When the man, so acquainted with him, but also so foreign, stood before him, Yaba felt a strange sense of sympathy. Banda was approximately one head shorter than Yaba, but the muscles of the killer could be seen through the now-soaked white top. If the two were to have a fight, Yaba was not certain he would win it.
Banda would most certainly be superior to him in brutality than one would expect for the time being. While Yaba did have an evil, even sinister appearance, Banda's face was benign. Had Yaba not been studying the newspapers at the time, he would have been in a state of astonishment at Banda's true nature. But in fact, this was quite often the case. Yaba had observed it many times. The people who seemed so harmless were the cruelest. Often they did not refrain from murder. Was it because the world did not treat them seriously enough? Or because of their self-imposed fate of not wanting to sully their mask of virginity. Yaba could not fully grasp but was also not in the right state of mind to speculate on such issues.
Another problem was just ahead of him. However, Yaba was reluctant to call this a problem, a challenge perhaps.
Thoughts had been plaguing him for days, but his mind had just finally found peace when he found himself looking down at the other man.
Had he missed Banda? He likely just wanted to find someone who shared similar morals. Banda's gaze, however, spoke other things. Was he abashed? Yaba did not have expected someone like Banda to have sentiments. But was it perhaps mean to think so?
Was the man standing opposite him displeased that Yaba had seen him? Yaba found this amusing. Banda's outburst had appeared to him only briefly, only after he had followed the shouting had he spotted him on the street. How long the rampage had really been going on, however, Yaba did not know.
"Have you participated in a game in recent days?" asked Yaba now while dragging the killer by the sleeve with him under the canopy of the building.
"Not interested.", Banda replied while shaking his head and trying to arrange his hair with his bony, long fingers.
Yaba could only respond to this with a nod. A murderer should not be provoked, right? Although Yaba had little fear, he did not want to lose Banda now. Strangely enough.
Banda followed the slightly taller man inside the building they were standing in front of.
"What are you doing here?"
Yaba looked over his shoulder, glanced at Banda, and then started grinning again as amused as he seemed to do more often.
"Your screams drew me in. I couldn't resist looking."
Banda huffed and feigned to roll his eyes. Yaba was making a mockery of him? He hadn't experienced anything like that in a long time. It was a switch for the killer, so he let Yaba get away with it. All in all, it occurred to him that he had little to say against the taller man. They both pursued the same ideals. Was that the reason? Banda did not really care, such thoughts did not interest him in the least. People were only of interest when they had value to him.
On closer inspection of the surroundings, Banda now noticed that he had entered a pharmacy with Yaba. Logically, many things were already stolen, bandages and medicine were in games of life and death now times more helpful than many other things. However, since there were hardly any people in the area, there were still many containers of medicine on the shelves. Considering an apparent apocalypse, the store was still orderly. It still smelled sterile and the shelves were in the familiar neat whiteness.
Yaba was already almost strutting through the shelves, behind the register. Banda was busy looking at the various pill and medicine boxes. Thus, he only subconsciously noticed Yaba opening one of the cabinets behind the counter. Nor did he notice how Yaba approached him. Only when he saw Yaba standing in front of him, almost penetratingly, he glanced up at him and was taken by surprise by a towel, which the other handed him.
"You're soaked. Doesn't suit you."
Banda was now staring down right at Yaba. What was this weirdo taking the liberty of doing? With an annoyed chuckle, Banda took the towel and turned away before attempting to rub his hair dry. He also wiped his face dry. The leather jacket had fortunately kept most of the rain from reaching further, which was why he had been mostly soaked in head and legs by the downpour.
"What are you doing in this area? I haven't seen a soul in the last few days. The games are far from here, too," Banda said, hair half-dried, but now placed in messy wisps on his head. He carelessly tossed the towel onto the counter before casually sitting down on it, next to the aforementioned towel, and now eyeing Yaba.
Yaba, who was standing a few meters apart from Banda in the center of the room, just shrugged before looking out the dusted window. "I wasn't terribly interested in the rest of the games if you're so keen. It was just a happenstance that I noticed your shouting."
Banda huffed and glanced away, his hands clutching the slick edge of the white counter. "Don't do that."
"What are you referring to? Your freak-out. I found it amusing. What was the origin?", Yaba, actually more curious about the whole matter than first suspected now looked at Banda expectantly. Banda interpreted this as disdain. In other circumstances, he would have taken one of the syringes, or whatever other object there was in a pharmacy, and tortured Yaba. But he did not feel the desire to do so. Normally his victims were women. Misogyny had been a dominant characteristic of his life since early childhood, which is why he never really entertained the idea of killing a man. Enji had been the first. Banda did not count him. Only the direct murders were worth memorializing.
Yaba was content with silence, no longer wanting to poke at the killer's feelings, which apparently did exist, and strolled back to the exit, hands in his pockets.
"Where are you heading?" The question slipped out of Banda's mouth as if he couldn't hold it back, as if he wanted to prevent Yaba from leaving him now. So he slid off the counter and followed Yaba a few careworn steps. "The rain has ceased. I don't want to spend the night here," Yaba replied unconcernedly as he strolled out, Banda following him with a bouncing step. The taller one found this attitude adorable in a certain way. How he followed him as if he did not want to separate from him now. This was perhaps the case.
Yaba headed, followed by Banda to a hotel. It looked more luxurious than the hotel Banda had opted for. But in such a world, who was bothered about the purpose of a luxury anyway?
Together the two entered the lobby and lit a candle, which now offered them some light, before settling down on two armchairs.
"Are you planning to stick with me?", Yaba asked after a few more minutes. Banda just hummed in agreement but then shrugged, a good conversation starter this was not.
Yaba sighed. Banda could not even answer him clearly.
"Tonight I'll be with you," the smaller one then whispered. Yaba sneered, but the other caught this immediately and responded with an unnerved glance.
"You're a pervert," Banda now said before stripping off his jacket and laying it next to him on the back of the armchair. Kicking himself off with his hands on said armchair backs, he motioned with a hard step towards Yaba, who only watched him with a placid expression.
Banda's long fingers now pressed on both sides of Yaba, surrounding him like a hulking shadow; Banda's statue, with its broad shoulders and psychotic eyes, could be frightening. Yaba was not in any fear. It was like a game for both parties.
"Murderous, Banda?" muttered Yaba, head lowering slightly as he noticed the other's slender hand on his arm. Why, almost like the hand of a dead man, this one made an appearance. Colorless, prickly, pointy. How the fingers drilled into the arm of the taller one and slowly brushed up to his neck. Toying with death, he looked back up at the man with cold eyes as the fragile, yet at the same time so forceful fingers settled around his throat. They lingered there. Did not squeeze. Showed no further sign of force.
"Your pulse seems at rest," Banda murmured.
To be expected in such a situation was actually agitation and adrenaline. This was absolutely not the case with Yaba.
Would he just let himself be killed or did he have no respect for the other? Did Yaba not believe him to be capable of killing him?
Yaba's warm hand now wrapped around the other's wrist, guiding the hand from his throat. The warmth of the other had an effect on Banda like a sunny winter day, which made the snow gleam. Yaba rose and now departed at a slow pace.
"Banda, let's have a drink."
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Pierce my heart ♡||♧ 𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉
फैनफिक्शनThe fear that coursed through his body was like that of a shot deer. Weakly he was lying there, shakily breathing. Hoping for life, but also the firm knowledge that it was already over with him. Now also soon his eyes would be devoid of soul. His bo...
