MateriaHunterKair
- MateriaHunterKair's sample thread.
Enjoy?
:'D
For the most part, I'd consider myself a lazy adv. lit.
-shrugs-
Go to page 2 for newer stuff ~
Enjoy?
:'D
For the most part, I'd consider myself a lazy adv. lit.
-shrugs-
Go to page 2 for newer stuff ~
MateriaHunterKair
charles • owens
Draw curtains, gradual floodlight: Bella standing slightly left stage (because apparently the main focus of any scene should be slightly off-center, or so Charles read), phone to ear, looking around while fighting the creeping feeling of fear when she discovers that it has no dial tone. (Actually, this was a relatively simple procedure for Charles, who’d done a number of tinkering with things in his spare time. He would return it to normal just as soon as the play was over.) Suddenly, the kitchen window flies open, the whooshing hands of the curtains grasping in vain, begging, twirling their fingers in desire. A fresh red rose leaps in, gently touching the smooth kitchen floor before reaching to kiss the white feet of our leading lady. Floodlights flicker on and off, simulating thunder and lightning.
Unfortunately, Charles was unable to personally witness it, but he hoped he’d thrown the rose (with mysterious letter attached and all) at the correct trajectory, which he’d calculated beforehand (of course, using only his resourceful mental math and whatnot; if he’d had more time, he would have done a more thorough calculation). He was a tad busy holding the window open while also keeping his hand hidden behind the curtains. It was an awkward experience for him. One hand was on the window, the other was screaming in pain, since he had dug his nails into the side of the crumby old house. From a good angle, it might have been very Spiderman-like, but most likely, though he would never admit this verbally; it was completely percent uncomfortable and excruciatingly painful. If there was one thing he was somewhat sensitive about on his body, it was his nails. In fact, it always had been, even before he’d been turned. Perhaps it was that one time when he was eight. He had a hangnail and was afraid to remove it. Uncharacteristically of him, he’d asked his father, who gave the typical answer: “Do it yourself.” In the end, he ripped off half his nail. Just remembering that scene caused him to cringe, and he promptly let go of his very weak grasp on the building.
All lights off, spotlight flashes on the leading lady with a thunderous crash of window against windowpane. Bella (presumably, at least; again, these dramatics were all occurring in the genius mind of Charles) reaches down, picks up the rose and inspects the letter. Director’s note: she does not immediately read the letter, but takes a moment to relish in the nostalgia the smell and texture the rose petals bring to her (hopefully this would occur; he needed her to be as emotionally vulnerable as possible before reading).
“Dearest Bella,
Everything will be okay.
Please meet me tomorrow in the woods, 10 o’clock.
I will find you.”
Again, unsigned. She would not have the satisfaction of knowing his name until their first meeting. That would be the proper thing to do. (Although it seemed that this century’s version of “proper,” in his opinion, was quite misconstrued.) Not to mention it would be the fun thing to do. He was already smirking at the prospect of her face tomorrow, looking around and expecting that b*****d Cullen . . . no, no, Charles told himself. He must wait until tomorrow to think about these things, because more likely than not, the actual thing would stir a lot more excitement in his hollow chest than his daydreaming. (This was actually saying a lot.)
He took a quick peak into the window.
“Good night,” he whispered, before darting into the darkness.
MateriaHunterKair
x x x x x e d w a r d x c u l l e n x x x x x
x x x How odd it might have been if someone saw him pacing back and forth. Only occasionally did he stop, put his swaying hands to rest in his pockets, and look up at the moon. Granted, he did finally go back inside after witnessing a new day break.
Did he mention how nice the view was from the roof?
He felt a bit sorry for a (hypothetical) poor insomniac who might have chanced to look out the window, see a figure darting back and forth rather quickly on a neighbor’s rooftop, and commence to fall into an even deeper paranoia than he (or she) had already buried himself (or herself) in. He could only imagine the person sliding underneath some dewy, warm, and most likely unwashed blankets, eyes darting back and forth across the room before whispering something along the lines of, “They’re real.”
Yes, they were real.
More specifically and more relevantly, he, Edward Cullen, was real. True, he had experienced existential moments before – “What is my purpose in life (or rather, afterlife)?” “Why am I alive?” “Why was I kept alive?” “Why was I born in the first place?” “Why do I even exist?”
Usually, this strain of questions always came down to the latter – “Why do I even exist?” But no, this question, this new question was just too “meta-” for him to even grasp in a full twenty-four hour’s worth of thinking. He was not exactly sure how to describe the type of “meta-” this was, “meta-“ being a prefix that refers to something beyond one thing, yet still somehow connected to it.
Metaphysical? No, because he hadn’t been concerned about the presence of a higher being since he accepted his immortality. He was led to concoct a couple new words, but thus far none of them fit. Meta-literature? Meta-individual? Meta-existence?
Meta-the-Edward-Cullen-as-he-knew-himself-now?
All this play on words quite frankly made him tired, so in the end, he came to the conclusion that he was merely a time-traveler, going forward in time, and maybe taking a slight left into another dimension. Perhaps someone he would meet in the future wrote these “Twilight” books. Most likely they were, as any self-proclaimed “based on a true story” media of this current century, loosely based upon something grasping at a love affair between him and some woman. Or a perhaps just a sick, sick nightmare created by a metaphysical being, specifically written to cause Edward pain. There was the wordplay again.
Now Edward was sitting under the now-closed window of the girl’s room. For the past week, they had been quite close. He would have liked to be even closer to her by reading her mind, but for some unknown reason, she was not susceptible to his usual trick. He wondered for a while whether there was actually something occurring in her mind. But it became quiet obvious that there was. The way she was able to hold her own in conversations with him, her obvious stack of thoroughly-read literature, even her surprisingly mature social interactions with her peers, told him that yes, this girl was an independently-thinking being. What tricks she was using however, remained foreign to him. Her thoughts were masked, closed off from his own probing mind. It did not help that for the past week, he struggled to say her name aloud, since it verbally solidified the fact that he was now living (in the sense of the word, but not literally), in an entirely new world.
However, he had to admit, she was rather pretty.
A quick glance at her alarm clock told him that very soon, she would wake.
Three, two, one . . .
MateriaHunterKair
Aaron • Balthasar • Fitzroy
His chest tensed, anticipating her next move. He wasn’t sure whether this was really happening or not. Here they were, the two seemingly most different people in the entire world, face-to-face, unmoving. He could feel nervous breath on his lips, which quivered automatically in response. Her lips parted, he leaned forward.
There was a bright light shining in his face.
To: Aaron
Are you going or what?
From: Shane
Aaron exhaled. In one swift motion, he grabbed his phone next to his pillow and sat up in bed. It was around 7, and the party started around 8. He needed to get ready quick.
To: Shane
Yeah, I’ll pick you up in 30.
From: Aaron
“Aaron, are you going or not? Dad wants to use the truck!” he heard his mom call from the hallway. He tried to kick off the covers and roll off the bed, but the sheets clung to his leg. Aaron was face against floor and definitely felt a bruise coming on. “Aaron?! Are you okay?!”
“Yeah, Mom!” he yelled back through the carpet, finally untangling himself from the mess of sheets. He darted to his bedroom door and flung it open. “I’m taking the truck, Mom! I asked like two days ago!” His mother shot him a stern look over the laundry basket she was carrying.
“Well, you know your father. Go get ready or he’s taking the truck himself. And what happened to your cheek, are you okay? Imagine if you’d fallen off your bunk bed back at the dorm?”
“But I didn’t,” Aaron grumbled under his breath, closing the bathroom door behind him. He’d been back home for exactly 4 days and his parents were treating him like he was in high school all over again. He examined the bruise forming on his cheek and let out a loud sigh. Great, here he was, the hotshot scholarship football player, with a bruise on his face. Hopefully it wouldn’t show up in all the pictures from tonight. Or maybe he would play it off as a battle scar? Aaron wasn’t exactly sure what his story would be yet. He pressed both hands against the sink counter, feeling its coolness.
Her lips parted, he leaned forward.
“Aaron! Seriously, your father is getting impatient!”
“s**t,” he growled to himself, quickly getting ready and throwing on some jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather jacket. Was he not able to reminisce in the privacy of his own bathroom?! “Ready! I’m taking the keys!” He stormed down the stairs, literally snatched the truck’s keys from his father’s hand (who already had one foot out the door), and waved backward to his mother. “Thanks Pops, be back later!” An audible sigh from his father.
“If you’re picking up Shane, remember to use the speaker phone on your cell! You’re gonna get a ticket and—”
Aaron shut the door, started the engine, and hit the gas.
- - -
“So how is it? College, I mean.”
To be honest, it was kicking his a** right now.
“Good.”
It’s not like this girl really cared anyway. For some reason, he found himself looking around a lot more often than he would have over a year ago. Suddenly, a hand was snapping its fingers in front of his face. “Looking for someone, Aaron?” The girl raised an eyebrow. “It makes sense for you to be, though. I mean this is the biggest party and everyone’s here!”
“Everyone’s what?” The DJ had turned the music up louder.
“Here!”
Aaron surveyed the poolside crowd from where he was on the elevated patio.
“Well, almost everyone.” he said aloud to himself.
[ BOW ♕ DOWN ]
MateriaHunterKair
xxx V a l o r i e x x xD e v l i nalways, always, always, i just can't live without youDevlin stared at the boy in the alley, hardly listening to the man blocking his way. There was something about the look in his eye that seemed familiar. If anyone she knew had been faced by the fire-wielding man, they would've had their back to the wall of the alley, praying that reinforcements would appear. Either that, or they would begin pleading for their lives. "I have no loyalty to the organization, please just spare my life!" In fact, there were a few people she could name that would readily say something like that. But that boy seemed like he was ready to fight, despite the odds. There was only one agent she could think of who would possibly do that . . .
- - - -
The engine spluttered, wheels thudding along the dirt road. Devlin sat at the back corner of the small van, already feeling uncomfortable. These types of vehicles were fairly new, and to her, they already seemed unreliable. She had to admit, though, that their capability to transport larger amounts of people would be helpful in the future. It was decided in her mind, however, that she would not accept a mission similar to this ever again! Devlin shifted in her seat, staring at the metal flooring. The green-eyed man sat next to her, and she could practically feel his stare burning into the right side of her head. Clenching her fists, she tried to distract herself--she had to be prepared for this. After all, this was also the first time they were using something called a computer, which was supposed to pick up radio signals from where they were going. It had a screen, like one of those black-and-white televisions back at headquarters, but all it projected were numbers and codes. Within a couple months, Devlin had gotten very good at reading them.
Another rumble from the car brought her back to the situation at hand as well as slide her against the man next to her. Devlin looked up, eyes meeting his automatically. Instead of looking away, he only continued to stare. Blushing, she looked past him toward the back of the van. Some of the men were talking, but of course, he stood out amongst all of them.
"Y'think you can lead us through this one, kiddo?"
A grin spread across his face. "The Commander didn't appoint me to this for nothin', gentlemen," he replied cooly, running a hand through his hair. Devlin studied his face--handsome, more boyish than all the others. Though he was clearly the youngest in this squad, he was the team leader for this mission. And Devlin, who had gone through basic training with him, was to guide them through the building via radio. Though they were probably the only ones their age in the entire organization, the Commander had apparently seen much potential in them. Devlin could see why he would choose him, but . . . her? She wasn't really good for . . .
The men in the van began to laugh at a joke he'd apparently said (that she had somehow missed), and amidst the jumble, he had turned his neck to face her. "Val," she could see him mouth, "You'll do great."
Flustered, she averted her gaze to the floor again. Soon, she thought, they would reach their destination.
- - - -
Devlin shivered, stepping backward into a considerably colder area. Strange, it hadn't been so cold earlier . . .
She whipped around, only to see an empty pathway. The coolness had disappeared. A sigh escaped past her lips and he realized the tension in the air. The winds had stopped blowing suddenly. Just what was going on here? She crouched a bit, now turning her attention to the growing blue flame around the self-proclaimed "King of Flame"'s arm. She couldn't see how this was possible . . .
Kill him.
Devlin shook her head. What was that just now . . . ?
Kill him.
She exhaled sharply--she must be going crazy or something! Her hand reached up to clutch her temple. That voice . . . needed to stop . . . ! She shut her eyes temporarily, trying to get a grip of herself. When she opened them, she found that she'd turned heel and ran back in the direction from which she came.
"Ow! W-what was that for?"
"That answer was wrong. You're never supposed to turn tail when a fight's goin' on!"
"Why not, if I can't beat him? Or if I'm not fighting him?"
"'Cause, stupid, when people fight they're in a predatory mode--they'll kill what moves. By running, you draw attention to yourself. 'Sides, why wouldn't you wanna watch a fight?" he grinned, causing her to groan in exhasperation.
But she just couldn't stop running . . .
the QUEEN of d a r k n e s s
MateriaHunterKair
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- `a l l - - - - these xxxx [ THINGS ] ` going through m y xxx hx exx axxx d
i want so much more than just you in my bed_______________________
- is this→ my true S E L F ?
Jason ✘ Anthony ✘ Allard
Jason was pacing back and forth. Even without the ghost to bother him, his mind was busy at work. He had received Emery’s invitation to the ball; it seemed formal, fancy, and overall just not his style. However, it was an opportunity to impress! He clenched his fist as a sign of his resolve. Yes, he would ask Emery to be his date to the ball! As he headed to his closet, he wondered how exactly he would ask her. Idly, he picked out clothes, somehow changed, and sat on his bed all while not coming up with a single creative idea as to how to ask her to go with him. He also didn’t realize that his shirt was inside-out until now.
The big werewolf glanced around the room and let out a content sigh. Luckily, no one had been around to witness his mistake, and he had caught himself on his own! It would have been incredibly embarrassing if Emery had seen him, or even worse, Stella. Oh, the teasing. Jason peeled the shirt off his body, his muscles flexing in a way that brought his mind back to an earlier time. The cotton fabric slid gently along his skin, almost echoing that night. How had he been so stupid? Jason had taken her to the movies, picked her up from school, watched her turn into a woman before his very eyes, but it wasn’t until it was too late that he realized his chance had slipped right between his fingers. Right between his fingers was the exact phrase he thought of as he laid next to her that night while she was asleep, watching her hair slide down the palm of his hand. In that moment, there was nothing he wasn’t willing to give just to see her smile at him the way she had before. He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make her look at him that way again. But things had changed.
She had changed.
He stopped. Although his chest was aching, Jason knew that it wasn’t time to think about such things. Now with his shirt on the right way, he figured that he should start cooking.
Except that Zeke still wasn’t here.
“. . . you have time now . . . to help me . . .”
“No, I don’t.”
To be perfectly honest, the situation was killing him inside. Deep down, he wanted to drop everything and help, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t want to meddle anymore. Jason placed the invitation to the ball down on the kitchen counter where Zeke would see it. He was nervous about inviting Emery, but he knew he had to support his leader if Zeke was going to publicly arrive with Delilah. Usually, Jason didn’t remember names very well, but he forced himself when they mattered. Delilah was a nice name; hopefully she was nice enough. Jason was mentally preparing himself to see her as someone who made Zeke happy, not the enemy that Stella had in mind.
At last, Zeke had returned. “What took you so long?” he said, trying to sound playful. It was hard for him to keep the anxiety out of his voice; he wanted this dinner to go smoothly. Hell, dinner wasn’t gonna happen if there wasn’t any food! Also, Zeke seemed unusually stressed. But, it was probably because he was even more nervous than Jason himself was about this dinner! He let his mind wander to Emery. Not only was he completely gorgeous, she was just so polite, cute, and good. Jason may come off as the goofy, kind-hearted teddy bear, but quite frankly, even he needed more goodness in his life.
“Hey, what were you doing anyway?” Jason raised an eyebrow at his pack leader as he prepared the garlic bread. He wanted to make some conversation, but his mind had wandered to, “Crap, are my clothes gonna smell like bread and spaghetti after this?” He quietly sniffed in the general direction of his shirt sleeve, and had forgotten he had asked Zeke a question in the first place. Jason was putting the bread in the oven when he realized that Zeke had excused himself to get ready. “Thanks,” he thought, “Leaving setting the table to me!” Jason busied himself with setting the table, making sure everything was perfect, and in no time, the bell had rung.
And his heart had stopped.
“Emery, it’s great to see you again.” He stared at her, his heart pounding faster as she looked back at him. “Oh, uh, come on in!” Once they were seated, he decided to stare at his hands. Of all things. He cleared his throat and waited for his brain to come up with something to say, but instead he just allowed another wave of awkward silence to brush over his head. It took a quiet exhale and another breath to say something at last. “So, um, Emery, uh, tell us about the new law. I, uh, haven’t been . . . keeping up . . . with it.” God, that came out awkwardly. Was he saying her name too much? Was he giving everything away? DID SHE ALREADY KNOW?!
He nodded and tried to understand what she was saying, but to be honest, he didn’t really want to know about the new law. The gist of it was that Zeke and Delilah would be okay, and that’s the only part that mattered to him personally. “So, um, uh, tell us about yourself. What’s it like, um . . . being an angel and stuff?” He shut his mouth. That last question was the b*****d child of a pick-up line and sheer stupidity. Mentally, he was hitting his head against a wall. Jason was so caught up with trying to know everything about Emery that he didn’t even realize that Delilah still hadn’t shown up until Zeke warmed up some food. Good, Jason definitely needed something in his mouth to stop himself from talking. Admittedly, there were other things he wanted to be putting his mouth on right now.
A knock on the door kept Jason’s mind from delving deeper into some not-so-appropriate thoughts. His stomach twisted. It was Zeke’s vampire lover. Er, no. Just lover. Ew, that sounded gross. Zeke’s girlfriend was a phrase that Jason could live with. In the back of his mind, however, he wondered how nasty a break-up would be. Jason already had a taste of messing with a supernatural girl—and he hadn’t even been dating Stella!
However, all bad thoughts faded away when he saw the way Zeke and Delilah looked at each other. The mature half of Jason wanted to give the pack leader a hug and a congratulatory slap on the shoulder and the other immature half wanted to vomit because it was just so . . . loving. They were definitely a couple to envy; perhaps he and Emery would look at each other that way eventually? Jason stole a glance at her, but quickly looked away. As the happy couple came toward the table, Jason stood up. “It’s nice to meet you.” And he really meant it. Jason shot a smug smile at Zeke before helping himself to a meal-sized portion of food.
“So, Delilah, how did you and Zeke meet?” Jason was curious, but was also very aware of looking anywhere but at Emery. Any moment now, his heart was going to explode. Holy s**t, was this a double date? Suddenly, he was feeling incredibly giddy. Eventually, Zeke and Delilah headed upstairs, leaving Jason and Emery to do the dishes.
Jason focused hard on washing the dishes. Was he scrubbing hard enough? Did he need to rinse it again? Emery was kind enough to join him, and he couldn’t help but notice that their arms brushed way too often. Or was that just him? “I want to know more about you,” he said suddenly. Jason stopped to look at the angel, whose clear eyes gleamed with surprise. He cleared his throat. “I mean, um, you’re just so . . . uh, what I’m trying to say is, uh . . . I mean, I guess I just—” Jason shut his mouth. “WANT TO BE MY DATE FOR THE BALL?” Holy s**t, why had he said that so loudly?! He was so shocked by his own voice—and audacity for that matter—that he dropped the plate in the sink, causing it to wobble and screech before coming to a halt with a loud thud. Luckily it wasn’t broken! So there Jason was, looking like an idiot, and having asked arguably the most beautiful woman in the existence of, well, everything to be his date while they were washing dishes.
So romantic.
But to his surprise, she accepted. “Really?!” He was so happy that he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, soapy hands and all. “Oh, uh, sorry! I just uh, I get uh . . . I . . . I’m like this sometimes!” Well, that was a vague and really lame statement. Again, he was mentally slamming his head against something. To his surprise once again, she responded casually and happily to him, causing Jason to relax. With that off his chest, Jason let himself laugh. As they were finishing up the dishes, Emery mentioned that she needed to get going. He walked her to the door. “Thank you for coming tonight. I . . . I really . . . I like y—I mean . . . I liked . . . I liked seeing you again.” There was an awkward pause. “But, I, um, I’ll see you soon, then.” Jason couldn’t even hide the big smile on his face anymore. As they said goodbye, his mind was spinning with euphoria. He closed the door after watching her leave, pressed his back against it, and slid down to sit on the floor. Holy crap!
For some reason, however, there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind: what about Stella? He was almost sure that she hated him, but he couldn’t bring himself to just put her aside. What was wrong with him? The knock on the door brought him back to reality.
Or did it?
Jason’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “. . . Hello.”
“Uh…hey.”
Jason opened his mouth.
“Don’t ask, dude.”
And closed it.
He followed Stella into the living room, his eyes moving up and down her body. When the hell did this happen? What did he miss this time? With his eyes glued on her, he sat down and watched her raise a fist. “. . . And I swear, if you only babble on about Emery, I’ll deck you.”
“. . . You look beautiful tonight.” Stella’s threat flew right over his head. There was a tension in the air.
“Dinner was fine,” he said vaguely, only to be met with snide comments about both Delilah and Emery. Jason sighed. “I decided to ask Emery to go to the ball with me.” He described the invitation he’d received from Emery earlier. Was it just a coincidence that Emery had given him the invitation and not the pack leader? Food for thought, definitely. And as expected, Stella didn’t respond too well, causing Jason to turn it on her. “And where have you been?” After some beating around the bush and a couple punches to his shoulder, it clicked in Jason’s mind—she’d been on a date. And the only thing going through his mind was, “Hell no.” Jason swallowed as she briefly talked about the guy, all while making it perfectly obvious—intentional or not—that she was leaving out some details. “Oh, really?” was his only response; her happiness due to this other guy was quite frankly beginning to make him mad.
“Well, who the ******** is he?” he asked coldly, feeling his blood begin to boil. Jason rose from his seat and Stella quickly followed suit. She was yelling at him again, bringing up things he’d done in the past that even he knew he’d messed up on. He wasn’t even given the opportunity to say anything back for a good while.
When she quieted down, it was Jason’s turn to speak. “Do you think I’m happy with that?” he blurted, grabbing onto Stella’s shoulders. She resisted, but he tried to maintain his grip. “Well how do you think I feel, huh? You shun me, hurt me, and then show up here dressed up like that! And then you act like you don’t think I realize that I missed out on being with you? Are you kidding me?!” All this yelling was leaving him out of breath. “I would have done anything, Stella, ********]” It wasn’t really like him to curse, and now he was breathing hard.
“Really, anything.”
The next thing he knew, Stella’s mouth was on his, his hands scouring the curves of her body that her dress had emphasized so well. One hand made its way to her neck, gently caressing it with his thumb as it made its way to cup her chin. Jason lifted her off the ground with his other arm and sat her back down the couch, all while staying locked in the kiss. Her familiar scent and touch was intoxicating. God, it felt so good, but in the back of his mind, it felt really, really off. If this is what he really wanted, then why was a certain angel peeking out at him at the back of his mind? At last, the two broke apart, gasping for air. Jason ran a hand through his hair and sank into the cushion of the couch.
It was awkward again.
“. . . So do you think you really like this guy?” he awaited her answer anxiously. But something had changed between them in that moment. It was almost like they were thinking the same thing.
Maybe, they could finally let go.
- - l o n e w o l f t w o
MateriaHunterKair
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S h i n xx H y u n - K i
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S h i n xx H y u n - K i
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xxxi ' mxxx r e a c h i n g - - -
- ➳ ➳ ` o u t xxx to you
b u t xxx 《 BEFORE 》 I xxx k n e wxxx it « «___________________________________________________
- __________YOU WERE ALREADY GONE
Hyun-Ki secured the black hood over his head as he slipped past yet another familiar face. His Adam’s apple jutted forward as he swallowed hard. It was not like him to be afraid, but this was definitely dangerous. His shoulder brushed against a leather sleeve and he quickened his pace. The man hardly had time to turn around before Hyun-Ki had ducked into the nearest store opening, out of sight. Despite the different dressing styles of people on this side of town, his part of town looked largely similar. There were flocks of murmuring people, flickering bright neon lights, the prominent sound of cars whooshing by, and an overall flow of life around him. Hyun-Ki had effectively infiltrated the “wrong” side of town.
If anyone recognized him, Hyun-Ki was dead. And yet, he was simultaneously fighting down the urge to smile. Half of the reason for his happiness was the fact that he loved the rush of danger. The other, more obvious reason for his happiness was that in about 15 minutes, he would be seeing her. Honestly, that was enough.
He made sure to press his hand against his hood before looking up at the restaurant’s sign. This was the place she’d told him about—her favorite place to eat. She had remarked that it was too bad he wouldn’t be able to eat there with her. Hyun-Ki, on the other hand, accepted this statement as a challenge, and quickly planned a day and time to meet her there. He wasn’t dead yet, so maybe they could actually pull this off! Against his better judgment, he’d decided to leave his gun and knife at home. Tonight, he was armed only with his cellphone, leather jacket and black zipped up hoodie underneath, a white v-neck tucked into dark jeans, and of course, if it came down to it, he supposed he could always fight using his belt buckle.
But Hyun-Ki was hoping, praying that wouldn’t happen.
Once he was seated at a table for two, he slouched into his chair and let out a sigh. Although he was indoors, he still kept his hood on, causing the head waitress to raise an eyebrow at him. A few tables away from him, he spotted a man his age out of the corner of his eye. He had a bandage across his cheek, which was white around the edges but a deep brownish-red at the center. Instantly, Hyun-Ki recognized him: two days ago along the territory border, he himself had gotten into a fight with that man. In fact, the reason why he had approached Hyun-Ki was because there were rumors going around that he had been in contact with the daughter of his boss. Of course, Hyun-Ki denied it, but somehow it turned into an argument, which turned into a fistfight, and ended up in a knife-fight. In his defense, Hyun-Ki hadn’t used his own knife; he’d simply acquired the knife of his opponent.
Hyun-Ki wasn’t sure whether the worst part of this situation was due to the fact that the rumors were true, or the fact that he’d denied it and now was here, with that man as a potential witness, about to have dinner with her.
With one elbow on the table in front of him, Hyun-Ki placed a hand over his face and took in a deep breath.
“Please arrive soon . . .”