Mr & Mr Hitman

A talk about 'Love'

Samuel's slumber was interrupted by the suspended tubes of the wind chime outside his balcony door twirling violently because of the mighty wind. His eyes remained shut, as he clenched his teeth while the ringing in his head took over his peace. Even though he had two layers of blankets over him, he could still feel the coldness of his feet, which was unusual.

"Ah, right...", he mumbled to himself, the events of the previous night coming back to him.

After falling asleep outside while their faces were pressed against the icy metal bars of the balcony railings, both Samuel and Cameron were accompanied back home by Priscilla and Candace. Even though their rooms were only one level away from each other, going up the stairs felt like walking on water, believing they could fall face first because of their clumsiness.

Samuel groaned, more from timidity than his hangover. He knew that he had to face him one way or the other.

What would be the consequences apart from a burnt sweater?

He finally opened his bloodshot eyes, staring at the grey ceiling while sunlight peeked its way through the thin curtains. His throat was a little hoarse, and he had a runny nose, probably the result of sitting outside in the freezing weather while drinking even colder liquids.

Since he had no missions today, he figured he would just binge watch some criminal interviews. But before that, he had to thank the couple that helped him. Grabbing his phone, he dialed Priscilla's number. "Come to think of it, I don't have his number," he thought out loud.

What?

Why do I associate everything with him?

"Hey, lightweight," his thoughts were interrupted by the person on the other line.

"Good morning loser," Samuel sighed, "Just calling to thank you for yesterday."

"It's all good mate," Priscilla answered. "But...", she hesitated for a few seconds, "What exactly happened? Both of you had dried tears on your cheeks," she cleared her throat.

"Nothing that you need to worry about," the hitman pondered for a while.

Should I ask her?

"So...", he bit his lips, "Priscilla, I have something to ask," he patiently waited for a response.

"What's up buddy? Is it serious? For you to call me by my actual name, that's a first," the woman's worry and nervousness could be sensed through her nervous chortle.

"I'm just going straight to the point, can a straight man fall in love with another man?", Samuel blurted out, pressing his palm against his eyes, trying to cope with his embarrassment.

"Oh my god," Priscilla hung up right after the question, leaving the man confused. He sat up, staring at his phone to process what had actually happened.

He was going to try to call again when he heard a loud banging on his door, making the man nearly drop his phone as he scurried to go open it. He grasped the doorknob tightly, inhaling a bunch of air before finally turning the wooden handle.

"So? Did that kid seduce you?", Sam met the wide eyes and smug face of the Australian woman who entered the flat without permission whatsoever.

"Please don't call him a kid anymore," the man flopped on his couch. "And no. He didn't. I am just asking-"

"So it is Cameron...", the woman smirked, before speaking genuinely, "Tell me what your impression of love is."

Samuel furrowed his eyebrows, his gaze shuffling around the room.

Come on, I've read it somewhere.

Like a bulb lighted on his head, he snapped his finger, "It's a connection between passionate souls who cherish and admire one another."

The woman grinned, "There you go. It's not like you have to be gay or whatever."

"Yes. But, I didn't say I was in love," Samuel averted his gaze. "Maybe I was just want to be his friend, seeing how aloof he is."

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "Don't lie to yourself. You never called me before to tell me a girl was giving you butterflies in your stomach-"

"He doesn't give me butterflies-"

"But he will," the woman glared. "For now, just act normally, and then you'll realize by yourself."

Samuel rested his face in his palms.

When he stared at his dazzling hazel eyes the previous night, he recalled how his heart clutched, mentally thinking that tears were a thing that shouldn't be present on Cameron's face.

He wanted to embrace the broken man in front of him and hoped that his warmth would burn away any pain and sadness the latter felt.

Yeah, I like teasing him.
Sure, he's cute.
Maybe I want to see him in a dress.

But above all, he's a 'he'. A man.

He shook his head, pausing his thoughts.

"But then, what if I really like him and then get rejected-", he was interrupted by Priscilla's laughter.

"So what mate? It's not like refusal kills."

"Don't worry, I won't let you die," Cameron wiped the blood trickling down from his nose, smirking as he stepped forward to the man holding his broken arm.

"What the fuck?", Matthew Field spat out a broken tooth, "Who sent you? A dude in a dress on that."

The assassin looked down at his black dress.

Asshole, you wouldn't follow me if you knew I was a man.

"I was told to not reveal anything, sir," he crouched in front of his victim. "That won't be the last time we meet, but still,"

Vixen grabbed the man's arm, the latter struggled to fight back after consuming the drugged coffee he was offered. He turned his hand over, carving a line onto the palm of the man, his screams held back into his house because of the soundproof walls that he built himself. Satisfied with the first line of his signature, he began slicing the second one, blood smudging everywhere.

"You think I'll let you off with this?", Matthew panted, gritting his teeth to hold back his pain and anger.

"Well, you will have to," Cameron got up, wiping his dagger with the victim's handkerchief. "It's not like you're a saint either."

"Now enjoy those two last days, before I come back again."

...

Pop Quiz.

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