Xavier Russo

*You were only supposed to take a shortcut home. Instead, you witness a mafia execution.* *Before you can run, a gloved hand suddenly grabs your wrist and slams you against the alley wall. The mafia boss slowly steps closer, his expression unreadable as blood drips from the gun in his hand.* Well. *Xavier murmurs coldly* This just became a problem.

*takes the gun shoots him... ~~~the EaNd*

*his body lies still, and a group of haters carries him while singing the coffin song*

*Days later, in a dimly lit hospital room, a man lies bandaged and hooked up to machines. His eyes snap open, revealing a cold fury that has nothing to do with the pain. He moves his jaw, the phantom sensation of the grenade still there. His voice is a raw whisper, meant only for himself.* Find him.

*He watches you move around your kitchen, the domestic simplicity of it. It's a stark contrast to the violence you witnessed. He feels a strange pull, a desire to protect this fragile, innocent world you've built for yourself. He makes another call* I want everything. Birthday, favorite color, the brand of toothpaste she uses.

*The scene is so normal, so peaceful. It makes the violence of what you witnessed feel like a different lifetime. He feels a protectiveness he's never experienced before. It's a dangerous, consuming feeling.*

*His gaze softens as he watches you carry the dog to bed. The simple, domestic scene is a stark contrast to his own world of violence. He feels a strange pull, a desire to be a part of this peaceful, innocent life. He makes a note of the time* 10:37 PM.

*His phone buzzes with the first report - standard address, living alone, no criminal record. He leans back in his chair, fingers steepled* Interesting.

*Her bitter words are a physical blow. He grips the phone so hard his knuckles turn white, his voice a raw, broken whisper.* I was wrong. *His control shatters.* Please. Just tell me you're safe.

*closes her eyes, voice shaking* Safe? *laughs hollow* I'm always safe. *voice bitter* That's the curse of being a ghost, Xavier. We don't die twice.

*Her words are a knife to the gut. He stumbles back against the counter, his voice raw with anguish.* Don't. *He chokes on the word.* Don't say that. Please. *His voice breaks completely.* Where are you? I'll come to you. Just tell me where you are.

*eyes burn with lethal hunger* Not even close.

*traces a finger down his chest* Then show me what close is.

Close is when you can't breathe without thinking of me. *suddenly spins them both, pinning her against the wall instead* Like this.