Endangered Love

Chapter 1: Kuroken

Kuroo's POV
"Clean this up." I said, walking out of the small room that now had blood all over its floor. A few scrambled to clean up the mess while I headed to my office. Sitting down with a sigh. I leaned back in my seat, tapping a pen against the wooden desk when someone poked their head in. They nearly fell over when I pointed the handgun I always carried on me.

"What have I told you all about knocking."

"I-I'm so sorry sir.. But, we've spotted a young man wandering the area.."

"Why should I care?"

"Well, he has a camera, and keeps taking notes about the area." I rolled my eyes, getting up and moving my jacket so it covered my gun. I stepped out of my office, leaving the building and walking about in search of whoever this guy was. Finally, I came across who it had to be.

"Hey, who the hell are you." I said, the man turning to look at me. The first thing I noticed about him wasn't his hair that clearly had been dyed and the roots were left to grow, but his golden colored eyes. His eyes almost resembled that of a cats, making me furrow my brows. He didn't seem bothered by me.

"Well whoever you are, leave. This is MY part of the city, understand?" I said sternly, most people turning and fleeing when I spoke to them like this. Instead, this guy just blinked and pulled out a notepad from a bag he had slung over his shoulder.

"Why exactly is this YOUR part of the city." He asked, scribbling away in his book. A small growl escaped my throat as I walked over, grabbing the notebook from his hands. He huffed, telling me to give it back. I turned my back on him, reading what he was writing. Wait, was he seriously jotting down notes about me? I dropped the notebook, the guy sighing and crouching down to grab it. Wiping off the dust and dirt that got on the pages.

"Because its mine. Now, if you'd like to live, you should leave." I said, the man just continuing to write. Alright, now he was beginning to annoy me.

"Are you deaf? Leave." I said, turning and looking at him, watching him continue to write little notes about me. Ranging from my physical appearance to my tone of voice. I growled in frustration, drawing my gun and letting the barrel of it press against his forehead. He stopped writing, not moving his head but looking up at me. I smirked, assuming he'd leave. But instead, he just said,

"Do you mind, that's cold." I stared at him wide-eyed, a bit shocked at his response to a gun being pulled out on him in a dark alleyway by some man who was probably a foot taller than him. Part of me just wanted to shoot him and get him out of my way. The other part of me was rather intrigued by him. Why wasn't he afraid of me like everyone else, and why was he so calm over the matter?

"What's your name."

"Kenma." He responded plainly. I nodded, tucking my gun back into it's holder.

"Alright then, Kenma. What are you doing here?"

"I like to visit these kind of areas and write about them."

"For who."

"Myself."

"Do you really have no life that you risk your own to make stories about people like me?"

"Mhm." Alright, now I was just kind of confused. There was no way that was true, he had to be some spy for another gang or perhaps even detective work. Well, the easy solution would to be just kill him. Or perhaps bring him back with me and torture an answer out of him? I stood there in thought before deciding to bring him back with me. So swiftly I had a small rag from my back pocket over his nose and mouth. The first time he looked shocked or scared until passing out.

Kenma's POV
Ugh, where was I. Hey, where was my book and camera. I tried to stand up, but felt my hands were tied to something. Well, this was certainly not what I planned to get caught up in today. I sat there a bit, letting my eyes adjust to the dark when finally the door opened. If nothing else, I was annoyed that my eyes now had to adjust to the light.

"Awake?"

"Mhm. Can I have my book back." I asked bored, the same man who I ran into at the alley furrowing his brows at him. He shook his head, walking over and crouching down in front of me. Grabbing my chin and tilting my head up so I was looking at him.

"Who exactly are you. No one sane risks their life just to write a diary."

"I never said I was sane."

"Oh? Then what are you. Are you some type of detective? Acting like some, some reporter?"

"No. I just find people like you interesting."

"And what are 'people like me'?"

"You know, these ruthless ruler people." I said, making the man smile. He let go of my chin and stood up, dusting off his hands as if I were dirty. Actually, if anything, this room could use a cleaning.

"So. Can I go now?"

"I've no intention of letting you leave here with such detailed notes about me. Especially not now that I've brought you back here."

"That was your fault." I said which kind of seemed to make him angry. But the anger soon faded and was replaced with a look of amusement.

"You are staying here."

"I can't."

"You've no choice."

"Well, can I at least go home and get something?" I asked, rather serious. I almost didn't care. I had nothing left for me at my apartment anyway. No family, friends, relatives. It was just me, and one other thing.

"...What is it."

"My cat." The man rolling his eyes. Shaking his head and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the handle and stepping out.

"I hate cats."