Unloveable Love

CHAPTER 1 - DECEMBER NIGHT

It was a cold december night. The wind blew through the dark park and a few leaves flought into the air. A streetlight flickered before going out completely. With a sigh, a silhouette sat down on the frozen bench. His hands were hidden in his jacket pocket and the wind ruffled through his black hair. He seemed to be shivering from the cold, but it didn't bother him. His gaze was fixed on the ground, but when he heard footsteps, he looked up and in the direction where the footsteps came from.

A young man in his mid-20s was alone on the move. He didn't fit into the scene on this gloomy night at all. Even from this distance, the young man could see how expensive the man's clothes were. That's why he wondered even more why this man was alone out at night. The man seemed to be walking in his direction, and as he got closer, the young man also noticed the banknotes in his hand. It was a whole stack that the man kept flipping through and counting.

 "..When will it come out of the garage again?" The man seemed to ask himself. Even though it was just a whisper, the young man understood every word. His attention returned to the banknotes in the man's hand, which he now simply held onto. Furthermore, he seemed to increase his walking pace.

The young man slowly stood up and approached him with slow, relaxed steps, as if he were just heading home. As he was right in front of him, he noticed the big height-gap. The other man was probably 15cm taller than he. The man wore a brown coat that matched his hair color and a beige turtleneck sweater underneath. One detail that particularly caught his eye was his distinctive face. But he didn't care. With a quick motion, he snatched the stack of money from the other man's hands, then started running. He heard the footsteps of the other man behind him, chasing him. Fuck. He was about to catch up. On the spur of the moment, he changed direction, made a sharp turn, and ran into the bushes. Several thorns struck his face, scratching it, but he seemed not to notice the pain. The other man seemed to have stopped, as he no longer heard any footsteps behind him.

He slowed down his pace and now walked a bit more slowly. He also began to count the money he held in his hand. 20 thousand US dollars.
...
He looked at the amount with widened eyes. Why did this man have so much cash on him? Was he crazy? Or just filthy rich? He emerged on the other side of the bushes. In front of him stood several men, all dressed in black, as if they had sprung from an action movie. With widened eyes, the young man took several steps back, back into the bushes. But it was too late - they had already spotted him.

Suddenly, he collided with something hard. He turned his head around. In front of him was the man from whom he had just stolen the money. Now he could also see the face of the other man. He had  brown hair and a calm expression. He blinked for a moment; the brown-haired man seemed to have stepped out of a book—his face was flawless. He stopped and desperately held onto the money. The brown-haired man just looked at him, aware that Matteo couldn't run away.

"You're quite fast for your size," he suddenly spoke. His voice was deep and melodic, sending a shiver down Matteo's spine.
"You've stolen before, haven't you?" he asked him now.

"..Tch-" He looked around, searching for any way to escape, but he was surrounded. There was no way out. He felt like a rabbit caught in a fox's den. The brown-haired man grabbed Matteo's chin roughly, forcibly turning it toward him so that he looked at him. He felt like that man's gaze were piercing right through him.

"How old are you?.. 18? 19?" the man asked now for his age.

 "25.." he replied, closing his eyes.

"You look pretty young for your age," said the taller one, condescendingly. He let go of his chin and leaned down, as if Matteo were a small child.

"Give me the money."