The first time you saw him, he was covered in blood that wasn’t his.
Your breath hitched as you froze in the doorway, your hand still gripping the rusted handle as the faint creak echoed into the abandoned building, far too loud in the suffocating silence that followed.
You shouldn’t have been there.
That much was obvious.
And yet—
You couldn’t move.
Because he was standing in the middle of the room, shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if the fight he had just finished still lingered in his body, refusing to let him rest.
Then—
He turned.
Those dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours instantly, sharp and alert, cutting through the dim light like a blade finding its mark.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
“…You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally, his voice low, steady, and far too calm for someone standing in the aftermath of violence.
You swallowed.
“…I could say the same to you.”
A pause.
Then, he tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle, as if he were trying to decide something important—something that involved you more than you were comfortable with.
“…You’re not afraid.”
It wasn’t a question.
You let out a quiet breath. “…Should I be?”
“Yes.”
The honesty of it almost made you laugh.
Almost.
You took a careful step inside, the door closing softly behind you, sealing you in with him and the heavy scent of iron that lingered in the air.
“Well,” you muttered, “I’m not.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“…That is unusual.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t empty—it was tense, charged, like something unseen was coiling tighter with every second that passed.
Then—
“You saw.”
It wasn’t a question either.
Your chest tightened slightly.
“…Yeah.”
“And you understand what that means.”
You hesitated.
Because you did.
People didn’t just walk away from things like this.
Not when they weren’t supposed to see them.
Your fingers curled slightly at your sides as you forced yourself to meet his gaze, refusing to back down even when every instinct told you that you should.
“…You’re going to kill me?”
The words came out steadier than you felt.
For a moment—
Nothing.
Then, he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his presence suddenly overwhelming as the distance between you shrank, each step echoing too loudly in your ears.
“No.”
You blinked.
“…No?”
“No.”