Your day started off like it always did: you failing to catch the last tendrils of sleep because your shitty neighbour in your shitty apartment complex insisted on mowing the shitty front lawn every Sunday at 8am. In retrospect, you should be glad he was doing something to make the whole place look better but did he really have to do this every Sunday? Wasn't it a holiday day or something? It's not like he got paid to do it either so it wouldn't kill him to do it at a reasonable time say after 12pm.
8:03 am.
You dragged your pillow and placed it on top of your face, screaming into it. You pulled a late shift at your parents' pizza shop last night and rushed back home to work on the webtoon you've been hired to illustrate. You had to give in a final draft by Friday and you still had a couple of chapters left to illustrate. Hummmm. The lawn mower invaded your thoughts and ears.
Your phone rang on the nightstand, the screen illuminating your dark room. Your mother's name flashed on your screen.
"Good morning, darling! So, your brother called in sick and we need you to take his shift tonight," your mother's stern voice requested through the phone.
"Uh, Mom. I told you I'm busy today. I helped last night."
"I know and we appreciate that but we can't afford to hire another person. What do I always say about family, anyways?"
"Family always helps family," you recited from memory. You actually hated that statement. You always helped out more than anyone helped you, giving up great opportunities to be there and for what? You had nothing to show for it. It should be a two way street but according to your parents, it was a one way street heading in their direction.
"Good. The shift is from 4-11 so make sure you get here early! You live far away now in a bad apartment that you pay too much for." Your mother tried to guilt trip you for moving out from the family home.
She was right though, it was a shitty apartment but it was YOURS. Your safe space, your home, and your solace. Sure, the floors creaked louder than a broken rocking chair and the walls could use a fresh coat of paint but you worked hard to gather all the pieces to make it a home. Countlessly thrifting online and in store, even going to auctions to buy things abandoned by their owners. Whatever. You could be living in the house next door and your mother would still be upset.
"I'll be there." You hung up and tossed your phone onto the floor, the carpet softening the blow.
You took a hot shower and got dressed in jeans and a shirt. You walked out to the kitchen and dropped some bread into the toaster for a quick breakfast. You grabbed the pot from the coffee machine you programmed to make coffee and keep it warm until you woke up and poured some into your favourite mug. You loved coffee more than anything and you drank a concerning amount a day but you needed it to deal with everything on your shoulders right now.
The toaster popped, signaling your toast was done, and you reached for it. The hot toast burned your finger tips and you quickly dropped it onto a plate, licking the tips of your fingers to ease the pain.
You grabbed your tablet and sat down at the kitchen table, hoping to get some drawing done. You reached for the blueberry jam sitting there and slathered it on top of your toast.
Before you knew it, a lot of time had passed and it was suddenly time to go to work. You quickly packed up your belongings and rushed out the door.
♡︎
You just walked into the shop, the bell above the door making your parents aware of your arrival, when your mom rushed forward and held a pile of pizza boxes taller than she was. "We have a big delivery. No time to waste."
"Can I at least put my stuff in the back?"
"I'll do that for you. The pizza is hot and I don't want it to grow cold."
You reluctantly placed your items on the counter and grabbed the pile of pizza from her. The smell teased your nostrils, it never truly got old despite growing up in this shop.
You balanced the boxes with one hand and reached for the keys to the bike with the other. You packed the pizzas in the back, making sure they were secure.
You glanced at the address: 342 Lily Lane. It didn't seem familiar to you but they ordered six boxes of your supreme pizza. Must be some college kids partying out in the middle of nowhere.
A hint of regret hits you that you opted not to go to college. You already knew what you wanted to do with your life and you didn't need to be thousands of dollars in debt to achieve it. Still. The social life of being a college kid was an experience and you always felt jealously whenever kids would come into the shop and they would be whining about some dumb professor or a party that everybody was at.
You pulled on your helmet and took off, the rumble of the bike roaring alive beneath you was one of your favourite sounds.
After twenty minutes, you paused by a wooded area, only trees in sight, and took another look at your phone. It said you had to go deeper into the trees and you couldn't see any path for your bike. Looks like you had to go on foot from here. You parked and placed the helmet on the seat, and grabbed the pizzas.
The trek into the trees was actually a bit difficult considering the sun was setting and it was rough terrain. You avoided rocks with jagged edges and tree branches that whipped you in the face. You also heard some growling in a few bushes but you kept going forward, keeping the same momentum.
Your phone pinged, letting you know you had arrived but it still looked like you were deep within the woods. That was weird. Looking around at the fallen trees and the sound of the small creak had an eerie feeling settling in you.
You had just taken another look at the map when you were tackled from behind. You hit the ground pretty hard, your head ringing and your vision grew blurry. Damn. Was this how it ended for you? How sad. You felt yourself being dragged up as your vision grew darker.
♡︎
"Wake up." A voice ordered.
You opened your eyes and groaned as a headache hit you and you remembered everything. Once your eyes focused, you took a look around and noticed you were in a dark office that looked straight out of a vintage magazine, the walls lined with books and a fireplace illuminated the room, making it seem spookier than it was. For some odd reason, you felt a sense of familiarity being here. Like you had seen it before.
You were sitting in a very comfortable chair across a desk. "So are you going to tell me why you were caught snooping on my property?" A deep voice asked you and you trailed your eyes to the man sitting behind the desk. He was older, closer in age to your dad, with black hair graying at his temples. He was wearing a white button down shirt and a black coat. His eyes were concentrated on you radiating deadly energy and you swallowed your fear, hoping this didn't end badly.
"I was just doing a delivery."
"Enough with the chit chat." A tall man stood silently in the corner, shadows covering his face but they didn't cover the long scar down the left side of it. His emotionless eyes intimidated you, challenging you to try something. His entire aura was ominous and you suddenly wanted very far away from him. "Tell us who sent you."
"Nobody. I mean, somebody placed an order for a delivery nearby here and I got lost. I work for a pizza shop...well more like it's free labour since it's a family business and apparently my time is not valuable since my parents think they can call me in anytime they want-" you realized you were babbling and the man behind the desk had an eyebrow raised, signaling his thinning patience.
"Anyways, the map took me to an address I had never seen before and it led me here. I swear. Here, I can prove it!" You reached inside your pocket but the scarred guard behind you rushed to grab your arm and twisted it behind your back. "Ow! I was just getting my phone!"
"No sudden movements." He grunted in an accented voice and pulled your phone out of your pocket, passing it to the man behind the desk. The bedazzled case looked so out of place in his hands.
"Password?"
"1234," you replied.
He gave you a dirty look. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. I have trouble with memorization so the easier the better."
"This generation." He gestured with a flick of his hand for you to be released. The guard obliged, releasing his tight grip, your arm now numb. Ow. You held it in your other hand and massaged it whilst glaring at him. Definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Just great.
Your phone opened up right to the map of the order, except it showed a different address than the one you had seen before.
"Do you find it amusing to waste my time like this?" He sighed and placed your phone screen down on the desk. He leaned forward, both hands clasped together. "What do you think I should do in this situation?"
You swallowed. "I swear it showed me this address. How else would I have gotten here?"
He leaned back in his chair and glared. "And you expect me to believe you? I don't even know you. Your words mean nothing to me."
He was right. He was so right. Think, Y/N, think. "Uh, I don't have anything of value to offer."
"You said your family runs a pizza shop?"
You nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I could use an emergency location in case something were to happen."
Oh shit. He wants to use your parents' shop? You already knew that wouldn't fly with them. Your parents were super strict. They had to know anything and everything and they always had to have the final say in....well basically everything you did or wished to do. "See, my parents love their business and I don't see how I could hide you there without them knowing."
"What if I were to take care of them?"
What???? Did he mean...take care as in...kill....your parents. "No!" You stood up. "Kill me instead. They're innocent. Yes they constantly annoy me but they don't deserve to die." Did this mean he was going to lock them in his dungeon? Pull off their nails? Cut them into itty bitty pieces until they're unrecognizable and then dispose of what's left of them in the river?
The man gave you a look of amusement, as if he could tell exactly what you're thinking. "I meant to send them on a vacation. You must watch a lot of tv."
Relief washed over you. "Well what do you expect me to think when a strange and elusive mafia man tells me he wants to take care of my parents?"
His lips curved at the corners. "You think I'm mafia?"
Oops. Did you really say that out loud? Oh damn. You wiped your sweaty palms against your jeans. You silently cursed yourself for being a good child to your parents. If you had the nerve to say no to the sudden shift your father told you to take tonight, you wouldn't be here. Anger bubbled inside of you and it was all directed towards yourself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The man clapped his hands, the loud sound startling you out of your train of thoughts. "Well, I have things to do so I'll have you escorted back to your bike." He slid your phone towards you. "Do not contact the police. Do not tell anyone where you've been. I don't even want you speaking to your neighbours. I'll have eyes on you at all times so don't get any funny ideas."
"Yes, sir."
The scarred man grabbed you by the elbow and dragged you out of the office, down some long hallways, and finally back out front to where your bike was parked.
Before he let go of your elbow he dragged you close to him, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "You shouldn't have come here, Y/N."
You ripped your elbow out of his grasp and took several steps away from him. His proximity was messing with your mind and you blamed it on the fact that you've been lonely. "I wouldn't come back here even if you begged me to." You hopped on your bike, pulled on your helmet, and drove off. Once you were far enough, you stuck your middle finger in the air and sped up as if somehow the scarred man would see that and chase after you. That's when you remembered you never told any of them your name.
Once you got back to the shop, you ignored your mother's inquiries about your whereabouts and headed straight to the bathroom. You looked in the mirror and noticed a bruise had formed where you fell on the ground. It didn't escape you that your mother did not notice even though it was right there on your forehead but she hardly noticed much when it came to you.
☽
You just finished cleaning up the shop when a bang at the back door had you dropping your mop in fear. It wasn't unusual to have suspicious activity in the alleyways at night but that didn't mean it didn't scare you every time.
You reached down for the mop and held it out in front of you for protection as you slowly walked towards the back door. "We're closed!" You yelled out.
The banging stopped but then continued again. You pulled your phone from your pocket, ready to dial the cops when the person behind the door spoke.
"It's me. Open the door right now." In a very familiar accented voice that kind of haunted you ever since you heard it.
You dropped the mop and pushed your ear closer to the door. "Scary bodyguard mans?"
"Open the door." He warned.
"Are you here to finally off me?" You clutched your phone tighter as anxiety swirled within the pit of your stomach. "I swear I haven't told anyone anything!"
"Open. The. Door." His breathing seemed laboured as he spoke. "I'm not going to ask again."
Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stared at the scene before your eyes. The scarred man from earlier is leaning against the door panel, his hand clutching his abdomen. His silver watch gleamed against his wrist, making you wonder just how much it truly cost. He was wearing a black suit today with a maroon silk shirt, which clung to his skin. A thin gold chain dangled from his neck, drawing your attention to the tendons there. You were confused at his presence but you already knew he would show up sooner than later. You really hoped it would be later.
"Listen, before you finish the job you were ordered to do just know that I will come back as a ghost and and you will never know peace again."
Without a reply, he pushed you aside, stumbling into the kitchen. You quickly followed, wanting to protest but you noticed he was limping. He groaned and leaned against the counter and that's when you saw it. The blood. He was bleeding. Oh god.
"Hey, you're getting blood all over the floor. Oh wait, are you okay?" You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands when a thought hit you. "Are there other dangerous men following you? Did you lead them here?!"
"You talk......too much." He slid down to the floor, sweat beading his forehead. "First aid kit."
Oh right. You ran to the office and grabbed the big first aid kit your father went all out on. You sent out a silent prayer for his paranoia and dragged the box to the man. You flipped it open and a bunch of medical paraphernalia greeted you. "Uh so this would be a good time to tell you that my medical knowledge is based on grey's anatomy."
A weak chuckle escaped his normally pink lips but were now a shade closer to blue. "Gauze. Pressure."
You nodded your head and pulled out the thick roll of gauze, unrolling it so you had a good length going. You cut it off and looked at him. "I think this is going to hurt." You didn't give him a chance to respond before you pushed the gauze into his wound.
Deep groans filled your ears. "You did that...on purpose."
You totally did but you would never let him know that. You continued to put pressure on his wound but you found your eyes wandering over his tight abs as they contracted with pain but then your eyes focused on a tattoo that looked really familiar. It was a fiery Phoenix with a blue flame down its back on his right pec.
You felt everything freeze inside of you and all sound around had become muted. "Are you checking me out right now?"
You slightly jumped and shook your head. "This tattoo....it just looked familiar."
"It bet it does." He groaned again as he adjusted his back against the wall.
"Do you always talk this much?" He coughed and groaned. "I need pain meds."
You numbly searched through the box for any painkillers and grabbed a white bottle and shook a few onto your palm. You placed two pills onto his tongue and reached for the water bottle and held it above his mouth.
He took a few sips and then shook his head. "If you call for help, I'll kill you." He managed to spit out, face growing paler by the second.
And then he passed out in your arms, in the middle of the kitchen, blood all over your hands.
It was then you realized why the tattoo looked familiar. You've definitely seen it before. You've seen a million drafts of it because it was the exact same one you drew.