บททั้งหมดของ KISS OR KILL, CHERRY? (M×M): บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Ezren: Lior believed only cowards are called chickens. That, with a single ‘shuu,’ they bolt, fleeing into the shadows, even when there’s nothing to fear. Even when it's all pointless. Maybe he was right because I’ve started to think of myself as a chicken. But my story is different, I didn’t retreat from a mere 'shuu'; I fled from a past poised to shatter me – a past tied to a face I never wanted. Since his death, I've lived my life on the run, afraid of my own reflection. I've cloaked myself in a shroud of anonymity, bouncing from city to city and escaped the dark clutches of Blackreach and my father, Alaric Raveni. To him, my existence is an affront; I've been both hunted and haunted. A perfect heir vanished, with a secret he suspects I hold – one that could pierce his empire. I've received cryptic letters, laced with tempting offers to lure me back home. But I would rather watch him and his pride crumble into oblivion than go back to him. Over the years, I’ve learned to

Knox: I said it six years ago that I’d be back like a thief in the night. And now I am. Exactly like a thief, with the kind of grin you earn from years of knowing you were right. Fifteen minutes. That’s how long I spent making sure he understood. That I wasn’t just back. I was inside his carefully rebuilt life, already peeling it apart. We reached the building. The elevator dinged like a countdown. The doors slid open with a hiss, and he stepped in first. Of course he did. His dark hair was still messily styled to look unintentional and casual. Always trying so hard to look like he wasn’t trying at all. And the scent, the exact same one from back then, it hit me in the gut. Six years, and it still clung to him like it belonged to him. Cherry. All that time he spent running, hiding, pretending… and he still smelled like six years ago. He’s either cursed or too stupid to pick a new cologne, definitely the second option. I breathe it in like a fool allergic to it, but unable t

Ezren: You ever walk into a room and feel like you’re the only one who doesn’t know what the hell is actually going on? That’s how I felt as I breathed in slow, stepped back into the room Eli was in, and lowered myself onto the same chair beside Eli. The one Gareth had pulled out before heading off to check on dinner. In less than twenty-four hours, my life’s already spinning off track and I’ve got Eli’s charming asshole of a brother to thank for that. Sorry, ‘Stepbrother.’ Still can’t believe I kissed the guy. I’ve got questions. A thousand of them but, no one here will give me the answers I want. And what’s messing with my head the most? Somehow, Eli’s tangled up in my past. And now, every damn person in this house apparently knows the name Raveni and knows that I’m one. Even Eli. The one person I thought I’d been fooling this whole time. And like life doesn’t know when to stop screwing with me, the self-centered bastard I called a father is still out there obsessi

Knox: Ezren’s a damn idiot. Remember how he was all mouth last night? Yelling about how he wasn’t going to South End, how no one could drag him there, and how he wasn’t some “little freak” to be ordered around? He even had the balls to point at me with the same energy as someone flinging an insult with a finger dipped in glitter as if he was about to conduct a fucking exorcism on me. Goddamn ME. But guess who’s in the passenger seat of my car right now? He’s got his arms crossed, his head leaned against the window like he’s filming a tragic indie movie in his head. His boots won’t quit tapping the floor, some kind of Morse code for “get me the hell out of here.” If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was just anxious, but I do know him, and this is exactly how he acts when he wants attention without asking for it. I hadn’t said a word since we pulled out. Didn’t see the point in wasting air on someone who acts like every emotion he has should be carved into a monument.

Ezren: I wasn’t ready. Not for the Mansion, not for the guards who gave us the kind of up-and-down you reserve for people you’re sure are about to rob a place, and definitely not for Knox casually slipping his fingers into mine right now like we’d been doing it for years. There are a lot of words you could use for Knox. When he’s being loud, reckless, and borderline suicidal, you’d go with psychopath or freak. Other times, when he’s strangely calm, you’d try ‘cool’ or ‘collected’. But there’s one word no one in their right mind should ever use for him, ‘gentle’. And yet, the idiot had handed me gloves minutes ago because, apparently, he didn’t want me dead. A small knife too. “For protection,” like he said, though it came out more like, ‘Don’t embarrass me if something happens.’ Still… it surprised me. Hell! It should surprise anyone. This is the same guy who, last night, made it crystal clear he didn’t want me tagging along. And now? I’m suddenly the most important piec