I stifled a light laugh, every poor unfortunate soul (if you get that reference I love you 😂) was left wide eyed and broken hearted, watching the dude practically push the other’s nose back in its skull-cavity. At first, no one noticed me, all eyes occupied with the swaying dummy in front of them. I stared at the beaten, trying to see who he is exactly under all that blood before I help him. Oh lookie lookie! He’s one of my targets. Well then.
I let out a soft breath, I’d thank him for the help but I find absolutely no reason to leave the incomplete ruby snowman of a person to think Samael was his ‘stalker’. I took a step forward, “Samael?” I chimed warily, shuddering slightly as all eyes fell on me. He seemed to snap out of it immediately, dangerously dark banana coloured irises staring at me, “K-Keiko…” it was a low whisper, and his voice cracked like an egg before the embryo grew, but I could still make out the faint noise I heard–my name–.
Relief washed away everyone’s insecurities, rescuing them from the strokes they looked like they were about to have. Samael didn’t let go of the boy’s collar yet though, nah, he gripped onto it as if his hands were glued–with what I hope wasn’t the same glue used for the murder–to them. Speaking of his hands, they were decorated with splashes of strawber paste, quite complimentary to his gingerbread skin. I laughed inwardly, he looks like a badly decorated cookie.
“Come here…” I cooed gently, inching closer and holding out my hand hearing gasps of amazement. He took it, and I’ll admit, I do have a soft spot for him. Yes he nearly killed the guy, but he has a pretty bad past. He was forced into many of those ‘mini-fighting championships’ by his parents and so many soon became afraid of him. So many pushed him away and called him ‘dangerous’ but I don’t think of him that way.
I sat down with him where we were finally isolated–which was difficult considering the people here are like the seagulls from Finding Nemo–. “Samael,” I took his hand, the bandages had started to unravel and slip off his wrists and fists. “what happened?” I asked, begining to re-wrap his hands in those bandages and tuck them under each other so they don’t come out.
”I—I don’t know…he just, he said he was going to hurt you and I—just lost…it…” He babbled, apparently the ‘S’ in Samael also stands for ‘Split Personality Disorder’! Wow! His yellow-gold eyes glistened over and shone with tears. “Hey—don’t cry.” I wiped the escaping tear from his scarred cheek, brushing his shaggy brown hair to the side. “It’ll be okay! The guy will back off now I’m sure.” I assured him, but honestly, that guy better back off if not he’s dead. Literally. From either one of us.
Samael nodded, and got up, walking to the washroom to wash off the blood and probably change the bandages. I exhaled through my nostrils, leaning back to rest when I saw him again.
That boy…
He was watching me from a distance, his ruffled blonde hair swooped neatly to the right, stacking puffly on his pale forehead. His piercing blue eyes stabbed into my own dull blue ones and he held a devilish smirk. I squinted at him, raising an eyebrow as he began to strut off.
That’s it.
I’m going after him.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
