Bitter Shards

1: Wylan

The shots rang out before he could draw a breath. Why was his life so messed up? He wondered as he dodged a bullet whistling by his ear. This was officially the worst first date ever.

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Three Weeks Earlier

Wylan was drowning in a button-lined, leather armchair. His eyes stared intensely at the clock on the wall. It read, 2:58 am. Two more minutes until he would have to go down to every gambling den in all of Ketterdam, look for an absolutely insane Zemeni sharpshooter, and pull him out by the ear. 2:59 am. Where was he? He tapped his fingers restlessly on his knee as his patience was starting the fade away. He was going to kill him if he made it back in one piece. 3. Tap. 2. Tap. 1. Suddenly, the door to the living room burst open with the sound of drunk laughter echoing through his mansion. Wylan shot straight up in his chair and his face turned a fuming red. "Jesper!" He yelled. "Where on Earth have you been? Do you know what time it is? I have been worried-" His sentence was cut short as he noticed the dark-skinned boy had no concept of reality at the moment, alcohol gushing through his anatomy. His coily, dark brown hair was frizzy and matted all over. His vest was hanging on by a wrist, dangling for life support. The button-down shirt he left in was now torn, shredded, and unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Red stains were an often sight, some blood, some wine. He supposed that they would continue this lecture tomorrow, but for now, he had to get some rest.

He led Jesper upstairs to the room he was staying in and plopped him down on the bed. He let out a small moan, which he guessed was from the early hangover effect. Wylan strode over to the washroom and wet a towel. He sat next to Jesper and began wiping the red stains all over his body with the damp rag. That was when he noticed lipstick stains and hickeys all over the backside of his neck. This was why love hurt. He always seemed to get stabbed in the back. Could he turn to no one in times of need? Jesper was supposed to be different. He said he would be different. It didn't matter now. He looked Jesper in his beautiful grey eyes, then slapped him across the face with his towel. And with that, he ran out, tears streaking his pain-ridden complexion.