Mafia Protagonist Is Interested In Me (MxM) ✓

CHAPTER 5

Of the early winter sun rays coming through the skylights of trimming with white tiles the vaulted ceiling incandescent the station. In contrast to the morning, the hustle-bustle was hardly enough at noon at the station.

An announcement about the incoming train could be heard. 

Angelo felt strange. Everything felt real yet not real—a vivid dream he thought. 

He looked around himself. The faces of people were not conspicuous. He couldn't make out their blurred faces, yet he could feel some eyes over him. Not that he wasn't used to this— admiration and envious eyes toward him but something loitering in the air. It was his intuition that whoever they were, clearly, their eyes weren't replenished with pure intention toward him. 

A guy bumped into his shoulder, dropping something on the floor. Immediately, he went down to get it—a book. Angelo couldn't see him, but a black head. He was wearing a red and black plaid hoodie jacket, black jeans, and a pair of black sneakers. And when the guy stood up and looked up at him. Angelo was dumbfounded because his face was conspicuous. 

"I'm sorry," the guy said.

The vibration ran through their body as the roaring train was approaching through the subway. An announcement was made about the last station. And the guy rushed to the platform. Angelo swiped his way into the platform to follow him.

The train stopped at the platform, and the screen doors opened. And strings of commuters rushed into the cars. Angelo sought out to find the guy in among the commuters. Soon he spotted him moving in an empty car. Angelo's feet speedy toward him in that car.

The dark blue eyes zero in on the guy; he was seated almost six meters away and he'd his nose into the book this time, so he was unable to looked at his face again. 

Before, he could go near him. A few men stepped into the car from the next car from behind. And he turned around and watched them. They were five men. He could sense the perceptible animosity from them when even he couldn't make out of their faces. Also, it wasn't directed from them, but from someone else.

He takes a step back not to run away for what's waiting for him but to make it convenient for him.

"Mind telling me which weakling master employed you."

One of the men stepped forward and replied to him,

"No fucking nonsense, punk. But you won't be on your legs to do any fucking shit."

"If that's the statement you wanted to make, don't disappoint your master."

And the man rushed to charge him, but he firmly grasped and stopped the punch smoothly. In a flash, his fist swings under the man's jaw, knocking him down in an instant. He gripped the pole and jumped off on the seat to charge at rushing the other four men. He kicked off the second man's vital part. Dodging the third man's punch he pulled him and thrust his head into the pole and knocked him down.

Other remaining men charged at him at once. The fight between them was intense when the men getting back on their feet and charging at him. He dodged their attacks and tried to strike on their vital points: temple, jaw, throat, behind the ears, and nose. However, they were good enough to not be deemed amateurs when they managed to escape his attacks and gave a few beats to him. He could taste the iron of his bleeding lips, and the pain in his ribs. 

At this moment, It was a burden when there were five against one. He managed to knock out two of them. He gasped for oxygen and his heart rate increased, and the sweat trailed down his temple.