Ascension│Bluelock x male reader

4.2. Gone

"Goodbye, Y/N L/N."

The last words Y/N would ever hear.

At least, they should've been.

There was a loud bang. Louder than any gunshot Y/N had ever heard before. And there wasn't a hole in his head. No blood, no brains, nothing. Y/N wasn't dead. At least, he didn't think he was. 

He blinked his eyes open, staring at Kuroi. The silence of the street had been completely shattered by the gunshot. Y/N thought that it was his ears ringing, but no.

It was Kuroi. Hunched over. Screaming. 

A loud scream. An insane scream. Filled with anger, filled with pain. Worse than a banshee's scream. Worse than a zombie's groan, a ghost's wail, a dragon's roar. 

Y/N took a hesitant step back. Only then did he notice the gun lying on the ground, smoke rising from a completely destroyed barrel. What happened...?

Kuroi spun, facing Y/N. Y/N caught sight of blood, and flesh. He gagged, doubling over, and was sick right there on the side of the road. His eyes blurred, tears filling his vision. 

Whatever had happened to Kuroi wasn't good. Not good at all.

The gun had malfunctioned. Or something along those lines. It'd exploded in his hand as he tried to fire, trying to pull the trigger over and over again. And it had ruined him.

His hand was destroyed. Wounds leaking thick, crimson blood. Black shrapnel stuck in the flesh. Ruined fingernails, torn skin, split veins and arteries. The exposed skin on his neck and face wasn't much better off, staining his face a bloody red. Kuroi bared his teeth at Y/N, and Y/N saw ruined teeth, damaged lips, and garnet gums.

But the gun was gone. 

Was Y/N safe? 

"Why...!" 

Kuroi's mouth was impossibly, moving. Sliced lips moved, blood and saliva mixing, dripping off the man's chin. His cheeks pulled, cuts opened wider. A piece of black plastic embedded in his eyebrow let loose a waterfall of blood over his eye. Y/N froze up. Kuroi growled. "Why'd you run, huh?!" 

His voice... Y/N hadn't heard anything remotely close to it before. A guttural snarl, deep and wet. "You. Are. Mine." Kuroi staggered forwards towards him, his life draining from him by the second. Y/N didn't move. Kuroi wasn't human anymore. He looked like his name - a physical human representation of hell. 

"You're dead." Kuroi muttered. "Dead, dead, dead, dead." 

His laugh filled the street, alongside pained grunts and angered snarls. He threw his head back. Droplets of blood splattered the street. "Dead, dead, dead, dead." Another laugh. "You hear me? dead dead dead dead dead dead dead." 

Kuroi wasn't going to stop, Y/N realised. Just because the gun was gone and he was injured, he wasn't going to leave Y/N alone.

And as soon as that realisation hit him, Y/N was staggering away down the road. There was pain in his stomach. Shrapnel from the gun? He could only hope not.

First a stagger. Then, a jog. And finally, a run. Y/N ran for his life, as behind him, Kuroi roared louder than ever.

His hand was destroyed. But he still reached into his jacket, drawing something else out. Bright sunlight reflected off a metal blade. Y/N's body shuddered as adrenaline flooded his veins. Run. Go. Leave. He should've known Kuroi wouldn't stop. 

He ran. 

Fast.

The pain subsided in his stomach. His heart thumped, in time with the pounding of blood in his head. He didn't think. He didn't stop. He just ran.