König x Reader- Bad taste in men

Part 11

Your eyes didn't move, didn't blink, as you absorbed König's words. Every cell in your body halted it's actions. You were convinced blood had stop flowing through your body, feeling absolutely frozen in shock and fear.

He was leaving.

"Were you going to tell me or let me find your room empty on my own?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know, it was a split second decision."

"A split second decision," you repeat his word as if that would help the syllables sink in. As if the words passing your lips would suddenly make sense the more you repeated them, whether it was out loud or to yourself.

He was leaving. He was leaving you.

"Do you have the contract on you?" You weren't sure why you had asked him that.

His hands move to his back pocket, pulling out a pale yellow paper folded within another white piece of paper.

He doesn't stop you as you stomp towards him, ripping the paper out of his grip. His eyes watching yours for any emotion as they read over the words "141's contract with Kortak has been fulfilled. Konig is herby dismissed of all duties effective immediately."

Your couldn't stop reading those two sentences. Over and over again, your eyes circled around the curves and dips of the letters inked in black.

This kind of anger was new to you.

Never before had you wanted to find the mechanical machine responsible for printing this crap and completely smash it to pieces. Maybe you could make the pieces resemble the ones that were once your heart.

König hadn't said a word, afraid that saying anything might set you off. His heart beat frantically in his chest, wondering what was going on in yours.

His eyes are on alert the minute you fold the paper, your head moving up to look him in the eyes. Holding up the piece of paper in front of his face, your other hands lifts to meet the other side of it. Ever so slowly your hands move in opposite directions, ripping the paper in half.

Continuing, you rip the two halves into fours, and then into eights, and then into sixteenths, and so on until the words on the paper are unreadable.

Even under his sniper hood you can see the shock outlined under the fabric. His eyes widening as he watches your movements but does nothing to stop them.

Throwing the mangled and tattered remnants of the paper in the air like confetti, you wait for it it to fall around the two of you like snow before seething out, "C-O-W-A-R-D".

It takes him a minute to process what you had done with what you had said.

Yelling towards the door you tell Keegan, "Lock the fucking door back until I tell you otherwise."

You didn't have to see Keegan to know he was the one responsible for unlocking the door moments ago. Everyone else was at your fake funeral's and these doors aren't high tech enough to unlock and lock themselves.

The sound of metal clinking together can be heard, followed by the click of the locking mechanism within the door.

"Did you just tear-."

Arms fold, your eyes meeting his angry ones as you chime in, "Shredded is probably more accurate."

"This isn't a goddamn joke Y/n. You can't just-"

Your feet step back a few inches from him, your waist lowering in a bow, "Actually I can and I did."

He knew you were baiting him, trying to pull any emotion out of him...and it was working. His blood pumping faster through his veins then it had in weeks. His hand itching to reach out to you but instead his back found itself against the wall.