One-Shot Collection - Keanu Reeves.

- 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙒𝙞𝙘𝙠 -

"You're crazy" I mutter, looking into John's eyes.

I stand with my back against the target, a long distance between me and John. My heart races as his fingers trail along the blades that are splayed out in front of him. "It's better for practice, plus you should be skilled enough to dodge if it gets too close to your skin" he says coldly, looking at me for a moment. A silence passes as he picks up a short but sharp blade. He examines it, twirling it between his fingers. I have to admit, I'm a lot more nervous then I should be. He's just throwing extremely sharp blades at my head that could kill me. Who cares, right? I wipe my palms against black skinny jeans, breathing out shakily. He looks at me, positing his body to throw the blade.

"Stay still" he calls out, doing a few practice throws, not letting go of the blade. I close my eyes, trying to keep my body still. The blade soars through the air, hitting the target a few inches above my head. I open my eyes, sighing in relief. "Why did you close your eyes? If I was your opponent, and came running at you with a blade, would you just close your eyes?" he asks, coming around the table. He leans against it, crossing his arms across his chest. He dressed in pants and a t-shirt, the grey shirt hugging his arms. I back away from the target, turning around and looking at the blade that sits in the corkboard target. "Yeah well, there's a difference between being in a dangerous situation and having your partner in crime throw blades at you in a tingy basement" I scoff, looking at him in defense.

He turns around grabbing another blade. I roll my eyes, pressing my back against the target once again. "Why can't I throw bla-" I start, being cut off by a blade flying towards me. It takes me a moment to process that the blade isn't coming beside me, it's coming towards me. I yelp, quickly dropping on my knees, the blade hitting where I once stood only a moment later. "John! what the fuck!" I yell, standing back up. "That was for being cocky" he mutters, picking up another blade. "Oh no you don't" I say, walking towards him. Another blade flies past me unexpectedly, nicking my neck. A small sting washes over my neck, bring my hand to the tiny cut. I pull my fingers away, a few drops of blood covering them. I look at my fingers and then John, a smirk painted across his face.

"If I could, I would punch you" I sternly say, bring my sleeve to my neck. I draw beside him, picking up one of the blades with my free hand. I reflections stares back at me from the cold of the metal. I look up and John, catching him studying me. His eyes wander to the blade in my hand, his eyes saying no. I look at the target, smiling. "Come on, John" I beg him. He scowls "No, you aren't trained enough, you could kill me" he says, cocking his eyebrows. I stare at him for a long moment, giving him puppy dog eyes. He rolls his eyes, giving in. I watch him turn his back, walking over to the target. This is going to feel so good. I've wanted to throw blades at him for so long. especially when he tells me what to do all the time.

He presses his back against the target, crossing his arms in defense. I remove my hand from my neck, the area of the cut now stained a red from my blood. I look down at my white sleeve, a couple dots of red on the fabric. I straighten my back, holding the blade to my ear. He looks at me, a blank expression. He wants me to mess up. He holds eye contact for a little too long, staring into my soul it seems. I breathe in, letting go of the blade. It flies through the air, landing a few inches away from his hip. He snickers quietly. "You get two more throws" he says, laughing. I turn around momentarily, picking up another blade. I turn around, throwing it more quickly. It lands near his ear, him not flinching a bit. He's probably used to it. The boogeyman doesn't flinch at some dainty blade, that's for sure. He steps away for a moment, looking at the blade. "That's good, you got closer". I'm taken back by the comment, surprised at his supportive comment. "But a four year old could dodge that" he adds, turning towards me with a smirk. And were back again with the comments.

I pick up another blade, not letting him stand against the target in time. I throw it, the blade tearing through his shirt fabric that hangs off his body. It hits the target loudly, his eyes wondering to the new hole in the side of his shirt. "How's that for a four year old being able to doge it?" I say with a cocky tone, crossing my arms. He drops his hands to his side walking towards me. He comes close to me, meeting my eyes. He reaches out cupping the side of my face. He tilts my head, examining the damage on my neck. I can feel my heart pick up under his touch, my palms gathering sweat. He never gets close like this, not even when training. I clear my throat, swallowing. His gaze moves from my cut to my eyes, starring into them. I close my eyes and sigh, leaning into his touch. I haven't been close with someone like this in so long. I miss being touched. I missing hugs. I miss my family. I try to clear the thought of my family out of my head, bad memories threatening to play in my head like a movie.

I hear the sound of clinking metal, my eyes shooting open. I dodge as John swings for my face with a blade, cutting through the air. I grab his armed arm, twisting his arm so the blade is behind his back, facing me. I hold him there for a moment, recovering from shock. He jabs at me, causing me to let go and dodging his jab. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me into a head lock, holding the blade against my throat for a moment. I tap my hand on his arm, tapping out. I turn around, looking at him and feeling at my neck. "Rule number one, don't get distracted" he says, placing the blade back on the table behind him. He turns back around, locking eyes once again. He crosses his arms, his muscles flexing with the movement. I shake my head "You are fucking crazy" I mumble, walking past him to the stairs. "Crazy, not stupid" he responds behind me. I can hear him mumble something as I walk up the stairs, the sound drowning past me.

"Only if you knew" I make out.