His Red Scarf (Edited version)

Chapter seven

"Well, Feitan – this was fun. A lot of fun," you said. Lying on the ground, covered in cuts, fluids, and rocks, you realised quite where you were and what you were doing. "But I– have to get going now."

As you began to peel your body up from the ground, you were suddenly stopped by a large mass pushing you back down as he straddled you.

"Don't," he muttered, eyes not meeting yours.

"Hmm?" you questioned. You had thought he had gotten what he wanted.

"You've piqued my interest. Stay."

You mulled the idea over in your head for a moment. You wouldn't mind getting to know this Feitan more. He was certainly mysterious, in the same line of work as you were – and if you had more nights like this one, you couldn't really complain.

"Okay," you said as you slid your body to sit up, now facing him. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, your fingers carding through the silky strands of black in a gentle way that would have been unimaginable only five minutes before. A question fell past your lips before you had the chance to think about it.

"What conditioner do you use?"

He stifled a chuckle at your ridiculous timing, not wanting to give you any more satisfaction.

"Dumb question. Let's go," he said as he removed himself from your body and lifted himself to his feet, legs slightly trembling after their previous exertion. He extended a hand towards you and you took it, surprised at how effortlessly he managed to pull your entire body weight off the ground.

You put your clothes back on in silence, slightly disappointed at the fact that you could no longer marvel at his body. While his back was turned, you healed the cuts on your chest.

The shallow cuts sealed quickly, leaving behind only thin marks and dried blood, and you quickly pulled your clothes over to catch up to Feitan, who had nothing to heal. As you slipped on your shoes, he walked out the door, you following closely behind him.

The walk was comfortable. You never bothered to ask where you were going. This was normally how you did things; falling from place to place, with no specific destination other than your feet telling you where to go. The night sky was clear and you gazed up at the stars, still in the trancelike state that Feitan had left you in. Little did you know, Feitan was glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to understand the enigma that walked next to him. You were too busy staring at the night sky to watch him gradually come to admire your features in the soft, silvery light – the way the stars reflected off your eyes, or the way the moonlight lit up your face to the point that you seemed to glow. A small smile spread across his lips, discreetly hidden behind his black scarf.

You ended up outside a small motel. Feitan opened the door to his room and you could tell it was pretty cheap, judging by the tacky brown and cream colour scheme and the ominous stains that dotted around the carpet. There was a slight problem, though. There was only one single bed. Assumingly, Feitan had booked the room with no intention of having a guest.

"Luxury apartment, I see," you said with a smirk.

Feitan only replied with a kiss of his teeth.

Apart from the bed, there was a single desk, and a door leading to an impressively small bathroom – which reminded you of your current state of filth.

"I'm going to take a shower," you said, hoping to rid yourself of the build-up of blood (and other bodily fluids) that had stuck to you over the past few hours.

Without bothering to close the door, you started the shower and began to strip. Dropping the pile of clothes on the floor, you stepped in, drawing the shower curtain. Scrubbing down your entire body was a whole ordeal, and you used the time to heal the other minor wounds you had missed. As you rubbed soap over your body, the hairs on the back of your neck began to rise. Smirking, you said out loud,

"You know, if you want to come in, you should ask, rather than standing there and watching me like a creep."

You heard a small "tch" and a few inarticulate mumbles before the bathroom door was closed and you were left in peace. He did that a lot, kiss his teeth at you. You wondered whether it was because he had lost interest or because you stumped him.

Getting out of the shower, you attempted to dry your hair with the ridiculously small, itchy towel. I don't even want to think about the things this towel had seen, you thought to yourself. You opened the door, seeing that the lights had been turned off, and you could vaguely make out the figure of Feitan in bed. Scooting in next to him, you barely had enough space to get comfortable without your back touching Feitan's. You lay stiffly, questioning if you had made the right decision by coming here.

Despite there being no instinct telling you not to be here, you felt slightly guilty at the fact that you weren't out there in the world, completing your universe-sent mission. Albeit, you didn't know what that mission really was, but ever since you were younger you had felt a calling. Since the age of sixteen, when you left your mother in your childhood village in pursuit of 'something more', you had filled your time wandering from place to place, travelling and exploring and killing. Six years later, and you were still doing just that. No real place to call your own. Sleeping with random men, sometimes just to stay under a roof for a night. You admitted, sometimes it did get lonely.

Thinking about your past always filled you with a deep sense of melancholy.

You still felt like nothing really meaningful had happened. Your mother had died three years ago from a flu that had spread throughout your entire village, the last anchor to your old life cut from you due to disease and squalor. Even the children you used to play with had forgotten you. You were meaningless to everyone. Never having an impact on those around you – apart from those you killed. But even then, nobody knew it was you, and worse, you had engineered it that way. Most of the time, you made your victims' deaths seem a result of heart attack or other natural causes, simply because you couldn't be bothered to go to the effort of being a known villain.

Silently, you hated yourself for it. You had caught yourself in a paradox of weakness and insignificance. Maybe that's why you liked pain – it grounded you, reminding you of your body. In a sad way, it showed that someone was making an effort for you, even if it was to hurt you. Maybe that's why you lay next to the stranger who had tortured you, enthralled by his beauty and mystery.

Feitan moving around next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. He turned around in the bed so that now your back was facing him. Assuming you were asleep, he gently snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you towards his bare chest.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the cuddling type, Feitan."

You felt the arm recoil and heard low grumbles as he turned away to lie on his back, looking up at the ceiling. Wow, way to ruin a moment, [Y/N}, you reprimanded yourself.

"I don't mind it. Actually, it felt nice," you said in an attempt to recover the moment you just lost.

After a beat of hesitation, you felt Feitan turn and slip his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him so that you were resting against his back. He moved his head closer to your neck, pushing his nose into the crevices of your shoulder, making you giggle slightly at the warm breath on a ticklish spot.

You listened to his deep breaths, and after a while, you heard faint snoring. Smiling to yourself at the fact that the drastic events of the evening had led to this quiet, tender moment, you let yourself slip into sleep.