❣ Forelsket ❣ Keigo Takami/Hawks

[Book 2] ↬ Assassin

His past was of no real consequence to you.

If this lie was to be exposed, the very fabric of your sanity would unravel.

That quiet, near-expressionless boy had flourished so handsomely. Yet, in your sordid line of work, sentiments like these were simply a hindrance. Your research wasn't wasted, however; delving into his background had yielded some interesting information. As it flooded your mind, sorrow-soaked vines clawed at your heart, threatening to unleash all the sympathy trapped within. You couldn't allow it, lest your job be compromised. Your client had promised thousands for this hit! Maybe if success was achieved...maybe you'd be able to live comfortably, gifting your younger siblings more food and toys than they had ever dreamed of. Maybe after this...you could stop?

Steeling yourself, you aimed the gun. I have eyes on the target. All I have to do is take the shot. This should be easy - he's just standing around! So...why am I hesitating?

Beads of sweat trickled from glove to metal, as you tried desperately to reshuffle your thoughts. The harmony between your senses of morality and self-preservation was fraying. White noise resonated in your ears, swimming into your very essence and exploding your nerves. It was destined to be dangerous, when your innermost feelings, after having been repressed for so long, grappled for purchase on your heart-strings, tugging in time with the death-clock. If you idled for another moment more, your target would disappear, and so too would your hopes for a taste of rapture. The result of this hit...The livelihood of everything you embraced with a gentle, loving heart...it all rested upon this one menial task. If it became impossible to provide for yourself and two minors, for the sake of a secretive man - a hero - with whom you weren't even familiar...

...Did you truly deserve these blessed sun-rays, the smiles and the laughter directed towards you in the daytime? Did you even deserve to live, anymore?

No, that won't happen! I promised (B/n) and (S/n) that I would make money, and I would keep them safe. I can't do that if I fail this - much less if I'm dead.

Though...the difficulty was stomaching something as horrendous as assassinating a man whose life, since his immaculate conception, had been fraught with hardship. You didn't wish to imagine what you were cutting short, all the pleasantries he wouldn't ever experience. The chains binding those marvellous, crimson wings to the Safety Commission had no time to shatter. Not even this lamentable fate could liberate his soul. Death might wrap its opaque cloak around him, but true freedom would still be unattainable. You decided that once this play concluded, you would mourn until your lungs caved in. Grief was already beginning to pool in your eyes, but you wiped it away.

The gun trembled in your hand.

A brighter future loomed beyond the horizon, if only you could take a proper aim.

As you watched him loosen his playful façade, you gulped. That image alone, that half-torn husk of a man, was filling you with regret...and he wasn't even trying! You remembered flicking through the pages upon pages of notes collected on his past, gaze landing on some pictures of an adorable little child, clutching an Endeavor plushie. With his family's alcoholism, with their violent temper, all the shards of glass from sickening-looking bottles...

That type of environment couldn't ever offer security for such a young chick. It was neglected, dirty - the exact opposite of your home. Then, the route chosen for him surely wasn't the correct one. He had a tragic history, one moulded for villainy, or perhaps the more skilled profession of a hitman. You despised the feeling of malaise which had encircled you, when first hearing of your target. Why him? Why you? A wretched sob caught in your throat.

You pointed the muzzle towards him, praying to any gods that cared to listen, to be forgiven.

The gun, slick with sweat, slipped from your palm.

What...? The world seemed to move in slow-motion. No, no, no! I need to catch it, quickly! It can't end like this, I won't let it!

Amidst the frightened, hasty jerking of a woman attempting to save her position, still veiled from the target, and her means of income, a second gun lay tucked within her pocket. Forgotten. To be captured now...it would almost certainly evolve into a trip to the gallows. You wouldn't be permitted even a word of commiseration to your siblings. How would they survive out there, on the nasty, criminal-riddled streets? You couldn't even begin to fathom the inevitable hardships awaiting them. In your panic, you missed the ledge. A second later, you too were plummeting down, to the cold, hard ground below. You couldn't bluff this one, you couldn't grab on to anything. You couldn't re-spawn. Once Hel had coaxed your soul deeper into its foreboding wasteland, you would never return. You wouldn't get that happy ending, after all.

Yet...your heart pleaded with the wind, with the earth, with the gods.

And someone answered.

A series of delicate, but strong, scarlet feathers snaked around your wrists and back. Hawks, no...Keigo, was carrying you alongside him. A knowing smirk enveloped his perfect features, and you surrendered to the newfound warmth in your chest. Not a single thought more was spared for that gun.

No...your mind was fully occupied.

[Word Count: 901]