My Forced Husband// Tom Kaulitz (sequel 2)

Relive.

{MUSICCCCC ⬆️
ALSO, IN THIS CHAPTER there may be a bit a few words that may be difficult to read and understand! <3}

Notes:

FP = first person POV

- - Unknown POV..?- -

He scavenges his coal powdered hands into his pocket, "Gotcha," he grumbles, picking the old cigarette out and using the remainder of the lit flame to light it up before taking a deep puff and exhaling.

"Check if any of 'em are alive, Mark." He orders with his stern tone.

He lifts his empty hand to his face, scratching his flaky beard which was clearly uncared for.
Taking another puff out of the cigar, he lets out a croaky cough- his lungs getting weaker and weaker from the intoxication of the deadly smoke as well as the fumes of the fire that just recently got put off.

"Bonnie c'mere, here's a chap." Mark disrupts.

The man looks over at the skinny figure who called him, letting out a snarl of annoyance before making his way closer.

"Move over." He signals, giving Mark the permission to budge and continue the rest of the search.
Bonnie throws the cigarette onto the ground and stomps it out before lowering himself on one knee with struggle- digging his hands over the remaining burnt cloth that was attached to the disfigured corpse.
He continues patting his hands all over, making sure no gems or valuables were left behind in the process.

"Hm..?" He stops his hand after feeling something, pulling it out and blowing away the grey dust that had formed from the fire ashes and cremated bones.

It was a small card with an unclear picture of a man printed on. Underneath, written the name 'Clide'.

"AHAHAA-" he begins to laugh as if finding a humorous joke, "LOOK WHAT I'VE FOUND MARK-" he calls back out for the other man to come and have a peak.

"Good ol' Clide," he chuckles unsympathetically before digging his hand back through to try and discover more, "Waste of a pathetic guy anyways."

No man would be able to tell that it was Clide if it weren't for that small piece of identification he had on him. His melted face showed nothing but dried reddened-purple flesh with skin slowly sinking and absorbing onto the blackened floorboard underneath him.
The man scrunches his nose up from the abnormal stench from the rotting corpse, his eyes suddenly fixated onto the boned finger- where there was a gold ring that somehow survived the tremendous heat of the hellfire flames.
He grins ear to ear, not hesitating to slide it off with a slight tug as some flesh had managed to stick like glue to his remaining bone.

"Here's another one," Mark announces from the other side of the burnt up room, "Faint beating pulse."

Bonnie grunts with carelessness again, his focus only captured by the jewel in his hand.

"Has a chance of survival." Mark adds.

His ears peak up, heaving himself up immediately after shoving the gold ring into his dirty pocket.
He slowly strides across the room, the sounds of his thumped steps would bring anyone to crumble themselves up against the corner of the room.

He looks down to where the body and Mark were, noticing the arm sticking out from under the planks that crumbled and sheltered on top of the body.

"I've felt his pulse, quite faint y'know?" Mark says.