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As he ran out of that alleyway, his face started heating up. He found his whole body started tingling where the man had been holding him just some minutes before. He couldn’t help but feel like his chest was going to burst.
Polyblank hurried the pace, so he could leave the place and get back to the station he’d come from as soon as possible. A quick look at his wristwatch (which had no needles to indicate the time) and he could tell he didn’t have much time left before his consciousness faded back into the sensation of the missionloyl running through his veins.
Before he knew it or even processed it, he was right there, by the director's side, blinking as a stinging headache started setting in. The man has his eyes on him, showing him a hand so Polyblank could give him the thing he had just retrieved. He simply handed it over, giving it no mind as his thoughts felt a little fuzzy. There was something about those familiar surroundings that didn’t look familiar for a few seconds, as everything seemed to change and move, before setting in the way he recognized them. Didn’t mean his vision wasn’t even just a bit blurry. Static almost, like a TV’s screen.
A familiar smell hit his nose and so, he scrunched it up upon recognition. The smell of alcohol. He’d become so used to it, he had barely noticed it that time. Maybe because all of his senses were a bit too sensitive at the moment. But even then, there was something about the wine bottles by the side of the dustbin, inside the drawers, under the desk, that made him uncomfortable.
A quick glance at the man and his chocolate-brown hat, and he slouched back in his seat, sighing. There was certainly a striking contrast between his perfectly combed moustache, his messy, patterned yellow clothing and his dark, round glasses. Which made him think: since when had he started being so… Careless about his appearance? Or his place’s appearance. At that point, he didn’t even bother trying to hide the entrance to their office any more, like they used to do in the beginning.
He couldn’t worry too much about that, for it was not the time, and his headache would get more intense if he were to focus too hard.
The freckled man drifted his attention back to the man’s clothing, his white shirt looking incredibly wrinkly, and his purple tie hanging loosely from his collar. Just like some hours ago (Days? He couldn’t tell); but in a different place, with a different person. This man was most definitely not Editor, and they most definitely were not that close.
But close in which way? They were enemies, yes, but Polyblank still felt his face heat up at his thoughts. He knew very well his face was turning red again, so he resorted to shifting in his seat, so the yellowy lighting covered it up.
What he didn’t know for sure haunted him, in the end, was it a memory or was it the missionoyl from back then playing games with his head? It usually depended on the dose, but he was pretty sure he would start hallucinating if he took too many pills.
But even if it had been a hallucination, he swore he could basically savour the whiskey in his breath and feel the warmth of his body still on top of his.
The man tried to fool himself into believing he was not overthinking. But that's when his attention was brought to the board to his right, and he noticed he didn’t understand or recall anything written on it at all.
He read through the information on it, not putting much thought into it. Like always, it was simple things like the place and objectives of the mission. The details he was able to grasp were something along the lines of going on a picnic and acting as bait, all so he could sneak around and extract a compact memory from a TV head or something.
The Director asked if he’d made himself clear, and he instantly nodded, even though he hadn't really understood anything at all.
Polyblank reached for the missionoyl bottle on the corner of the table and didn’t even bother reading the label like he used to. He resorted to simply opening the thing and gulping one of them down; sitting back down a few moments after, relaxing in his seat, letting his head fall back and counting back from 10 to 0 in his mind.
The beginning of a feverish sensation started travelling through his veins, spreading under his skin, traversing through his systems and accelerating his pulse. He remembered he tried fighting it the first times he'd taken the pills, but with the time he'd learned it would work quicker if he simply embraced the sensations. He took a last look at the director, who nodded at him and with that, he was out.
A single flower stood proudly in the middle of the sidewalk, its smooth, white petals almost glowing as the light from the sun caressed it; it swung with the wind, dancing. A bee flew by, flapping its tiny wings before going for the landing to collect the flower’s pollen. And just as it had begun doing its job, a heavy blanket was disgracefully thrown on top. Oh, so suddenly had a bag been thrown into the innocent lives of nature.
Polyblank smiled widely, proud at the spot he’d found after looking for so long. It was close to the location too! Looking back at it, he could swear he'd seen the place before, but he couldn't quite put his finger on when or how.
He shrugged, as he usually didn’t pay much attention to the places he went to and ignored all the signs that instructed him not to step on the grass. The sight was terrible really, stomping on the green, shiny grass, almost like an insult to said signs!
The man sat down anyway, starting to take out stuff from the bag: a few sandwiches, a Very Big Fork, sushi rolls he'd bought on the way there, some bottles with sauces for each occasion, some grape soda didn't really like, and for dessert, a small apple pie he'd bought from a fast-food chain restaurant. Looking content, he threw them around in the blanket, as if they were toys or something, simply waiting for them to fall in their perfect spot, scrambled all over the place, landing wherever gravity took them onto the blanket. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
So far, he had actually felt like having an actual picnic, so he got to opening the plastic container which contained the sushi rolls. It was just the opening dish, as he’d rather save the best stuff (Sandwich) for later. He’d found the wasabi he’d ordered to go along with them had been smeared all over the side of a few of them, and cringed at the thought.
The spiciness of it got his mind running through to how his life had become way “spicier” too for a while now. Figuratively, and literally (in some cases). His job had become riskier, it seemed like every time he was sent to do something even more dangerous than last time. He couldn’t help but be salty over the very little recognition he received, even when he pulled the biggest of stunts. Then there was also the fact his memory wasn't that bad before, too.
He allowed himself to eat one of the sushi rolls (untouched by the wasabi), laying down on the blanket for a bit after swallowing it. For some reason, the whole location he was at felt a little off. And again, he was so sure he’d been there before, he’d seen the place! But he couldn’t remember when, or why. His gaze ascended up to the clouds, the azure sky brighter than he’d remembered it to be, so it took him a while to adjust his vision to it.
And it was… still daytime. It had been a while since he’d been able to enjoy the sky like that. It was a sense of freedom! But in a way, he felt like a bird inside a cage; a window panes cage. He was pretty sure The Director had told him the objective he had to be bait for would come back to the place as the sun started setting. He was not sure, though. Perhaps, paying attention back then would have helped him avoid the extra trouble. But again, he’d been distracted, thinking of… Other issues.
The man frowned. “Other issues”. He ran a hand through his hair and simply facepalmed after. Yeah! He’d been distracted! Of course, he was too busy thinking of The Editor, out of all people! He squeezed his eyes shut, letting an annoyed groan out. Then he opened them, being met with what now felt like the big, crushing sky. God, did he have it bad .
Like a stupid teenager in love, his body started feeling like it would explode again. He knew damn well his feelings for the man were pointless. He knew it was dangerous. And maybe, yeah, Editor had tried to murder him a couple of times, but there was something about seeing his face beam up with a smile every time he’d actually put him in a noticeably tight spot. Polyblank felt so dumb as he remembered purposefully acting scared now and then just to see him smile. God, was he an idiot for putting himself in vulnerable spots just for his enemy .
But then he found himself thinking of the smile that lit his whole face up that one time he’d tilted his chin up with a katana in an alleyway. Or that other time they'd found the other on accident while Polyblank was going around New Tokyo City looking for a guy he was supposed to make a deal with. And the stupid bastard had given him his signature smug grin and confident glare. The mission took longer than it was supposed to, simply because he couldn’t get himself to concentrate after noticing the way said grin would create dimples in his cheeks.
Polyblank shook his head at himself in disapproval, feeling embarrassed as he covered his eyes with his hands as if that would do anything to hide him from his own thoughts. It took him a few seconds until he pulled them away from his face.
Just to look at them really; letting his eyes wander to his right one, where wires and veins crossed each other every so often, machinery ingrained deep in his system even in the subtlest of ways. There was a faint green glow arising from the wires. The man had discovered after a bit of observation that it was actually the missionoyl producing the green glow. It was the thing keeping him awake and active.
Polyblank let his hand plop down by the side of his head as he stared at the orange-tinted clouds. Then there was the memory of the first time they had ever met. He'd been wearing a cloud pattern tie, at a party only certain important figures were allowed to attend.
He'd been required to extract a piece of vital information from some high functionary, whatever the means were. They had warned him there would be someone there who didn't quite like him, and that they'd probably try to stop him, but he thought it was just to keep him from making a scene. So when that gentleman kept staring at him from across the room, swinging his wine glass around before taking a sip, he didn’t think much of it.
The first time he'd heard his voice, he couldn't help but feel… odd? He wasn't sure that was the word he was looking for. It fit him oddly too well. He sat back up, reaching for his water bottle, as he’d got a little thirsty. That’s when he noticed a pair of clean, black derby shoes in front of him. Curiously enough, the same pair he'd seen at that party! Accompanied by the same voice, and the same phrase. “Just what are you doing here?”
The black-haired man looked up and smiled widely upon recognition. Same face too. The brunette sounded mad, though. And he looked even madder as he pulled out brace knuckles from his coat’s left pocket, putting them on almost instantly (Just how many weapons did this man have and knew how to use?!). He was making his way over to him with a frown on his face and a very visibly forced smile. Ah, he was trying to be intimidating and cool again, he thought.
'Not polite nor classy of you to interrupt my picnic. Thought you would know better, though. Guess I expected too much of just one simple man.' The man closed his eyes, putting on an offended expression as he signed. Trying to be fancy and overly polite with his words just to spite him. He was more than sure The Editor wouldn't like to be perceived as ill-mannered. And he knew he was totally right about that statement because he caught the exact second the man took a step back, cleared his throat and readjusted his tie. Polyblank rolled his eyes playfully.
Over the course of the years, he'd noticed that rearranging his clothing and appearance, in general, was a habit of his. Apparently, his words had an effect, and as the gentleman he wanted to look like, he slipped off the metal weapon from his fingers, taking it back into his pocket, huffing. The taller man simply scooted to a side of the blanket and patted the fabric, looking up at him.
'Why don't you join me? I got plenty of food to share.' He gifted him a grin.
“No, Polyblank. You see, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but!” The man chuckled, only a little. “You're literally in my front yard. You’re- In my front yard, out of all places! Having a picnic.” The man seemed to take in a deep breath, pushing his glasses up and pinching his nose bridge, before gesturing at him, as if trying to indicate the obvious. “I'd assume you know you're in front of the busiest street in New Tokyo City? But knowing you, you probably didn’t even know you’re in front of my glorious pent house building, at all.” The editor tried to look as if he would understand that way. And he wasn’t wrong, he didn’t notice at all!
He also wasn't going to move. At all.
“Now. If you could kindly get out of my way and move somewhere else, maybe go inconvenience somebody else…” Editor looked around, seemingly searching for another person he could “inconvenience” or whatever. “Before I change my mind and don’t have the mercifulness of letting you go. I've got some business issues it’s primordial I attend to, and if you don’t leave now, some… Annoying spy to murder.”
Polyblank simply stayed in his place and put on a dramatic expression a few seconds after to keep teasing him. 'So impolite of you, I am offering you some of the food I worked so hard for! Inconveniencing you. Crazy, I know! I didn't think you'd be this rude to me, ever! You are the one and only, mighty Editor, after all. But I guess all good things have their bad sides…’
The Editor looked at him, shocked. He seemed to get nervous, as his henchmen’s stares almost burned his nape. The brunette looked up at the sky traffic for some seconds, sighed and looked back at Polyblank, nodding with a forced smile. He made a quick hand gesture, ordering one of his henchmen to bend over the blanket, acting as a chair, so he could sit on his back and not dirty his suit. And he waited for any of them to act up, not seeing what Polyblank did see: them leaving just seconds before. And the antagonist waited. Not looking back for a couple more seconds, simply looking awkwardly at the other. He smiled, Editor looked away. But eventually, he had to look back to see why the heck his two idiots were taking so long, and when he did, he finally noticed they were both gone.
The spy could notice how he clenched his fists for some seconds when he still had his back turned on him. He ran a hand through his hair and turned around to face him, only to be surprised by a pair of big eyes staring deep into his soul. Polyblank wondered what he was thinking of when he smiled at him, awkwardly, cheeks slightly flushed. Probably out of embarrassment.
Editor finally sat down on the other end of the blanket, sitting with his legs together and leaning on one of his hands. The spy forced a sandwich into his free hand and rolled the grape soda over to him, both of which the man simply looked at, and in the case of the sandwich, held as if contaminated with something.
“What does this… thing contain?”
'Just the usual stuff for a sandwich! Ham, cheese, mayonnaise, tomatoes, onion, some bones and, you know! Some other stuff. ' He explained, counting the items in his head as he tried to remember how he’d made them. Curiously enough, he didn’t remember even packing for the picnic.
“I don’t think I want this… thing. Or the drink, either.” The Editor looked at the sandwich with an expression of what he’d assumed was disgust for a few seconds before simply putting it down on the blanket and resorting to simply stare at him. He could feel himself get a little nervous, as he tried to not stare back for too long, but there was something so appealing about those upturned eyes and honey-coloured irises that deeply captured his attention. He liked them, always had.
He was a little surprised when the man looked away, but it made sense since he had been staring for quite a while then. Not only that, but he decided he should look away too. Polyblank didn’t need to look at him to appreciate his features, they were ingrained into his memory after all, one of the few things he found difficult to forget.
Looking away for a few seconds, he went back to grabbing his sushi rolls bento box, getting his chopsticks and continuing to have his picnic as planned. Well, almost as planned. It was foolish of the man to have not looked at his meal as he grabbed it with his chopsticks, but again, he was distracted. And like the distracted idiot he was, he had accidentally grabbed one of the few sushi rolls completely smeared with wasabi.
His face started turning red as he could feel his tongue starting to burn, the sensors of it going crazy, as the spice spread throughout his whole mouth, even reaching as far as his nose. The man stared widely into the other man’s eyes, who seemed to not comprehend the situation.
“What’s happening? What…” Then the brunette caught a look at the bento box and it’s contents, and his face suddenly acquired a big smile. “I see.”
Polyblank coughed, his eyes rapidly scanning the place as he looked for a solution. He’d lost sight of his water bottle, he had nothing like a mint, he didn’t even bring emergency milk this time! His eyes landed on the grape soda he’d rolled over to the man and then, to the eyes of said man.
“What? Is there anything you need?” Editor looked away, seemingly staring at something in the distance, while he felt like he was still burning up.
Polyblank tried to grab the grape drink, as it was the only liquid around he could think of at the moment, but the man snatched it from his grip right after he’d finally got it. His eyes finally looked back at him.
“So incredibly impolite of you! Giving your guest, if you could call me that, a drink, only to try to steal it afterwards? Have you got no manners, Polyblank?” He was doing it on purpose! Polyblank knew damn well he was taunting him.
‘Please–’
“Lord, you’re insistent, aren’t you?” The man rolled his eyes with a big smirk as the other nodded desperately. “I suppose I can be charitable, only for today, and let you have it.” He looked at it, and then at the black-haired man, whose eyes were watering. “Here, I’ll even open it up for you.”
The man in the horn-rimmed glasses then proceeded to slowly open the tin can, without breaking eye contact for a single second. Until liquid started bubbling out of it, violently, spraying both of them (mainly himself) with the fizzy, cold purple liquid. Editor squeaked as he threw it at Polyblank, who didn’t waste a single second in downing whatever was left of the drink, which helped calm the spice.
He sighed in relief, and to be honest, it made sense! He'd (probably) run over to that spot, he'd rolled the can over, they had shaken it a bit when they both grabbed it; it was only logical something would've happened.
Polyblank let out a chuckle. His shirt was kinda wet, yes, but the laughter couldn't be contained any longer when he took a look at the man on the other side of the blanket. Completely drenched in purple liquid, looking stupefied, almost as if he couldn't believe what just happened. His cheeks and ears turned a bright red. Oh. Oh, he was mad . He looked really mad.
“Was this your plan all along?! You– All you wanted was to– You wanted to make me look like a fool! I– Gosh, why did I even give in to your stupid–” He snarled to himself, standing up and trying to make himself look presentable, shaking the liquid out of his clothes with his hands and readjusting his tie, but it was of no use.
'You look like a mess,' He added.
Polyblank was pretty sure he'd made the man see red for a few seconds, as he simply trembled for a few seconds in his place.
“And just whose fault do you think that is?!” He thought it'd be pretty funny to simply look away and point at him, failing very miserably at holding back a smile. He then signed, 'I was not the one who wanted to have it so badly. I also didn't open it, so…'
The man looked back, probably looking for his henchmen. He turned his back on him after realizing something, now raging to himself, he probably hadn’t remembered they left a bit ago. Polyblank could hear him murmur stuff, angrily rambling about “needing his baseball bat” and “going to kill him”. Polyblank found it absolutely hilarious.
But then he remembered he still had a mission to accomplish and shook his head in order to concentrate. He took advantage of the few more seconds he had turned his back on him and stood up, making a run for the front door of the building. Once he was past it, the sound of the man calling his name put him on a tight timer to find a place to hide, somewhere to run.
Almost as if heaven had thrown the perfect opportunity at him, the elevator was just arriving to his floor, opening its doors as some women in business attires walked out. There was a surprisingly long hallway up to it, but he made it just in time. Once he got in, he found himself lost in the buttons on the side, they were all scrambled up! And Editor was running to him, so he didn’t have much time. After some quick look, he finally found the button which was supposed to take him to the floor he wanted and pressed it.
“Polyblank, you– Stop the door! Let me in! Wait!” And like the gentleman he was, he, of course, kept the doors open, sticking his hand out, so the sensor would detect it, waiting for the man to get in the elevator. He eventually did, rushing in, and like a cat who didn’t wish to be touched, stuck to the opposite wall. Only for a few seconds, before he actually attempted to slap him or something. He was stopped right in his track as Polyblank showed him his palm and turned his head to the other side, looking almost indignant.
‘Editor, we’re inside an elevator, please, behave.’ He signed, looking away with an unamused expression. Truth was, he was very amused, actually.
The elevator music was almost deafening as they stood next to the other in complete silence. Not a single sound other than the shorter man’s agitated breathing. He’d really made the run for it. Polyblank took a quick look at him and felt his heartbeat spike in just milliseconds. He always tried to make himself look presentable and nice, fixing his suit and hair constantly, but there was simply something so refreshing about seeing him out of his element. Not that he didn’t think he looked nice even when he was , of course.
Over the course of the years, he’d started finding it impossible to not love every single aspect and bit of the man. Like his pointy nose and the sharp angles of his face, and his dimples. He’d learned to appreciate his tiny chuckles and the way he raised an eyebrow occasionally in the middle of conversations.
“I am not aware if you knew this; knowing you, probably not, but staring is quite rude.” The shorter man hissed, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. Pol yblank didn’t notice he’d stayed looking. In fact, didn’t notice either when he’d fixed his hair and clothes, but he took that opportunity to try to joke around with the guy. He tapped on the man’s shoulder so he could give him a quick look.
‘Why? Am I making you nervous?’ He raised an eyebrow, making sure to sign confidently, moving his hands fluidly.
The brunette squinted his eyes at him with a disgusted expression. And he desperately tried to convince himself he was hallucinating and that was not pink on his cheeks. Looking down at his arm, at his veins and wires, they were still running green. He decided not to trust his eyes too much.
The pair finally got to the floor Polyblank had chosen, and the man with the glasses gestured him to walk out first, probably out of politeness and habit. He nodded respectfully, took the chance and started running, leaving the other man behind.
Polyblank rushed to the one room he’d been told to go to (one of the few things he did remember of the explanation The Director had given him) and managed to lock himself in it.
And there they were! The TV head he had to take the compact memory from. Their screen displayed a white question mark on a black background. The font? Times New Fucking Roman. Polyblank was livid!
There wasn’t time to waste, so he smashed its head onto a table, pinning them on it. It struggled, he was bashing the back of its head to try to get it to open, but it made no sense it kept moving so much. Weren’t TV heads supposed to not feel a thing? He shrugged to himself, getting a pair of tweezers out from his pocket anyway. Once he had managed to get its carcass to open, he inserted the tweezers inside the opening, carefully grabbing and pulling out the compact memory. The poor thing produced some glitching noises, moving their limbs frantically until some sparks started jumping out its head. Maybe there was still hope for recovery, he thought. But then, a thin stream of smoke started seeping from their insides into the air. The man stepped away, letting them fall to the ground.
Polyblank looked away, shoving the thing into his pocket and dusting himself off. There was no exit except for the door from where he’d come from, and as he scanned around trying to get another solution, his enemy managed to open the door.
They stared at each other, Polyblank managed to smile nervously, crossing his arms, and the other man leaned on the door frame.
“Well… You just murdered someone in my building. I’d assume you’re feeling so proud of yourself right now.” Editor looked away for a second, sighing and standing straight. “I’ll have to send someone over to clean your mess, but that’s not the matter at hand right now, is it?”
Polyblank blinked twice. He was far more composed than he thought.
“Now, now. Let us get on topic. What’s that you needed so desperately you had to… Open that guy up?” The man in the glasses stepped away from the door frame, approaching him slowly, as if he were a predator, his eyes fixated on him. Polyblank took a step back, feeling slightly intimidated, he could feel the blood pumping through his system with adrenaline.
Then Editor smiled. Happy with himself, satisfied at his fear. “Surely, it’s gotta be something valuable for you to break into my home again . I don’t expect you to hand it back over peacefully, as we’ve never really done it that way before, but there's no loss in trying, so… Give me it.”
Polyblank shook his head, smiling back at him. ‘What’s the fun in complying? I mean, I’d rather see you get all red when I make you mad than have you laughing if I give you what you want.’
The editor closed the door with his foot, approaching the table in the middle of the room. He leaned on it, a smirk on his features. Polyblank raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, come on now. We both know very well you really don't wish to make me mad.” He raised an eyebrow too, he could see one side of it popping out the top of his glasses.
The taller man lea ned on the table too, placing a hand on it and the other on his hip. As a challenge, as a treat.
The editor shrugged and shook his head. “We're really doing this run-around-the-table… Thing?” He nodded enthusiastically, and the man chuckled. “Gosh, so mature, aren’t you?”
The brunette crossed his arms, looking him in the eyes. Tilting his head and standing up straight.
Until he wasn't, and he was already half the way up to him, who was at the other end of the table. Caught him off guard! He'd admit as much.
Polyblank started running the other way right after. Had his eyes put right on the door, trying to make a run for it, before the man behind him threw a keyboard. The keys flew and scattered on the floor, if he were barefoot, it would probably feel like stepping on Legos. Startled by the noise and the thought of the colourful plastic toys, he avoided the door that time, planning to run another lap around the table and get to it after. That was when the brunette started running the other way, cutting him off. Polyblank recoiled and turned the other way.
“Come o- Come on, Polyblank! Am I really going to get you with this?” It was kinda funny because he could hear him struggling to get his words out as he panted.
The man took a hold of his coat and yanked him back, so he let it slide off. He then hopped up to the table in the middle of the room, feeling it shake and creak as he stood on it. It wouldn't hold up for much longer, so he jumped off, finally getting to the door, and reaching the hallway a few seconds after.
Editor was still following close behind; he could hear the loud steps his shoes made, the 'clack's echoing as their chase resumed
The end of the hall revealed some stairs, which probably gave him access to the floors below, and therefore, the actual exit! So he kept running, occasionally dodging people who were casually walking by. The sound of his enemy's steps seemed to get louder, so he took a quick look behind him, only to notice the other man was closer than he was before.
Since when had he got that much faster? He thought, starting to feel nervous as he jumped down the stairs. The exit was supposed to be a few stories down, but if he was quick enough, he'd make it. Curiously enough, he'd run around inside the building so many times he could remember it well, but the outside was still foreign territory to him.
After making up the escape “plan” in his head (which he probably should’ve thought of beforehand), he noticed they'd finally got to the end of that floor’s staircase. That only meant he could finally get to a new hallway, which, if he remembered correctly, would take him to the last obstacle before the exit. Another set of stairs. But, alas, he was yanked by the collar from the back, which made him stumble back. Polyblank tried grabbing onto something as to not lose his balance, accidentally grabbing the other man’s arm instead of the handrail he’d aimed for. None of them were particularly stable, so they both went down together.
Curiously enough, the handrail he’d been aiming to get a hole of was exactly the thing he hit his head on as he fell. Editor didn’t seem to have it as bad, so despite the pain, he sat up as quickly as possible. He was dizzy, his robotic eye malfunctioning and producing some static in his vision. It'd probably take it a few minutes to recalibrate. He took a quick look at the other man, who was also already sitting up. The Editor could manage by himself, he thought. The spy knew he had to take advantage of the fact his nemesis was at least a bit stunned by the fall, so he wasted no more time in pushing him back to the ground to gain more time.
It was really just another over-complicated game of tag, like they had always “played” since they had met. It could only end in two ways, like it always had. So he had his time counted. As his steps echoed through the hallway, passing the doors at the sides, his mind drifted went back to the thought of the stairs at the end. That was way too predictable, wasn’t it? There was surely a way to fool his enemy.
Almost like an epiphany, the solution he’d been looking for came right then and there. The doors at the sides! If he could just lock himself up in one of the rooms, he could wait for the other man to go get something to open the door with, and he could finally leave.
“Polyblank! Get back here!”
He turned around, his gaze landing on the angry man at the end of the hall. Smiling, he waved at him and walked into the first room he could see, thankfully, right in front of him.
The spy locked the door, hoping this time, the lock actually did its job. Walking around the room, he noticed it was probably used for storage of cleaning chemicals (some even with four legs) and soap. Pretty big for a storage room, too. He looked around just in case, to see if he had anything to work with, yet he was only met with detergent, floor lubricant, a toolbox, some more containers with colourful liquids he didn’t really recognize. They were stacked in shelves, which seemed notably heavy. He looked up, and in the right corner, close to the ceiling, was a vent.
If he remembered correctly, there were also vents at the entrance. And so, he had a change of plans. Pushing the shelf was as hard as he thought it’d be, too, as the liquids stirred and shook every time he moved it. But then again, he wasn’t tall enough to reach it, as it was higher than he expected it to be.
And thinking about not being tall enough took him back to the Editor, who usually tried to look at him as if he were looking at someone shorter than him, tilting his head up. Probably making it that way to be intimidating. And compensate for his own lack of height, of course. That got a smile out of him. If he was being honest, Editor wasn’t actually that much shorter. The spy was simply taller, and the man was, well, average.
That didn’t mean he didn’t often fantasize about hugging him from behind and leaning his face on his shoulder. He really didn’t.
Polyblank sighed. He’d stopped denying to himself he did, indeed, think of that type of stuff often. Thought so much of those times, he managed to crack a smile out of him whenever he told him a good joke. Thought so much of that one time when they’d had to join forces to escape an angry mob of people somewhere in an American city, and he ended up taking his hand to pull him. Thought so much about holding his hand again. Maybe in other, less desperate, circumstances.
He shook his head as he heard banging on the door. He’d got distracted daydreaming and stopped pushing! Polyblank hurried and pushed the shelf, using all the strength he had after that much running until it was close enough for him to climb on to and leave.
Climbing on it, he noticed it had started slowly tilting in his direction, creaking, which meant it was going to fall over. So he hopped off of it and stepped to a side before he was crushed, only being able to watch how it made a mess on the floor, multiple liquids and chemicals spilling. He had no time to try again, so he turned to the door, taking a step towards it, before slipping, and for the probably eleventh time of the day, falling. He frowned, looking at the floor in confusion before the wires in his head finally connected, and he was able to get to an answer.
The floor lubricant he’d seen before! It had made the floor all slippery. He sighed, trying to stand, helping himself with the fallen shelf. Just when he’d managed to stand up, the door slammed open. Yet again.
The brunette sure was one to make grand entrances. And wait, had the lock not worked? Polyblank tried to stop him, holding his hands up, as a warning about the slippery floor. The man stopped in his tracks.
He took a good look at him, chest heaving up and down, probably exhausted from all that running. A set of keys in one hand, the other on the door. Tie out of his coat, untied shoelaces. Frowning.
“Excuse me? What are you plotting, Polyblank?” The man looked confused as he signalized him signs to back off, which ironically, only made him step closer. And so came the moment Editor noticed the floor was slippery, he’d looked down at his feet and then back at him, squinting his eyes, as if he were trying to figure him out. “What did you… do?”
‘Well…’ He would probably have to tell him in a way where he didn’t reveal what he was doing or his escape route. ‘I accidentally spilt some floor lubricant when I came in here.’
“I see. Well, that’s… Disgusting.” The Editor looked back down and took an experimental step, only losing his balance for a split second, before being able to look back up, stable. “But don’t fret, really. I’ll get someone to wipe you off the slippery floor when I’m done with you.”
Polyblank raised an eyebrow and shook his head in denial. He was a little surprised he was able to stand properly, one step into the liquid. But he was sure if he were to run towards him, he’d crash into the wall. He scooted to a side.
At that point it was obvious he was going to try anyway, so he simply prepared for it in case he were to actually get him. If he crashed and fell, he could use his body curled up in pain to climb up to the vent. Sounded like a funny thing to do, and honestly, got another smile out of him. The Editor, when noticing said smile, tilted his head, taking another step closer, wobbling more, but trying to keep his cool with a visibly forced grin.
“What’s got you so happy all of a sudden? Do you enjoy destroying my property that much?” He thought about it. Well, he wouldn’t deny it was pretty true. He did find destroying stuff in general enjoyable, but there was something about seeing Editor’s face turn red when he destroyed his stuff, in particular, he found even more enjoyable than regularly. He looked back at the man who had crossed his arms as he waited for an answer, he smiled even wider. “Well?”
‘Oh– Yeah. I kinda enjoy that a bit, yes. It’s nice to destroy stuff, you should try it.’ He signed, kicking the shelf by his side as a way to tease the man. He regretted it instantly as he did, indeed, stub his toes on purpose.
“I know people give you lots of nicknames. Didn’t think I’d have to be naming you ‘stuff’ anytime soon, but here we are.” The brunette closed the door.
Polyblank thought of that one meme of characters from Hotel Transylvania. He considered, being a silly, red-haired guy maybe wouldn’t be so bad. He shook his head and raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him, leaning a bit to a side.
‘Well, are you coming over or what? I mean, I know you’re liking the slippery experience, but I’m getting kinda bored, and I need to leave soon.’ He expressed, shrugging at the end, and grinning as if to spite him. Taking a step closer, he looked at the door. Not really getting his soles wet on the lubricant, unlike the other man, but still, approaching.
“Quit playing around, Polyblank.” The brunette ordered, the smile on his lips fading when he’d moved. There was still some space between the latter’s feet and the liquid on the floor, so he approached a bit more, which made the other man tense up and frown.
‘Or else?’
Editor also took a step closer, slipping once more and holding onto the wall by his side.
“I’ll see myself in the obligation of breaking that face of yours and act like I don’t enjoy it.” A new smile cracked his lips open before he finally managed to keep his balance. “Professionalism, and all that kind of stuff you probably would not even begin to comprehend.” Hot.
The freckled man could hear him chuckling to himself, locking his eyes on him, as if calculating the run he’d make for it. Polyblank leaned his body forward, keeping his eyes on the other, too. The visual contact was chilling.
'Does some lubricant fluid scare you?' Polyblank smiled, looking at him almost condescendingly, just to get a little frown out of him. 'Sounds like you're a bit of a coward'
“Am I, now? I am definitely not the one cowering and hiding in a dusty storage room from his great, great, enemy.” And there was the cockiness of the man.
‘Funny you say that! We're in the same dusty storage room. You're as much of a coward as I am!’
The brunette didn't seem to like that affirmation, and Polyblank received that sweet, sweet, flushed angry face he was waiting for. He would be lying if he said he didn't find that adorable.
“OK, now listen here, Polyblank. I'm getting tired of this. I am supposed to be doing-” He stopped himself in his tracks. Seemed to be reconsidering. “You don't need to know what I'm supposed to be doing, right. But it's definitely not this!”
‘Then you can just let me leave! I also have stuff I'm supposed to be doing, and yet we're both still here!’ He was getting a bit tense. Even more so when Editor took some careful steps back, taking him off guard. He shot him up with a confused look. ‘What are you… You're not just letting me leave, are you?’
There was a split second when the shortest man’s glasses obscured his eyes. Polyblank frowned. And before he could react as he’d planned to, Editor was running towards him. Wobbling on the slippery floor. Polyblank could see his feet struggle to land the next step. The man had begun losing his balance. The last thing he could perceive was the man almost tripping, except he'd managed to wrap his arms firmly around his waist before he could hit the floor.
Polyblank didn't notice he couldn't feel the man's breath tingling his skin. Polyblank didn't notice the way his back had hit the wall when he'd caught the other man. Polyblank didn't notice the way he'd got trapped against said wall by the other’s arms.
But Polyblank did notice the man’s lips accidentally clashing against his own.
They met each other’s gaze with wide-open eyes, both of their bodies frozen as none seemed to process the situation.
He tensed up as the shorter man hadn’t pulled away, the little breath he had stored in his lungs leaving him already. His hands gripped the man’s coat as he squeezed his eyes shut, too shook to move, but also feeling his body beg for air.
That’s when Editor pulled away, crestfallen, impeding him to look him in the eye. He took advantage of that moment and took the deepest breaths he could at the moment. The reality of the situation had just started seeping in his head, hitting him, little by little, like boiling water, with cold realization; his hands drew away from the brunette’s waist, as he seemed stable to stand again on his own. His body tensed up even further, as he stared at the man for a few seconds, looking away after noticing no reaction.
“I’m… I’m sorry–”
A pair of hands abruptly snatched him by the collar, interrupting his apology. Pulling him in tightly, his words were lost against Editor’s mouth.
For a second, Polyblank was only able to stare, wide-eyed, feeling his stomach twist in indescribable knots as his brain scattered and tried to reason the situation. Maybe he’d slipped again, maybe it was a distraction, maybe… He was pulled back from his thought as a small, complaining bite on his lower lip snatched all his attention. He melted into the kiss, finding it hard to resist the man’s charms. Impossible to deny those warm, velvet-like lips. It was everything he had ever dreamed of, after all. Letting his eyelids flutter closed, sliding his hands to the brunette’s side, holding him, taking those same hands all the way up to his back.
And just the second he thought the man was parting from him, he unexpectedly leaned in even closer, tilting his head to the right. Polyblank felt his glasses push up against his nose bridge, and so, he leaned his head to the opposite side, allowing himself to have a taste of his enemy’s lips. The strong taste of wine washed him over.
He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his face getting hotter, his knees getting weak; the adrenaline rush through his every vein, infesting his blood and accelerating his pulse. It had become an open-mouthed kiss, as both of them seemed hungry to snatch the other’s lips, demanding and desperate. Almost as if… Both of them had wanted to do that same thing for so long.
For the one second he felt time stop, his mind became full of thoughts that told him maybe Editor had wanted that as much as he always did. That the want in the way he kissed him was equal to his. And so he wished that time would stay frozen as it was then. That they didn’t have to fight anymore, and everything he dreamed of doing could become more than just that, dreams.
But he knew that, sadly, time couldn’t be stopped. Which was instantly confirmed when the shorter man finally pulled away, slowly.
An agitated, warm breath brushed against the skin of his chin and his lips for just a second, and he felt goosebumps spread through his whole body. He sighed and opened his eyes to what, he thought, had to be a dream. Polyblank found himself lost in the thought of chasing the brunette’s lips to share one more kiss. And so, he started leaning in again. Only to be forced back down to reality with a strong blow straight to the stomach, getting him to immediately drop to his knees.
His own hands pressed against his abdomen, clutching it as he hissed out in pain, letting his head drop to the floor, his hair sprawling all over the dusty tiles. He coughed and gasped, as the breath had been knocked out of his lungs with just that punch. And in the midst of his groaning and pain, he almost didn’t notice a hand slithering by to take something from his pocket.
The sound of footsteps and a door opening and closing filled the room as he was left behind. Until everything turned to silence, and he couldn’t even hear the fading footsteps in the hallway.
And so he stayed on the floor, in pain. It was kinda funny, he’d ended up being the one curled up on the floor, except he hadn’t been stepped on or used as a stool (to his knowledge). It took him a bit to breathe normally after that strong of a punch, but eventually, he managed to compose himself. Recalibrating everything that had got messed up in the process, starting with his eye and ending with the sensors on his fingertips.
The Editor had left, which meant he could finally leave and get back to Darlington Station. It didn’t mean he had to be any less careful, so he still tried to make the least noise possible while he moved around inside the building. Leaving the door open, avoiding people (unlike he usually did), even going as far as to take off his shoes, so there would be no noise when he walked. And it mostly worked!
Before he even knew it, he’d passed the main entrance’s doors, without being interrupted by anyone (except that one bot who didn’t get the cue he didn’t really want to talk). Looking around, it was already nighttime, and the lights of the city had started flooding the sky, making it impossible to see anything in the night sky. Sighing, he walked back to his picnic blanket, which was miraculously still there!
Not even bothering to gather everything he’d brought, he simply laid down, waiting for the missionoyl to fade and knock his consciousness out. And while he waited, he followed the neon lights of some buildings with his eyes, trying to count the stories of some buildings and giving up right after and getting lost as he observed the flying traffic.
His hands slid up to his face, which he covered as he thought of just minutes ago. He let out a shaky breath, frowning as he felt his heart beat his ribcage from the inside out, so intensely, so fast, he could swear he was dying. What had all that been about?
The way Editor had stayed so still at first, not even being able to move, as they’d shared a first, awkward kiss (if you could call it that). His face turned red with embarrassment as he remembered staring into his eyes, holding him so tightly. Gosh, it had probably been so awkward for his enemy, he’d disliked it so much he couldn’t even move!
But then, again, why had he pulled him back in, so close, so tight, so desperate? He felt as if he were going to melt the second his lips were back, meeting his. And god, if he’d dreamed of it before, it was way better than he had ever imagined it could be. His lips were so much warmer, so much softer, so much more… Like him, than he had ever dreamed of. If it were him, he would have done that so long ago, but something about him doing it… Something about The Editor himself, going in for another kiss. Made his heartbeat spike to a triple number again, made him feel so… Small.
Polyblank laughed bitterly to himself, as he thought everything was just fine before that whole day had happened. Before, when he knew Editor wouldn’t ever love him back, with a certainty his heart painfully bore. Before, when Editor probably wouldn’t see him as disgusting as he probably did then, hating him like a nemesis hates their counterpart. Before, when he could carry with the burden of loving that, who he was supposed to abhor and destroy, and not feel guilty about it.
But there he was, on a blanket, in the middle of a sidewalk, uncovering his face and looking at the lights of the city. Colourful and blurry.
He smiled pitifully, feeling his face and the rest of his body get colder.
Editor would probably want him gone after what had happened that day. Did from the very day they had met, probably. His heart felt heavy with the thought they would probably not be able to play around anymore like they always did. Heavy with having to leave all of that behind. Heavy with having to leave, in general.
‘Wait.’
Polyblank sat up and looked at his surroundings. It had been way too much time. He’d been thinking for probably… What? An hour? Why hadn’t he been knocked out by the missionoyl yet? He had finished the mission, he’d got his ass kicked, he’d retrieved the compact memory from the TV head.
Was that the wrong one to get? No, that wasn’t possible, he’d made sure he’d been right about that one person. Maybe the memory had fallen from his pocket as he ran? He stuck his hand inside it, and couldn’t feel it. Perhaps he was mistaken and that was the wrong pocket. And so, he looked inside every other pocket and hole his clothing had, yet he found nothing.
He was forgetting something. Polyblank was definitely forgetting something, and his head hurt as he tried to reach for memories he couldn’t perceive yet. He tried going through the events of the day, from the very moment he’d acquired the object to him leaving the building.
He’d put it inside his right pocket, ran around the table, was chased through the halls and the stairs, fell, got into a room, was caught, kissed, punched and…
There it was! That’s the memory he’d missed! Right after the punch, when Editor was leaving, he had felt him mess with something in his clothing, probably his pocket (couldn’t remember that too well, details were fuzzy).
He stood up energetically, dusting his suit off and running back into the building. But where could he be? Getting into the elevator, he selected the last floor to the very top. That had to be where his penthouse was, right? And so, he waited, listening to the elevator music, feeling himself get excited over having an excuse to see the man again.
Until it hit him that was what he’d just been thinking about. About how awkward and serious stuff would be. And so he started feeling anxious. The number on the tiny screen on top of the door was going too fast. It was going to the last floor too fast. Why hadn’t there been any stops yet? Was there nobody who needed to desperately use the elevator but him?
Polyblank started fidgeting with his hands, cracking his knuckles and trying his hardest to look away from the door when the number on the screen was closer to the one he was supposed to be at.
Finally, the door opened, revealing it to be not any floor inside the building, but the roof instead. Polyblank blinked twice, stepping outside the elevator as an excuse to need to call it again and be forced to waste more time before meeting his enemy for the last time that day.
He was… Closer to the night sky than he had been before, on the blanket. That made him smile. The light wasn’t that blurry now his eyes weren’t watering. His vision came back down from the sky, only to be met with the familiar back of a certain person he really didn’t wish to see, leaning on the railing at the border, looking into the distance.
He considered it was probably not that important for him to get that compact memory. He could get to Darlington station on a bus and tell The Director he’d been attacked by flying toasters or something and everything would be alright! So he wouldn’t have to talk to the Editor then. Or ever, really.
Polyblank turned his back on him, pressing the button for the elevator to come back up, hoping it didn’t take much time. It had just left after all.
He looked back, nervously, hoping the man hadn’t seen him. And there he was, still looking up. Polyblank didn’t notice it at first, but he wasn’t wearing his coat anymore. Just dress pants, his shirt, suspenders and those same black shoes. He hadn’t combed his hair back again or taken care of the wrinkles on his white shirt.
He sighed, now paying attention to what he was doing. He’d lit a cigarette, was smoking it. Holding it between his fingers elegantly. Taking it to his lips, inhaling and letting grey smoke pour out his lips.
“I had told you staring is rude, hadn’t I,” A voice came from the figure on the railing. “Polyblank?”
He froze. The man turned his head and looked him up and down uninterestedly, before turning back to see the sky traffic.
The elevator came back up, but Polyblank didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
“Are you scared?” He looked back at him again, Polyblank signed a quick ‘no’, shaking his head. He was lying.
The Editor turned back fully, facing him, yet still leaning on the railing. Seemed to be analysing him in some way. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, which his gaze obviously followed, and inhaled.
“You seem tense.” The man held the cigarette between his lips, looking for something in his pocket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and extended one of them to the spy. That could be a trap– “I know what you’re thinking. And no, I’m not planning to push you out the railing or anything like that.”
For some reason, it felt like he could trust him. And a cigarette did not seem like a bad idea. So he took a deep breath and nodded, walking over to the man, who handed him both the cigarette and lighter over.
Polyblank brought it up to his lips, holding it with two fingers, lighting it and waiting a few seconds before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The earthy, sour taste of it spread through his mouth, through his system. He held the smoke for a bit longer, feeling it warm his lungs up, before letting it flow out in a long sigh.
‘You took it, didn’t you?’ He signed, taking advantage he could see him now.
The man nodded, smiling a little as if he were proud. Probably was. “I assume you’re talking about the compact memory you stole.” Polyblank nodded, and the shorter man spoke again. “Yes, I took it.”
‘Can you give it back?’ He asked, leaning his head to a side.
“No.” A quick answer. Polyblank rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to kick his ass that late into the evening, even more so after such a peaceful moment.
‘You’re being awfully quiet. Cat’s got your tongue?’ He smiled, raising an eyebrow at him and playfully nudging his side with his elbow.
“Are you a cat now? ” He stated, looking to a side, probably avoiding to look at him. “I’m pretty sure you did bite my tongue.”
His face started flushing. Probably out of embarrassment. Was he a bad kisser? Well, even if he wasn’t, kissing your enemy probably wasn’t the most enjoyable experience. At all. Polyblank gulped nervously.
He’d looked long enough to notice the tip of his ears had turned pink. That’s when he looked away, feeling his own face grow red. He was hallucinating, he was definitely hallucinating, seeing shit. That was not real. The man had probably hated that. He probably hated even standing so close to him. But then again, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears again, so loud he could miss any other sound surrounding him if he was distracted enough.
And almost as if the man could hear his thoughts, he spoke. “I didn’t… hate it.”
Polyblank could swear he felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes opened widely, looking at him, shocked. Almost as if it were an important revelation.
‘You… Didn’t hate the kiss?’ His hands moved sloppily, as he could almost not form any correct sentence.
The Editor gave him an odd look. Was that embarrassment? He did not recognize that expression of his. And the man didn’t give him enough time to process it, as he looked away, without even answering his question.
“Why are you still here? We have nothing to talk about, as far as I’m concerned.” Having his eyes back on him, expecting an answer, made him a bit nervous, and really, he knew why, but it still made him feel like he could get crushed any second then, even if not physically.
‘The compact memory. You still haven’t given it back.’ Polyblank looked away, trying to avoid eye contact, as he couldn’t really figure out what his enemy was thinking or feeling right now. It made him feel like he was being vulnerable. He tried calming himself down, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.
“And you really need that thing for some reason, right.” The shorter man reached into his pocket, taking the object he needed out and showing it to the spy.
He tried to snatch it from his hand out of instinct. The Editor didn’t seem to like that, as he frowned, taking it back to his pocket.
“Don’t do that. Gosh, and to even think you were the one talking about having manners when we first met this afternoon. I was such a fool to believe you actually meant that, when you’re right here trying to snatch things from my bare hands!” He sounded like he was really hurt by what he’d done, but obviously, knowing him, he was really just trying to tease him.
Polyblank raised an eyebrow and leaned on the railing, with a big grin displaying on his features. ‘Oh really, you’re doing to talk to me about manners and not snatching things from people, when you over here really went and snatched my poor, pure lips in a kiss! Without even asking! That doesn’t sound like something a polite person would do, does it?’
The Editor rolled his eyes, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.
“You’re going to pull that card on me, really? You’re a spy, for God’s sake! Aren’t you supposed to know how a trap works?” He took a step closer and tilted his head to the right, smiling. “And even if it weren’t a trap, you’re still not one to talk. You really seemed to be enjoying yourself during that kiss.”
Oh. Polyblank’s smile slowly faded. So it was a trap after all. He looked away, throwing his own cigarette, except he threw it out the railing and into the street. It fell, and as it fell, he looked, feeling stupid.
‘Can you give me the thing now?’ The air was thick with tension he didn’t feel like cutting. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t even feel like processing the other man’s words anymore.
“Why do you even want it that bad?” He shook his head, and so, Polyblank took a few steps closer. Editor took the same steps backwards, frowning. “Hey…”
The spy showed him the palm of his hand, asking for the object again. Not smiling, not frowning. Simply staring into his eyes, trying to make him feel uncomfortable enough, so he gave it to him, and he could finally just disappear.
“Polyblank, you don’t even know why you want it. I am not giving it to you.” Polyblank knew damn well he was trying to intimidate him. He did not care, he took a step closer. Surprisingly, the other stood his ground this time. “Go home. You should be happy I am letting you leave unharmed, or– Or would you rather have me shoot you dead?”
He didn’t give him a reaction, simply moved closer. If it were any other situation, he would've probably acted as if he were scared to get him to smile, but he really, really just wanted to go home.
“Stop this. I know what you’re trying to do, and– it’s not going to work!” Polyblank tried getting it himself, attempting to shove his hand inside the other man's pocket, but the latter grabbed it before he got any closer. “Why are you so serious? Come on, I really am letting you go! You can just– You can tell your stupid boss you couldn’t find it!”
He then tried to get it with his other hand, which the Editor also caught.
“Stop making that face! I am not–,” The brunette pushed him away, frowning as he distanced himself from the other. “Just– Talk to me, this is not…” He ran a hand through his hair. Polyblank sighed and looked away. This whole thing was not about the item anymore, was it? They both knew it had nothing to do with it. Both of them wanted the other to say something so badly, but words simply didn't come out
“I just– God! I hate–” The man sounded desperate. Probably not even knowing how to put his words into sentences. Polyblank started signing, trying to get his attention.
‘Do you hate me?’ His hands moved slowly. He tried not to make too much eye contact. Already expecting a certain answer, preparing himself to hear any words he had to say about it. And yes, the man had already told him countless times he hated him in the past, and it was not like it really mattered if he did. It was probably for the best, but there was something about this time that felt… different .
“Wh– No, that’s not–” Polyblank's head shot up as his eyes focused on him, the other shrunk a little in his own place. “I wish I could, but– that’s not it, damnit.”
Finally, he gave the shorter man a bit more space. That was… Certainly new . Maybe there was a chance stuff wasn't as fucked as he thought it was. He held back a smile and decided it wouldn't be appropriate to tease him this time. He seemed pretty serious.
‘Then… If you don’t hate me, what’s it ?’ The spy still had questions he needed to get an answer to. He reacted this time, as if to encourage him to talk; raising an eyebrow, moving his hands around a bit more… dynamically, energetically.
“I hate feeling so… Vulnerable around you. I– Don't get it.” Editor looked away, his face turning a pinkish color, probably out of embarrassment. God, did he feel he was losing his mind over it. Over his face, over his words. "You make me feel like– like you could tear me apart if that’s what you wanted and I would simply– I would allow it.” The man gave him a guilty look, crossing his arms and tilting his face downwards, unlike he always did. And so, he felt his face grow red, heating up as his words started sinking in.
The Editor, out of all people, was being sin cere ; the spy knew he was. Because out of all the times he'd try to fool him before, he couldn't recognize any single mannerism, any expression. There was something so genuine about his doubt, his guilt, he was trying so hard to get a grasp on. But there was just so much to see, so much to notice, so much to think about.
“Polyblank, I’m– Ugh.” Uncrossing his arms, the brunette covered his face, mumbling into his hands. “I’m sorry for– For kissing you and all that. I just–”
“I can't hear you.” Polyblank spoke. The Editor's hands flew right off his face, his eyes instantly focusing on him, as his expression detailed surprise, fascination. Polyblank smiled cheekily. The shorter man seemed to reconsider for a few seconds, before giving him an unamused look and rolling his eyes.
“I'm not saying that again.” And so, he went back to crossing his arms, except he was smiling this time.
'You just don't want to admit you liked the kiss, you coward.' Polyblank leaned in, tilting his head to a side as he looked at his enemy. And oh, he'd blushed again. He wasn't even that close, and still… Even he couldn't bare to be that close. ‘We're– Are we having a moment?’ He asked, smiling awkwardly, getting pushed away by the other man.
“I almost forgot how annoying you were for a second there, thank you for the reminder.”
‘Oh, so you did like it!’ He signed, approaching him again, only for the man to turn his back on him and walk away, raising his hands and going back to his usual angry rambling.
“I can't believe you. You're such a weirdo. Please stay three feet away from me at all times.” He stopped, thinking, before speaking again. “Unless you want to be six under! That's also an option. I think I like that one more, actually!” He walked right behind him, following him around. The man turned around and politely introduced him to the railing, as if hadn't seen it before. “This is what we call railing, Polyblank. It keeps people from falling to their deaths. But please, would you be so kind to throw yourself out the railing and die.”
‘Oh, so you kiss me once and you already want me to fall for you? You're going a bit too fast, don't you think?’ The shorter man's face flushed red. Maybe as a mix of anger and embarrassment. He still loved that face, so he only grinned at him widely.
“You know what? Nevermind. Polyblank, move to a side, I'm jumping off.” And so the man jokingly approached the railing. Playing along, the spy opened his arms, stopping him dramatically.
Somehow they ended up in… Some weird kind of hug. A very awkward embrace. Oh, so unpleasant. Polyblank felt as if he was going to pass away, really! He could swear his heartbeat had stopped. Already going through rigor mortis probably, he couldn't even move!
Editor seemed to be just as tense. That was comforting, in a way. To know the man was as nervous as he was.
Both of them pulled away.
“Show me your hand.” He ordered quietly, voice a little shaky, but an order nonetheless.
It very well could be a trap, and it would be very stupid of a spy to trust their enemy when there was so many ways everything could go wrong. But he decided it would be okay to be a little stupid, just that once.
He showed him the palm of his hand. The Editor got something out of his pocket and placed it there.
“You better get going, before I come back to my senses and decide to throw you off the building.” Smiling, he went back to staring into the sky, traffic, the lights, leaning on the railing.
Looking down at his hand, he'd been given the object he'd stolen just some hours ago. He nodded to himself and took it back to his pocket. He felt… Drowsy. He had little time to leave before he was knocked out by the missionoyl.
Polyblank obeyed this time, walking over to the elevator and pressing the button for it to come up. He waited, leaning on the wall next to the doors. Things really weren't as bad as he thought they'd be.
He sighed, relieved. Maybe he could bear looking him in the eye, and perhaps, even kicking his ass again, as routinary!
The doors finally opened; he stepped inside, noticed the lack of music, pressed the button for the first floor, he held onto the handrail at the side, getting dizzy, his consciousness slipping already.
And as the doors closed, his eyes did too.