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𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐋𝐘, he felt nothing. As Joe hovered above the corpse of his beloved Beck, his face blanked and he froze only just for a moment. She hadn't understood, everything he did was to be with her, to protect her. Her body, just a second ago pumping full of blood, being a safe place he sought comfort in after a long day, was now but a shell of the woman she once was. Not even that, there was soon to be no trace of her at all once all heat from her body died down.
Joe never fully knew how to process grief. Ever since his father all those years ago, death had become just a means to an end - he'd grown numb to it all. The act of murdering wasn't one Joe liked to dwell on. Standing and choking the life out of the girl he once loved didn't seem like such an amusing pastime to him. His eyes bulged, as if he couldn't believe his own actions presented ever so clearly before him, his own mind wiped clean as no blatant thoughts ran though. All those he had hurt before her were bad people. Beth wasn't.
This was different from usual and Joe didn't like the unsettling churning sitting at the pit of his stomach. The thick hand-print bruises were beginning to form on her neck as she stared soullessly up at Joe, unmoving as if it were some sick and twisted game of holding a gaze with her own murderer. Ever since his first kill, he'd fallen desensitised to it all - they were all bad people and he was doing the right thing. But now?
Something inside him sank to the bottom of his stomach, and then he realised that whatever happened, he wanted to ensure that this never occurred again. There was no way he would let himself get trapped and be forced to kill someone he loved again. If he ever did love again, he would have to be more careful, or not kill at all. Though with the harsh throbbing in his chest against its ribcage, he seriously couldn't even perceive another love after Beth. At least not now, his hands still aching from the tight grip around her throat.
Beck's glossed over eyes felt like they were sinking to the back of her head as Joe reached to hurl her body away. He hated how quickly people faded. One second they were worth something, individuals with layers of personality and history and originality, and then the next they were mere meat sacks of flesh, bone and blood only to be discarded. Someone could be demeaned so quickly, falling from an organism capable of thinking for itself to a mere object. Bodies weren't something Joe could view as people anymore. While some people sure acted like they didn't have any, Joe couldn't help his belief in the human soul. Without one, where would the question of morality surely come from?
Usually, those he had the honour of removing from this world, ridding it of their disease were people with no soul: set in their dangerous views or beliefs that posed a threat to people he cared for. They had always been objects, meat, even in life. But not Beth. She had always had strong yet reasonable morals, able to see though things and people, and not being a danger to anyone. That was, until she found out of what he had to do for her and then forced his hand. While historically and fictionally, he knew they existed in all different forms, he truly wondered in that moment whether there was anyone out there who could understand.
It had now been months since arriving in Los Angeles as Will Bettelheim, a name of which he couldn't say was the best he'd ever heard, but didn't have the time nor money to argue on such notice and income in the time. Now he worked in the book cafe of a trendy family-owned grocery store, Anavrin. He really thought he'd despise Los Angeles more, though when he allowed himself to be out in public with the countless self-obsessed influencers and nepo babies, he despised it.
Though, he hadn't made any close friends, he had somewhat became aquaineted with his fourteen year old neighbour qhy was clearly forced to grow up too early, and even knew a few people from work like the chef, though not too well. However, being surrounded by books was the only thing Joe ever found himself consistently loving and never being let down by. It was as though something in his childhood, the huge comfort he found them to be, rewrote the way his brain worked to perceive them as more enjoyable than life itself.
He'd first feared having to get some dead end nine to five job he hated in moving, though was delighted in knowing he could continue his true passion for caring for books. He wasn't quite sure why, though most likely the fault of his own childhood mentor, but he found himself still subconsciously checking the conditions of books and caring for them as if they were the most precious thing he owned despite not even owning them - his coworker caught him fixing one of the older hardbacks and rebinding it and had questioned his hobbies though thankfully shrugged it off as someone overly bored with his life.
Joe couldn't fully deny that. While he enjoyed devouring multiple books a day and scanning through the bookshelves to ensure everything was placed back correctly and ordered, he still found his heart yearning for a connection. Despite his former lover's untimely end, he couldn't fight the agony welling in his stomach of loneliness and misunderstanding - if only his life could be as simple as the stories he read.
Now he stood scanning over a bookshelf, rummaging around determinedly as he slid books back into places and moved them back into the right sections; nothing angered him more than incompetent and lazy people when it came to reading. That also included people who folded the corners of the pages in a book as a make-shift bookmark. Even a single piece of paper slid in would suffice, and yet? Some people would still happily deform and defile the beloved books. Some people simply wanted the world to burn.
Joe had learnt to block out background noise by now, working in public places and reading for so many years. Everything else had become secondary, fading like a low murder as the raging commentary wracking his brain overtook the space about him. A small exclamation of excitement broke Joe out of his thoughts and book-enticed trance, enchanted and lost between the pages of a biography he'd found that spoke to Joe's own struggles. Glancing up through a pair of furrowed brows, his gaze slid over his left shoulder to see a man roughly his age standing beside a bookshelf he'd previously scoured, a book in hand.
It was a psychological thriller, and he seemed more than happy to have found it, as if he'd been waiting for it, even. He knew the feeling: just the mere concept or a short teaser of a book capturing you entirely and being willing to give your entire soul to get your hands on it after release. The new book smell would be even more comforting in those moments, like an achievement or sorts. The man's grey eyes, littered with various flecks of colour, all focused on the longing stare at the book's cover in awe. He'd only ever seen himself be so entranced by a piece of fiction before.
The boy had a mysterious air to him, as most book-lovers do. His hair was caught in loose waves, a perfect mid length black, strung around his face in a beautiful frame, falling around his jaw as he glanced down to the object in his hands. He wore a black sweater which hugged his body in just the right ways. He sported it with a pair of worn jeans, best described as lived in, a man who got worth out of things - a conscious mix of style and causal comfort, as it was paired with black platform trainers with silver accents.
Accessory-wise, he had a long necklace with black beads and a pendant hanging low on his chest, quite similar to a rosary, though Joe figured it was more used in a fashionable purpose rather than a religious one. Other than that, a notable dark grey messenger bag hung at his side with a few black bracelets with silver spikes. His hands flickered over the pages, beginning to slowly peel his way through the contents as Joe came to notice a few identifiable silver rings.
A sudden conscious awareness struck and Joe found himself staring at a short distance away, unaware of how long he'd been in his trance. Luckily enough, his muse hadn't noticed, or at least hadn't brought it to public notice, still flicking through the book joyfully carefree. "That's a good choice."
Joe's raspy voice cut through the silence, nearly surprising the man, seeming overjoyed by his book one second and being talked to the next. The male gazed up at Joe, his dark grey eyes that had previously flickered over the page's words so ravenously now delicate and softened. There was something inquisitive about the stare as a moments silence passed, however comfortably.
As an attempt to decipher Joe's thoughts, the man tilted his head slightly to the side before glancing back to the book in hand, a singular motion that almost left Joe weak-kneed. "I've had my eye on it for a while now." The man held his gaze on the book for a while, only reinstating Joe's curiosity about the mysterious male.
"Have you read it?" He continued his gaze at the book, flipping it over to see the blurb and back to the cover as he spoke. "Not yet, though I've heard it's good. I mean to pick it up sometime when I can find a copy." Joe spoke, filtering through the bookshelf beside him as the two conversed.
"I'm sure I can lend it to you sometime after I've read it. Though, I would like it back. I like to collect my books in an at-home library." He met Joe's stare with a soft smile and a friendly gesture, Joe only staring back in partial awe that this man before him could get his heartbeat so rapid.
Beck had done the same the very day she'd walked into the old store and first spoken with him. Though, of course, Joe had never found himself attracted to a man like this before. He didn't see anything quite wrong with it, but it seemed difficult to accept in just an instant, and so settled to short replies and a nod. "I can always appreciate an at-home library."
"Do you have one? Or at least collect books?" The man continued to look for books that spiked his interest on the shelf. Joe remained silent for a moment in thought, thinking over a reply as he unfolded a book's corner. "I used to have a larger collection but I've just moved and had to limit what I brought with me."
"Oh, I could never imagine leaving my books behind." The man shook his head in dismay at the thought. A moment passed before he pointed at Joe's apron-like uniform. "Do you work here?"
"I do."
The man smiled lightly to himself before nodding towards the book Joe hadn't realised he was holding still. "Do you have any recommendations before I go? You seem like a man with good reading tastes."
Joe thought for a moment. A man who wanted his opinions and recommendations on books - now that intrigued him more. He couldn't help but find himself taken by this man he'd just met already. Thinking on the book he'd already shown great interest in, he thought of good but obscure recommendations the man could enjoy but may not have read yet. "Hmm."
Looking through the shelves in careful consideration, he tugged at a spine and pulled it out to hand over. Glancing at it and then scanning the description, the man hummed in satisfaction. "This does seem good. Thanks."
He turned to leave, but froze in his steps. "Can I recommend you a book?" Joe didn't know how to reply, unsure what could come of all this. He'd avoided relationships or people for this exact reason; he didn't want another Beck, not with how she ended up.
Scanning the shelves, the man turned and looked Joe up and down slowly and carefully before turning back to the books with furrowed brows. Flickering over the books, he found one he deemed worthy before pulling out a notepad and wrote something down on it, slipping it into the front of the book before heading to the till nearby and paying. Sliding the other books he bought into his own messenger bag, he held the other one and carried it over to where Joe still lurked by the bookcase. Joe stared, lost in thought as the man held it out to Joe with an indecipherable smile on his face, eyes shut vulnerably.
"I'll see you around." The man soon turned to leave, heading out of the store, leaving Joe holding the book dumbfounded. Staring down, he flicked the page open and found a note with the man's name, number and a message on it reading 'I hope you enjoy it.' Joe didn't know how to react.
In fact, he wasn't sure what to do at all. Both the book and the feeling he was left with were completely dumbfounding to Joe. He surely found this man attractive and wouldn't deny that much, but in the instant Joe had met him, he could see his future pre-planned. Going home and researching. Finding and watching the man's home. Infiltrating his life before eventually killing him. His memory flickered back to Beck laying beneath him, clawing at his hands as they whitened from the pure grip he held on her throat.
It was different this time, though, surely? This was a man, admittedly a very pretty looking man, adorning gentle features and careful curls of jet black hair - a classic literary lover's wet dream. Even more, Joe had only been drawn to women before, what was so different this time? Would this simple change be the exact thing that'd lead to his happily ever after? Something gnawed at Joe, trying to grasp how different it would be this time. He couldn't risk it, not with Beck at the fore front of his mind.
As soon as her mortified glare had come into his mind's view, it was just as soon this man he could picture below him, the life being choked out of him slowly as Joe would try to reason with himself. And as he fought the images and fear welling up inside him, boiling over, Joe watched the man leave and head down the street with a conflicted consciousness.
Would a man understand him better? Beck failed to see him truly, and when she did, she left him with no other choice. She sealed her own fate the moment she couldn't forgive him, the moment she looked upon his face in horror. Joe's fear lay now less in what he was capable of, but rather what woukd be his undoing. Would he do all of this, falling so hard again, giving his all just to be hurt again? Just to be forced into taking a life again and starting over? No, he wouldn't let love change him, not again.
And yet, while Joe listened to the food's bell ring joyfully and the sun slide gracefully through the windows onto his shoulders, Joe couldn't look away from the door he just watched his mystery man leave through, knowing no matter what, one small search online later wouldn't do any harm, surely?