A.N- Hello everyone (anyone)! Thank you for picking up this story. I was going to post this story once the whole thing was done, but then I realised that I might never post it if that happens (out of embarrassment), so I decided to do it now.

The romance in this story is complicated so I won't say everything. There will be some flashback-like chapters to fill in some information, so feel free to ask any questions.

I will warn you of the mild(?) violence and gay sex, and from chapter one.

Hope you enjoy—

Chapter One: A Broken Clockwork

ברוך אתה ה' א לוהינו מלך העולם, דיין האמת.

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A cold winter night. His breath was shaky, and white, like agitated ghosts dancing around him, mocking of his abysmal fear. Ice was attacking his skin, and even deeper, causing his heart to bleed.

Blood was drying on his hands and marks were forming around his thin, white neck. His knees had collapsed to the ground, beside the brick wall, which he was pinned against only a minute ago. And he stared, with eyes wide and still, as his lips quivered out shaking breaths as if he was looking at death straight in the eye. But no, he was looking at something much more terrifying.

The knife fell to the ground with a deep dark clutter, leaving a large gaping hole in the man's neck that gashed out blood like a fountain. But the hands continued to squeeze, ripping the wound apart mercilessly, and even cracking the bones inside. The flesh tore, creating a red crescent moon on the man's throat as the hands continued to dig in, no longer sure if the aim was to tear the head apart from the neck or to close the airways.

Such a horrifying picture, of nothing but darkness and goring red being splattered before him. And then there was a crack in the clouds, finally showing the moon for the first time that night.

Light slowly cast upon the brick ground of the alleyway, inch by inch, until it lit the monster above. And it was just at that second that the large, broken body fell to the ground, splattering the pool of blood underneath, flickering the liquid onto his cheeks, neck and hands.

The last man standing looked down on him, a small light lighting his face as smoke flowed through the icy air. His hazel-green eyes sparked as he turned, the glint beautiful, yet horrifying, brutally so. There was fresh blood splattered across the young man's face, and even more on his hand as he took the cigarette out from in between his lips.

The smaller boy's heart thumped, like it was rattling in his ribs, as if shaking in cold fear, as he stared at the man above him, looking down on him with glinting eyes mixed with coldness and care.

'Tu vas bien?'

One last shaking breath escaped his mouth, that one question like a dagger that split his heart, tore through the heavy curtain to show the dark reality.

Are you okay?

.

His eyes opened in between what seemed to be a scream and a gasp, but was merely a silent breath.

The sun that leaked in through the gaps of the curtain cast a long bright line on the white tangled sheets of the bed, and onto the figure lying beside him. The line of light made the olive-skin of his back glow, showing every tone of hard muscle, every scar and every bone, creating a creature in between a beautiful beast and a human.

Without a word, he slipped out of the sheets and away from the sleeping beast, letting his feet tap against the floor quietly as he clothed his naked skin and exited the small room.

'Oh, good morning Kyle.'

Kyle's emerald eyes slit at the posh English accent as he entered the bright room, trying to make out the figure sitting by the desk, glowing in the morning light.

'Hi Greg,' Kyle mumbled as he crashed into the couch, letting his skinny limbs hang off the edge. He could tell that Gregory twitched in annoyance at the calling of the shortened name, but chose to ignore it. He was too tired, and just generally didn't care if he had offended him. It was too bright to relax on the couch, but his vibrant red curls were good enough to work as a dark curtain to cast the bright light of the office out.

'Is Chris still sleeping?' Gregory asked, moving his eyes through a few files as he did. There was a perfect computer sitting on the desk, much more convenient for storage, but Gregory had long since chosen to not keep any important things on the computer. Living and growing up with a person like Kyle had made him so.

'Let him rest. He had a rough night…' Kyle grumbled sleepily.

'What, from the mission or from fucking you?' Gregory asked sarcastically. The question won a glare from the redhead on the couch, who was too tired to make any remark and simply sank back into the darkness behind his curls instead.

Gregory curled his perfect lips and thinned his silver-blue eyes as he smirked lightly at the redhead's annoyance, but quickly returned back to the files.

'He can rest,' the blond said authoritatively, 'It's you who has some work to do.'

'If it's the information on Redmond co. then I finished it last night. Why do you think I'm so tired? …Oh, shut up—' Kyle spat before Gregory could make another remark. 'The info's on the chip I left on the desk. I'm surprised you haven't got it yet—'

'No, I have the chip, thank you Kyle. In fact, I was thinking that you might as well just stay in bed.'

'Why? You just said that I had work—'

'You have some work tonight.'

A small, subtle shudder ran through Kyle's shoulders and instantly, the drowsiness shot away from his brain. Letting a sense of coldness sink into his chest, he got up from the couch and onto his feet, and walked towards Gregory's desk. Without a word, the blond handed him a thin file.

Name: Ronald Waterhouse. Age: fifty-three. Chief accountant of the Beaton compony. Married twenty-eight years, broke wife's jaw once when drunk; has two sons, both moved out. Occasionally indulges himself in sexual pleasures with the money he secretly scams off the compony.

'Is this it?' Kyle asked, flicking the thin file with his hand.

'Of course not.' Gregory smirked, finally looking away from his papers to meet Kyle's vibrant eyes. 'He goes down to Colfax Point every Friday night to look for his pleasure.'

'So?'

An emotionless grin swept upon Gregory's lips.

'Apparently he prefers the compony of pretty boys than ladies, on his Friday nights.' Kyle's eyes widened, if only slightly. Gregory leaned his chin into his entangled fingers, looking up, intently into Kyle's emeralds. 'Like yourself.'

Now Kyle's eyes had completely darkened, from disgust, slight disappointment, and cold emptiness, even though none of it was new.

Without making a respectful reply, Kyle dropped the thin file lifelessly onto Gregory's desk, and turned around to stomp his feet towards his bedroom door.

'I'm going to sleep some more,' he called, shutting the door behind him with an angry slam.

'Sweet dreams—' Gregory murmured quietly.

The second the door shut behind him his anger and frustration towards the blond dropped along with the tension in his shoulders. He let a long breath out his nose and swept through the small, room to drop himself into the bed. He groaned slightly as he felt himself sink into the soft mattress.

'What is wrong?' A rough, yet gentle voice murmured tiredly beside him. Kyle opened his eyes slightly, to meet hazel-green ones, and then let his eyelids close again sleepily.

'Morning 'Tophe.' Kyle mumbled into his pillow.

'What did Gregory say to you?' A slight tinge of suspicion hinted Christophe's voice, but Kyle ignored it.

'I have some work to do tonight.'

'Oh?' Christophe reached out to brush his long, olive fingers against Kyle's pale cheek. Kyle didn't say anymore. He simply let the brunet caress his skin as he fell into another sleep.

.

The small, silver case clicked opened and he drew his thin finger against the small white pills inside. One, two… twelve. He clicked it shut and slid it into his jeans' pocket. Then he took his hunting knife, small as a pocketknife, and slid the leather sheath off to reveal a clean, steel surface that glimmered under the bedside lamp. His finger flicked against the sharp blade, listening to the clean flick, flick, and the subtle ring that came with it. Satisfyingly, he slid the sheath back on and wrapped the small knife around his ankle. The small revolver was tucked under his pillow, deliberately left there, predicted to be not needed for the night. He was ready.

The old, dirty flat was silent, and cold. There was no one there except for him. Gregory out to God knows where, and Christophe out for another job. And now Kyle was about to leave, him for his own bit of night time work. His emerald eyes were damp and dark as he turned the lights off of the flat, drowning their home and workplace in complete black before he left.

It wasn't a cold night. Kyle's coat was old and baggy, once belonged to Christophe, but the thin material was no problem as he walked through the dark, quiet streets. In fact, there were no problems at all in his blank mind, except for the maybe one: that his mind was a little too blank, washed out, nothing but a black hole.

It wasn't a long walk to Colfax Point, maybe even too short for Kyle's liking, for now that he had reached there he had to wait until his special customer arrived, and there was no guarantee that he would. As he walked through the streets Kyle wriggled his nose in disgust. The place was like a ghost town, only coming to life at night to bring the prostitutes, addicts and secret buyers onto the streets. The air was polluted with the smell of sex, drugs, money, corruption, and even a noticeable hint of it— death.

An hour— Kyle thought, still wriggling his nose. If he doesn't appear in an hour, I'll go home. After making that small promise to himself he even counted on it, to use it as an excuse to snuggle out of this job. But he knew, that wouldn't do— that wouldn't do at all.

But either way, it was only twenty minutes of ignoring unwanted offering until a dimly shining black car pulled over beside him. The window rolled down with a practiced smoothness, and revealed a mouth grinning slightly grimly, wrinkles digging deep as he did.

'How much?'

Kyle took a quick, intent glance of the man, before opening his mouth nonchalantly.

'Hand twenty. Oral thirty. Anal forty.'

But Kyle's emotionless words were silenced with a small wave of bank notes.

'How about I pay by the hour?'

An invisible coldness swept through Kyle's eyes as he continued to look at the easy grin of the man's face, but without another word, he walked around and slid into the passenger seat, drawing a smirk out of the middle-age's brick-like nose. The car silently turned to life, and swept through the dirty air of Colfax Point like a fish through a stream.

Kyle kept his fluffy hood up as he walked beside the man through the dirty reception of the sex-reeking hotel. But he didn't think it was highly necessary; the receptionist was obviously intoxicated and barely looked up to see the customer's face. Yet Kyle's vibrant scarlet hair was memorable, so it was always good to hide it.

It wasn't the first time Kyle was in a position to sell his body. Sex was the easiest way to put people off guard, especially if they were affluent and influential. People would be alone, and they would be secret about it, especially if they were going somewhere like Colfax Point. Besides, it was easier to dispose evidence when he was naked, unless they made him ejaculate (which Kyle avoided by finishing the job first). And of course, at Colfax Point there were never any witnesses.

'Wait,' the man called, making Kyle twitch to a stop. 'Slower.'

Silently, frustration built inside the redhead. The sooner he could strip himself naked, the sooner this could be over and done with. Why would anyone want to watch a "prostitute's" strip show anyway? Weren't they there for quick sex? Kyle's coat fell easily to the ground, and he began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, slowly. He could hear the man's deepening breath, and he could even feel the man's penis twitch from a few feet away.

'You have such beautiful skin,' the man breathed as he began stroking the crotch of his pants, making Kyle pause for a second. 'Are you clean?'

'Probably not.' Kyle muttered. There was no way he would say he was, only to give the man a reason not to put a condom on.

'Are you new in the industry? You seem... a little too neat.'

Kyle ignored the comments and subtly quickened the unbuttoning of his shirt.

'Like your hair and teeth… ah—' the man raised his finger, making Kyle's fingers stop on the zip of his jeans. 'Come down onto your knees. Give me some head first before we go down there.'

Kyle's eyes slightly thinned. So there was no way to go through this without any action, huh? But he obeyed, reluctantly, kneeling on the dirty hotel floor and undoing the man's pants. With secret irritation, towards the man and towards Gregory for giving him such a job, Kyle grasped the man's already erected cock and took it into his mouth. The man groaned and dug his fingers aggressively into Kyle's scarlet curls, eyes closing as he felt the redhead's teeth glaze his shaft and tongue swirl around his leaking head.

The faster the better. The faster the better. Kyle worked as he chanted in his head, sucking and pumping almost aggressively, because the faster he could end, the better. He could feel the bold man was on edge, and although the idea of him coming in Kyle's mouth was revolting, he didn't want it to continue a second longer.

'Stop!' Kyle froze, looking up to the man with his cock still in his mouth. 'That is… that's good.' The man chuckled breathless, letting his penis slide out of Kyle's mouth.

'Then what?' Kyle asked with confusion, watching the man's satisfactory grin.

'There's time for that later. Right now, I'd rather have a taste of your ass.'

Finally, Kyle thought. If he could get his jeans off without suspicion, he could reach his knife and do the man off without getting a single splash of blood on his clothes. Almost eagerly, Kyle undid his jeans and slid them down, but before he could completely throw his jeans off he was pushed into the floor, landing on all fours with his jeans only to his knees.

The man chuckled, and a sudden shudder rushed through Kyle as he felt a warm tongue slide across his arse and lower hip. 'Nice…' he moaned from behind happily.

Kyle almost yelped as he felt a testing finger push into him, and then pull out just as quickly.

'Pretty tight too.'

Goddamn it! Kyle screamed in his head, left eye slightly teary. If only he could get his fucking jeans off— Kyle reached back, trying to slide the fabric off his ankles, but was stopped as he was pushed further into the ground.

'Please!' Kyle called as the man slid his cock against Kyle's hole. 'Can I get my jeans off!'

The man paused behind him, listening to the redhead's cries.

'Why?'

'Because it's—' Kyle thought of a reasonable excuse, 'because it's burning my skin.'

'Okay,' the man answered easily, tugging at the jeans around his knees, letting Kyle's roll onto his back to kick the fabric off. The fabric flung to the other side of the room, and now Kyle was completely stripped naked on the floor before the erected man, except for one small thing.

'What's this?' The man asked, reaching down to Kyle's ankle, only to have the foot drawn out of his reach.

'What? This?' Kyle asked, sliding his finger along the wooden grip of his small hunting knife tied around his ankle with a leather shaft. His fingers wrapped around the grip and pulled the clean steel blade out of its sleep to glimmer under the dim hotel light. Kyle slid his emerald eyes intently across his reflection in the blade, cold, lifeless, yet silently burning eyes looking back at him. 'This is for killing you.'

Without a second to let the man comprehend, without letting him breathe his last single breath, and without letting the man taste his silky white skin one last time, Kyle shot his left hand around the man's jaw, pushing it up to reveal the tender skin of his neck, and dug the dagger mercilessly into the exposed throat.

The clean red line opened and shaped into a red crescent moon. Blood sprayed onto Kyle's emotionless face, and the rest streamed down the man's neck and down his half-done shirt. The aggressive gaggling sound entered Kyle's ears and he watched as the man crashed onto the floor. His body shook and twitched, and the hollow sound of air whispering through his windpipes echoed in Kyle's head.

Kyle watched as the man died before him. His emerald orbs were cold, like real stones, emotionless, thoughtless, lifeless as they stared. He made sure he didn't step in the pool of blood as he made his way to the bathroom to rush the red off his white body. The fresh blood ran down his skin and across the dirty tiles of the shower as if scattering away in fear.

Body clean and refreshed, Kyle pondered out the bathroom and across the unlucky room, feet avoiding the pool of blood as he took his clothes off the floor and wrapped them around his skin. And lastly, knife preciously cleaned and renewed, slid back into the sheath around his ankle.

'Good night, Ronald Waterhouse,' Kyle whispered, before slipping out of the blood-reeking room.

The receptionist didn't look up as Kyle slid past and exited the hotel with his hood up past his eyes again. He was glad the man chose a cheap hotel in Colfax Pont. It was always easier to have no security cameras or willing witnesses around. He may have traumatised the hotel staff though, so he felt sorry for them when they were to find the dead body.

The working voices of the midnight street were nothing but a distant murmur as he walked through the darkness. He didn't ignore the voices that called to him, but more so didn't register them, and made his way back home as if he was forgotten by the rest of the living world.

He was a ghost.

The old, crooked flat was dark and cold again when Kyle got back, but he was grateful for that. His tired feet dribbled underneath him as he pondered up the steps and into the office, passing Gregory's desk and entering his small bedroom and collapsed onto his bed.

No Christophe. He sighed in exhaustion as his body sank into the mattress. Tired, Kyle slowly undid the knife around his ankle, took the pill case out of his jeans and struggled out of his thin coat before digging himself into the sheets.

Silence, finally, but before he could completely dwell himself into it, Kyle began to hear the small rhythmic squeaking of a bed in the distance. The subtle whisper seemed to echo in Kyle's ears and he took his blanket up above his head in desperateness. He was tired.

Sex, and death, and sex and death, it seemed to never end. It seemed to be the only thing that existed in the world. In fact, the world was probably killed by it a very long time ago, only so that darkness, despair, and emptiness could dwell in the living-dead world. And now, the world was nothing but a grave.

To drown the sound of sex out of his tired ears, a small, whisper of a melody ghosted Kyle's lips and filled the frozen dark room, casting the whole world, and Kyle, to a deep sleep in the midst of the lullaby.

.

As the crack in the curtains cast the morning light on his forehead, Kyle woke up surrounded in warmth, and found Christophe's olive-skinned arms tight around his waist. The man was naked, and his toned arms had slid up Kyle's shirt to feel the thin naked skin underneath, feeling Kyle's raw heat, as he slept. Kyle found it a bit strange though, confusing even, as Christophe breathed each of his calm and relaxed breaths of sleep next to Kyle, as if his presence was all that he needed for safety.

It was a sad thought. The creaking of the bed from midnight whispered in Kyle's ears as he looked into Christophe's face. And he confirmed himself, emotionlessly, that it was sad. He sometimes wondered about Christophe, Gregory, and himself, and the unconquerable cracks that existed in between them. They loved each other, probably, in their own crooked way, for they had been together since middle school. Then why? Where did these cracks come from? Did they suddenly appear? Or did they grow up with them?

Brushing Christophe's spiky chocolate hair gently, Kyle slid out of the brunet's arms and out of bed, stretching slightly before leaving the room.

'I see you did your job last night,' Gregory greeted, hiding behind the newspaper at his desk. '"Fraud accountant found dead last night." Would you like a coffee?'

'Yes please,' Kyle mumbled, falling back into the couch.

'Good. I'll have one too thanks.'

Kyle rolled his eyes and groaned slightly, before getting up and heading out the office and to the kitchen. That arrogant son of a bitch, Kyle thought as he put the kettle on, sweeping through the miniscule kitchen to grab the coffee. But the bastard got good coffee, Kyle hummed, plopping a coffee bean into his mouth.

No sugar, no milk, Kyle thought, making Gregory's, and milk for himself.

'Ta.' Gregory smiled, finally folding the paper away as Kyle slammed the cup onto his desk. He ignored Kyle's frustration and sipped happily. 'So how did it go?' Gregory eyed Kyle with a knowing grin.

'What do you mean "how did it go"? You read it in the papers didn't you?'

'Yes, but the paper always leave out the interesting facts don't they? They only said how they found him, bloody, neck open, on the floor of a hotel in Colfax Point.'

Kyle glared daggers into the blond.

'So what else if there?' He spat distastefully, making Gregory's grin grow.

'Did you kill him as he fucked you? Or did you let him finish first?'

A loud crash echoed around the room as Kyle threw the remote controller of the television, conveniently placed on the couch a second ago, at the blond who dodged it with an easy smile.

'Fuck you! You fucking sadistic fuck!'

'I'm surprised you were able to kill him at all with a throw like that!' Gregory chuckled; ducking again as an empty cup came flying his way.

'I'll fucking kill you next!'

It was clever of them to have chosen a place completely sealed with soundproof walls and glass. If not, they would have been thrown out ages ago. But still, their racket reached the other room and to the man sleeping in Kyle's bed.

'Oh, good morning Chris, did we wake you?'

But Christophe ignored the blond, pondering with sleeping legs to the enraged redhead.

'What's wrong?' Christophe murmured, wrapping his arms around Kyle's shoulders from the back and leaning into the shorter boy.

'Nothing. Except for the fact that Gregory's being a complete asshole!'

'Oh, I'm sorry Kyle. You are just far too entertaining to tease, I apologise.'

'Fuck you!' But Kyle didn't pick up anything to throw this time, not with Christophe's sleepy arms wrapped around him. He simply gave up, and breathed deeply, and angrily, before slipping away from Christophe and dropping himself onto the couch with an exasperated 'Humph!'

Silence filled the room as Gregory went back to drinking his coffee, Christophe gazing sleepily out the window with his morning cigarette, and Kyle typing angrily into his laptop on his couch.

'Kyle, don't forget the Sowdon files.' Gregory reminded, not moving his eyes from the screen of his desktop computer a while later.

'I know! I'm doing it!' Kyle called irritably, typing away.

'How much longer?'

'Seventeen seconds.' Kyle stated, attaching a USB into his laptop. And indeed, seventeen seconds later the USB was thrown to Gregory, who caught it with widened eyes.

This is why I don't keep anything on my computer… Gregory thought to himself, a smile of bravado on his lips as he watched the redhead continue to tap through his keyboard nonchalantly.

Trying to undo the tension in his smiling lips, Gregory breathed, and looked back to the screen of his computer. He stared at the reply box of his email, and let his fingers type through the keyboard.

"I'll put my best man to it."

Gregory pressed the send button, and the message disappeared. To be honest, he didn't know why he just sent that message. Even with Kyle's protection on the computer, he always rather met people face to face when he was to accept a job. Furthermore, Kyle wasn't his best man; he was his only man, except for Christophe who took on completely different jobs now. But in that email, the word "best" came out so naturally, and it seemed to fit the scrawny boy on the couch so perfectly.

It was difficult to believe that such talent lived in that small, dirty flat in the edge of town. But there he was, no, there they were, three of them. Such silent, invisible, dangerous talent all cramped up in that one small office, forgotten by the world, and forgetting the world.

.

Silver blue eyes glanced up, scanning through his long blond eyelashes to stare at the scrawny boy lying on his couch, thin arms securing a book above his face.

'Kyle, you have another job.' The blond said authoritatively, his usual cut-and-paste smile not seen presently on his lips.

'What? Dude, I just worked my ass off! For days! Can't you give me a fucking rest for a change?'

'You have a job.'

Gregory's cold words instantly shut Kyle up. The redhead sighed, closing the book without bothering to keep the page and pondering down to Gregory's desk.

'What?' He leaned his hand into the wooden surface.

A thin file was quickly pressed into Kyle's nose, and his heart silenced as he took the file into his hands. Another killing: Kyle could smell it. It was only a week since the previous one and Kyle was already ordered for the next.

In reality, it had been in Gregory's desk for that whole week, waiting for the right moment, which Gregory decided in the end that would never come. And so now, it was in Kyle's hands.

The cream cover of the file lifted to reveal the information of the person who didn't know that he was already a dead man.

Emerald eyes met icy-blue orbs.

Kyle's heart instantly stopped the second he saw the photograph clipped on to the paper inside. The handsome face smiled softly in the photograph even though he was oblivious that such a thing was taken. His cheekbones, his nose, his jaw and his smiling mouth, everything was carved into that one perfection, except for the messy blond hair that stook out in random places.

Even with frozen eyes the information of the file leaked into Kyle's mind.

Age: twenty-one. Expelled from high school under suspicion of numerous sexual encounters with teachers. Left home at the age of sixteen and has made no contact with family since. Presently lives with his "best friend" as he works at a local restaurant.

'Will you do it? I understand if you don't want to, I'll give it to Chris—'

'No—' Kyle's voice sliced through Gregory's words, quickly and cold, like a sharp blade made of ice. 'No… I'll do it.'

Gregory stared searchingly at Kyle still looking at the file, finding what he always saw when he gave Kyle a "job": nothing. Only a plain, silent ice that frosted over his almost demonically beautiful face.

'Good,' Gregory stated, feeling a subtle chill prick the hairs on the back of his neck. Then he quickly turning back to his computer to leave the redhead be.

Mind cut off from the rest of the world, silence echoing in his ear, Kyle's emotionless eyes slowly drifted to the first line of the file. He stared intently at those two words, to confirm what he already knew. To confirm the name of the person Kyle will soon kill with his own two hands.

The name of Kenneth McCormick.

.

"Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, the True Judge."