Chapter Text
The bar was busy as always, with people drunk over their sorrows and the smell of alcohol souring away everyone’s vision of a bright and clear future. It was a tangy taste that might have given desolation to the heavy weight of life that plagued each and every one of them, but a slight chaste of jovial can be catceshized from the prying gaze of certain individuals.
The mighty swear words spilled out from one of the patrons, and another more irascible sound was retorted in response. All of which would lead to a rather interesting sight in that a white but almost silvery colour haired guy will start beating the crap out of a customer before he himself got his own ass kicked by the owner of the bar.
None of that mattered in the grand scheme of this story, but a context is rather interesting for people to know:
The bar is blue in theme and the colours that adorned the place is saturated in such a way that it would remind one of the blue sky. And although there were a number of contrasting shades that filter the eyes, it made for a rather soft and serene atmosphere that breaks immediately when one of the bouncers swore and started a fight with his own initiative.
It was not as if the tranquilness could be cherished with the patrons that littered the place. Ruffians the size of a mountain and human bones that walked on their stick feets and laid their heads on the dark acacia table.
Not a single one of them could be said to have a life stable enough for the elegant and refined stature of the bar, yet they all somehow fit in without any question asked.
Carrying an empty glass that glistened with the dim lights, Cale sat down on a bar stool in silence. It was early in the evening, and already he could feel the heat pooling in his stomach and the taste of dark chocolate that coated his insides.
A new glass filled with the pale colour of white wine appeared in front of him, and Cale looked up to see the tired eyes of the bartender whose burnt scar always appeared ever-so-eye catching.
“The usual?” The other’s rather young voice asked, not a single emotion skewed within his face.
Cale nodded, and immediately the other glanced away for just a split second to one of the people standing in front of a staff door. One of them responded by disappearing inside the room and the other, the very same troublemaker who likes nothing more than to beat up people and is violent to a T, decided to approach Cale and sat down beside him.
It was all just very much the protocol.
“You got another one, eh?” As much as Cale enjoyed remembering other people’s details, he would rather not bother to even remember this guy’s name.
The troublemaker lit up a cigarette, and even from a distance away you can see all the scars that littered his thin hands. They stretched his skin and made him look far more brutal than he appeared as there was a sense of refiness and beauty just from looking at him with no context whatsoever.
“I heard that there’s been some rearrangement in the mafia world,” the troublemaker offhandedly said, a wisp of smoke rising from his lips. “The Mafia King—really, who gave such a supid title—apparently got a huge hit from one of his subordinates.”
Cale let his own eyes wander away from the pale-haired guy beside him without the slightest feeling of interest rising in his own emotions. To say that he wasn’t the least bit intrigued by the news was due to his own unwillingness to be involved within the depth and the bloody world of the underground.
“Oh,” the other continued despite the disinterested look of Cale, “Apparently someone has decided to put a hit on him now.” He laughed boisterously, “I saw it on The List. Rather fascinating wouldn’t you say so?” He bit the cigarette on one side of his mouth, and gave Cale a smile that made him want to beat up the other.
Cale let the silence between them aggravate for more than enough time for the troublemaker to start losing his grin and his own eyes would wander around as if looking for someone to cause chaos with. Cale replied, “Are you suggesting that I take the Mafia King next?”
The other whipped his head around, “Of course not.” He gave the best shit-eating grin that could ever grace his pretty face, “I know more than anything that you cherish your life, and well,” he nudged Cale on the shoulder. “Looks like the time for gossiping is amiss.”
The cutting gaze that the other bouncer directed to the troublemaker was sharp enough to cut someone to death, yet he only stood up, extinguished the cigar in Cale’s drink and brushed away the remaining ashes from his hands using his expensive-looking pants.
The other bouncer glared even harder, but he redirected his gaze to Cale who immediately followed them to the other side of the staff room.
There was a great contrast in the colouring of the place. Unlike the almost homely feeling that one would get were they to sit by their lonesome in the bar, the inside of the staff room was empty and devoid of any substantial decorations. It felt too almost too clean. Not even a desk lamp to fill in the rather lonely table.
“All the files are there,” the bouncer said, “and as for the map of the location...” He looked towards another door hidden away from plain view, “I’m sure you have your own sources.”
Cale gave a light nod, and the sound of the door shutting close gave leeway for him to knock on the hidden door and said, “Raon?”
A small opening was made, from which the innocent blue eyes of a small child gazed peculiarly at the teenager.
“Cale!” Raon shouted joyfully, rushing out to pounce at him. The sharp bones of the child obtrude Cale and the slight disinfectant smell of the bundle of joy almost made him frown in distaste.
“Did you get an injection again?” Cale asked.
Raon nodded enthusiastically, “Hm-hm! Look!” He pointed to the tiny bandage that encapsulated his arm, “I got it this morning, and—” He took out a candy the size of a coin, and showcased it like one would with a great treasure, “I also got this because I was a great boy!”
Cale pursed his lips but said nothing otherwise. Those injections of Raon’s were of questionable origins, and the effects were so sparse in their nature that Cale had yet managed to guess what the content of it was.
“You like them?” Cale pointed at the wrapped candy. “If you do, I’ll bring them with me next time.”
Raon’s eyes sparkled, “Really?!”
“Really,” Cale let a small smile grace his face. He held Raon’s miniscule hand within his, and brought them both to the desk situated in the center of the room. The thin file of his next target was located on a near edge of the wooden table.
“It’s map time?” Raon asked with slight zest. “I’ve been practicing my writing these past couple of days. Look!” The child grasped a pen and held it in a manner far better than how he had a few weeks prior. A crudely written ‘Raon’ and ‘Cale’ could be read as long as one scrutinises the words long enough for it to resemble the letters.
“Good job,” Cale ruffled Raon’s hair. The small child hid a smile behind pursed lips.
Finally, Cale went back to his intended victim and put down the map of the area that he had scouted in between Raon and him.
The small child curiously gazed at it, before his own hand moving and writing down the words that he wasn’t meant to know with such a young and tender mind. Until finally, a chicken scratching of the word ‘Park’ was capitalised in the middle of the paper.
When he was done, Raon gazed at Cale with an expression asking for praise and worship. And Cale, unsure of where his fondness for this little kid even originated from, let his mouth loose and clean from the filthiness of man.