Low-key | ✓

20 | Broken Promise

"I DON'T WANT TO complicate this shit anymore, Cyrus. Tell me what you want."

I went behind the boys' backs. They made me promise not to, but, I broke that promise.

As I thought about the boy band I have grown to love, my mind flew to a certain sea green-eyed boy. Corbyn Matthew Besson. Just the mere mention of his name makes feel like I had too much chipotle. The date went well a week ago, that's the only information I'm allowed to disclose. Although, he and I have been keeping things in the down low. If any of the boys or Four found out, things might get out of hand. Plus, Corbyn might even be used as bait for me.

He and I have not made it official yet. He's been asking non-stop but I always shrug him off whenever he does so. The mere thought of being tied down makes me cringe.

I'm afraid of commitment, so what? Everyone's afraid of something.

"I want the company, Arsenic." He gritted his teeth while he sat across from me.

I was in his office, the old ATC office. People here seem to not know a single thing about Cyrus' evil doings. Well, either that or they're in on it too. Complicated, really.

I uncrossed my legs and stood up with a frown.

"It's yours then." I crossed one arm over the other while he looked at me, surprised.

"Really? Just like that?" His eyes lit up with some sort of evil glint in them.

I smirked, "Only if you beat me in Mc21."

Mc21 was the traditional mafia leader ritual. If one challenges the current leader for the gang or mafia's title, they have to do the Mc21 ritual. Fight each other to the death.. until one taps out. No biggie. However, if that person taps out, they're exiled.

Cyrus visibly paled. He knew he couldn't fight me at Mc21. I'm Arsenic Titanium Bolde, a fighting machine. I kill. He's just Antoine Cyrus Milan. My ex-boss gone rogue.

"Deal." He gulped as he offered a hand so that we could shake on it.

I scoffed at his lame attempt to be civil. "7 pm at the arena where dogs fight."

The arena where dogs fight: the underground fighting ring. Those are where we usually kill illegal nutjobs who think its fun to streetfight. I mean, yeah it is. But you know, as a former enforcer of the law... Well, yeah.

Doesn't mean I haven't fought there once...twice.. okay maybe about a hundred times before. But hey, if you can't beat them, join them.

He nodded, pretending to still have his composure.

I turned away and was about to walk out of his office when I paused.

"Oh and.."

I tilted my head to his direction, "No weapons."

-

"Where have you been?" Corbyn frowned at me as he stood by the doorway.

What? Okay. I've had a long day, and I still have to prepare for the fight tonight-- to save the company and these boys' asses --and Corbyn decides to give me a huge ass glare the moment I go home? He looks cute with that glare, but no one glares at me and gets away with it. No one.

I'm sorry. It's just that, seeing Cyrus' face made my day turn bad. Therefore, everyone's day shall be bad too.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Pardon me?"

His sea green eyes narrowed, "I said--"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I heard you the first time.

"I know what you said, Besson. What I meant was-- who gave you the right to ask me about my whereabouts?" I dumped my white trench coat on the couch as I walked past him.

He flailed his arms in the air. "You did! I thought since we were going ou--"

I scoffed, turning towards him. My ego rising higher than my feelings for the guy.

"You know, this is exactly why I hate dating. People automatically assume they have control over you. We're not even together!"

I saw his eyes flash with hurt for a second but the emotion was automatically overpowered by anger.

"I thought you were different, Arsenic. But you're just like the rest. Use and dump, just like that." He snickered.

I narrowed my eyes at him as I felt a pang hit my chest.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but.. Daniel was right, people like you don't deserve my time of day."

Daniel? My heart broke. I thought we were friends.

"People like me?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

What's wrong with people like me?

"People that live complicated lives. People who are dysfunctional, hard to understand, and just utterly pathetic. People who are below the social standard. You're just a bodyguard. Heck, you're not even our bodyguard anymore. I don't know why you're still here! Why don't you just get the fuck out of our lives?!" He exclaimed, furious.

I never knew he felt that way.

My life? Dysfunctional, utterly pathetic? That's one way to put it.

I mean, I lost most of my family at an early age and was basically raised to be a serial killer. A legal one. But still, a serial killer. I killed my twin brother-- I'm not even sure if he's dead yet. I kill for a living. I don't feel guilty even if I have blood on my hands.

I do live a complicated life.

I smirked, holding in a sob.

"Okay, fine. I'll get the fuck out of your precious lives. Just don't come running back to me when you get your stupid asses kicked."

And with that, I walked out of my apartment... and their lives.

-
Vote, Comment, Follow, Share!