Work Text:
The sound of hurried footsteps on concrete echoed through the air.
It was well past midnight. The sky was pitch-black, heavy clouds covering up the stars and the moon. The only sources of light were from the dim illuminated windows of the expansive city, only barely visible from the rooftops of the high buildings where two children’s cacophonous arguments broke the silence that was a characteristic of the city night.
“We should be safe here, Ishmael” the taller of the two figures stated, closing the door that led to the rooftop behind him. He then turned to face his companion, who shot him a furious glance.
“God! I said this before, and I’ll say it again- but don’t rush into things like that, Heathcliff!” The redheaded girl yelled at her companion.
“Oi? What’s the problem here? We got rid of all of our targets, didn’t we?” He snapped back.
“Not without alerting bystanders…! And plus, you got some nasty cuts on your arm in return, which could've been avoided if you were quiet…!” She hissed, glaring at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bugger off” He spat, examining the wound on his arm that had been leaking blood the past fifteen minutes. “Yeowch… This fucking hurts…”
He sat down on the cold concrete of the rooftop, biting his lip and grabbing his arm from the pain. He let out sharp groans and breathy sighs, swearing under his breath as he attempted to wipe the blood off his arm. His companion, getting tired of watching her co-worker mess with his wound, soon walked over to him, taking something out of her pocket.
“Here, I have some bandages-” Ishmael sighed, “show me your arm.”
“Hah? Do you always have those?” He asked.
“Of course- Even I get hurt on the job sometimes.”
She then crouched down, Heathcliff offering his arm to her. She firmly held his forearm in one hand while she began to wrap bandages around his wound with the other.
“Oi-” Heathcliff grinded his teeth, “don’t do it so rough!”
“You’re supposed to put pressure on wounds, dumbass!” She snapped back.
Heathcliff grumbled something under his breath and looked away from the redhead. She continued to tightly wrap bandages around his arm, securing it once she was done.
“There, that should be fine for now,” she sighed, sitting down next to him.
The two sat in silence for a moment, with Heathcliff rubbing his arm, and Ishmael putting what was left of the bandages back into her pocket.
“...Thank you…”
“Hmmm?”
“I said, thank you, for fixing me up” Heathcliff grumbled, not making eye contact with the girl next to her.
“...Of course,” Ishmael shook her head, “if you won’t take care of yourself, then, someone has to…”
“Why do you care about me so much?” He questioned, “you got some injuries back there as well, didn’t ya?”
“They aren’t as major as yours…” Ishmael sighed, “And, of course I care for you, dumbass, we’re supposed to do this job together , I don’t want my co-worker to be dying on me, as much as I don’t like how impulsive you are…”
Heathcliff was thrown off guard by her answer. He became lost in thought for a moment. He had thought she disliked him, but, after further realization, maybe the two didn’t hate each other as much as they thought they did, even if their personalities did clash.
“We can relax for a while, we aren’t supposed to be back until morning,” Ishmael stated, making Heathcliff snap back to reality. “We should be safe here.”
“That’s one benefit of rushing through the mission,” Heathcliff remarked, “we finally got some free time for ourselves!”
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there...!” Ishmael hissed back, glaring at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever… But I didn’t, so I must be doing something right, aye?”
Ishmael could only sigh in response, shaking her head as she shifted into a more comfortable position- well- as comfortable as she could possibly get, on the cold rooftop.
The two sat down in silence for a while. Both had exhausted most of their energy carrying out mission after mission during the day, and finally, they had a moment to rest, even if it wasn’t at the most convenient location. The redhead in particular was completely drained , much of it because of her worrying over her co-worker. The air was stagnant, yet chilly, something that made the tension between them more overbearing. The silence was then broken by the rustling of Ishmael’s hand in her pocket, attempting to retrieve something. After a second, she took out a pack of cigarettes, as well as a shoddy looking blue lighter.
“Never would’ve taken you as someone who smokes…” Heathcliff observed.
“Yeah, I only do it sometimes,” Ishmael sighed, putting a cigarette into her mouth and rolling the wheel of the lighter multiple times before it finally sparked and lit it up. She took a long drag out of it, exhaling a large puff of smoke into the sky.
“Hey, gimme one,” Heathcliff demanded.
“Yeah, yeah” Ishmael replied, giving him a cigarette as well as lending him her lighter.
Heathcliff put the cigarette in his mouth, then observed the lighter that was given to him. He could make out a design of a ship and waves on it, although much of it faded away. Parts of it were chipped off, and other parts were dirtied by constant use. He put the lighter at the end of his cigarette, rolling the wheel multiple times, although to no avail, the clicks getting more and more frequent.
“Having trouble?” She asked.
“Yeah, what the hell is up with this crummy lighter-”
Heathcliff’s words were cut off by Ishmael gently putting her hand on his chin, turning his head towards her. Cigarette still in mouth, she got closer to him, pressing her lit cigarette against his unlit one. For the couple seconds that felt like an eternity, his eyes drifted towards her face, staring at her features, until he felt smoke fill his lungs once his cigarette lit up.
“There– that should be good, sorry, I really need to get a new lighter” She sighed, drawing her face back and sitting back down on the cold concrete, puffing at her cigarette.
Heathcliff was taken aback for a couple seconds; his state of shock being interrupted by violent coughs. He took out the cigarette out of his mouth and began to cough into his arm, swearing under his breath.
“Not used to it?” Ishmael asked, exhaling smoke into the air.
“Ack- of course not…! I’ve had a cig before-” Heathcliff stammered; his words being interrupted by his coughs.
Heathcliff’s coughing soon subdued, him putting the cigarette back in his mouth again once it completely stopped. The two sat next to each other in silence again. Heathcliff glanced over at his co-worker a few times, still slightly in shock of what had happened. Ishmael was staring off into space, taking huffs of her cigarette as she fiddled with a stand of her hair. The feeling of her face close to his, the way her hand touched his chin… it all lingered in his mind, like the smoke that filled his lungs.
Ishmael then let out a breathy sigh and crushed the cigarette on the concrete once she was done with it, looking into the sky. Heathcliff did the same, stomping out the embers after throwing the used cigarette onto the rooftop floor.
-
More time passed, and the dark clouds slowly, but surely, began to unmask a bright red full moon, the blood-red colored light from it illuminating the scenery in front of the two assassins on the rooftop. It cast a glow all around, drowning out the pitch-black sky with a much warmer look. Heathcliff stared at it, being mesmerized by its sanguine color. Ishmael glanced at her co-worker’s expression, who had a slight smile forming in his mouth, and began to stare at the moon as well.
“Blood moons have been becoming more and more frequent as of late, huh…?” Ishmael questioned, interrupting the silence once more, “although… I haven’t seen one this bright…”
“Mhmm…” Heathcliff replied back, “It’s a sight to behold innit? The first time I saw one, I fell in love… That bright red color, the way it glows, oh man, something about it is so enticing… Like I’m a moth to a flame…”
“...Never took you as the poetic type” Ishmael muttered, fiddling with her hair.
Heathcliff glanced at the girl next to him, the blood-red shine of the moon illuminating her features. The unnatural red glow complimented the bright orange color of her hair, and her freckles too illuminated under the moon. She looked so natural under it.
“Ah, that was it…” he thought to himself, “she reminded him of the moon itself…”
“Well, I suppose I can’t help it, when I see something beautiful, I get all warm inside,” Heathcliff remarked, “the blood moon is one of my favorite things, I have a lot of love for it.”
“Ah, I see…” Ishmael muttered back, pondering over her companion’s words.
“...How about you?” Heathcliff asked.
“Hmm…?”
“Well… what do you think, the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”