Two

***

The streets were lonely as they always were, late at night. Fenwick, although infamous for its population, it had its days. It was one of those days. The night poles shining bright on the quiet streets. It was true, the homeless had considered it home, just as the crime rate increased, so did its habitants.

"Christy."

"Hey Dre, how are you holding up?" Her voice was a bit calm, maybe cause he had turned down the same idea for drinks he suggested, or maybe, no, not that again. Fuck you, Andre, she is your best friend, he cursed his mind before it could raise a silly thought.

"Great, just got home now, you?" He shrugged. The keys jangled as he pushed it through the tiny hole. A whole bunch of key with many keys he had totally forgotten what they opened.

"Just had my bathe. So I received a tip about a rising star from the south, will love if you can get her on the magazine."

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you sure you can handle the closeness? It's the same streets with Becky." He exhaled as she insisted on questioning he will strength. Although he would prefer to curl up in his bed, wondering if the asshole detective was right or if they were just series of coincidence.

"I told you, Chris, I'm good. I can handle even a walking replica of Becky."

"Okay then, I will forward the details to you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Christy."

He stared at the mirror, his eyes piercing through his own reflection. He noticed the writing on the glass. What the hell is this? He hauled his face closer, strained his eyes trying to see the letters scribbled on the glass.

Hi, Andre.

A grin protruded his face, or maybe the mirror lied.

His head began to hurt, a sharp pain rising at the back of it as flashes of memories of things he never recalled doing rushed in.

"Ah..." he held the back of his head from the intensity. The pain began to drill in, puncturing a hole in him as his mind slowly was zapped by the pain. His screams filled the quiet neighbourhood. On a different occasion, he would have thought of his neighbours but not today. Not when he faced his demon, the one who wore his face and stared back whenever he gazed at his own reflection.

The pain vanished, his eyes turned dark hazel. He rose to his feet, striking a hand over his face to clean his forehead. He sneered at the image before scribbling words on the mirror again. He pulled his dark hoodie on, wearing a silk glove. It was time to get dirty.

***

Christiana sat curled on the couch, a bottle of wine on the table and a half-empty glass on her hand. Her mind raced towards multiple things all with the same face. His hazel eyes staring straight at her. Although one moment stood out, her break up with her ex.

"It's okay to hurt, Christy, I will be here any day you need me."

She envisioned his hazel eyes, the night he cuddled her to sleep, the quietness and calmness as he sang to her. Somehow she felt her dead heart sprung back to life but now, now she is trapped loving her best friend. She closed her eyes, letting the fantasy of a first-night sink in.

His hand grazed her lips, his breath could be heard in rhythm with hers as the moment froze. His eyes, faintly dark, weak and full of lust. She stared into his red lips, pressing on her lower one. Her eyes savouring every part of it, reaching for him even within inches distance. She arched forward to his letting her eyes off his lips for the first time. Their lips locked in a vigorous collision forcing them to wrap their hands against each other.

She laid on the couch, pinching her nipples as each scene invaded her. Her moan grew slowly as her nipples responded to each touch.

He pushed her to the bathroom wall, gripped her neck firmly. She froze. He pulled her to himself, slowly planting kisses down her neck.

Her fingers met her organ, slowly caressing it as she arched up and down the couch.

The knock on the door forced her off her thoughts. She needed a distraction, it gave her that. Something to take her mind off him even for a split second. She tied her loosed lingerie and strode to the door.

"Hey, is the drink offer still up?" Andre shook a bottle of whiskey in front of her.

"Sure." she pulled the door open further to let him in.

"What are you doing in a hoodie?"

Christy tried to inquire. She had known Andre for years and only now had she been him wear a hoodie to her house or any place at all. She would have sworn he didn't own one.

"Just feeling a little cold so I thought maybe we could hang out," he smirked, scanning the house as though he searched for something.

"But.."

"That was me, I didn't know what I was thinking, "He placed his finger on her lips again, sending all her senses down the drain. He senses her organ squeeze on its walls, waiting eagerly for his next touch.

Her lungs no longer accepted air, her heart raced faster but delivered little or no blood as she felt the cold rise from inside her. She closed her eyes, letting his eyes trail her body as he loosed her clothe. His dark hazel eyes staring at her naked body while she sucked on her lips.

"I can't believe he rejected this," he murmured.

"He? He who?" Christiana opened her eyes, trying to cover her exposed body. The words had struck something in her. Who did he mean by he?

"Uhm... No not like he..." he struggled to gain control of his speech again.

"You know the books where people refer to themselves in the third person point of view," he smiled, pulling closer to her. Although her senses spoke opposite, she couldn't help but fall into his arms as his kisses touched her neck.