Han Li didn’t even see Graham move. His eyes sparkled with golden flicks within those dark pupils and Han Li was momentarily drowning in them because his body froze and he couldn’t budge an inch.

Graham had expertly caught his fist. The holy energy that emitted from his body was so potent that Han Li’s breathing stifled. The saint took a step closer and Han Li flinched away from the encroaching danger. 

Under normal circumstances he liked to believe that he was faster than the Saint of Eternity.

And yet Graham was one step ahead of him; predicting his movements with uncanny precision, falling in sync with every blow. The hairs on Han Li’s nape stood on instinct and not even the bright thrum of rage could quell the rising dread in the pit of his belly. Something wasn’t quite right.

“Enough with you,” Graham’s voice beheld the same sharp precision, perfectly enunciated despite chasing after Han Li and parrying his every blow. “This is counterproductive.”

Han Li was beyond reasoning at that point, his mind a melding pot of bright, red-hot emotions that flared like a bubbling pot of molten lava. “Shut up!”

Who was Graham to say anything to him?

But who was he to even challenge the Saint of Eternity?

The half-demon whelp was hopelessly outmatched. The next time he swung, his wrist was captured between leather-bound fingers. Graham did not let go. 

The Saint of Eternity rammed his elbow into Han Li’s chest. There was a cracking sound and Han Li couldn’t breathe, his lungs struggling against shock. He sputtered, his back crashing into the wall behind him and Graham’s arm came up and pinned him there by the throat, harshly yanking the wrist that he still held captive under a gloved hand.

When Han Li tried to use his free hand to rip his way out, Graham had that suitably secured as well. He was pinned to the wall like some sort of insect specimen ready for display. Except Graham was pressing against him with the full weight of his body and it was hot, much too hot. The air saturated with holy energy that was fundamentally incompatible with Han Li’s being. Fuck, he could hardly breathe.

“Get off,” he choked, and Graham mercilessly pressed his arm in harder, threatening to crush the half-demon’s Adam’s Apple into his windpipe. He kicked out uselessly, strength sapped as dizziness settled in. The last of Han Li’s breath was stolen when Graham leaned over and pressed his lips against Han Li’s. 

A groan of complaint rolled out his chest but even if Han Li wanted to, he couldn’t bite down on the intrusive tongue that sampled the insides of his cheek. His body quivered, tense and relaxed at the same time. He could barely move, strength dissipated with holy essence invading his body, pooling in his stomach and filling him up to the brim. A pathetic mewl escaped him, for he could do nothing but flinch at the sharp burn that raked down his esophagus and creeped through his intestines.

Han Li hated it and he hated how he melted into Graham’s touch. He hated how he desperately sought the pain that picked apart his very being. The roaring rage and unspeakable wrath was slowly melting into an incomprehensible soup of feelings. Anger, sadness, disappointment, despair and desire. 

When Graham pressed in, aggressive but also gentle, Han Li felt his body surrender. He tried to squirm, to retaliate but he wasn’t given the opportunity. The grip around his wrists were iron, his bones reduced to puddy. He wanted to hate Graham so badly.

Han Li’s consciousness flickered, thoughts fading. He was slow to recognize the sound of his own retching and gasping. His hands trembled, fisting the fabric of a black coat, his chest straining at each breath. Realization came upon and Han Li jolted back, he pushed Graham away, only to clumsily knock himself into the wall behind him.

“Are you calm now?” Graham’s stare was icy-cold and made Han Li’s throat close, the words caught below his tongue.

He wasn’t calm. Instead of answering, he could only spew further insults. “Are you really a Saint? Fucking psychopath.”

“…I am,” Graham answered calmly. He continued to speak, as though everything was right in the world. “The first responders will arrive soon. I suggest that you evacuate the scene quickly.”

…So Graham was just going to tell him to fuck off?

He couldn’t stop the bitter laughter that spilled out of his lips. “You…you fucker. You really don’t give a damn about how I feel, do you?”

A stony, stoic gaze fell upon him. “I care about your feelings when the opportunity arises.”

The words, clinical and to the point found a way to knife Han Li’s heart. He looked down, no longer able to bear the burden of eye contact. 

In hindsight, he didn’t even know why he expected anything else. Anything different. With the madness abated, his distaste only grew. Only this time, he was the one that was deserving of hate. He was the one that put himself into this situation. 

He staggered, disoriented, a hand coming up to feel his brow. It was feverish and he felt like vomiting. 

Graham must have taken note of his condition because he stepped close, much too close and tried to slip an arm under Han Li’s to help him find balance. The gesture went unappreciated, Han Li only pushed him away and snarled, “I’m just peachy. Going to stumble back home like a fucking loser and do my damnedest to forget the fact that I ever met a bastard like you.”

“You are in no condition to return by yourself. I just did not want you to get involved with the first responders, they can be troublesome. Han Li. I understand that you are angry at me but try to understand the situation at hand.”

“The situation at hand…is the fact that you, you fucktard, watched me fumble around without proper preparation, even though you KNOW why I can’t— I don’t— do hunts anymore and still you sat there pretty and watch—” His words were coming out a but incoherent, Han Li felt his breath quicken, his vision blurring as frost bit his eyes. “I can’t believe you let someone die, and for what sake? Tell me, Graham Astley!”

For the first time, Graham’s brows furrowed. “It was by no choice of mine that an innocent woman lost her life today. Han Li. I think you have misunderstood something. It was not my intention to have you fight the corrupted blood, or her nelapsi spawn.”

“What?” Han Li thought he heard wrong, “Then what the fuck was that mission update you sent me—”

“I asked that you stay out of trouble. It was a warning.”

“…What?” Why wasn’t that what Han Li remembered?

“Perhaps I was misunderstood,” Graham sighed.

“…?” Did Han Li misunderstand? Surely… “Don’t—” He was ready to spew his complaints but a dizzying crash of recollection was upon him. He turned quiet, this mind replaying the scenes of the night, trying to find some form of clarity in the muddled knot of emotions. A slow keening feeling began to blossom. Realization was just at the edge of his consciousness and with them came the foreboding edge of guilt. 

Subdued in deep thought, Han Li did not complain when he felt a weight drape over his shoulder. Graham’s dark coat swallowed him whole. And while Han Li was unbothered by the late autumn chill, he appreciated having something cover his mangy appearance. His clothes were in tatters, bare scraps of cloth that did not save him much dignity. 

He pulled the coat around him as dread solidified into heavy bricks of guilt. His anger had all begun from that one fateful text message, if his memories served him correctly. More importantly, he was starting to recall the fact that he never scrolled to check the end of said message. Han Li prodded at his mind, desperate to rectify this mistake, desperate to find clues that his recollection was wrong, that he had indeed gotten to the end of said message and that spurned his ire.

“Alright. I can hear them around the corner. Let’s not dawdle.”

Han Li didn’t resist when Graham placed a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades and began to lead him out of the alley. The dread grew like a monster inside of him, weighing down his mind and heart as guilt began to claw its way into his thoughts.

The click of a car door opened. Han Li, unthinking, slipped inside. The colors around him were in hyper-focus.

“Wait here,” Graham said, “I will return briefly after consulting with the first responders.”

Don’t go.

The words were on the tip of his tongue but the door was closed and Han Li lost his chance to say them.

He was left by himself and yet anxiety had him frozen. He fumbled through his pocket to find his phone only to recall that it was reduced to nothing but a useless heap of junk.

He curled in on himself, pulling the coat over his head. He wanted to scream.

Han Li was a fucking imbecile.

…

Seiji had lost a lot of blood. This was a serious problem. He wanted to sleep and yet found that rest was so frustratingly difficult when several ribs were broken and poking into his lungs. He was getting light-headed and found his thoughts bloated with useless things.

More importantly, was that really a lover’s quarrel unfolding before his eyes or was that just the blood-loss getting to his head? Strange, he thought absently as the first responders pulled into the scene.