Love Unrequited

all hail - 1

The blaring sound of gunshots filled the ambience. Bullets rattled against the concrete floors, making an ominous sound. You would've thought that the shells rained from the sky, from the way they fell. Bullets weren't the only thing that decorated the ground, there were specks and puddles of crimson red too— along with bodies, of the perished and soon to perish.

Amongst those bodies lay Elshadaii, he was neither of the two. For he'd be the single one to survive in the cold blooded war that killed his mind and soul before plaguing his already tainted spirit. His chest fell, then rose in a melancholic pattern that was telling of his current state. His eyes were shut close, the locks that sprouted from his scalp covered part of his face— but the part that wasn't hidden was scarred.

Blood surrounded him, a mixture of his own and some from his comrades. A bullet had grazed his shoulder, blood seeped from his ripped hoodie. His stomach bled, the stab wound that decorated it revealed the single incision that he'd 'succumbed' to.

On that day, Elshadaii was meant to die— but he didn't.

All hail.

"Stop." Elshadaii's voice was as cold as ice, as he flinched when the medicine covered cloth made contact with his bare wounds.

Farrah ignored him at first, dabbling away at the cuts and bruises that covered his once perfect ebony skin. She could tell he was in pain from the way he winced with even the smallest movement. In a way, she lacked sympathy for him. She'd warned him about the life he lived several times, only for her preachings to fall upon death ears. Of course, she still tended to his sores; that was something she'd grown accustomed to even when the pair weren't on the best of terms.

She kissed her teeth when he held her hand back. His head was leant against the cushion she'd put under it, she straddled his legs ignoring the pressure of his print against her intimate part. He finally let go of her hand, she tended to one last wound before swiftly standing up, wanting to clean her pretty hands free of his blood.

Moments later, Farrah re-entered her living room. Elshadaii's eyes were closed yet she knew he wasn't asleep. It had been nearly a week since the incident and he was slowly, but surely getting better. She was glad; happy to have him out of her flat as soon as possible. He wasn't an unwanted guest, in fact he wasn't even a guest. He simply someone she had close ties to and a little love for.

She watched as Elshadaii sat up, the elastic band of his designer boxers peaked out from under his vest top. She hated how even in his injured disposition, he still managed to look good.

"Come, please." He murmured, his eyes steadying on her.

She walked over to him, her thighs brushing together as she walked. He couldn't help but stare, his eyes zoning in on her 5'8 stature, and her long legs. He used his good arm to pull her closer, he could tell the resistance in her part, still he tugged her towards his well awaiting lap. He was happy when her cushioned behind made contact with him.

Farrah didn't move, instead adjusting herself so she could face him slightly.

"I see you're getting better." She stated, her voice bland.

He threw his head back, one of his infamous moves as a deep chuckle left his mouth. His lips parted, unintentionally showing his two silver caps: Farrah's weakness.

Shit. She thought to herself as she tried her best not to crumble.

"You want me gone, innit?" His breath smelt fresh as it wavered in her face, if he leaned any closer she was sure they'd kiss.