Just found out I reached 300 followers today and I wanna say Thank you to all of you! And hope this continuation is sth you would like to read, please let me know if anyone of you want to be tagged if there’s a part three (I cannot be sure there will be tho) but if there is I would say I’ll write something from Hero’s POV. This is such an interesting story to write tho.
Klotski
Warning: (non-traditional) Hero x Villain, Villain Whumpee, fever, delirium, gunshot injury on arm, weird relationship.
He’d fallen in love with her since the very beginning.
Six years ago, when his skin was still too pale and he was too slim, his hair remained naturally blond before he dyed it brown, he bet she’d never matched him with that haggard boy.
Yet he remembered. Every detail even the slightest ones. From her soft tone to her worried look. That was the first time he was taken care of by someone, and it felt almost overwhelming. Too good that even frightened him.
He’d been waiting for the day for so long, till he felt he gained enough power and courage to run away from the orphanage which raised him. When it came, he ran as fast as he could, covered with the bruises they gave him, all over his body, and never looked back.
But freedom was combined with complications, he was too young to be hired, too wounded to keep looking for opportunities. By the time she found him, which to be exact the third night after he escaped, he was already too weak, laying in a corner of Grand Central Terminal, so ready for his own death.
It never scared him. He didn’t have anything in the world that he felt worth treasuring anyway.
“Oh my god. Hey kid, hey! Can you hear me?”
Someone‘s shaking his shoulder, actually too hard. He felt as if his consciousness was drawn back unwillingly. But that was she, the Hero he found out later, bending over into a very unfeminine position and slapping his face.
“You scared me. You look really sick kid.”
Like I don’t know. The childish side of him was whining silently, but he struggled to sit up.
In front of him was a girl few years elder, much like a college student, she was obviously worried, as if his health really mattered to her, she even reached out a hand, trying to feel his temperature. He pushed her hand away.
“You’re running a fever.”
That’s when she frowned, her two brows furrowed dramatically. Yeas later he would know, it was just one of her very limited vivid emotions, something he might never have a chance to see again.
“Are you always like this? Honestly, how old are you? Why are you refusing people’s kindness like it’s nothing important? You’re like, deadly pale!”
How could he treat a kindness well and naturally when he’d never experienced it?
He thought quietly, biting his lips as the embarrassment made him flushed. It’s not just like that, for the first time he’d had a chance to talk with a decent, pretty girl, but look at him: he’s sick, deadly pale according to her own words, must have smelled awful as he’d been sweating all day and hadn’t showered for three days.
“Now you’re deadly red, by the way.”
“I can take you to the hospital…emm…I mean…” she paused, as if thinking about how to express it in a more acceptable way: “you don’t really have to worry about the fees, maybe I can…”
He didn’t know why he said no that night, if to recall, was he really care about how he smelt, or was it eventually too overwhelming, or even maybe, he was actually, indeed ready for ending his own life. But there was a huge silence after he’d said that. They both frozen for a while until the quietness pained him. She, who’s meant to be a Hero, after almost one minute, finally decided to give up.
“…okay, emm…sorry, I just wanted to help.”
“Thank you.” was the last words he said before she left musingly.
Everything after it was a blur, so hazy and so confusing, the next time he became fully conscious, he was in his boss’s bed and on an IV, the man was smiling, comfortingly, telling him there’s an offer waiting for him, and he would never have to be so helpless again.
His dream full of bittersweet memories stopped when that freezing hand touched his forehead. Too cold. He winced, opening only one eye for a start, he saw his boss standing by the bedside with an impatient frown.
“I did tell you to take some pills yesterday, didn’t I?” The elder man asked, his tone reproachful. It was just 9:00 in the morning, he’d known it by glancing briefly at the digital alarm clock as the other man knelt down. He closed his eyes for short, adjusting the light and headache, knowing his boss was working on undoing the bandage on his arm.
“You so we’ll-dressed, K. Anything particular to attend?
He asked carelessly, not really paying attention to the answer. He just ached, for now, even reopening his eyes would require such an effort, so he kept them closed, and allowed his mind drifting.
Too hot, too cold, too painful.
The sound of scissors cutting through gauze and the smell of iodine and hydrogen peroxide. He’d recognized them groggily. That had to prove his wound was seriously infected. So bad. But not surprising. Six years later he was still so bad at taking care of himself.
“Why are you refusing people’s kindness like it’s nothing important?”
“Part of me wishes you could die as well.”
“I’m sorry…” he murmured, not quite sure to whom. The fever and injury had obviously worn him out, her words haunted him. And all he was doing now was curling up limply in bed like a broken puppet, letting the elder man lift his arm up then put it down freely, again and again.
“….And you’re coming with me.”
“The event tonight. I need you to come with me, Assassin.”
His hazy brain warned him silently that his boss never joked. An event for whatever reason he didn’t catch meant there would be a job awaiting. That there would be someone waiting to be saved, or more likely, to be killed.
“And I heard there was a FBI yesterday at the crime scene…it was Hero, wasn’t it?”
This was not even a question, K always knew everything: “And she’s also the reason why you got hurt I guess, since you’ve never got yourself hurt before.”
He cursed in mind, becoming gradually sober as the conversation flew. He opened his eyes to look straight at the other man.
“See? She’s weakening you and making you soft...” K paused, then sighed, eyes on him. He must have looked really miserable that the old man decided to shut his mouth, putting a hand on his feverish cheek instead, “or maybe it’s not a good time for this conversation. Go back to sleep. I just need you to be ready by 6pm.”
“Who’s the target today, K?”
As if the blurry world stopped for a second, confirming the uneasy feeling deep in his heart, though his voice was weirdly calm. He reached out a hand, the injured one, to grab his boss’s shirttail, he knew it could stop him.
“Who I’m expecting to kill today?”
He’d asked again, firmly.
And K turned around to face him.
“We need you to kill Hero, Assassin.”
The elder man said, he almost laughed:
“I thought we only kill bad people.”
“The policy ended yesterday, since you took a bullet for her.”
Holding his hand and tucking it back under the covers, K bent down, ignoring his pretended coolness, and placed his mouth close to his ear：
“And since you want a definition so much I decided to give you one, kid.” The elder man whispered, his voice cold: “finish this job and you’ll finish the transformation. From the best Assassin to the best Villain in the city…
Stupid Villain forgot to take medication and got himself really sick and now he’s sent to kill Hero😏any reblogs and feedbacks are beyond welcome and thank you for reading😚
