Inky's Collection of Shorts

Hitchhiked

prompt: you know how people always say not to pick up people on the highway cuz they might be serial killers and not to get in people's cars for the same reason? what if a serial killer picked up a serial killer

He wasn't much of a traveller.

Of course, when he absolutely had to, he did it. He had a driver's licence and he was quite proud --- almost hitting literally everything he encountered was bad, but the instructor had agreed to his licence after only a bit of persuading --- and now he was on the road, moving towards the other side of the country.

Dream sighed. He wasn't much of a mover, either. But he was constantly on the run, so what else could he do?

His fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he glanced around him. Wheat field after wheat field rolled by, an endless sight of yellows and browns. It was a nice change from the city, but at the same time, he was sick of the colors. He wanted something more vibrant. Pink, maybe. Or red.

Blood red, he thought lazily, a smile floating onto his face. I'd like that very much.

People killed with a reason. Dream was no different. He loved the thrill of a chase, the feeling of outwitting his opponents at every turn. It had been such a long time since he hadn't been miles ahead of the police that he was actually considering giving them time to catch up. It would make things more lively, certainly.

He loved killing. He loved the fear in the faces of his victims. He loved their blood.

Dream's gaze snapped back to the road as the violent jerk of road bumps along the sides of the path warned him that he was veering off the road. He straightened the car and sighed. He missed killing.

And just like that, his gaze fell on a man standing beside the road, one thumb pointed up, a completely bored expression on his face.

Dream pulled the car to a stop next to the man, who looked up expectantly. He rolled down the window and grinned. "Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Hello," the dark-haired man said, with considerably less enthusiasm.

"What are you doing out here on the road?"

The man's eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. He glanced over at his thumb, still pointed up, then at Dream. "You're a bit slow, aren't you?" he said, deliberately speaking slowly, as if to a three-year-old. "I need a ride."

Dream's smile widened. "Great! I need a road buddy."

His left hand, the hand that the man couldn't see, drifted down towards the knife he had stashed in the driver seat door. He favored knives over guns. Guns were too impersonal, and besides, knives allowed for more blood and tear.

He unlocked the door. The man clambered in, shutting the passenger seat door behind him. His gaze went to Dream, whose smile hadn't faltered at all. "Okay. Where are you going?"

"To the seaside," Dream said easily. "I have family there. You?"

"I'm also heading in that direction," the dark-haired man said with a nod. He brushed back one end of the white bandanna tied around his forehead and smiled. A lovely, beautiful smile. "How nice."

"Yes," Dream said, somewhat distracted.

The man laughed. Dream bit his lip and continued driving again, his gaze wandering to the person beside him every now and again. His next victim. He had to admit, though, the man was pretty. It almost didn't feel right for him to have to die. But Dream had a thirst that needed to be quenched.

"My name's Sapnap," the man offered.

"Dream," Dream replied. He started to smile again. He couldn't help it. "Lovely weather, huh?"

"Small talk?" Sapnap said with a chuckle, raising a brow. "Smooth."

Dream laughed. His grin was coming way too easily. He felt giddy. "I know. A great day to pick up someone like you."

"Aren't you afraid that I'm a serial killer or something?"

"Nope," Dream said cheerfully, and brought up the hand holding the knife.

The blade whooshed towards the man's throat, ready to steal another life. Dream was smiling so widely it hurt his face. He was so happy. So, so happy. He missed the blood.

Then, the blade stopped, digging into the handle of another quite like his own.

The car sputtered to a stop as Dream let go of the peddle. Sapnap's face was inches from his own, close enough for him to see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes. "You're quite good," the man whispered, his gaze flicking over Dream's face. "But I'm better."