Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji

Chapter 9

After what had happened at Hanma's place, I had gone home in a hurry. Thoughts rushed through my head, jostling, each and every one of them had the same topic, the same center of interest, and it was him. That's all my head was filled with until I got home, how far would I have gone if I hadn't been interrupted by that call? I had gone far enough to feel shame—no, not shame... That was worse, I didn't regret doing it at all. His face was too pleasing to see to feel remorse and the feeling of his hands on my skin had been more than welcome. I did not know how to feel upon finding warmth in the arms of the man known as The Reaper, a man that killed for fun with the sole justification being that some of those people were assholes or bitches. He was free, that was true, but did I want to be free in the way he was? Could I not enjoy part of him without tainting myself?

I let out a laugh at the thought when I reached my house and let myself slowly slide against my door, my knees up to my chest. "Who am I kidding? I'm already stained and it's never leaving, the more I scrub the bigger the stain fucking grows. The more I think of it the more intrusive the thoughts are!" I gripped my hair at the roots tight as I rested my forehead on my arms. He brought the unusual in my life, adrenaline, danger and provocation followed every damn time. He was everything I used to hate, everything I used to avoid in favor of the casual, the safety and what I knew. But he had this thing to him that drew me in, like an addiction, it was vicious and sick.

Yet here I was, thinking of him and wanting him. He's managed to make me want him.

The worst was that I had felt him do it, it had been a slow build. But I still fell into his trap, his fingers had pulled the strings to make me play right into his game, forbidding me from leaving. I had let him do so. He gave and gave, like a master filling its pet's bowl. And I would eat all of it in one go, barely taking time to enjoy it, craving anything he'd give me—then he'd be gone for days and I'd be left longing for his presence or at least what it brought. The sample of that crazy life he had dragged me into that made my world seem so silly compared to the one he had been a part of for so long. When he was not there, all I could do was manage, fare. The taste of that old routine I had was bland, but I had to get through because if I didn't, I wouldn't see him again, I wouldn't get my fix. The mere thought sucked the energy out of me and forced me to my bed after I had eaten.

I did hear my phone ring when I'd received a message right before going to sleep, but I was too tired to check.

All I could think of was that I'd see him sooner or later, with another errand that would have me stray further from the path I had taken my whole life. The thought itself was not as frightening as it used to be, it was almost an afterthought, one that followed my stupid consideration... If we lived closer to one another, would he visit? Would I see more of him if that were the case? I was an idiot to think that—oh I knew that, of course—but I couldn't stop thinking of when I'd see him again, when I'd feel him close to me, his breath down my neck and his hands all over my body. I smiled in my exhausted daze.

I'm fucked.

The following morning I checked my phone upon waking up, surprising myself when I saw a text from Hanma; my heart jumped in my chest, making me put my phone down rapidly before even checking the message. How much lower could I get? "Fuck that, not this early in the morning." I grumbled as I rolled out of bed to freshen up and get dressed. To feel productive, or maybe to busy myself instead of thinking of that sick man, I did the laundry and cleaned around a bit. After all, if my soul was not clean, my house could at least get a semblance of order. Now, there was only so long it could take to clean up a house like mine, I was done a lot faster than I thought I'd be.

So I checked Hanma's message.

H.: Left this at my place, doll.

It was accompanied by a picture of the undergarment I wore yesterday, the same one I had been more than happy to get rid of in the heat of the moment. The same moment that made me rush out of his place, leaving the forsaken item behind. He was holding it between his thumb and index, barely touching it.