~The Grubs, the warehouse~
Pierce stood over the dead body, breathing out a sigh as he watched blood flood the floor. His eyes glitched around, his body completely tense. He felt the adrenaline begin to fall, his energy and rage slowly dying. He felt ready to collapse. It had been a long time since he had lost that much control before.
The last time he went that crazy was when Rosamee had died. Oxzy had come and fought him during that time, which made the destruction less severe. Speaking of Oxzy, the villain turned his head. He met eyes with the hero, who looked back at him, his body slightly shaking.
Pierce smiled, breathing out slowly. He turned, taking small steps forward before he stood in front of the hero. Oxzy didn't move, didn't flinch away from the bloody villain. The man stood in front of him, looking down at the shorter male.
Since the hero hadn't walked away, Pierce felt the need to "comfort him." It was clear in the look in his eyes that he felt unsafe. But the villain wouldn't hurt him, not anymore. Pierce wanted to tell him that—to promise the man safety, that he wouldn't be able to hurt him…
The villain's hand traced the side of Oxzy's jaw. The bloody finger felt warm, leaving blood to drip on the hero's pale skin.
Oxzy had lost himself; he wasn't going to try and deny what he was feeling right now. There was too much in front of him that told him what he was doing was wrong—he knew it was wrong.
…But he had already done it. So why would he move away now?
The hero gently held the villain's arm, guiding the man's hand to caress his face. It was warm, soothing, and gentle. The hero leaned into the touch, sighing in pure comfort. Pierce chuckled, rubbing his thumb below the hero's lips, along the bottom of his jaw.
"You don't seem 'drugged'..." the man hummed, watching as the hero sank into the touch. The deep red blood on his pale skin looked beautiful as it dripped down his chin.
"I didn't breathe it in," the hero mumbled in response, focused only on the soft touch—the butterflies running circles in his chest, the radiating heat from his body as it sank into Pierce's fingertips.
Pierce chuckled, leaning his head forward to look deep into the hero's eyes. "Clever hero."
Oxzy smiled, his eyes dropping as he was embraced by the man in stained red clothes.
It felt safe. It shouldn't have felt safe, but it did.
It was wrong—all so wrong. The villain had killed over twenty men and his own little brother in cold blood. Yet he looked at the hero with softness in his eyes, a newfound love and focus for his affection.
At least, that was what Oxzy was feeling—what he had noticed. He had no idea what Pierce was thinking. The unpredictable man could do anything to him.
Yet he chose to embrace him with a gentle touch.
A distant chatter sounded from outside; sirens and the shouting of men and women surrounded the warehouse. The pair understood it was the police. The door was smashed open, and Milo, along with the men behind him, ran in with their guns drawn.
Neither of the two flinched. Oxzy looked over at Milo, making eye contact with the stunned officer. Pierce didn't even turn around; he knew guns were aimed at his back, that the blonde man could order his death within a minute.
The warmth from Oxzy was too distracting. The hero leaned against him, hiding the man from the police behind them. It was too comfortable to run, so he didn't move—he held the man tightly.
Milo couldn't understand what he was looking at. His jaw hung open; the bodies of men and pools of blood, the smell of burnt flesh—none of it compared to the shock at the center of it all. The hero and villain, together. Just them…
"Oxz…" Milo whispered, the gun in his hand beginning to shake with shock. The men behind him looked at him in confusion, waiting for his orders.
Jamisen hesitated to step forward; the bloodbath and the villain frightened him too much. But he made his way behind Milo, nudging him. "Milo… sir, don't hesitate again…"
The words were heard, but Milo kept his eyes on Oxzy. The hero was shielded by the villain, his figure blocked from the police. Only the hero looked back at Milo, their eyes locking.
Milo didn't know how to react. His vision grew blurry, his hands shaking around the gun. He wanted nothing more than to shoot the villain, to tear him away from the hero's arms. He didn't. He watched the hero's eyes on him from the comfort of the villain's hold, and Milo didn't shoot.
Oxzy closed his eyes, then opened them with a slight expression on his face—a small thanks, some small amount of understanding passing between them.
Milo closed his eyes, lowering his gun. He held back tears, fighting hard against the urge. It wasn't right. What was happening in front of him was wrong; what he was thinking was wrong. He wasn't that type of person, and he wouldn't try to become them.
With slow, steady movements, Milo lowered his gun. He raised his hand, ordering his men to do the same. They looked at him, then back to Pierce, confusion and fear clear on their faces. Even so, they did as they were told, lowering their guns.
Oxzy gave a small nod, holding tightly onto the villain's arm. Pierce lowered his head atop Oxzy's, closing his eyes as he forced himself to use his last remaining energy. Black dust emerged beneath their feet, rising steadily until it consumed both the hero and the villain.
The warehouse fell into shadow as the dust flew past the officers, giving the room a clearer appearance. The men looked on in shock—there were far more bodies than they had expected.
~The Grubs, Pierce's home~
The hero crashed onto the bed—Pierce had managed to carry the man into the room from outside his home. The teleportation had worked for him, yet due to his dimming energy, he could only portal outside.
He leaned forward, panting at the amount of energy he'd used. When he opened his eyes, he stared at the unconscious hero. The man had teleported with him; Pierce normally didn't do that with others. It messed with their mind, not being able to control the overwhelming amount of darkness like Pierce could.
So he made sure the hero was asleep—he would be out for a few minutes. The villain sighed, feeling his bones ache and his arms grow sore. He had to gain some energy, and that would call for a comfortable space to be in. Pierce couldn't help but look back at Oxzy; it looked warm beside him.
He remembered the feeling of sleeping next to him, the warmth and comfort. He wanted to feel that again, but he realized he was still covered in blood. The hero would be horrified to wake up and see it. Pierce sighed, knowing what he had to do before getting comfortable.
The villain washed himself up quickly, moving fast even as his energy slowly died. When he'd finished, he dried off his hair, shaking out the strands that stuck to his tan skin.
The villain pulled on a pair of gray sweats, grabbing one of his non-burnt T-shirts before putting that on as well. He was about ready to collapse, his legs shaking beneath him. He walked back into his room and looked at the hero lying on his bed.
The man was still sleeping silently, eyes closed, his face giving a calming look. He looked so at peace, so comfortable.
As gently as he could manage, the villain lifted the covers to lay beside him. He spread the sheets over the two of them, making sure the man was comfortable and not completely undressed.
"Hahh…" Pierce sighed in comfort. The man was warm and cold at the same time, which gave him a sense of relief. He felt safe, comfortable.
The hero pushed his head up, leaning slightly so his face pressed into the bigger man's neck. He moaned lightly, and it made the villain feel possessive. Pierce wrapped his arms around the man's waist, pulling his slim body up to his chest. He laughed lightly, feeling completely at ease.
He didn't have to do anything else besides hold him. His energy felt completely restored. His breathing was silent, and the man in his arms was warm, keeping him safe with a soft touch.
It was nice. It was what Pierce used to do with Rosamee after a rough fight, when he was drained and ready to collapse. But this felt different—something much stronger was given to him by Oxzy.
Something he wanted more of.
~Formay, Police Station~
Milo's mind was lost. He was distracted the whole time his men and he had spent clearing out the warehouse. They evacuated any survivors in handcuffs and searched the place for more evidence, finding a whole stash of drugs in the basement. It seemed to be where the gangsters had stored their operation.
It took a while, but the police eventually pieced together more of the plan. No one remained to get in the way of the search. Thanks to that, they searched the office and later realized it belonged to a young man—Pierce's brother. He was the leader, and he'd hidden all the information about his plan there.
Milo and Jamisen took action immediately. They found the young man's home, where his parents and siblings were present. They arrested the family, seizing the drugs on hand before bringing everyone in for questioning. The father immediately spilled everything he knew, though the police had to work harder on the mother, who knew almost everything about her son's plan.
The siblings eventually gave up all the information, explaining where the police could stop the drug trafficking. It was quick work, taking about a day. Finding where the men had ended up didn't take long, since they hadn't gone far before the police searched the hideouts.
With the drugs in hand, the police searched the hideouts in peace to put things in order. The sheriff finally uncovered the mystery behind Randy's death and the other killings. They had all been Felix's doing—the man who was now dead, killed by his own brother.
Of course, the police didn't have all the information. They didn't know what had happened at the beginning of the search, or why the hero had steered them away from the truth. Why had the villain massacred the whole warehouse with such ease?
Milo decided to interrogate the villain's family about his whereabouts, hoping to learn more about the man and his plan. He rushed in with Jamisen following behind, starting with the older sister.
"I-..." The older woman hesitated, looking down. Milo yelled at her again, demanding an answer. She huffed, keeping her eyes closed. "I don't know."
Milo left, intending to get an answer from someone else in the family. They had to know, and they were going to tell him.
"I swear I have no idea! I swear!" The old, short man began to weep in response.
"Why would I know? He kept it a secret!" The young man turned his head away.
"..." The older woman, her face like stone, gave no answer.
"Don't fucking lie to me! Tell me where the man is hiding!" Milo yelled, slamming his hands on the metal table.
The woman glared at him, her eyes murderous. No answer came—only silence swept between them. Milo glared back, striking the table when he realized he would get nothing.
The sheriff stormed out of the room, walking past his men in the hallway with a stone-cold expression. Jamisen followed with quickening steps, calling after him. "Milo! Milo, calm the fuck down—!"
"Shut up, Jamisen," Milo growled without turning around. He pushed his office door open, and before he could close it, Jamisen swung it open from behind.
Milo rolled his eyes as the man slammed it shut. "This is about Oxzy, isn't it?"
The anger in his voice was clear, but he didn't respond. Jamisen felt fed up—his sheriff was losing himself over a man. It was getting in the way of everything, making his job and the other officers' jobs impossible. Jamisen decided he had to get this over with, to bring Milo back to his senses, or else he'd have to give up his position.
"That man already made the feelings between you two clear!" Jamisen yelled in rage. "He caused too much trouble—made an undercover gangster work his way in here to get information that put his own life in danger. But everyone else in the station too!"
Milo shot him a glare, giving only a hollow growl, unable to argue against the truth.
"He's with the villain. The man we're supposed to get rid of once and for all. He practically gave him a clear path—they fled together!" Jamisen watched Milo's reaction. Even as his friend's eyes grew red, he kept going. "Oxzy is on the villain's side. They're a threat to the town—the town you're supposed to protect. Yet you haven't protected shit."
Milo felt tears welling in his eyes, unable to respond. Everything his friend said was true. It was right, and still, it hurt—hurt his heart with the overpowering evidence of the hero's betrayal. The hero he was in love with.
"You know if you keep this up, it'll be the end of you. The end of your job, your passion." Jamisen's voice caught; it hurt to say these things, to say what his friend needed to hear. "Don't let that so-called 'love' for a man who doesn't even like you back blind you."
Milo sobbed, hiding his face as it hung over the desk.
It was all true. A sickening truth—how he'd been acting, how he'd changed because of himself. He hadn't realized how much of a bad person he'd become. How bad he'd been from the beginning. His actions, and the hero, had brought that to light.
Jamisen shook his head, watching the man he called his friend—the best sheriff in town—crumble. He stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't let a man make you feel this way."
"It's not about him... not anymore—!" Milo choked out between sobs. He looked up in anger. "It's about me. I didn't even realize how bad I've become."
Jamisen looked at him. Milo met his gaze, a look of defeat in his eyes.
"I'm a horrible sheriff... I'm sorry, Jamisen…"
Jamisen embraced him, hugging him tightly, a heavy weight in his throat. "Don't think that way. You made a mistake. Everyone does."
They stayed quiet for a while, waiting for the sheriff to finish sobbing before pulling away. Jamisen had never seen his superior officer break down—Milo was good at hiding himself. It was only now that he let himself go, breaking down in front of his most trusted man.
It didn't really change much. As long as the sheriff understood what he'd done wrong and how he'd done it wrong, Jamisen would go back to the way things were—make it seem like nothing had happened. All he wanted was to work with his friend.
The work they had to do came knocking back on the door.
The two men nodded to each other, walking back outside to finish their work with a new understanding between them.
~The Grubs, Pierce's Home~
It was oddly bright; the sun had a full view of the hero's face through the open roof above. Oxzy moaned in annoyance, intending to wave the sun away with his hand. But he realized he was trapped—and warm, against his back.
With a slight movement, the hero was pulled back against the villain's chest. Oxzy looked down and saw the villain's arms wrapped around him. He tried to struggle out of the man's grip, only for it to tighten. Pierce squeezed the hero, pulling him back against his chest.
Oxzy rolled his eyes, growling in annoyance. "L-Let go...!"
He struggled again to break free, and the movement woke the villain. Pierce opened his eyes to a mass of black curls. The hero was still struggling, pulling at the arms tangled around his waist.
"Pierce, let me go, damn it—!" Oxzy protested, not realizing the villain was now awake. He tried to pry the man off him, pushing his back against the man's chest.
The villain smirked into the man's hair, and with a strong pull, he moved up, bringing the hero with him. Oxzy yelped in surprise, lifted from the bed from behind. He was turned around, his back hitting the sheets before he met the villain's gaze.
Pierce smiled, moving forward so his knees settled beneath Oxzy's legs. The villain was now between them, looming over him with a playful look in his eyes.
Oxzy flushed a deep red, trying to keep a cold expression, but the position—touching the villain's body like this—made him burn.
"Good morning, sweetheart," the villain said cheerfully.
He leaned closer to the hero's face. Oxzy turned his red face away, pushing at the man with his hand. "We are not a couple...!"
Even so, his face stayed bright red as the villain flirted with him. Pierce shrugged, letting the hero push his face away. "I mean, we did sleep together more than once—" He caught Oxzy's hand, the one that had been on his chin.
Oxzy watched in shock as the villain brought it to his lips, kissing his hand while making eye contact with the blushing man. "—and not to mention the sex…"
The hero growled, rolling his eyes with a pouty expression. He knew better than to respond—and besides, he had no idea what to say. The villain was strange; he never knew what the man was thinking. Sometimes Pierce was simply insane.
"Let's do some other couple things." Pierce suddenly sat up, giving the hero room to breathe. Oxzy looked at him as if he were joking, but Pierce only smiled back. "You're probably hungry."
"No—" the hero started, but his stomach chose that comedic moment to growl. He shut his mouth, his expression turning cold.
That earned a giggle. The villain shook his head. "Body doesn't lie, Ox." He turned to the side of the bed and stood up from the comforter. He seemed to have recovered all the energy he'd lost the day before within just a few hours. He was up and ready, ready to make food for the hero.
He ruffled the hero's hair, smiling as he left the room.
He left Oxzy alone again. This time, the hero wasn't at a loss—he had his powers, the energy to leave if he wanted to.
Yet he kept asking himself.
Where?
Where would he go?
The sun on his face soaked deep into his skin. Suddenly a cloud passed over, turning the warmth into a cold rush of air.
Oxzy opened his eyes, looking up into the darkening sky.
He knew where he had to go.
The villain didn't know exactly what the hero enjoyed. He'd never bothered to ask. He debated going back up to ask him, but decided against it. Instead, he settled on the next best choice: making what he'd fed the hero when he was sick.
He made it quickly—a simple soup the man enjoyed. That was all that mattered to him. Strangely enough, Pierce felt controlled by the man. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it was a dangerous thing.
Him being controlled made him more dangerous to others. No one could handle him—even his love, Rosamee, could barely manage it.
But love for the hero—could the man handle that?
Did the villain even care whether he could or not? That was the real question on his mind. He intended to ask, though he didn't know how. The hero was there to ask—it was easy enough to touch him, to smother him with affection, but to try to understand these feelings?
It was hard enough to control his emotions in general. Something as foreign as love made it even more difficult to understand. Pierce hoped to draw something out of Oxzy to confirm it—confirm it for himself. The villain was desperate to know.
But when he opened the door, he was greeted with an empty bed.