It was the perfect opportunity. The time was set just right.
He could hear the assassin's light breathing from the other room, a shuffle of movement as he snuggled deeper into the pillows to get more comfortable.
There was a pause, and then no more movement and that signaled Malik that the man had fallen into the deepest part of sleep. For the next three hours he would not wake unless something touched him, and now Malik had his chance.
His sword was fastened to his belt, the feather lying on his desk was now being tucked into a safe place in his shirt. He rose from where he was sitting and walked out and into the room right beside his.
The man was asleep on the fluffed pillows that lay on the floor, arms curled underneath his head. His legs were bent so they ruffled the front of his robes, making the outfit look bigger on him than it really was. Lips parted just centimeters apart, it softened his face, making it look more innocent.
He...he looked like a child. The child Malik knew since they were little. The child that Malik became best friends with.
The child that killed his brother.
A sudden surge of rage rolled forward and thundered into Malik like a storm, and on instant, his sword was drawn and the pure white of the feather suddenly screamed to be stained with crimson.
"I will kill you Altair, I-I will-" He stopped.
Altair's face dropped, forehead creasing and lips pressing into a line. Malik whispered his threat, surely Altair didn't hear it?
But his question was quickly answered when Altair whimpered, long but quiet. His voice flowed out of his mouth next, but grief clung to it like a wet jacket.
"I-I'm so sorry...s-so sorry..." The man wasn't awake, but he was being terrorized by a nightmare.
Malik swallowed, a rock jammed in his throat. His knuckles tightened around the steel blade but it was too heavy to lift. He just stood there, eyes locked on Altair as the assassin started to squirm, pulling his hands to his chest in which they were curled into tight fists, another grieved cry wrangling free of his throat.
"I'm s-s-sorry..."
There was a loud clash, and the sword was on the floor, the feather being whipped away by the toss of Malik's hand.
Altair still didn't wake, his breaths just broke into hyper pants, body beginning to tremble.
"Altair..." Malik was on his knees, bringing the man close to him with his arm. "Altair, wake up."
A soft cry came from Altair, but his eyes opened. Deep, deep sorrow had taken over the hazel irises, and as Malik watched, tears steadily rose and drifted down his pale cheeks.
"M-Malik, I-I'm s-s-"
"Don't." Malik's voice was gentle. "I know you are sorry...but now it is I who must apologize."
"W-why would-"
Malik silenced him by pointing to the sword on the stone ground and the feather that was lying a few feet away from it.
There was a long, drawn-out pause before Altair released a quiet sob, shoulders shuddering.
"Y-you should of done it...y-you should of killed me. I deserve it..."
"No, I heard you apologize. That was all I needed." Malik pushed the assassin's head into the crook of his neck to calm him. Normally, Malik wouldn't care for apologies, but the truth was, he saw the grief carved into the man's face, heard the sorrow in his voice. Altair was more than sorry. He was in pain. He was hurting. All the other assassin's said nasty things behind his back, told others not to trust him and he had his own brothers that wanted him killed. All over an honest mistake. Altair still cared for Malik. Still cared for his deceased brother.
'I suppose that's all that matters..'
A clear, glossy tear slid down Malik's cheek. He would always miss his brother, but perhaps he could forgive his friend for a mistake he made.
"Forgive me, Altair. I have treated you wrong for much too long. I-I...I still care about you and all the other assassins...they do too."
"N-no...they do not." Altair's voice was as broken as a shattered window. "They h-hate me...everyone h-hates me...I hate m-me..."
"Do not say that. You cannot hate yourself over a mistake. You just have to learn from it."
"E-everyone I love gets hurt. B-because of me." He released a soft sigh. "I should have stayed dead."
Malik growled a little, his grip tightening around Altair's waist. "Listen to me, Altair. If I have forgiven you, you need to forgive yourself. Understood?"
The assassin didn't reply, but he nuzzled his face deeper into Malik's shoulder.
Sighing, Malik murmured:
"Get some rest, Altair. You have a mission to complete tomorrow."
"..d-don't leave me."
Those words struck deep in Malik's heart. Altair's voice was so innocent, so small. The man himself suddenly seemed so fragile instead of the highly-trained assassin he was.
"I won't go anywhere, my friend."
"Promise me you w-won't."
"...I promise."