"Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?" -Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Mike wets his lips and forces the breathing through his nose. Every particle of his being that usually told him to run away from danger is strangely quiet tonight.

His legs ache as he slinks down the hallway, his heart racing. The curls dampen against his forehead while sweat drips down his neck.

The nice house and rich furnishing doesn't affect Mike's decision, one he's been bottling up for years. Today is the day where he takes that string he made between them and snips it, until he can't control Mike anymore. There's a certain moment in time, especially when dark nights become one of wandering for new victims, when a man has to say stop. That he doesn't want this.

Hopefully, this will be his last farewell.

"You like it, don't you?"

Mike glanced up at him, his mouth gaped open in surprise. Not that he had murdered a man, but was forced to kill, using his hands and a sharp, expensive knife by him. The beating that had forced him to snap, thus killing the man, had left him feeling so much pride for Mike.

"You're stuffing him in the suit," he commanded, placing a hand on Mike's shoulder. His possessiveness had become something poisonous, and Mike had been aware of this for many months. He wanted control over Mike, and whenever Mike attempted to escape his boundaries, he grabbed Mike's neck and brought him back into his arms, unable to let him go.

Mike had played with that possessiveness, unaware of what he was capable of.

"I don't want to," Mike whispered softly, tears beading into his eyes. The cold grass brushed against his leg as he rose to his feet. The quiet grounds of the abandoned farm wouldn't pass along any of his screams to the bigger city. This murder will remain quiet, and Mike wanted to die.

"You're not leaving. You will do this."

"You can't make me," Mike hissed, his voice raising. His eyes flickered to the dead body, the one that he was forced to kill. "You will not make me kill again. I won't let you. The police will catch you, and I won't…"

That's when Mike was interrupted. His dark eyes seeped into Mike's, unwavering and controlling. "You will kill again, Will. I won't let you leave this life. You're with me now, under my wing. You will be my apprentice, and you shall call me master."

Mike's at the doorway. He knows he can smell how scared he is, especially by the amount of sweat that's dripping down his body. He always had an impeccable sense of smell.

"Mike?"

That's when Bonnie's voice drifts out of the doorway, cold and calculating. But Mike can sense the affection and liking he contained for only Mike, underneath that set tone of voice. "Come in." He was curious to say the least.

Gripping his knife, Mike swallows and allows one glance at the moon. This may be the last time he looks at the wondrous orb, one that had always caught his interest. Bonnie had fed off of that interest and used it in his power to manipulate into what Mike is today.

Mike hopes that he will not leave the room. Things that were reversed will not be recovered, a thought that had motivated him to grab the knife and head to his room.

How easy it will be for Bonnie to grab the knife and sink it through tainted flesh, skin that will never recover pack to purity. But Mike isn't going down without the devil beside him. They will both fall together, into the depths of hell where they belong.

Where murderers belong.

The door closes and the hallway is cloaked with darkness. Inside, Mike takes the blade out and clutches onto the metal, feeling it dig into his skin.

Bonnie stares at him, his possessive eyes flicking over his creation greedily. "Mike, what brings you here tonight?" he says quietly, already smelling the metal of the knife.

"To kill you, master," Mike states. His eyes aren't scared; no more is fear audible in his eyes. Already, he knows what will happen tonight. The moon will soon be cloaked by dark clouds. Beauty will cease to exist. In this case, is that a bad thing?

But that's where Bonnie and I belong.

Then, he lunges. Mike snarls and Bonnie leaps over to his creation, grabbing his tender flesh.

That night, the moon permanently sinks into an abyss where it's unable to be found. The painting spread across the floor is too hard for people to bear, the people who knew them best, but in actuality, not at all who they truly were.

A/N: I created this in less than an hour, and what I was aiming for was something short and sweet. Entirely motivated by Hannibal, a series I've recently gotten into, I wanted to explore a murderer's relationship with someone he viewed as 'perfect'. Hope you enjoyed.