I'd Rather Die... [On Hold]

Chapter 1: The Tattoo Artist

Bison was never an innocent person. He just couldn't be. The act of being clueless was a waste of time to him. Whenever he wanted something, he'd go for it, it didn't matter what that was, a person or even a gun.

Fadel, on the other hand, usually took Bison as his precious younger brother. He never had any idea about how Bison truly was when out of his sight. And Bison always took that to his advantage, being a freak whenever he could go out of Fadel’s sight, whenever Fadel was busy with his so-called customer, Style.

Honestly, Bison almost always thought Fadel was such a hypocrite. He had a man cling to him, wanting to date him 24/7 and even flirted with that man from time to time yet he prohibited Bison from dating. It's not that Bison already liked someone but it was just unfair. If he doesn't get to date, how come Fadel can he wants? Just cause he's older?

“Hi, I'm Style,” Muttered a boy probably the same age as Bison with a quite deep voice, loudly enough for everyone in the place to hear. Bison's eyes roamed to the figure, standing next to the counter, right in front of Fadel. Leaning his elbows against the counter, Style looked up at Fadel, their faces only inches apart until Fadel stepped back.

“You come here everyday and say the same fucking thing. Do you think I don't know who you are?” Fadel replied, a very harsh tone evident in his voice. Fadel turned his back towards the counter as he felt Style attempting to lean even closer.

“I just want to make sure you remember your future boyfriend's name,” Bison chuckled and rolled his eyes, trying to ignore them when he heard Style say. It was usual. That boy had been coming to Fadel's bar and the restaurant for more than a month now and had been flirting with Fadel nonstop. He wasn't the type Fadel usually liked. Style's name certainly fit him perfectly. He almost always wore crop tops as upperwear and skinny jeans that clung to his body tightly on his legs. The crop top never stretched below his belly button, exposing half of his stomach. Not to mention, when he lifted his hands, his full stomach would be on display.

As Bison tried to ignore the public display of cringe flirting, he shifted his attention to the coffee cup in front of him. What Fadel and Style were saying to each other was still very clear to hear as he sat at one of the closest tables to the counter. As Fadel sighed, walking back to the counter. Style tugged his hair behind his ear, watching Fadel shake his head.

“What do you want from me?” Fadel asked, as he took a cup of coffee from behind the counter, walking to give the cup of coffee to the correct table.

Style followed after him. “I want you,” He paused. “Isn't it obvious?” Style asked as he kept following Fadel back to the counter.

“You're not getting that,” Fadel replied, pressing his hands softly against the cold, furnished counter in order to control his frustration. “Are you going to order anything? If not, go away,” Fadel kept away.

“You can't chase me away. I'm your customer,” Style pressed, his lips forming a cheeky smile as he winked at the older man. Fadel gave him a glare as if he was about to kill him right there. Style stepped back a bit before the smile he wore toned down. “But fine. If ordering something is gonna get me the way to your heart, I will,” He said in a kind of challenging tone.

Style walked back and forth in front of the counter, pretending to think about what he'd order. “I'll have a coffee,” He paused. “Iced. I've had enough heat today,” He winked at Fadel again and walked towards the table where Bison was sitting.

Bison turned his face away to avoid being seen by the taller man. But Style knew him already. Unwillingly, Bison let him sit opposite him on the table. “Why is your brother so cold?” Style asked.