━━━━༻ ♠ ༺━━━━ rewind 00100000 ━━━━༻ ♠ ༺━━━━

If (Y/n) ever found the energy and willpower in her to attend a job interview, at the part where they ask her about her qualifications, she'd say she's been through a hostage situation before and escaped by channeling her inner Tarzan. Or Jane. But Mojo Jojo's better.

And that's where she was: on a tree. Or maybe the tree was on her. Her sense of direction was already pretty messed up anyway. Now she was stuck between two branches and very high up off the ground. For some reason, she had thought it was a smart idea to try and climb down the tree to visit Reese when she discovered the elevators needed a key pass and Kieran was watching her every move.

And stairs? Why use stairs and front doors when you can use a tree and a window?

Yeah, she didn't know what she was thinking anyway but (Y/n) did discover one thing that day. She was definitely not Tarzan and she had no innate tree climbing talent at all.

Getting on the tree from the fourth floor was one thing. Getting down was another. She really didn't want to break a bone or something by jumping down.

Fortunately, or unfortunately she might say, she didn't go unnoticed for long. Leon found her quickly, blinking up rapidly at her as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. She couldn't blame him; she wouldn't either. (Y/n) White, climbing a tree? In what universe?

There was no trace of a uniform on him; he was wearing a black tank top that clung to his frame and exposed his toned arms, as well as a pair of black pants. Black from head to toe. His normally messy hair was even messier than usual, windblown and pushed to the side like an afterthought. She could make out the sparkle of a silver chain around his neck.

In his hand was a sleek black instrument case, the golden clasp gleaming in the sunlight. It looked strange on him, but not as strange as him in a uniform. He was a fit and lean creature with sinewy muscles, something dark and soft at the same time. The white and gold Fortuna uniform was not something that suited all that.

He blinked slowly and set down the case against the tree. "What are you doing up there?" He asked, coming closer to her. (Y/n) shifted into a more comfortable position on the branch while clinging onto it for dear life.

"Sleeping, obviously," she drawled, her voice laced thickly with sarcasm. "It's such a nice day out. Totally normal for a girl to randomly crawl out the window and take a nap in a tree."

He looked puzzled. "You...rather sleep up there?"

"Yeah, it's so comfortable. No, I'm stuck."

He stared up at her in shock before a small smile graced his lips. "Need help getting down?"

"I mean if you could get me a ladder or something that would be great—"

"We don't have a four-story tall ladder," he said apologetically. A gust of wind blew past them, making the leaves on the tree shake and (Y/n) tighten her hold on the trunk. Falling was the least of her worries right now. If he thought she was trying to escape and told Tristan, that would be the end of everything.

Leon brushed a lock of his unkempt hair from his eyes and circled around the tree until he was directly below her. He reached up, his arms spread. "Jump," he said. "I'll catch you."

"Um, that's very nice of you but..." (Y/n) eyed the distance from her position and the grass with distrust. "I'll probably land on your head and we'll both break something. Maybe you could find a rope?" She said the last part hopefully.

If he had some other way of getting her down, he wasn't about to let her know. "It's going to rain later," he said softly. "You don't want to get caught in the shower. You'll get a cold. Come, I promise I'll catch you, (Y/n)."

"I'm warning you now: I'm hella fat."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're perfect the way you are, (Y/n)." The offhanded way he said it made her face heat up. "If it makes you feel better, anything lighter than f*ckb—I mean, Kieran's lion is nothing to me."

"What are you, the Hulk?! A lion is like what, 400 pounds?"

"To be fair, it isn't fully grown. It only weighs about 200 right now."

The Rock, who? "What if I'm over 200 pounds?"

"It doesn't matter," he told her. "I'll catch you anyway. Come on." He gave her a reassuring smile with his promise.

Honestly, (Y/n) wasn't worried that he wouldn't catch her. He was able to easily throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes last time. Heck, he could probably swing her around like a baseball bat with one hand. It was the weird things Kieran told her last time that made her hesitate. Leon, caring for her? Seeing her as someone to protect?

Yeah, that made no sense. She swatted the thought away dismissively. Kieran never made sense anyway. He was probably just messing with her.

"Well, okay," she said slowly, easing into a sitting position on the branch. She fought the urge to close her eyes as she began to push herself off the tree.

Then she was falling, wind gushing up over her ears and making her ponytail fly up like (h/c) ribbons. The fall didn't last long though; she collided with something hard before her butt could crack more on the ground. Only then did she crack an eye open, coming face-to-face with Leon's broad chest.

He furrowed his brows in concern as he looked down at her, tan skin and magnetic eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He set her onto her feet with a smooth movement, keeping a hand on shoulder in case she stumbled. "So uh, I'll get going now, I guess?"

"You're asking me?"

"No, um, I uh..." Well, this is awkward. She made vague gestures with her hands towards the sprawling building beside them, gestures that she didn't understand herself. "I have...stuff to do. Sleep to sleep. A dog to make sure Kieran doesn't terrorize. Oh yeah, thanks for the dog again. It's very...white."

She did say she was bad with words and terrible at thank-yous and apologies alike.

"You're welcome," he chuckled with a lopsided grin. It made her soften, calm down, get off her edge. It was a nice change from seeing Kieran's haughty smile that held a politician's ease and an edge of danger all day. Honestly, she was beginning to see little dancing snowmen with devil's horns everywhere she turned.

He took in her frustrated sigh with a concerned look. "Is something bothering you?" His gaze sharpened, the corners of his lips pulling down into a subtle frown as his eyes flickered back towards the building. "Is it them?"

When she didn't respond, he took her silence as a confirmation. "Wait here," he said, releasing her shoulders. "I'll teach those little sh*—uh, sleazeballs never to do it again—"

"No, no, that's not it!" As tempting as the offer was, imagining the tall male making their insides outsides and beating their a**es to planet Mars, it would only cause her more trouble. She knew Leon listened to Tristan. To what extent, however, she did not know. Either way, the blue-haired male would catch on, calm the male down, and deduce from his explanation that she was trying to escape.

And then in layman's terms, it would be game over.

"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Just, um, in the mood for tree climbing. Very fun. You try it."

"That didn't look like climbing to me," he snorted. "More like a turtle that got stuck in a tree."

"A turtle? I can't even be a cat at least?"

"No. You're a turtle."

"Wow, thanks. I've always wanted to be a turtle. It's like my childhood dream. So nice."

He shook his head at her sarcasm and picked up the black case from the ground. "I'll walk you back. Where do you want to go?"

She was tempted to say home, as in her home, but she didn't think he'd take it too well. "I don't know. Wherever you're going, I guess."

She swore she could've seen a corner of his mouth tilt up but it was gone as soon as it came. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her. He nodded, straightening and returning the case to his side.

"We'll take the side door," he said. "It's faster."

"Where are we going?" (Y/n) asked as she followed the black-haired male back into the building and through a series of winding hallways. She never thought she'd be obediently trailing after one of them, but what else could she do?

"You'll see," was his only answer.

Soon enough, the two arrived in a large room. It was sparsely decorated; there was an armchair matched with a coffee table in the corner. A few framed awards on the walls and a potted plant by the door. The walls were entirely made of pale wood save for the opposite wall; it was entirely made of glass, revealing a scenery looking down over the gardens and a brilliant multitude of yellows and blues smeared across the sky.

She knew this room, she realized with a start. Only the lighting was different. The sign on the wall that said "you are here" was familiar. The magnificent piano at the center of the room was familiar.

The white-haired creature who was smirking smugly at them in the armchair was familiar.

Goddammit.

Leon's face soured faster than she could fall asleep—that was impressive, she had to give it to him. "What are you doing here, a**hole?" He growled, the veins in his hands standing out as his grip tightened on the black case, almost crushing it.

"What, no hello?" Kieran purred, uncrossing his long legs and spreading his arms. His serene face was marred by a flash of a wicked smirk as if he was the guardian of a poisonous, dark secret only he knew. "Musicians shouldn't be so aggressive. Ladies love a musician." He caught the (h/c)-haired girl's eye and winked.

She ignored him and focused her attention on the "you are here" sign. It was truly a stupid sign. A stupid sign put up by an equally stupid person, otherwise known as Kieran Fujikawa.

"Get out!" Leon snarled. "Get the f*ck out of here, a**hole, or I'll haul your f*cking a** out the window."

"But I don't want to~" Kieran drawled, draping his legs over an arm of the armchair. "The more you tell me to leave the more I want to stay. The more the merrier, hmm?"

"I will f*cking flatten your f*cking head and feed it to you unless you haul a** now."

Kieran grinned, unintimidated by Leon's furious words. "You want me to leave?"

"What the f*ck do you think I've been saying for the past ten f*cking minutes?!"

"Well okay~" He shrugged, pushing himself off the chair. (Y/n) took a step back warily. There was no way he would leave that easily. It wasn't in his nature. He was up to something—she knew he was. It was in her gut.

And she was right. As Kieran brushed past the black-haired male, tapping his shoulder as he did so with a feline smile, he twirled something around on his finger. "Then I'll leave with this, okay? Thanks for the present, Leo-chan~ I'll be going now."

Confusion and surprise filled Leon's face before it twisted into one of outrage when he patted his chest and discovered his chain missing. He whirled around, seizing the laughing male's collar in one hand and lifting him up.

"Give it back," he seethed, his voice dark and dangerous. "Don't f*ck around with me, Fujikawa. Give. It. Back."

"What, this?" Kieran lifted his hands, a slender silver chain tangled around his fingers. (Y/n) could see an oval amulet attached to it. No, it wasn't an amulet. It was a locket. And she'd bet her fingers and toes it had something inside Leon was attached to. "Why, are you mad?"

"Do I look f*cking mad to you?"

"If taking it pisses you off, then I love it. Maybe I'll even keep this a little longer." The white-haired male's smile widened victoriously as Leon's eyes flashed brighter with rage. "Struck a nerve? I always wondered by you kept this silly little trinket on all the time. If I knew this was how you'd react, I would've taken it sooner."

"You perverted f*cker!" Leon swung with his free hand in an attempt to grab the chain from him But Kieran had broken free. He danced backward out of Leon's reach, laughing as he tauntingly swung the chain around his finger, the silver metal gleaming in the sunlight. "You're sick in the f*cking head! I'll f*cking kill you—!"

Kieran easily evaded Leon's heavy but anger-blinded swing. "Is that all you have to say? And here I thought you really wanted it. Your vocabulary's getting quite limited, Leo-chan~"

"Your bloody life is f*cking limited!"

"Tell me something I don't know." He took another backward step, coming closer to (Y/n) than she was comfortable with. He threw a wink over his shoulder at the female. "Don't worry, love. This is just how Leo-chan expresses his love."

"You f*cking piece of sh*t—"

"If that's true then you're quite loved," (Y/n) deadpanned, sliding against the wall as she did her best to avoid the fray. She was definitely not getting herself caught up in that; one of Leon's punches would knock her head off her shoulders. "Seriously, you should give it back to him. It's obviously important to z—um, Leon. And you're only going to land yourself in the hospital again."

"What's that about the hospital?" Kieran hummed as he ducked under another one of Leon's swings. "Are you about to faint again? Must be because you looked at me too long."

The memory of her previous attack made her wince. Or maybe it was his pompous remark. "Yeah, my eyes are bleeding. I need a bandaid to slap over them."

"Ooh, spicy~"

Leon managed to finally get a hold on the agile male, landing a solid punch into his gut with a sickening crack that made (Y/n) flinch. Pain distorted Kieran's handsome features for a brief second as he staggered back, pressing a hand to his gut.

"Did you have to hit me that hard?" He said through gritted teeth.

Leon picked up the chain from the floor. Without bothering to put it on, he fixed a disgusted look at the other male. "Stop f*cking pretending, sh*t head," he growled. "It's not like you can feel pain in the first place."

(Y/n)'s head snapped to Kieran. This was news to her. But he wasn't looking at her. He was pouting, his face no longer one in agony. "Boring," he booed, straightening and cracking his neck. "Whatever. I got a date now, nerds"—and to (Y/n)—"See you later, love. Ciao~" He strode out of the room as if nothing had happened.

She turned to Leon incredulously. "I take it this happens often?"

"The f—uh," he cleared his throat. "Idiot goes on more dates than he does to class. It's better than having to see his s—I mean, ugly mug all day."

"Bro, you've cursed like a freaking sailor in front of me for like, ten straight minutes now. I can handle a little profanity."

"I—well," he looked embarrassed as he spun away. The tips of his ears were red as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. F-Fujikawa's a pain in the a—uh, arse to deal with."

She nodded in agreement. "You can say that again. He scared your dog away, by the way."

He frowned. "My dog?"

"You know, the one you gave me."

"That's not my dog," he said. "It's yours now. It's been yours. Did you name her yet?"

Wait, it was a girl? "Well, no. Want to give me some dog naming tips?"

"Don't name them Tristan."

"Ah, thanks. So helpful. Now I know exactly what I want to name my nonexistent pet dog at home. Not Tristan."

He threw his head back as he laughed. It was a true, unrestrained laugh that was like a cross between a chuckle and a guffaw, as if he wasn't used to laughing. He shook his head, his shoulders trembling as amusement brimmed in his bottomless eyes. "I can imagine the look on his face when you call for the dog in front of him," he chuckled.

"Oh yeah, it would be epic," (Y/n) snickered. "Shake, Tristan! Sit, Tristan! Roll over, Tristan! Heck, I should not take your advice. It's official; she's being named Tristan."

"Even if it's a guy's name?"

"Why can't a girl have a guy's name? I think it's perfect."

He stared at her for a few moments. When he realized she was being completely serious, he looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or try and convince her otherwise out of fear for her safety.

"Know that when you do it, I had no part in it." He mimed dusting his hands off. "It wasn't me who put that idea in your head."

"Don't worry, my man." She offered him her pinky. "I'd never betray you to that prick. Scout's honor."

He grinned and hooked his finger around hers. "I'm holding you to that promise."

LE CHÂTEAU ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ мєαηωнιℓє

Kieran had no qualms with finding a new plaything, using them, and tossing them away even within the first day of their meeting. It was one of the few things that interested him nowadays. And even that was starting to bore him; it was the same cycle every time. A flirty wink, a seductive smile—that was all it took to get males and females alike vying for his attention. Then he'd have his fun and cut all ties with them. And the cycle would start again.

He was midway into the endless cycle of heartbreak this time. He was in a rather fancy French restaurant in London with a busty blonde he had met at a party last week. She was into him and was rather pleasing to look at. Just his type.

So why did he feel not even one bit of interest as the girl tried to engage him in conversation and rubbed her foot against his leg? He felt like stone, trapped in a hollow husk of a body that felt nothing. Nothing at all. He was sinking into the endless void that gripped his soul, refusing to let go.

S*x was the only way he could paint color in his black and white world. S*x and harmless fun. Making people irritated. Ruining people. Watching them fall into his hands, dancing to his tune. But even that grew dull. Lust felt unnecessary. Crying grown men and women was no longer a source of amusement for him. It was just pathetic. Them or him, he didn't think there was a difference.

He was pathetic. He knew he was, hiding behind all his masks and lies, hanging on it like it was his lifeline. Like he was Kandata and it was the spider's thread.

The food tasted dull in his mouth. He didn't have a favorite dish either—anything that was remotely pleasant and could be finished quickly for the fun after the meal. Yet it was bland and tasteless on his tongue, despite the many spices that went into the acclaimed restaurant's signature dish.

Ignoring the blonde girl's attempts to draw his attention, he took a sip of his water, curling his lip as a metallic tang hit his lips. Like blood, he mused. It tasted like blood.

He had enough.

"I'm done here," he sighed, pushing back his chair and pulling out his wallet. A waiter hurried over, obviously recognizing the white-haired male. Kieran shoved down his irritation at the fear, meekness, and greed swirling together in the male's beady black eyes. Everyone acted this way towards him. Either they wanted something from him—his wealth or his body, or they were afraid of him and could barely talk in his presence.

It was boring.

"W-what are you doing?" The blonde stammering, lowering her fork slowly as she stood up. "Kieran?"

He barely looked at her as he pulled out his wallet and slapped a black card into the check and handed it to the waiter. "Take whatever you want out of it for the tip," he said curtly, not missing the excited gleam in the man's eyes. Then to the blonde, whatever her name was, "You heard me. I'm leaving."

She spluttered, trying to block him from going to the door, the only exit. People were starting to look, only adding to his growing annoyance. "But Kieran~" She whined, shamelessly sliding a hand up his chest. "We just got started. Unless you wanted to go straight to the hotel instead? My daddy owns the best hotels in London. We could go there—"

"No thanks, Grace," he interrupted, pushing her hand off him gently but firmly. "I have somewhere else to be." He tried to leave again but she got in front of him again.

The girl's mouth fell open. She crossed her arms over her chest, a familiar pose that made his eyes widen before his expression fell again. The stance was familiar, too familiar almost, but it only looked wrong on this flashy female.

"Who's Grace?!" She demanded. "My name is Asia!"

"Yes, Anna—"

"Asia!"

"Ava. Whatever. I gotta go." Kieran pushed past her, ignoring her shrieks of protest. Her cries faded away as the usher closed the door behind him. He took in a deep breath of the fresh air. Suddenly the usually pleasant-smelling floral perfume countless women around him wore felt suffocating. It was less sweet and more sickly sweet. It made him gag. It made him feel dirty.

He grimaced down at his hands and shoved them into his pockets, disgusted in the feeling of his own skin. It wasn't something he could wash off. It was stuck to his flesh, it was his skin—all the poison, grime, dirt, and blood on his hands had burned through his skin and replaced it. A fitting replacement for someone like him; he wasn't even sure if he knew himself anymore.

With all the masks he put on and threw away, he was no longer sure of who he was. Who he really was. It was one of the few reasons he put up with Tristan. Only the blue-haired male knew him in their childhood. He'd be able to tell him what he wanted to know.

Not that Kieran's pride would let him ask. And Tristan's cunning nature wouldn't allow him to give away the answers so easily. The blue-haired male probably knew more about each of the P4 than they did themselves.

Kieran arrived back at the dorm an hour later. The sun had set and the moon replaced it in the sky. Long shadows drifted along the stony path he was walking on, as if there was a party that was only held in the nighttime. The building came into view soon enough.

He smiled bitterly at the sight. Home sweet home, he thought dryly. A gold and ivory cage the a**holes called our parents decided to toss us into. F*ck parents. They haven't done a single thing for me.

Their parents had struck a deal with Tristan's father, the headmaster. In return for donations, connections, or whatever crap the headmaster wanted, he would admit their children into Fortuna and nurture them into the perfect replacements to lead the Matthews, Kim, and Fujikawa families' businesses respectively.

F is for factory. F is for Fortuna.

They were "problem children." Jaehyun was gifted in the arts. He'd make worlds come to life with a single brushstroke. Leon was a talented musician, able to sway hearts and pull tears with a single instrument. Composing symphonies and requiems alike was as simple as breathing.

And then there was Kieran. He had been a normal kid once, he faintly remembered. A normal kid who liked to play with toy cars and Lego blocks. A normal kid who wanted to be a firefighter, an astronaut, or even the chairman when he grew up.

Just a normal child with a simple abnormality. He couldn't feel pain. He lacked empathy. But that was enough to make his own parents afraid of him.

Tristan Knight was "too perfect," "too robotic," and terrifyingly efficient. That made him feared and respected. Only, even as Kieran threw countless insults at his nemesis, he knew deep down he was worse.

Tristan Knight is called a bastard. Kieran is called a monster. It's obvious which is worse.

Monster. Freak. Abnormal. He was content to drown in those words until it got too much and decided to devour him alive. Everyone had their monsters that struggled to lock up before they ate everything around them. He was that monster. And it would consume him until there was nothing left.

That was what he believed would happen. When, however, he didn't know. He just knew it would.

Yet something changed. Something made it all different. Something dripped a single splash of color onto his blank world. Maybe it was just a stain that would fade away after a while. A puddle of water that would dry up soon enough. Only time would tell. And he was sure he'd lose interest in it sooner or later.

But he didn't. He began to enjoy this change. He began to crave this change, be near it, use it even if it's for a short while to forget he was a broken thing, and pretend he was just another playboy.

She made all those other women dull and uninteresting. He just didn't understand why. She wasn't even his type; not particularly pretty, smart, or kind. With a single breath, she's insulted him more than anyone has. That would usually turn him off. He might get amused, annoyed, or worse. But it never would last long. He'd move on with another ruined life lying in his dust.

So what made her so different?

His eyes, two smears of marigold in the dark, lifted up to where he knew her window was. The lights were off, unsurprisingly. Knowing her, she was probably sound asleep right now. The memory of her sleeping face made him unwillingly crack a smile. She made a stupid face when she slept, unaware of her surroundings and blissfully naive. Sometimes she'd chuckle evilly in her sleep, he remembered. Other times she'd drool.

Seeing all those emotions written so blandly on her honest face gave him a sense of satisfaction. She had something he didn't have.

Was that what made him so intrigued? There was only one way to find out.