When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 85: Pulled In Close

Chapter 85: Pulled In Close

They trailed down the salted roads, few other people passing by.

Gabriel was balancing on the curb, arms extended like an airplane. Whenever his foot slipped, he’d speed up, eventually ending up way ahead.

When he reached the end of the curb, he hopped off and waited for Kant to catch up, grinning.

Kant narrowed his eyes, finding that expression a bit suspicious. Rightfully so—when he came close, Gabriel threw an arm around his shoulders and leaned into him heavily.

"Are you any more sober now?"

Kant stumbled, clenching his jaw as he steadied himself on the icy cobblestone. But he barely managed to huff a sigh of relief and mutter a "yeah," when Gabriel slipped again and reflexively grabbed his arm.

"Gabriel—!"

"Sorry!"

They landed in a heap right under the streetlight.

Kant let out a winded huff, dropping his head against the uneven ground. "Damn..." So much for staying on his feet.

Gabriel groaned between chuckles, lazily sitting up to run a hand through his soft hair. "We totally just looked like two drunks."

"You’re not..." Kant looked up at him, abandoning his thought mid-sentence as something more important took his attention.

Gabriel was gorgeous like this—his cheeks flushed red from the cold and his eyes glistening brightly. He looked heavenly. Even the yellow light shining from above made the frizz in his hair seem like a halo.

Still dazed, he watched Gabriel stand and offer a hand. "You didn’t get hurt, right?"

"No, I’m fine." Kant let himself be pulled up.

They kept walking, closer than ever. In fact, they were so close that Kant’s gaze kept straying to the rosy lips, watching as a pink tongue darted out to wet them, leaving behind an inviting glisten.

"You’re staring a lot today."

Kant glanced up, caught by the blue eyes. He dragged a hand down his face, tearing his eyes away. This was overwhelming.

"Oh, don’t hide now." Gabriel pulled his hand away. "You’re a cute drunk, you know that?"

Kant shot him a look of pure incredulity. "That’s got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve said."

"Why? I’m being honest," Gabriel insisted. "I like your relaxed smile." He poked the corner of Kant’s mouth. "You’re cute when you’re not frowning."

Kant tried to avoid the prodding, but no matter which way he leaned, it wasn’t far enough. "How many times are you going to repeat that?"

"As many as it takes for you to get used to being called cute."

"Stop."

"Make me."

"No."

"Cute, cute, cute, you’re so cute—"

Kant cut him off with a peck. That was the plan—just a small "bite" to get him to shut up. But Gabriel’s hand sneaked to the back of his neck and pulled him in.

They had been crossing the bridge across the city canal, but Kant only remembered where they were when he was pushed against the thick railing, his legs spreading a little to make room for Gabriel.

The cold, hard concrete dug into the sore spots on his back, making Gabriel’s warmth almost burn.

After a few moments, it hit him that the burn was actually coming from Gabriel’s leg pressing against his, right on the almost-healed wound.

He tried to shift to a better position without breaking the kiss, but Gabriel noticed and pulled back, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Is your leg hurt?"

"It’s..." Kant leaned after him again, loath to part.

Gabriel held him back by the shoulders, first serious, then chuckling. "Are you even here?"

A woozy pause. A reluctantly rebuilt train of thought. "Yeah."

"What happened to your leg?"

"Just a cut. It’s fine as long as you don’t put pressure on it."

Gabriel squinted, not quite buying it, but not pushing it either. He glanced down as his fingers traced Kant’s thigh, running over the curve of the muscle in a slow, absentminded motion.

Kant swallowed.

"Why do you..." He had to catch the wandering hand to focus. "How does your brain work?"

Gabriel playfully wiggled his fingers in Kant’s hold. "What do you mean?"

"You take me back too easily." Kant leaned back against the railing for balance. "As a ghost, you had no one better, fine—I get that part. But now? You should have picked someone decent."

"But I like you."

Kant could only stare. They never said it, not really.

"Do you want a list of reasons?" Gabriel tapped his lips theatrically. "Hmm, let’s see. You look sexy with your reading glasses, how about that? You’re kind of badass, and I like your intense eyes. But I also love how cute you can be when—"

Kant pushed off the railing to get away, flustered. "Okay, fine."

Gabriel chuckled and pulled him back, holding him in place. "Where are you going? I’m not done."

The teasing smirk softened to a more serious look. "Being around you feels safe." Gabriel’s fingers moved up to fidget with the front of Kant’s jacket. "Even when I’m too much, you don’t shame me. You listen and take time to understand me."

He straightened the fabric, looking Kant in the eyes. "I trust you. With my body and my soul," he said sincerely. "I don’t want anyone else. Only you. I just want to be around you, do stuff together. Nothing impossible."

Today was just not the day for Kant’s composure. He bowed his head, trying to ward off the heat spreading from his eyes. But it was useless.

Damn it.

One option was jumping into the canal and swimming away. With the water dripping down his face, it would be hard to tell he’d cracked. Then again, no sane, functioning person would do that. Then yet again, he wasn’t a very sane, functioning person.

"So you’re an emotional drunk," Gabriel concluded softly.

Kant tried not to grimace. But the warmth of Gabriel’s hands on his face only made it worse. His thumbs brushed under Kant’s eyes, wiping away the wetness. The touch was so gentle it hurt.

The urge to get away was pulling at him for the nth time that night, but somehow he stayed.

"You know, I’ve never seen anyone cry with such a poker face before," Gabriel commented, wrapping his coat around them both like a blanket.

Kant made a sound between a cough and a scoff, looping his arms around Gabriel’s waist. He might as well admit defeat.

Pressed against something warm, wet-faced and still somewhat hazy from alcohol. It was like heaven. He just felt mellow and... not too pathetic, surprisingly. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this.

The city was asleep around them, snow drifting in slow spirals, dusting their hair and covering the melted handprints on the railing.

Gabriel rested his cheek against Kant’s head, his voice coming out in mumbles. "You’re like a black cat. Moving through shadows, avoiding people. Slow to trust. But all sweet and purring to one special person."

They pulled apart and Kant looked away to wipe his face, huffing a laugh. "Purring?"

"Maybe not quite that." A light chuckle. "But I bet I could make you purr." Gabriel scratched his chin lightly—ironically the most effective way to get Kant to lean in.

The next kiss tasted a little salty.

Kant lingered, just for a moment, feeling the way Gabriel’s lips moved against his, slow and unrushed. A shiver ran down his spine—not from the cold, but from the way Gabriel’s fingers curled lightly around his collar, tugging just slightly as if testing how close he could bring him.

A quiet hum left Gabriel, amused. "You’re not pulling away."

Kant exhaled, floating somewhere. "Why would I want to?"

"Does that mean you’re mine?"