Part time thief

chapter 46- obsessive love

Slamming the door behind himself, Daichi deeply growled and messed up his silver hair. His body trembled, not with fear. No. Everything inside him was heating up, bubbling and spitting. His stomach felt lighter and his breathing quickened.

Daichi muttered between each laboured breath, "so...close."

He swiped everything off of a shelf, roaring out his anger. The items crashed to the ground. A vase shattered and yet Daichi only paused when he realised that one other item was on that shelf. He sifted through the letters that had fluttered down, pushing aside the shards of his vase until he revealed a photo frame. Daichi delicately picked it up and turned the frame around to inspect it. Glass fell to the floor and the pastel blue frame, that had a pattern of roses, was chipped and cracked. The males stomach dropped when he noticed the picture, that was protected from the outside world, was ripped due to a shard of glass tearing at it during the fall.

The photo, which he held so dear, was of him and (f/n) as kids. Little him was so shy and quiet, glancing away from the camera with a deep blush. (f/n) however, looked directly at it with the biggest grin possible and had an arm around Daichi's shoulders.

God he missed her. There wasn't a single second that passed he hadn't regretted not seeing her with. His chest would ache, his stomach light and nauseous. Something about (f/n) being around put him into a calm ease that felt so comfortable and warm. He wanted to feel her embrace again. He wanted to see (f/n) in her ridiculous Christmas jumper, singing and dancing to cheesy Christmas tunes. He wanted everything. Her memories to be of only him. Her smile to be shown only to him. He wanted (f/n).

Daichi shook his head, trying to rid himself of such obsessive thoughts. He knew (f/n) would never speak to him again if she were to find out. Yet a voice in the back of the males mind told him not to worry, that (f/n) would never find out his own thoughts. However, another voice took over, louder and more violent than the one of reason. (f/n) is his and his alone. (f/n) must stay by his side. (f/n) will love him forever if he acts now. (f/n) will never find out he tried to kill her friend.

~

With a sudden jolt, (f/n) sneezed. Her eyes watered as she sniffed, wiping a tissue under her nose. The artist was tucked under a blanket, watching the news on her tv. For what seemed like an age of being out of her apartment, (f/n) was finally under her own roof again. Her cat was curled up on her lap, purring in contentment as he was finally reunited with his human. The feline had been under the care of Daichi and yet he still remained loyal to (f/n).

Sighing, (f/n) ran a hand through her cats soft fur. Everything about the atmosphere and her mood seemed relaxed. It was definitely needed after such an action packed week.

(f/n) sipped at her favourite hot drink and caught onto the reporters words, listening closely to their formal tone, "the angels have yet to be identified. However three suspects have been named as possible angel members or dealt in their affairs, coming into contact with the vigilante group."

She almost spat out her drink when three pictures of familiar faces came onto screen. The reporters voice was muffled by shock, as (f/n) recognised each person on the screen. All three were past clients, including Michi. The artist still remembered is golden eyes and baby blue hair. She could still visualise his artwork of his lost love. How could she forget such fine work? There was so much emotion conveyed with each blended stroke.

Slamming her cup down on a coffee table, (f/n) disrupted her feline friend by throwing herself across her sofa to reach her phone. She quickly pressed on Hiro's number and only had to wait a few rings before he answered.

"(f/n)! Have you finally fallen for me? Calling to tell me that you have undying love for me?" Hiro said and (f/n) could feel his smirk on the other end of the line.

"I'm actually calling about what I saw on the-"

"news? yes I saw. We've got nothing to worry about, the three clients know about a certain...agreement." He interrupted, hesitating at the end of his speech.

(f/n)'s shoulders tensed up, as her mind wandered dangerous and dark places. What kind of agreement would make the clients tight lipped. Surely it was something bad. Something dangerous.

"What kind of agreement?" (f/n) questioned, biting her lip and felt a strange nervous feeling crawling through her skin.

Hiro sighed, his voice deep and husky through the phone. The pinkette remained silent until her answered, "having a sister in charge of an assassination organisation comes in handy. A couple of death threats would keep most quiet."

"Isn't that a bit excessive?"

"Not if we are to keep this group a secret and out of a jail cell."

"Fair enough." (f/n) leaned back on her sofa, a sigh ripping through her lips. As long as those death threats keep others quiet, then the angels will be undetectable. Yet it all remained uncertain and relied on trust. Enough trust to believe someone won't go to the police despite the death threats.

Suddenly, (f/n)'s doorbell chimed. Echoing through her apartment and piercing her ears. She quickly stood up, continuing, "I need to go. Someone is at the door."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Hiro said and before (f/n) took the phone away from her ear, he quickly added, "oh and (f/n)? Don't worry about the three clients too much, it's all under control."

(f/n) didn't get to reply before Hiro ended the call, yet she brushed it off and rushed to her door. The artist had only opened it slightly before it was pushed open by the visitor and in front of her was Daichi.

"Daichi? What's wrong?" (f/n) asked, noticing his shoulders shaking with each laboured breath. Suddenly, he pulled her into a strong hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. His fingers desperately clung to her clothing, bunching it up in his tight fists. "Daichi?"

"Can we just get into pyjamas and watch a film?" He muttered and (f/n)'s face softened as she rubbed his back, chuckling at his request. At that very moment, Daichi acted like his childhood self. Always coming to (f/n) for comfort and she would put on a film for him.

The artist pulled away from her friend, letting him into her house. She tightly pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a laugh when Daichi took off his coat. He was already in his pyjamas, that were just some black pants and a top with a cat wearing a sombrero upon it.

They walked into the living room and (f/n) said, "I'll make you some hot chocolate, make yourself at home."

The artist walked into her kitchen and Daichi draped himself over her sofa, his eyes latched onto the television as a reporter moved onto another story. A clip of CCTV footage of a man dressed in a doctors uniform was playing as the reporter announced over it, "a man reportedly pretending to be a doctor had ran out of the hospital at four o'clock in the afternoon. The only feature that could be described of him is his teal eyes. Whilst the male ran away, he dropped a syringe of poison activated by oxygen, which was later discovered within the room. The possible victim of murder, Hiro-"

Daichi switched channels, unable to listen to the news. He warily looked over to the kitchen and sighed in relief when (f/n) was humming in the kitchen, obviously not hearing what the reporter was saying.

She soon came back into the room, passing Daichi a large mug of steaming hot chocolate. The artist pushed his legs off the sofa so she could sit down as well and furrowed her eyebrows when she noticed the channel had changed.

Daichi made up an excuse, saying, "I'm not too fond of the news. It's way too dreary for me."

"It's fine, anyway what film shall we watch?" She leaned against Daichi, Getting comfortable as she grabbed the remote.

"How about a murder mystery?"