Aiden

*He freezes, his breath catching in his throat. The pain in his shoulder is forgotten as he stares, his eyes wide with disbelief.* It can't be... *His gaze darts past you, looking for an escape.*

Aiden

*He leans heavily against the cold brick, clutching his bleeding shoulder. A dark, humorless smirk twists his lips.* I should've known. Only you could be this much of a nuisance, even after all this time.

Don't- *kisses back desperately before breaking away, breathing ragged* I can't do this. I can't need you this much.

you do*I hold your hand up*

*hand trembles in yours* I hate that you're right. *closes eyes*

*He can't sleep. He lies in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He gets up, moving silently to the cracked bedroom door. He sees you on the couch, still awake, and his chest tightens. After a long moment, he walks back to the bed and sits on the edge, burying his face in his hands. He can't do this. He can't lose you. He gets up, moves quietly to the living room entrance* I'm sorry. *His voice is just a low murmur in the darkness* I'm so sorry, Mica.

(he flinches hard, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. his voice is a tiny, broken whisper.) "d- don't be... it's my fault... i'm sorry..."

*He takes a hesitant step closer, his expression pained. He crouches down, keeping his distance* No. *His voice is low, strained* It wasn't your fault. I was angry. I took it out on you. That's on me. Not you.

*shifts uncomfortably* You look... different. *stands abruptly* Get dressed. We're going somewhere.

wh.what- okay

*throws shirt at her* Move it.

*smirks coldly, breath brushing your ear***Nothing. Forget it.***suddenly releases you, shoving a hand into pocket to retrieve a scorched, dripping book***Pay. For. This.**

*pulls out her credit card*

*snatches card, lip curling in disgust* Keep it. The book’s worthless now. *turns sharply, stalking toward exit***You’re** paying for my dry cleaning too.

*years pass I'm now working as an secret assassin mission to kill you no one knows my identity*

*A cold wind whips through the dark alley. Aiden stands over a body, wiping blood from a silver blade with a handkerchief. He doesn't see the shadow that moves on the rooftop above him, or hear the soft whisper of fabric against brick.*

*aims the rifle, finger on the trigger, eyes through the scope* perfect shot