understood as he stepped back from the hustler’s body that he wouldn’t be able to stop. The moments that he killed for were growing shorter, the intensity slowly dulling with each life ended. He knew that the void in his chest would crave more, demand more of him, and drive him to take more risks until it swallowed him and everything around him. Akira didn’t deserve that.

Cracking open the back of his phone, Yuu tipped out the battery and slid out the sim card from its slot. He had to make a clean break from Akira, for the other’s own good. Taking the small plastic chip between his fingers he snapped it, shoving the broken pieces in his pocket. He knew better then to leave any evidence he was there. Flipping open the cheap lighter he’d pulled from his other pocket he carefully set the shirt alight, before he turned his back on the body.