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His apartment reeked.
No sooner had he opened the door, had the damp, stale air stuffed Seungmin’s nose with its accumulated must and dust, welcoming him home with a cough and a grimace.
He tossed his house keys on the vanity tray behind him, the clanking of metal against metal piercing in the flat, lonely silence. It heightened his senses—privy to the ruffle of his coat as he slid it off his shoulder, and the echo of his footsteps as they navigated in the dark, both abandoned on the hardwood floor.
Muscle memory led him to the fridge, its cold light as stark and bare as its contents: a singular oyster pail with moldy Chinese takeout, two expired soy sauce packets, and a half-drunk bottle of soju with the cap missing.
Naturally, he chugged it all down in one bland, savorless swig.
Refreshing.
Closing the fridge behind him, he leaned his back against its knobbly magnets, rolling his head to take a crack at the stiff cricks in his neck, but not once, did his eyes leave the deceptively empty void ahead. “Aren’t you going to say hi?”
Not a word. Not a sound.
Seungmin smirked, pushing himself off the fridge to rest his elbows on the counter, twirling the empty bottle with the tip of his finger.
“Don’t be shy,” he teased, setting up his bait. “It’s not like you to cower in the shadows.”
He waited. Hook, line…
“Have I ever cowered before anything?”
And sinker.
“Then why do you hide yourself from me, my love? Is this finally the day you pull the trigger?”
Her chuckle bounced off the walls, sending shivers down his spine. “Is that what you would prefer? A quick and merciful shot from a distance?”
“No,” he stopped spinning his bottle, sensing her nearing presence. “I want you close. I always want you close.”
Carefully, he straightened up, and circled around the counter, his fingers tapping the granite as each inhale drew him closer and closer to her intoxicating scent; to that distinct fragrance of cinnamon, incense, and blood he could never wash off his sheets.
He halted only once he was immersed in it, eyes dozing, and resisted the urge to extend his hand and touch her.
“Won’t you let me see you, love?”
A light clicked on. Golden and dim.
Yet no one stood before him.
“You still can’t pin me down, darling.”
Seungmin smiled, fond, but ensured he masked it before turning to face her. “I would never dream of it.”
She sat on the sofa, long nails twisting around the lamp’s pull string as it highlighted the coy smile on her pretty face… And cast distracting shadows across her bare legs.
“New dress?” Seungmin asked, eyes wandering up as she stood, the silk dress he had left for her as a gift on his bed molding her figure.
“Far too extravagant to kill anyone in,” she said, her heels punctuating every word.
“I don’t know,” Seungmin loosened his tie. “If this was the last thing I ever saw, I wouldn’t have it in me to resist.”
“Oh no, darling,” she bridged the gap between them, reveling in the quickening of his heartbeat and the shortness of his breath. “The day I kill you, I’ll wear my prettiest little black dress,” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “and if you like it, I’ll wear it again at your funeral.”
He grabbed her by the waist. Holding on tight. Pulling her close. “I’m touched.”
“I’m unconvinced.”
He grinned, cradling her cheek to lean down and kiss her slow. Kiss her soft. Kiss her deep.
“Better?” he whispered, lips barely detached from her own.
“Hardly,” she shoved him down to sit on the stool, straddling his legs. “Waiting in this dump was dreadful. Surely a man of your standing can afford a housekeeper?”
“I can barely afford good company.”
“Are you implying I’m bad company?”
“Most would consider their assassin to be so, yes.”
“Hm,” she pouted, grinding her hips on his lap and twisting his moan into a hiss as she bit down just below his ear. “But I’m so good to you,” she murmured.
“You are.” His hands roamed through the slits of her dress to stroke up her thighs, playing with the lace garter holding her knife. “You’re all I have to look forward to.”
In the blink of an eye, she snatched the dagger and held his chin up with the tip. “Aw,” she giggled, "what a pathetic little life you lead, darling. Won’t you let me take it?”
“You can take everything,” he shrugged, gently pulling her hand away to kiss her wrist, and smiling at the tender gasp that escaped her. “I've never stopped you,” he continued, kissing her palm. “You’re the one who likes to play with her prey.” He kissed her blade. “Toy with their hearts.”
He looked up at her, a quiet sorrow softening her eyes before she looked away, sliding her knife back under the lace.
“You make it so easy,” she said, small and low. A little broken.
He sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, letting the silence mark the words left unsaid.
“How much time do we have left?”
She shook her head. “Not long.”
He nodded, kissing her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her torso so she could rest her head on his shoulder.
Comforting her. Shielding her. Wanting to hold all of her.
In his arms, in his mind, and in his heart.
“What’s your name?” he asked, and on cue, she stiffened.
He drew soothing circles against her naked back.
“You know I can’t tell you that, Seungmin.”
“Will you tell me before I die?”
She sat up, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
He smiled, solemn and earnest, and tucked a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear.
“It's my one request.”
“I—”
“Promise me.” He searched her eyes. “Promise me that when the day comes, you’ll let the last word I speak be your name.”
She stared at him, her own words lodged in her throat, stolen from her tongue.
“Please,” he begged.
And all she could do was kiss him, a vow locked and sealed between their lips.
I promise.