Chapter Text
Heavy aerosol fumes filled Kaoru's nostrils, the sound of a nozzle loudly whizzing and reverberating across the dark, empty subway tunnel as he spray-painted the outline of his throwie and swiftly filled in the letters with silvery paint. Kaoru took in the intoxicating scent of freedom as he worked hastily to finish tagging before the distant police sirens moved closer.
During the day, Kaoru Hakaze was the golden boy of the city's urban culture--a do-gooder graffiti artist who does street art the "right" way. The legal way. At twenty-one, he was gorgeous, catching brand deals left and right from archive fashion designers and sneaker brands that resell for thousands online. As the face of the city's high-end fashion scene, he shook hands with commissioners like Eichi Tenshouin, permitting him to paint city-sanctioned murals on the sides of luxury high-rises and nightclubs. As his career progressed, the applause after every painting grew boring. It elicited apathy rather than accomplishment. The old buzz was completely gone, and Kaoru wanted more. He wanted to break free of his golden cage.
Tonight, Kaoru had found an untouched underground tunnel deep beneath the arts district. He shook the paint canister as addictive waves of anticipation coursed through his nerves. Nights like these are when Kaoru discovers there's more to life than just contracts, permits, public relations, and promotional marketing. Kaoru coughed as a heavy steel ball rhythmically rattled and shook in the can, paint hissing and permeating through the black ski mask concealing his face. His heart pounded to the beat of a drum that raced through his chest, then spread to his ears and face. The rushing thrill flowing through his blood--combined with the light-headed buzz of aerosol--was a delicious, exhilarating high, and he knew the stakes were a gamble he couldn't live without. It made him feel alive, and he couldn't get enough of it.
The hood on Kaoru's oversized jacket created a blind spot in his peripheral vision. He failed to see the blinking infrared light of a motion sensor above him, and he failed to see the flickering red and blue lights closing in on him ahead. He didn't notice until the blinding beams of police flashlights illuminated his figure and his half-finished piece glistened within the dark tunnel.
"State police, freeze! Hands where I can see them!" The officer's barking orders ricocheted through the subway like a gunshot. Kaoru's heartbeat caught in his throat as his blood ran cold and his hands clammed up. Any wrong decision he made now could snowball him into a world full of trouble later. Kaoru had only a split second to decide whether it was worth taking the risk to evade the police, and whether he should run left or right: he could do nothing but pray he chose correctly as he sprinted toward the entrance of the tunnel.
"We have a runner heading westbound out of Sector A, call for back up!" The cop's communications radio echoed through the subway as Kaoru ran as hard as he could; his backpack of supplies weighed him down, so he threw the bag off his shoulders and ditched it somewhere in the dark. Kaoru's chest heaved as he tugged down his balaclava's eye opening, gasping for air. Every breath he took running through the night breeze left a frigid burn in his dry throat. After escaping the tunnel, he reached a fenced-off dead end where train tracks lay on the other side.
"Shit," Kaoru cursed as his streak of luck came to an end. He frantically looked around for another way to escape, but he had too many feathers in his brain to think of anything. Kaoru's vision shook with adrenaline as black spots formed in the periphery of his sight. He could tell several police cars were going to be pulling into the dead end in around fifteen seconds, by the red and blue lights of multiple cop cars amalgamating into a fuzzy purple heading toward him, closing him in like a storm surge. The barbed-wire fence was too tall to hop over in time, and it was too dark to locate and jump the fence gate. This was it. His entire career, ending in a cold, hard jail cell.
Just as the police cars' high beams lit up the dead end, a hand shot out from the small nook of a brick wall, pulling him into a dark alleyway. The sudden, firm, calloused grip startled Kaoru, a panicked gasp escaping from his lips.
"Shh," the voice shushed Kaoru, covering his mouth and holding him still. "Be good and don't say a peep." From the alleyway, he could see the police getting out of their cars, searching the area for him. Flashes of harsh, bright lights cut through the alleyway they were hiding in, nearly missing the two by just a couple of feet. Kaoru went completely rigid, his lungs burned, begging for oxygen, and his vision was flooded with colorful spots that made his head spin from the toxic aerosol fumes he had been inhaling through his ski mask. The sweat-soaked knit fabric pressed and slid uncomfortably against his lips by the pressure of this stranger's palm.
"Where'd he go? He was just here!" an officer frustratedly barked, his voice bounced off the brick walls only a few feet away. "Check the cargo tracks, he must have doubled back toward the fence! Move, move!"
Kaoru held his breath, his heart hammering so hard against his ribs that he was certain the cops would hear it. He was pinned flush against the stranger's chest, unable to see his captor; there was hardly any room to breathe in this crawlspace, and their situation couldn't make it any better. The man was unbothered, his heartbeat slow and steady, terrifyingly calm, and he smelled different than the underground: a distinct scent of high-end dry cleaning and luxury fabric laid underneath the smell of dusty charcoal and acrylic paint.
The flashlight beams finally waned out, turning back toward the train tracks, speeding down another alleyway into the darkness. Slowly, the pressure eased from Kaoru's face. The stranger dragged his hand down, his fingertips catching at the bottom edge of his balaclava. With a slow, dramatized movement, he pulled the fabric above his face, exposing Kaoru's mouth, nose, flushed cheeks, and sweat-slicked bangs to the damp, misty air. Kaoru gasped and drew in a ragged breath that tasted like iron and paint fumes. A thumb and index finger slid under his chin, gripping his jaw tight with authority. He tilted Kaoru's head back to force him to look up into the dark.
"You run remarkably fast for a boy who inhales so much poison, Hakaze-kun," he muttered. His voice pushes cool air against Kaoru's ears, carrying a strange feeling that makes his heart hitch. It felt insane given the fight-or-flight-inducing police chase that had just occurred. Kaoru's eyes widened in the dark, his mind scrambled as a chill of panic rattled him through his bones, replacing the fading head rush.
"Who... who are you?" Kaoru whispered with a trembling voice as he tried to twist his jaw out of the man's grip. He didn't budge at all. "Let go of me." An amused chuckle vibrated against Kaoru's back.
"Let you go? And risk you passing out from paint inhalation?" The fingers on Kaoru's jaw tighten further: "I don't think so. You've been quite careless tonight, leaving a trail of premium Japanese paint cans behind you like Hansel and Gretel leaving breadcrumbs... That doesn't match the golden boy reputation you sell to the galleries upstairs." As his eyes adjusted to the pitch-dark alley, Kaoru could just barely make out the elegant silhouette of the man's face. Crimson eyes caught the nearby LED light's glare, gleaming deviously with amusement.
Air left Kaoru's lungs like a death rattle, the dizziness from the fumes multiplying tenfold as realization hit him. "You're the phantom."
Kaoru's knees were weak, blackness closing in at the edges of his vision. He was completely cornered and defenseless, but spite and adrenaline surged through his veins. He refused to go down like this—trembling, and weak. If he was going to fall, he was going to take the Phantom’s composure down with him.
With the very last drop of his strength, Kaoru leaned forward and closed the distance smashing his lips hard against the Phantom's.
Bitter, toxic paint fumes lingered on Kaoru’s tongue. For a split second, he felt the Phantom freeze beneath him, surprised by Kaoru’s audacity. Kaoru let out a faint, mocking breath against the man's lips, a smirk creeping across his face just as his consciousness slipped away from him.
"Good night, artist," an unsettlingly calm voice cooed into the dark. “We have a lot to talk about when you wake up.”
Blackness rushed in to swallow his sight, and Kaoru knew no more.