Just before Byron's face got close enough to see through the dark glass of the van, Ivan, the driver, surprised him by stepping out from the driver's seat.
Both men stared at each other, eyeing one another with suspicion.
Ivan narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
"Nothing. Just curious about how a police van looks on the inside." Byron shrugged casually.
Ivan didn't look friendly, so Byron didn't push it. With a final glance at the van, he turned and walked away, re-entering the mini-mart inside the gas station.
As he sat down and began eating his curry rice, he couldn't help but wonder—where had Etienne gone? He began to worry that Gion's men might have sneaked up behind him and kidnapped him while he was eating.
Byron decided to give it time—he would finish his meal, and if Etienne still didn't come back, he would raid that van and any other van to make sure Etienne hadn't been kidnapped or wasn't in any other danger caused by Gion.
Back in the van, Charles let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Danny chuckled as Ivan slid back into his seat. "Good job, man."
Charles turned his attention back to Etienne. "Now, Mr. Bellamy, you need to get back in there. Don't be afraid. Remember—if you're ever in trouble, just say 'Calico,' and we'll be right behind you. We promise that once we get all the information we need from him, this crazy spying game will end. But in the meantime…"
Charles paused, measuring his words. "Try to pretend that you're his new lover. It will make him open up more easily, and we can get the right information out of him."
He said it as if it were easy.
Etienne scoffed. "I don't understand you. When I was open to him, you shut that down. Now that I don't want him anymore, you're telling me to pretend I do."
"I need him to trust you, but you need to be careful not to actually fall for him," Charles replied. "I'm keeping you balanced. You kept questioning why he's a bad guy and even threatened to side with him. Of course, I had to show you the ugly facts. Now get back there and do as I told you."
Charles opened the van door, and Etienne stepped out.
Just as he started walking, Charles's voice crackled through the disguised earpiece hidden behind his earlobe. "Don't worry, Mr. Bellamy. Once this is all over, you'll be a hero. The government will reward you with a lot of money."
Etienne rolled his eyes. "Who needs more money? Fuck it."
He re-entered the mini-mart and sat down in front of Byron, who had just finished his curry rice. Byron had already bought a plain white shirt from the mini-mart and cleaned the blood off his skin. His short, spiky hair was damp now, making him look effortlessly dashing. But killers has to looked attractive, right?
"Where have you been?" Byron asked, wiping his mouth with a tissue.
"Smoking at the back... and wandering to the other side of the parking lot," Etienne answered. If he were a lamp, he'd be a dim one—not dead, but far from shining.
"I didn't see you," Byron said, curious.
Classic murderer traits; they are possessive.
"Can we talk about something else? I'm really not in the mood to argue right now," Etienne snapped. He was so stressed that he swore he'd fight Byron if he had to, just to avoid another round of questioning that would force him to come up with explanations.
"Sure, we can talk about your feelings. I know you've got a lot on your mind," Byron raised an eyebrow, his tone full of concern.
That is the last thing I want to talk about, especially with murderer you, Byron. Etienne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no. Talk about something else before I snap and slap you in the face."
Byron glanced sideways, thinking, then asked, "Would that make you feel better?"
"W-what?! Did you seriously just ask me to slap you?" Etienne's eyes widened.
Byron shrugged, completely unbothered. "Some people release stress better through mild violence."
Is this a trap?!
And that's how they ended up behind the mini-mart, in the quiet, lonely parking lot.
Etienne rolled his eyes. "Byron, this is ridiculous. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"No, it's not. You're angry, and you need to release it. Come on, hit me in the face," Byron tapped his cheek.
What kind of sick game is this?! Who ASKS to be hit? Does he get off on this? Is this foreplay?
"Alright, you asked for it…" Etienne landed his first slap on Byron's face. It wasn't hard, but it sure hit the spot.
"You can hit harder than that. That was nothing," Byron grins, challenged him.
Etienne smirks, though he still reminded himself that this man was evil, so don't get carried away and end up liking him again. He slapped him again, and again, and again. Both of them chuckled when Etienne attempted a hard slap but completely missed the target.
If anyone sees this, I'm going to jail.
Of course the activity is heard and observed by two polices in the van.
"Is he always into masochism, sir?" Danny asked, looking confused as laughter rang through the speakers.
Charles, once again, looked displeased. "What makes you think I'm capable of answering that?" he snapped.
"Oh no, no, never mind," Danny quickly returned to scrolling through his social media, admiring pictures of his favorite thick girls.
Etienne was about to deliver another big slap, but instead, he hit Byron's shoulder. Frustrated, he grabbed Byron's shirt and slapped his shoulder again. But rather than feeling any pain, Byron felt like he was getting a nice massage.
It amuses him about how soft Etienne is, so Byron giggles.
Oh my God. He likes this. He actually likes being hit. This is his kink. He's not just a killer—he's a freak. I AM IN DANGER.
If Charles never showed him the truth about Byron, Etienne would have laughed with him too, but since in his mind, he still believed that Byron was a sadistic killer. He refused to let himself find any peace with him and keep reminding himself to not let his guard down.
He's dangerous. He enjoys pain. What else does he enjoy? Torture? Watching someone beg? I bet he likes hearing people scream. I bet he—
"Why are you laughing? I told you—I can't hit people!" Etienne complained.
Because getting hit by someone is how he bonds with them, isn't it? Is this how he plays with his prey? He get used too much with violence, that's all he know, that's his love language! One day, he will do the same on me too!
Charles tried to cut in. "Mr. Bellamy, that's enough. Ask him about—"
Without warning, Byron took Etienne's hand and gently pulled him closer. Etienne tumbled forward, landing against Byron's chest, and before he could react, those two strong arms wrapped around him. He barely had time to process the sudden embrace before he felt Byron's lips press a soft kiss against his right ear.
Nothing but fear frozes Etienne.
Charles immediately stopped talking—because if Byron could hear him, the mission would be blown.
"You're exactly what I want, Etienne. You're who I want to be with," Byron whispered into his ear. "I'm not going to let them lay hands on you. I promise."
HELP!! THIS KILLER IS AFTER ME NEXT!!
But instead of warmth, Byron's confession only made Etienne's insides twist. He couldn't shake the gruesome image burned into his mind—the picture of a dead woman, naked, discarded in the grassy meadow.
Will I end up like her if Byron ever decides I've made a mistake?
Damn it, I just want someone to love! Why does everything have to be so complicated?! If only Byron were just a boring accountant, I'd be really happy—rather than falling for an interesting man who's being chased by the police for unaliving so many people!
Etienne sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He wished he had never gone to that balcony. Never attended that birthday party. Never gotten involved in any of this.
This man is evil, Etienne reminded himself. The gore-filled pictures Charles had shown him were proof. If he was foolish enough to fall into Byron's trap, he'd end up just like those victims.
A few minutes later, the two of them sat on the steps outside the mini-mart, drinking coffee. Byron pulled out a map, pointing at the route. "From here, we'll follow the long gulf trail. It'll be beautiful, day and night. You're going to love it."
Oh yeah because I'm going to love how you'll strangle me and used me before you end my life slowly with some knife. No one's going to find my body if you left me there. Yes, I'm going to love it!
Etienne's face going even paler, because of the thoughts.
Since Etienne had been unusually quiet, Byron didn't push him to talk. As disappointing it is, Byron try to empathize with Etienne's perspective. If he were in Etienne's position, he'd be panicking too. Being an enemy of a monster like Gion was terrifying—Gion murdered anyone who got in his way. And now that Etienne was on his hit list, what would he do after this was all over?
Of course, it was Gion that worried Etienne, right? He had no reason to worry about Byron. When they were intimate in the motel, Etienne's hold on him was one of complete surrender and trust. For once, Byron believed there would be no one else but him in Etienne's mind and heart.
Byron wanted to say something that would ease Etienne's mind, something to make him feel better. But nothing he said seemed to make him smile. Maybe the man just wanted to be left alone to process everything. That was fine. But if Etienne ever brought it up one day, Byron would make sure he never felt abandoned in the cold.
Life is funny—one moment, the Wheel of Fortune spins in your favor, and the next, it rolls too fast, throwing you off balance.
Yesterday, Etienne was celebrating his successful role. Today, he was sleeping on the steps of a gas station's mini market like a homeless man.
At least he was alive. Unharmed. Even though fear clung to him like a second skin, whispering that he was in the wrong company.
As the sun rose, the motorcycle's wheels spun fast, cutting through the cool morning air.
Etienne held onto Byron's torso tightly from behind. It took him a few hours before he finally trusted Byron enough to rest his head on his shoulder again—like before.
But even then, doubt lingered in his mind. Will I really be okay? Is he going to kill me here?
However, with the police van trailing a few meters behind them, Etienne felt just a little safer. At least, for now, he wasn't alone.