Heart sank into the darkness of the alley, flicking his lighter open and shut, the tiny spark a nervous tic that kept his hands busy and his eyes sharp. He was supposed to be a shadow, nothing more, but his nerves thrummed too high for that tonight. Above him, larger, more toned men, almost scarily bigger than him, laughed and smoked on the patio, neon spilling across their faces in flashes of pink and sickly green. The music inside the bar throbbed against the walls, a baseline that made the brick itself vibrate.

This wasn’t the best part of Bangkok, not by a long shot, but money was money. Two thousand baht a night to stand here and look like “protection”.

Not that I’m much of one. Heart’s sweater was thin, and so were his arms beneath it. He wasn’t strong, just cheap labor in a city full of predators.

Still, people liked the illusion. Even seedy bars wanted a guard to lean against the door frame, someone to make drunks think twice before swinging. Though if they were swinging, chances were they were already doing so very little thinking. Heart frowned in disgust.

The truth was, the clientele inside made Heart’s skin crawl worse than the shadows outside. Just a bunch of sweaty bodies in a bar, it’s accompanying cloud of mixed colognes pungently soaking the air, and too many men who thought they could buy anything.

Disgusting,

He shivered as a gust cut down the alley, late-August cold with a wet bite. The kind of night people left jackets behind, or picked fights just to feel warmer. His job was to break up trouble, but he hated it, hated how close danger pressed every shift. I should quit. Min hates this job, I hate this job. But debt doesn’t pay itself, does it? Happiness doesn’t come cheap.

He rubbed at his forearm, scratched pale skin, and tried not to think about how tired he was. Three jobs, no degree, and he still couldn’t see an end in sight. I’ll sleep later. Later, once I’ve bought Min a real home. Later, once I’ve escaped this place.

From the mouth of the alley came a loud sound. His chin snapped up and he waited to see if this was the feeling that was putting his stomach on high seas. But a second later it was just the usual drunken laughter and hiccuping chatter, as two drunk men stumbled and talked, their speech too slurred to be sharp. A moment later they had bumbled through and all was silent again.

He should’ve felt relieved.

Instead, his gut twisted.

There was something off.

Then he heard it. Beneath the beat of the music, beneath the voices and neon hum, there was a gurgling, wet, and acrid sound—like a shaky, wheezing inhale before a snapping noise.

Heart looked nervously towards the source of the sound.

There was another growl, followed by a hiccup, then a soft, off-key humming. After that, came the sound of some fighting. Then, an eerie silence fell, as if the entire world had drowned in the shadow of the alleyway, waiting with bated breath for something. Yet nothing to occur.

A single solitary set of footsteps started.

The sound echoed through the back alley, a hollow clacking that made every nerve in Heart tighten.

A man stepped into the single light that glowed and illuminated the area.

He knew it instantly.

This was a man that didn’t belong in this alley where the dead at heart thrived.

He wore an oversized white tattered shirt with rips and distressed detailing all over the material. Some holes exposed the toned muscles that rippled beneath his every movement. His pants looked as if he had stolen them from someone one size smaller than the man was. The pants and shirt were of the latest style, fashionable; with large, gaping holes in the knees.

Other than his clothing being odd on a man like him, the oddest thing about it wasn’t even that a man like him did not belong in a place like this. No, it was because the man looked beautiful.

Inhumanly so.

His slim body moved in a way that didn’t seem possible in his still pose. How could someone be fluid when in stasis? Yet, the moment he turned to look with his deep, silvery blue eyes, it gave off a very odd, unsettling feeling in his stomach. Much as if he was about to have a staring contest with a hawk.

And he was dinner.

The unsettling feeling of something beautiful, deadly, all wrapped in this bubble of uncertainty on why such a majestic creature had turned its eyes on you.

He doesn’t belong where the air is a pungent blend of smog thick in the air, mingling with the sweet and savoury aromas of street food, all underscored by the acrid tang of sewage. A cacosmia of smells, clashing and converging into one overwhelming stench.

The man stopped.

He scanned the surroundings until his eyes settled on Heart with slow, focused intent. He had never seen anyone turn on him before locking in. The man looked him up and down as if he had discovered something of great value, one he must have lost long ago.

It sent shivers everywhere.

Heart’s pulse quickened, rushing into his ears much like the sound of standing next to a highway at peak rush hour. He clenched his fists as fear impulsively made him step back.

The man felt monstrous.

But at the same time, he also didn’t.

His mind screamed at him blaring warning signs that this was what he had been feeling all day. This was what was making him disturbed.

That this was what his nightmares were made of.

But that made little sense.

Heart gulped and tried his best not to stare.

The man’s aura was timeless and paradoxical, demonic, yet angelic. It was confusing. Because outside of perfection, he was not entirely sure of what he was staring at.

The man was uncanny.

Large doe eyes that should be soft and enticing, were instead bright with a calculating sheen. His chiseled nose gave a sharp, distinct point to a face that was both strong and softly defined into perfection, both hard yet rounded on every angle the light hit him. His sharp lips were set in a scowl of contempt while he scanned the night around Heart though the corners of that contempt was tilted in a natural pleasant expression. While his eyes focused past him as if watching something, or someone only he could see.

He turned to look at the alley where the guy was looking, for a moment he thought he saw a pair of eyes, but he blinked and they were gone.

The man turned away, surveying the surroundings.

Who or what is he looking for? Heart wasn’t sure, and he pitied the man this man had come looking for because, clearly, he was looking.

He turned back to Heart, and for a breath those soft doe-like eyes carried something endless, a kindness too deep to belong to anyone human. Then, like a switch flipped, it was gone, replaced by the sharp-eyed vigilance of a predator hunting the dark.

Heart froze, throat tightening, clearing it just to remind himself he could still make a sound. Anything to break the silence, to break the weight of being under that gaze. He wanted the man to say something, to do anything, instead of standing there not ten feet away, fixed on him with those unblinking eyes.

The man moved at last, walking closer with his hands in his pockets, steps unhurried, measured, as if he’d already decided Heart wasn’t what he was looking for. When he slipped one hand free, his fingers toyed with themselves, slipping through the air idly, slow movements too calm for this alley, too calm for this hour.

Heart’s stomach knotted as he watched the hands that almost sparkled prettily as his fingers danced on the air. His tan skin was smooth, unblemished, untouched by labor, untouched by dirt, like he’d never scraped against the world at all. Hands like that didn’t belong here. Hands like that had no business in a place where everyone else had scars.

Heart’s gaze caught there. Tan skin, unblemished, too clean for someone who should’ve known dirt. Hands like that didn’t work, didn’t labor, didn’t survive this part of town. They were too perfect. Too pretty. Only a prostitute could look like that.

But even that thought rang false. This alley was too far from their usual streets, too barren, too dirty for anyone to make a living here.

The man stopped within reach. The air thickened around him, heavy, suffocating, like the city itself was holding its breath.

“It’s not safe this late at night in the alleys,” the man whispered. His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried like it had been waiting in the dark all along, as though the alley itself had finally grown a tongue.

Heart’s breath stuttered. No kidding, took the words right out of my mouth.

The words vibrated through him too strongly, reverberating like a command beneath his skin. Before he knew it, his head was nodding in hurried agreement. Not because the statement wasn’t true, of course it was, nowhere was ever truly safe. But because some instinct screamed that he would listen to this stranger. That he was being made, no matter how strange, no matter how obscene it felt to obey.

He wanted to laugh it off, but the sound withered in his chest. Those eyes had him locked, soft and doe-like, too delicate for this filthy part of the city, yet unflinching. He should have looked nervous here, but instead the air bent around him as if even the shadows were alive and watching them to see what this beautiful yet eerie stranger would do.

His gaze flicked past Heart, to something hidden deeper in the dark. Heart did not see it. He did not need to. The way the man’s body stilled, the way the silence pressed harder, was enough to know that he should not turn and look at whatever had caught this mans eyes and made him look away. Though he wanted to. Every hair on the back of his neck wanted to turn and see what had made the entire alley go silent.

Without warning, the stranger reached out. Warm fingers wrapped around Heart’s wrist, the grip deceptively gentle, yet unbreakable.

“Come.”