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"Do you not want to give us another chance?" The villain questioned the hero, breathing heavily from the exertion they just went through. The hero walked towards him, seemingly out of breath as well.
"I would. However, the government wouldn't want me to. The job wouldn't allow me to." The hero sighed, stopping abruptly close to the villain. His eyes were a deep blue, and the villain felt himself staring instead of listening. His ears rang with white noise mixed with the hero's rough undertone.
"But..." The villain began, exhausted. His forehead glistened with sweat, his body, hot. He wished things would go back to the way they were, without either of them having to try, having to have this talk right now, but, it seemed impossible. It was impossible. He was tired of fighting like this, hurting each other(even though he always tried to refrain from any severe physical injuries, hell, no injuries at all if it was under his control).
"But, what?" The hero frowned, coming close to the villain, and sneaking an arm around his waist. He took a moment to admire the man in front of him before attaching their foreheads together. He let out a long exhale.
"But, I still have the offer standing." The villain murmured, the distance between them felt incomputable yet, restricted enough. A roaring silence followed as the wind passed through them.
"The offer...well. I can't join your side, unfortunately. I have morals and a reputation to keep." The hero whispered, and the villain noticed just how close they had actually gotten. He breathed out.
"You can always choose to change." This was not going in the right direction, and the villain knew it. He thought to say, 'Would you choose others instead of me?' but stopped himself short.
"I wouldn't want to… if I can be the better of myself by not choosing to change. I can't change for you." The hero replied, and it was all the reminder they both needed before they lunged on to their stances, and fought for their morals as the hero put it.
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“I have nyctophilia.” The villain stated, strolling away into his huge apartment. The hero raised an eyebrow, staying where he was. He couldn’t see a damn thing, aside from the outlines of the couches and the villain standing in front of him.
“What does that mean?” The hero wondered, his eyes roaming around, trying to adjust to the midnight glow.
“It means that I find comfort in the darkness. A kind of peace.” The villain explained, his back turned to the hero.
“Oh, well. Can you turn on the lights for now? I can barely see anything.” The hero mumbled, quietly. It felt so intimate to be standing here with the villain, lights turned off, in the avid blackness. Exquisitely, almost.
“Why? You don’t like it?” The villain retorted, half-chuckling. He turned around and faltered to where the hero was.
The hero scoffed, “No. I’m not you, after all.” The villain came to a halt about an inch away from him, and his breathing quickened.
“You don’t have to be me to enjoy the dark, we all have it inside us. We just refuse to accept it, darling.” The villain whispered, his voice deep. Honey-like, the hero thought. Soothing, yet shriveling. He shuddered.
“Don’t call me that. I have a girlfriend.” The hero hissed. That was a lie, he knew. But, he refused to give in to the other man’s flirting. He was on a mission, for god’s sake. Why couldn’t the villain be serious for once?
The villain snorted, “Sure, you do.” He went away to turn on the switch, but stumbled on one of the couches that was placed on the left, lost his balance and fell down facing the floor.
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