There were elements of reality that were beyond human abilities in terms of imagination and science, yet I had to be able to tell as if they were no more than two different colors. Let me say the one was red and the other was blue. They bumped into each other and there was purple; a mixture that neither shade was comfortable with. Above that purple hue was my warzone, where my world was a confusing mess of emotional contradiction of earnest beauty and earnest cruelty.
That was my reality; trying to get me all to the point of understanding with various settings and names of characters.
I thought that if I learn how to choose the right tints and mix them, the battle would end, then victory is only a matter of time.
But, what if I picked and blended the wrong pigments?
"Sir, w-what are you-"
In an abrupt move I shoved Marvel, finally could put my lips into function after parting away from his.
Both shock and confusion rushed into my bloodstream, my head spinning faster than my mind was allowed to follow. When the taste of his whiskey left some traces on my palate, in the realization of a certain event I felt flushed.
Wait- Marvel... He and I just now...
But, why?!
I covered my lips with the back of my hand, trying to suppress my nervous excitement so as not to slip past my mouth. Not only the man in front of me was okay to kiss a stranger, he wasn't even bothered by the fact that that stranger was a man-
"What do you think?"
Marvel asked me before my conscience could keep up. My eyes wavered to meet his; steel blue as if an ocean under the daylight, so calm, reflecting what on the surface; my restless image. I gulped hard, and the burning sensation of alcohol rolled down my throat.
Seeking the best solution among my messy brain cells, I reminded myself of my role's purpose.
"Y-you must be good at kissing, Sir..." I curled my lip inside, glancing at Marvel timidly.
Backing off too soon would show anxiety; not a trait I wished to advertise. If Marvel looked like he wanted me, there was no reason for me to say no. At this point, doing anything to reject him was already out of the question.
Every mission is a challenge, I thought to myself, I'm not going to show a mere kiss is enough to intimidate me.
"I was asking about the whiskey," Marvel flatly corrected.
In the sudden comprehension that I was probably just being played with, a fiery spark of a certain idea fell on my face, stinging and burning, and I felt like I had just experienced a whole year's worth of embarrassment.
Initially, I planned to make up a bit, but ended up telling the truth that way. I didn't know why, the more I tried to lie to Marvel, the more difficult it became every time, as if there were some kind of upgrading levels, the same method didn't work against him.
My inability to return Marvel's gaze served my miserable existence until the end.
"Oh... T-the whiskey..."
Being watched straight, I couldn't form the words I meant to speak. Flustered. Before I could defend myself, Marvel chuckled as he came closer to my face again. It required only his fingers to hold my chin and I couldn't escape from his gaze, his pace, his everything.
Marvel's kiss stole the words I didn't need to say. A million thoughts of mine condensed into a moment when our lips were locked together, perfectly fitted like puzzle pieces. I thought I was wrong before, but when he ignited the event once more, I knew I was right.
There was something so heavenly about his kiss; it was hot, passionate, and demanding, but he didn't fail to cast gentleness in every smooch. Wet sounds floated in the air and I felt my inner was stirred, muddled up with strong emotions when our body kept squeezing with the minimum space in between. It was torture on the mind, decreasing logic and self-control. I opened my mouth for an entrance and tasted the heat roaming in as our tongues found each other for the first time and I realized something.
Among the coldness spreading all over Marvel's skin, the only opposition was his tongue. The warmth he transferred even made me breathe at a similar temperature.
Soon when my legs almost gave up, Marvel pulled me to lean on him for support. He loosened my collar and tie, so smooth and skillful like he had been there before. His kiss moved down to my neck, making me squirm in jitters as I felt conquered. My entire body shivered when the tip of his teeth tenderly grazed my collarbone, leaving a tingle.
Nearly suffocated by the atmosphere, breathing was the best thing I could do.
"Here...?" I took the risk to ask, even though I knew my voice would crack.
That single word caught Marvel's attention after coming out of my mouth. I didn't stutter, but my tone visibly quivered.
At a loss for words, Marvel pulled apart to see what kind of face I made. He grimaced rather sourly toward my feigned cool detachment burying my honest reaction; I did that on purpose.
Being a spy came naturally to me. I had been a spy for so long that I no longer remembered what it was like to be myself. I was always the person undercover with roles I had adapted to so well. I became the other person in a way, like an alternative life. I was obedient to one, and rebellious to the other. I had carefully molded each of them. In those identities, I played the part people expected. I became a reflection of what they wanted. I was whoever they wanted me to be.
Did I hide from everyone?
How about now? Am I hiding right now?
After so many years running this joint, I acted on a cue, and I could always do. Every agent had a trump card, be it prepared from the beginning, or just invented while doing a mission.
Every time I did a mission that involved having romance, or when I noticed how many people were looking at me in that way, before I knew it I had realized that letting Marvel do whatever he wanted was paramount to gaining his trust.
In a moment, when I knew there was this beast dwelling inside him, I was ready to provoke and persuade the predator to come out. Using myself as the bait, I will offer the sweetest deals to attack and tame him, and then draw him into liking me while hanging him on my honeyed words. Once I get access to his space, all the promises I've made will slowly disappear without a trace; all of this was all I thought about while he was kissing me.
An honest man would feel bad, they would be terrible at this job, but I had enough flexibility in my personality to know which rules to bend, how far, and when.
I knew I wasn't so squeaky clean. I got a few enemies that way, some of them even tried to finish me off. But, I was pretty good at manipulation.
Perhaps, too good.
Marvel formed one of his charming features into a pleased, amused expression when the corners of his mouth turned up and his front teeth slightly exposed.
"Should I take you somewhere else nobody can disturb us, unlike the last time?"
He reminded me of the incident with Gilbert the very first night he brought me here and I stood frozen, from both nervousness and excitement. Linked by a never-ending gaze, he leaned in as he kept going, his forehead now resting against mine.
There was a pitch dark shadow beneath his beautiful, superficial profile. It was hard to believe that someone so gorgeous could be real. I was afraid he might vanish in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up not making any progress in my investigation at all.
"I believe you know where I might take you, but, will you be okay?"
Behind his playful tune like teasing, the threat was real. Working under the Mafia, not that I never expected "such thing" to happen. Rumors vehemently spreading, I had prepared for everything, but it still didn't lessen my fear.
I would be more concerned if I weren't in fear, because there was all the difference in the world between bold and foolhardy, to make me have these feelings; anxious, worried, afraid.
"I... will be okay, Sir."
At that moment, I thought, it's not a predictable fear that's the worst, but the abstract stuff I know is coming, just never know when.