The look in his eyes made it completely impossible for Nari to say anything other than yes.
Haunted shadows flitted around in his gaze, his demons no doubt having tortured him for as long as he could remember. So delicate seemed his demeanor that Nari was hesitant even to go to him, afraid that the slightest creak of the floor would cause him to shatter.
But she did go to him, carefully taking the spot next to him on the bed, their hips brushing as the soft material sank down more.
They stayed like that, barely touching for a while. Eventually Nari stopped counting the minutes, just stayed there for as long as he needed. To her credit, merely sitting there helped him to anchor his thoughts.
When he was ready, he spoke out into the deafening quiet.
"The first person I ever killed was our age."
The aching she had so desperately shoved aside began to creep back into her eyes again, her throat.
"He... he was the son of an important dealer to our- to Sicarius. Anything they wanted he would supply: weapons, drugs... people."
Although his voice didn't betray him, his face did. The ever growing tears began to fall, streaking down his face in uneven rivulets.
"The dealer had been trying to cut off his services. Said he wanted to quit the life he had chosen. For his family."
Her chin quivered violently, her mask starting to crack in spite of her efforts.
"My- my master," Hyunjin gritted out, "wouldn't let him go. But the man tried to run anyways. He should have known better. He should have - "
Hyunjin broke the sentence off, the memory almost too hard to recount.
"I was told to make an example of his son," he gasped as his chest contracted, the pent up emotion straining to break free. "I broke into their house one night. Found his room, went straight up to him and shot him in the stomach."
Finally he broke, his tight throat releasing the sobs. Hyunjin grasped his chest, trying in vain to ease the phantom pain radiating through his bones.
"It- it was so slow," he cried almost incoherently. "He wasn't even asleep, he stared at me the whole time. I can still h-hear him! He won't get out!"
Fingers reaching up to his ears, Hyunjin clamped his hands down onto his head, wails filling the room. Nari's own helpless whimpers joined his own, their sorrow creating a horrible symphony of agony.
"I can hear all of them," gasped the boy as his lungs spasmed. "They won't leave me alone."
All she could do was watch as he battled all of the torment he had locked away inside of him. Year's and year's worth of trauma that he'd never faced full on.
"And I didn't want to."
The anguished words seemed to sober him, and he jerked his head to look at Nari, grabbing her shoulders as though trying to convince her.
"I didn't want to do it, I swear," he stuttered, tearstained face full only of pleading. "I didn't want to, I didn't want to."
"Hyunjin," Nari croaked out, the grief she felt for him more than she could bear.
Unable to keep herself from staying still any longer, she climbed fully onto the bed and fiercely wrapped her arms around the boy, their bodies convulsing together as they wept bitterly.
Hyunjin returned the embrace just as intensely, abundant tears causing the back of her shirt to dampen.
For how long they stayed like that, Nari didn't know. One could only cry for so long, and she wasn't sure exactly when they had stopped and ended up lying on the bed, calming breaths the only movement in the room.
Slowly but surely, the pair drifted into the numbing bliss of sleep, at peace for the moment but dreading the time they would have to awake.
° ° °
Unknown p.o.v.
Woody cigar smoke hung in the air, curling upwards toward the ceiling in almost artistic manner.
A man sat calmly in a smooth leather chair, licking his index finger before flipping through the file he was examining. Lazy eyes took their time as they briefly skimmed over the papers.
A familiar face stared out from several pictures neatly attached to the file, although the man knew that the owner of the face was much older now.
Pausing on the photographs, he studied the concise handwriting scrawled beneath each one, a time span of several months having taken place between each picture.
04 / 16
Excellent observation and memory skills. Note that trainee has trouble focusing on more than one target at a time.
07 / 06
Trainee shows above average reaction time. Continue gauging his ability to take on more than five enemies at once.
This went on and on, and eventually the dates changed to several several years after the first photo had been taken.
The man stopped on a particularly interesting picture, one near the end of the file. The trainee's face was littered with bruises, stitches climbing across one eyebrow.
11 / 29
Trainee refused to take part in a real time practice exercise. Disciplinary action was carried out.
Sighing, the man slapped the file shut in one hand, balancing his head on two fingers as he mulled over the situation.
"Hwang Hyunjin," he tasted the name, testing the way it sounded on his tongue. "After all this time, you're still an nuisance to me."
Expression sour, the man dropped the file back onto the desk in front of him and steepled his fingers, organizing his thoughts. The expensive piece of furniture shone with varnish, decorated by little. A name plaque rested on the front of the desk, the name laid with pure gold: Gwan Sungho.
Just then, a phone resting on the dark wood rang out into the silent space.
Perking up at the much wanted distraction, Sungho plucked the phone up and answered it, his tattoo-scattered arms rippling with muscle.
"Yes?"
"...It's me."
The voice was husky and deep, clearly that of a male. Sungho raised his eyebrows, very interested by who was calling.
"Calling back so soon? You are eager indeed," he chuckled with relish. "What ever do you have to tell me so urgently?"
The opposite line went quiet, as if the caller was still deciding on whether or not he should speak.
"I know where he is."
Amusement gone, he leaned back and ran his teeth over his lip. "Oh really?"
"Yes," the voice confirmed, not sounding entirely sure.
Sungho tsked, teasing the other speaker. "You don't sound too certain. You have the address?"
Another pause. "Yes," the voice wavered.
Suppressing an eyeroll, Sungho inwardly mocked the speaker for his hesitancy to share the information. He reached for a pen and made ready to write on the file on front of him. "Alright," he drawled in a sing song voice, clicking the pen open.
"Whenever you're ready."