When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 38: Haunted by the Living

Chapter 38: Haunted by the Living

They walked in silence for a bit, the question hanging between them. Then Kant stopped and pointed at the background. "Gabriel, take a good look around. What do you see?"

It was a run-down industrial neighborhood. Crumbling buildings left and right. Unwelcoming and devoid of life. Even with the snow softening the edges of everything, all the grime underneath couldn’t be hidden.

"The street?" Gabriel looked around, puzzled. "What about it?"

"Our lifestyles are not compatible."

"Our lifestyles?" Gabriel let out a confused chuckle. "It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. What’s wrong with spending a bit of time together?"

Kant sighed and kept walking. He could think of enough reasons why that would be wrong.

For one, if the press caught a whiff of Gabriel hanging around suspicious individuals, his reputation would suffer. Not to mention how Kant would be plunged into the public eye, and Jones would find out.

Still, aside all of that, he didn’t understand what Gabriel was trying to do.

"You want to spend time with me? Why? Did you develop a Stockholm syndrome or something?"

The steps behind his back paused.

Kant bit his tongue, regretting his words. He tried to leave quickly, but didn’t get very far before a snowball hit him hard in the back of the head.

"Stockholm syndrome? Are you kidding me?" Gabriel scoffed, furiously stomping after him.

Kant rubbed the back of his head, but could hear the crunching of another ball being crafted. He held a hand over his head, bracing for another smack. This time, the snowball slammed into his back.

"You sure have the audacity to use a mental condition as an insult!" Gabriel’s voice rose in volume. "Shouldn’t you know how shitty it feels to have your feelings dismissed as insanity?"

Kant was forced to stop. "Lower your voice. You’re not a ghost anymore."

Gabriel’s breath came out in sharp puffs. Blue eyes burned into Kant

"We—" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "we kissed! Well—almost! But now that I’m alive, you’re pushing me away? Are you only into ghosts?"

Kant brushed the snow from his hair, mildly frustrated. "Yes, I’m only into ghosts. Not interested in the living. Happy?"

Gabriel fumed, his frown deepening.

They stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

Every distant sound could be heard as the world held its breath. A faraway tweet of a bird, the quiet crack of a nearby roof struggling under the weight of the snow.

Eventually, Gabriel straightened and squared his shoulders and schooled his expression.

"Fine. If you don’t want to see me, I won’t bother you. I have my pride too, you know," Gabriel declared, fixing his hood up again. "I’ll just do it all alone."

He passed Kant with a frustrated huff.

Kant furrowed his brow. "Do what alone?"

Gabriel paused, then marched back in the direction he came from. "I was supposed to go the other way," he mumbled, passing by again.

Kant faltered for a while, then followed. "Gabriel, do what alone? What are you planning to do?"

"None of your business," Gabriel replied in a sing-song voice.

"Stop playing with me," Kant went after him. Was he out to get revenge? Dig into Sam’s underground business? Whatever it was, none of what Kant could imagine was safe.

Gabriel ignored him, seemingly enjoying the switched dynamic in the chase. He hummed his little song about bumblebees, practically skipping ahead.

As they were nearing Jolly Wings again, a distant ding drew Kant’s attention.

The door of the chicken shop opened, and out stepped Jones, squinting into the cold air. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up at the sky before pulling out a cigarette.

Kant stiffened. If Jones spotted Gabriel passing by on his cigarette break it wouldn’t end well.

He caught Gabriel’s wrist and pulled him to the side.

Gabriel blinked in surprise. "What—"

"Jones," Kant whispered.

They ducked into the shadows of a nearby building’s porch.

Gabriel peeked over Kant’s shoulder, just enough to spot Jones across the street, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Who cares? It’s not like he would kill me in broad daylight," Gabriel murmured, shifting to find a comfortable position.

"You’re in his territory," Kant reminded. "There’s no telling what could happen."

For a moment, they stayed silent, breaths mingling in the cold air. Gabriel’s gaze flicked away, his cheeks subtly flushed from the closeness.

Kant moved back a little, trying to ignore the warmth burning his ears.

"See? We’re spending time together and everything’s fine," Gabriel whispered to fill the silence.

Kant suppressed an eyeroll. "Is hiding your definition of quality time?"

"Being close to you is," Gabriel whispered teasingly, leaning in close.

"No." Kant tugged the fur-lined hood down.

Gabriel chuckled quietly and pushed his hood back. "I can see your red ears, you know." He took a step closer. "Clearly, your phantom-sexuality was a lie."

Kant’s brow twitched. "Phantom—what?" He pushed Gabriel’s hand away and took another step back. "Stop that, just stay away."

"Why? You don’t seem to hate the closeness."

"What are you going to do if someone sees us? Think about the consequences for once," Kant muttered, but it came out too soft.

A contemplative quiet settled over Gabriel. His eyes flickered, and Kant could have sworn he saw a fresh batch of ideas baking in his head.

"What if I hired you as my bodyguard?" Gabriel whispered the first idea that popped up. "No one would find it strange, and we could walk around in public casually."

Kant stared at him dumbly. "A bodyguard?"

Gabriel nodded. "Good idea, right?"

"More like a half-baked idea," Kant said dryly.

For a moment, Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he smiled and said, "Alright, fine. Then give me your phone number."

Gabriel’s mind was a sleigh speeding down a hill, and sometimes Kant felt like he was dragging behind, barely one hand on the railing.

"Not happening. You’re getting way too ahead of yourself."

"Again, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage, just your number," Gabriel insisted, poking Kant’s sides.

Kant swatted his hand away. "I said no."

Gabriel pouted, yet the twinkle in his eyes did not abate. "But what if I end up in a dangerous situation with no one to call?"

Kant narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to do something dangerous?"

"Not right now, no..." Gabriel glanced away with a secretive smirk.

Kant leaned against the cold brick wall, studying his face. "Then what are you up to?"

"Trying to find a way to reach you," Gabriel said, trying to maintain nonchalance, but his gaze kept traveling back to Kant’s, yearning.

Kant’s heart skipped a beat and he shifted uncomfortably, searching for a good counterargument. But all he could think of was the proximity that was slowly driving him into a corner.

"If I can’t call you, I’ll have to keep coming back here."

"Fine," Kant relented.

It was just a phone number. What was the worst that could happen?

Gabriel beamed with triumph and quickly fished out his phone, almost shoving it at Kant, who took it like it was a ticking bomb.

"Treat it like you would treat 911," Kant remarked, putting in his digits. "Don’t call for no reason."

"So I can call you if I set something on fire?"

"I’m not a firefighter. And you’re not an arsonist. Don’t burn anything."